#but giving arthur a little mustache... its just so Right...

[thebloodghoul]

teehee i made stickers!!!! now you can send wee little johns & arthurs on adventures around your own house, or perhaps feed them to your own giant spiders and shoggoths!

i've also made stickers of some of my previous fanart, although they're a bit rougher quality since those really were just doodles I did after going crazy over an ep...

(if you pick any up, feel free to send pics of where you ended up putting them! ^_^)

👇👇👇

[onyondump]

You Look Good in Red

Arthur Shelby x F!Reader

Summery : Your thought of Arthur in red as his wife

Note : This is a quick one and has not been proofread yet. Also dont mind the picture, there is no gorey scene, its quite wholesome?

Masterlist

GRAMMAR BAD, DON’T EAT ME!

You’ve always been a good wife to Arthur, at least that's what the family says. You were never nosy and always doing your wifely duties on the sidelines without much complaining. Sometimes outsiders would gossip amongst each other saying how much you don’t really fit in with the Shelbys or that the family trapped you into the marriage that you probably don’t want. 

In truth though, you were deeply in love with your husband. The romance you have with him was not really apparent, when he was first courting you he wrote poems and drew doodles to give to you whenever he bought bread at the bakery you used to work at and you would respond with a poem of your own and a sweet kiss before he went. The look he gave you afterwards was enough to give you the energy to deal with your shift the whole day. It’s not something outsiders or even his closest brothers would think of when guessing how you two end up together so it's always fun to see their reactions when you tell them. 

There is a disconnect with the Arthur strutting down the street and the Arthur you see in your shared bedroom but they are both sides of Arthur that you charised deeply. Countless times he would come home bloody, you would tend to him despite the stinging smell of iron, gently cleaning the crimson red blood off his face and countless times you can’t help but admire how the red blood in contrast to his fair freckled skin would make him more handsome in your eyes. You’ve never really said it outloud, knowing how much he hated being reminded of the things he did but you would always kiss him afterwards to remind you that you love him. If other people had the right to be afraid of him then you have the right to be in love with him too. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dressing up is the one of the privileges you have as a Shelby. Every party you attend you would have on your clothes each more luxurious next. Arthur would say it’s his way of rewarding you for always putting up with him which would return with a giggle and smile. You know that deep down this is also a reward for him too. He would touch you tenderly, feeling the softness of your blue silk gown, or mapping the rough intricate detail of the lace. He never would have said anything about it and dismissed that he even had any preference to begin with but you can tell he does by the twinkle in eyes, or how scrunched up his face would be. You get the feeling that it's more than just admiration you would see in other couples, there is a sense of envy and longing for something but you never really find out what it is or ask him what it was. 

“That new lipstick love?” 

It’s midnight after another party and you wore a new color lipstick, crimson red, as supposed to your regular coral one and it’s the first time Arthur has seen you in it. 

“Yes, I ran out of my regular one, so I bought a new one” you replied walking to the vanity where you saw your husband sitting on the queen size bed in only his trousers mirrored to you. His eyes look tired, half drunk, bore into you before he stood up to join you in front of the vanity. 

“It looks good on you love” he said before reaching down to gently guide you to face him before kissing your soft lips. You can hear the sound of his heartbeat with the sway of the wind, enjoying his thin lips as his mustache tickles your nose. You deepen the kiss for a little while longer before separating to meet his blue eyes before realizing the lipstick has transferred to his lips. 

“Oh the lipstick it transferred to you” you rush to try to find something to wipe it with only to find him looking at the mirror of the vanity with the same look you had seen but never understand until this moment. It’s the same look you’ve seen him make when drawing all those years ago before dropping the hobby to help his family; the same look you’ve seen him make admiring flowers when his brothers aren’t around; and the same look you see him look at you at the party across the room. 

You approach him again, slowly wrapping your arms around his waist as you rest your chin on his tense shoulders. 

“You look good in red, Art” you say as you can feel his shoulders loosen and his body slightly lean back at you. 

“I think so too”  

[johnmalevolent]

liveblog

angsty flashback playing underwater

new bgm

episode starts with an argument theyre being bitchy as if theyve just fought about something big

mustache

he just wants to see a movie!!! he's been patient gdi!!!!!

yes

yes give him his movie

let him watch a movie

is that what you want? yes '-'

the woman

the bgm is so nice

who is a member of what. huh whuh

what!!!

okay i need to know about bella and daniel right this second

oo here comes the handkerchief bicker

the man has a voice too doesnt he

also i love how this man takes the spotlight now when collins was most likely the guy who asked for the ticket

the scary violin and john's bad feeling

bless you

we just bought that >:O

i love john so much

he can finally be upset about something small <3

hi henley

hi percival

did john just say ugh

"the same like me" "read to me" :0

thats a good short story also does anyone know where its from. i tried looking up matt roland but nothing

aur naur orther lester

collins!!!

thank you for the description john!!! the little artist inside me is doing a little happy dance

who

who!!!

yay detectives detecting!!

our first yesss arthur this season!!!

but even if you managed to do so

i dont think youll be able to avoid the inevitable 1v1 combat

(please be a 1v1 combat)

i stopped listening here im excited to know what will happen

😳

"the shot isnt likely to be heard" oh arthur if only

enjoy??

YEAH they did talk about john starting to get the detective thing

you are my eyes...

why is john shouting arthur can hear him fine

yes like that

okay- youre overselling it

I LOVE THEM

TOP OF THE CAR.

fighting on top of the car perhaps

he ducked!!!

exactly how did he

wire!!!!!

its the man

ono

no

NO

oh hands

ok

wait no. not ok

thats still not ok

holy shit that was intense

THE PIN

no

nah no way

ARTHUR

COME ON

YEAHHH

YEAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

also our first jesus christ arthur you fucking made it this season!!!

whew

[novaiya]

Of Cigars and Delicate Flowers - Dutch x Reader

Summary: Based on this request for @fandomhoesworld ; heyyyyy, I love your works, they're amazing 🥰 could you do a Dutch X badass reader where he gets captured and she comes to save him? It's okay if you don't want to, thanks 🤍

Words: 2,888

Tags: GN!Reader, Canon Typical Violence

A/N: This was a good practice for me for writing literally anyone else but Arthur. I need to keep expanding my horizons 😩 AO3 Link.

There was a reason Dutch almost never went out alone, staying mostly in camp and commanding the gang from the porch of his tent; His likeness - the slick-back, black hair, the carefully cut mustache, the black hat - was plastered all over the country, posters hanging in post offices, general stores, train stations and sheriff’s offices. It would be no time before someone recognized him if he decided to take a stroll into town or visit the local saloon, so more often than not, he stayed in camp, and everything that he needed was brought to him, like his cigars.

When it came to cigars, Dutch had a very specific taste; the size had to be just right, not too slender so it burned too hot too fast, and not too thick either so it was heavy and harsh. The notes played an important role too; he preferred the spicy flavor of coffee mixed with toasted nuts, though he didn’t mind the notes of cedar and vanilla from time to time. Due to the specifics, finding the right pack of cigars could be a hassle and a headache, so whenever he did find the right one, he made sure to stack up on them.

This time, unfortunately, Dutch had found himself in a new place with no reliable cigar shop and his own supply dwindling down. He’d been puffing on the same cigar for a few days now, hoping to prolong it for as long as possible, though he could already see the end of it. He was hoping to send one of the boys into town to check for him, but everybody was busy; Arthur was on one of his monthly hunting trips, Hosea and John were working on a job, and the rest of the men were out, scouting for any leads. That left just one option; going himself. He knew it could be dangerous and risky, but his need for nicotine was stronger than his rational thought.

“What are you thinking about, Dutch?” you asked when you walked past his tent, noticing his absent minded gaze.

“Hello there,” he said, his gaze shifting towards you, a smile on his lips. “Just thinking about going out.”

Your brows shot up upon hearing his words. The gang had just fled from the previous town on the account of robbing it blind, so all of you were trying to lay low, hoping to make as little noise as possible for the time being. Having Dutch go out was the last thing you needed.

“Out?” you repeated his word, trying to hide the worry in your voice. “What for?”

Dutch brought the cigar to his lips, the usually long stick now reduced to less than a third of its previous length. You watched him as he brought the cigar to his mouth, his lips enveloping and puffing on it before exhaling the smoke. “Unfortunately, I’m down to my last cigar. Need to pick up some more in town,” he said, making you shift your eyes back to his, “Wouldn’t hurt to stretch my legs either. I’m feeling like a prisoner stuck here.”

“Are you sure, Dutch?” you said, not hiding the worry in your voice any longer. “Perhaps I could go for you. It’s not safe for you to go right now since we just-“

“Nonsense!” Dutch interrupted you. “I wouldn’t dream of putting a delicate flower such as yourself in harm's way for me.”

‘Delicate flower?!’ you thought. ‘Since when do delicate flowers rob, kill and steal?’

You opened your mouth, hoping to change Dutch’s mind but you barely parted your lips before he raised his hand, saying, “I won’t hear it” squashing any argument you could have had.

You deflated before nodding your head, leaving Dutch to himself and continuing on to where you were going originally. Worry filled you as you continued on with your day. You’d hate for anything to happen to him; not only was he your leader who you believed in and looked up to, he was also someone you liked. It was hard not to fall for him; well-read, mannered, strong and sinfully attractive, you’ve fallen for him and his promises of a better life right away. You didn’t act on your feelings though, considering he was the leader and you were just one of the members, and a new one at that. So you retorted to watching from afar, and now you were watching him as he left the camp, ready to make the trek for some puny cigars.

Dutch could be unbelievably stubborn and uncooperative sometimes; It was dangerous for him to go out, especially on his own and especially when you could still be followed from the town you just escaped. And for what? Cigars? You shook your head as you continued with what you were doing, trying to keep yourself calm. It was Dutch you were talking about after all, your fearless leader, he knew what he was doing, right?

Dutch didn’t know what he was doing. He decided to go out after supper, when the sun had already set, but the ground was still warm from the day’s heat. He made his way into town at a trotting, leisurely pace, having no reason to hurry. The weather was cooler now and he took big gulps of it, a welcomed change to inhaling the campfire smoke and the scent of Pearson’s stew. He arrived into the town with no hiccups and found the store almost right away. The selection was vast, with cigars from Cuba, Dominican Republic and Mexico among others. Dutch looked like a kid in a candy shop as he studied every cigar, wanting to take them all but in the end, settled on a pack from Jamaica, its promise of a mild and sweet taste piquing his interest.

With his purchase in his saddle bag, Dutch made his way back to the camp in the same way he did into town, slow and steady, taking in the scenery and the weather. It’s not everyday that he ventured out, so he made sure that he enjoyed it. It was not long after he passed the border of the town that he heard a faint sound of hoofbeats behind him, getting closer and closer and multiplying in numbers.

“Nice night, ain’t it?” said a man who came up to Dutch, riding next to him on his right side. Not a second later, another man came up, riding on Dutch’s left.

Dutch kept one of his hands on the reins, his other (which was previously hanging on his side), icing closer to his holster.

“Yes, it sure is,” he said.

“Say what, mister,” the man on his right began, “Are you Dutch Van Der Linde?”

Without missing a beat, Dutch laughed, saying, “You must be mistaken, sir. My name is Robert Carnegie.”

Neither of the men riding next to him laughed. They looked at each other, before looking behind them, presumingly to communicate with the other. Dutch’s hand was now on his revolver, the cool metal sticking to his sweaty skin. He gripped the handle, and as soon as he did, a hit landed on the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

Your worries kept you through the night, not letting you go to bed and making you sit by the campfire instead, waiting for Dutch’s return. Each time you heard a snap of twigs or what sounded like horse’s hoofbeats, your head would snap towards the entrance of the camp, hoping that it was Dutch coming in, but alas, it wasn’t.

It was long after everyone fell asleep when you finally saw Count trot into the camp, his platinum coat standing out against the dark trees.

You smiled, jumping up from the log you’ve been sitting at, ready to welcome Dutch back, but that smile quickly fell when you noticed that Dutch wasn’t with him.

“Where’s Dutch?” you said when you came up to stand next to Count, talking to the horse as if he could understand you, and perhaps, he did. He snickered, shaking his head and kicking around with his legs.

You placed your hand on him, running it up and down his neck to calm him down. Something went wrong, terribly wrong. Despite not wanting to think of the worst, you understood that there was no other explanation of what could’ve happened; Dutch got captured.

Time was of the essence, so without talking to anyone else or even taking time to make a plan, you mounted your own horse and made your way to Count. Dutch might’ve called you a “delicate flower”, but you were anything but that. You survived on your own for years before falling with the gang, and you were going to show him just what this “delicate flower” was capable of on their own.

“C’mon, show me where Dutch is.”

Upon hearing his owner’s name, Count sprung to action and bolted out of the camp, giving you almost no time to follow after him.

It didn’t take you long to arrive at where Dutch was held. The burning campfire and the sound of chatter could be seen and heard yards away. You hitched the horses to one of the trees before continuing the rest of the way on foot.

“Robert Carnegie, he said his name was,” you heard a man say. “What kind of idiots does he think we are?” A flood of laughter followed, drowning out any other sound in the bushy forest. You took out your binoculars, trying to see where Dutch were. There he was, tied to one of the trees not far from the campfire. His hair was a mess, and you could see traces of blood on his lip and nose. You could feel your blood boil at the sight, and quickly put away your binoculars before continuing your way forward.

“I’d say we turn him in first thing in the morning,” another man said. “No reason to drag this out.”

“Sounds good to me. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

The men continued on with their conversations when you finally approached them as close as you could without alerting them of your presence. You could feel your heart beat wildly against your ribcage as you gathered your thoughts, thinking of what to do next. It would’ve been nice to have someone else with you right now, you thought, to act as a distraction. Perhaps you should’ve thought this one over more before springing into action. Too late now.

You peeked your head from where you were hidden behind a tree, trying to get a look at Dutch. He was conscious, thought quite, tied to a tree, his head hanging low. It was weird seeing Dutch like this, helpless and vulnerable.

You picked up a small pebble before throwing it into his general direction. Nothing. He didn’t even raise his head. You picked up another one, debating whether to throw it right at his face, before deciding to throw it next to his shoes. That got his attention. Tentatively, as to not alert the men around him, he raised his head, his eyes searching the woods before finally landing on your face. Your eyes met, and you could see a hint of smile appear on his lips as soon as they did. A smile of your own made it to your lips for a moment, before turning serious again, your mind going back to the job at hand. There would be time for smiles and hugs and laughter later. Using your hands, you motioned around, pointing first to him and then to the bounty hunters, before pointing to yourself and to your gun. Dutch made a small, almost unnoticeable motion with his head, indicating that he understood your plan.

“Gentlemen,” Dutch said, stopping the men in their conversation and making all of them turn to him. “Are you sure you want to do this? If I was you, I’d walk away now.”

One of the men snickered, looking at his friends before turning his attention back to Dutch.

“That’s big talk, considering you’re the one tied to a tree.”

“I’m giving you a chance, my friend,” Dutch said, sincerity painting his words.

The man’s face grew dark and somber as did the atmosphere around. He didn’t appreciate Dutch’s words, so with a hand itching closer to his revolver, he said, “Listen here, friend. The poster said to bring you dead or alive, so don’t think for a minute-“

Dutch’s face was painted red as you shot the man in-front of him, blowing his brains out and making his blood spurt everywhere, Dutch included.

The other men sprung to action immediately, their hands going for their firearms and shooting blindly into the dark woods. For a while, all that was heard was the sound of gunshots and occasional cries and screams. You alternated between hiding behind the trees and rocks, occasionally peeking out to shoot one of the men. At last, the fire seized and the forest was once again quiet, the only sound heard being the crackling of the fire.

You peeked your head out, making sure that you’ve got all of the men before finally leaving your hiding spot and making your way to Dutch in long, powerful strides. With shaking hands, you cut down the rope that was tying him to the tree. As soon as he was freed, he massaged his wrists and the imprints that the ropes left on them. He was about to open his mouth to talk, but you began first, your voice loud enough to startle him.

“What were you thinking?!” you screamed, getting up in his face. “Getting captured because of some god forsaken cigars?!”

Dutch tried to speak again, almost got the first word of his sentence in but you continued, not letting him speak.

“What if I didn’t get here? What if I couldn’t find you? For God’s sake Dutch Van Der Linde, why did you have to put yourself in such danger, all for some cigars?!”

To say that he was shocked was to say nothing. He did not expect such a reaction from you, for as long as he’d known you you’ve been cool, calm and collected, always using logic instead of feelings, never speaking in bursts of fury. The fact that you were so riled up, because of him, shocked him and left him practically speechless.

“I…” he began,” I didn’t know you cared so much.”

At this point, you have calmed down somewhat, so you heaved a sigh at his words, shaking your head a little before saying, “Of course I care, Dutch.”

“Why?”

His question was sharp and quick, and you were caught off guard by it, not having a moment to think of an answer or a lie.

“Well, I…” you said, awkwardly glancing around. “I care about you, Dutch.”

“You do, huh?” he said with a smirk.

“Of course I do, all of us in the gang do!” you try to backtrack on your statement, but it was too late, Dutch caught on. You tried not to pay attention to his smug smirk as you whistled for the horses. “Let’s get out of here before anyone else shows up.”

You were up on your horse almost as soon as she arrived, and waited for Dutch to get on his before moving. He mounted Count with a grunt, the injuries he sustained while being held captive making themselves known.

For a moment, you let yourself forget that it was Dutch Van Der Linde you were talking to, and said, “Who’s the delicate flower now?” As soon as the words escaped your mouth, you placed your hand over it, shocked at your own boldness. A silence followed, and you braved yourself for whatever would follow next. A laugh from Dutch startled you as much as his wrath would, and you didn’t dare to say anything until he spoke up, saying, “Perhaps I underestimated you.”

You couldn’t help but relax and smile upon hearing his words, his praise nourishing your soul and making you sit up straighter in your saddle.

“Thank you, Dutch.”

As the two of you made your way out of the forest, Dutch slowed down the pace of Count so he could be riding next to you.

He cleared his throat to get your attention, and when you turned towards him he said, “I should probably apologize for misjudging your potential.” He was silent for a few moments after saying that, before adding, “Perhaps a night on the town and a dinner are in order to make up for my mistakes?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his offer, considering the situation he got himself in was directly caused by going into town.

“After everything that has happened,” you said, squinting your eyes at him, “you still want to go into town?”

“Well, of course! I got you by my side,” he said. “With a capable and clever person as you, I feel comfortable going anywhere.”

His statement made a blush appear on your cheeks, which you hoped he didn’t see in the dark night. Even beaten and bruised, Dutch never lost his famous charm.

“You are something else Mr. Van Der Linde,” you said with a smile, shaking your head.

[potter-imagines]

Staying at the Burrow with your boyfriend Fred Weasley...

-       Fred loathed his time away from Hogwarts on any break that you weren’t with him

-       Since the Christmas of your fourth year, it has become a sort of tradition for you to going your boyfriend and his family for the holidays

-       And if you would even suggest a change in plans, Fred would beg you otherwise

-       “Y/n pleaseeee, angel? I already told my mum that you’re coming, and she already started knitting! You’ll break her heart!” “Okay fine, I’ll come but only for Molly.”

-       It means the absolute world to Fred that you love his family and that his family loves you

-       Ginny would await your arrival by the front door, practically buzzing with excitement

-       Every time you visit the Burrow, you make sure to bring gifts for his family

-       Your favorite person to give presents to is Arthur

-       You always bring him some new muggle object that never fail to fascinate him

-       “Oh, Molly! Y/n’s here- ooh I wonder what she’s brought for me this time! I hope it’s one of those clicky writers!” “You mean a pen, dear.” “Yes, yes, Molly, a pem!” “Arthur, no-“

-       Most breaks Harry would also tag along which meant more players for your quidditch games

-       Fred and George were usually team captain

-       Fred always picked you first for his team

-       Unless George got to pick first

-       He would pick you just in spite of Fred, which usually caused petty bickering between the twins

-       “Bloody hell, George! You pinky promised me you wouldn’t pick Y/n! You said I could have her-“ “Freddie, you spend almost 24 hours a day with her. She’s just on my team for one game!”

-       George would playfully torture you two during the whole break with comments here and there

-       “Hey dad, I saw Fred sneak Y/n into our room last night.” “George!” “…let’s just not tell your mother, understood?”

-       Doing the dishes with Fred and having a bubble fight

-       George wasn’t lying tho

-       Fred would sneak you into his room almost every night

-       Molly had caught you two a few times but she never brought it up

-       Fred was nearly 18 and Molly absolutely adored you

-       So she’d smile to herself and pretend she never saw a thing

-       Going on walks with Ron and Harry

-       A lot of cute little moments with Fred

-       Like him giving you his sweater when you get cold at night

-       He likes to draw pictures on your back when you’re cuddling as you try to guess what it is

-       “Uh… I’m not sure, is it a flower?” “No, angel. It was an owl! Okay now guess this one…”

-       George would constantly whisper shout at the two of you when he’s trying to sleep

-       “Can you lovesick puppies shut up! Some of us are single and would rather be miserable in peace. I can’t handle all the cute lovey whispers, it’s bloody sickening! I’m ready to share a bed with Percy- that’s how bad it is.”

-       This would cause Fred and yourself to erupt with laughter much to George’s displeasure

-       Sneaking around the house to have some *cough* private time

-       Making out in his backyard

-       Fred doesn’t like when you go for walks alone outside the house

-       Times are tense and you’re the last person, besides a family member, that he could afford to lose

-       He’ll always walk by your side and crack jokes just so he can hear you laugh

-       Whether he realizes it or not, whenever you two go walking together Fred will always hold your hand and swing it back and forth

-       He loves kissing your knuckles and the back of your hand

-       He’s honestly so sweet when he’s not putting 24 hour color changing hair dye in your shampoo

-       You’ve spent so many Christmas’ at the Weasley’s that Molly has a stocking for you and a gift ready every time

-       Fred purposely places mistletoes around the house for you two to ‘conveniently’ meet under

-       “Fred! You know I’m your girlfriend so you can kiss me whenever, right?” “But this is more romantic, darling! You’re the first girl I’ve ever kissed under a mistletoe- and the only, and last girl I want to kiss for my whole life. I’d like to continue that tradition.” “Well how can I say no to that?”

-       Fred will literally take any chance offered to kiss you

-       George loves to annoy the two of you by squeezing in the middle of your cuddles

-       “George! You git, get out of here!” “But I need some love too!” “Yeah, find it with a girl who isn’t my girlfriend!”

-       Fred will make you coffee or tea each morning, whichever you prefer

-       Making hot chocolate together for the whole family during winters at the Burrow

-       Marshmallow mustaches

-       You kiss the marshmallows off Fred’s mouth, running your tongue along his upper lips which causes a deep scarlet blush to slap his cheeks

-       “How do you like it when the tables are turned, Fred?” “I quite like it actually… that was hot.” “Fred!”

-       During winter, you guys will have snowball fights outside with all the Weasley siblings plus Harry, and Hermione

-       You and Fred have a competition on who can make the biggest snow man

-       Your relationship is built off humor, friendship, and love so there is not a day that passes by where tears aren’t pouring from your eyes out of laughter

-       Fred likes to wake you up by jumping on you and attacking your face with little pecks

-       “Wake up, angel! I’ve been waiting ten minutes for you to get up but I couldn’t wait any longer now c’mon!”

-       Fred loves to watch you get ready for the day

-       Oddly enough, his favorite part is your makeup routine (if you wear any)

-       It’s such a foreign world to him, he’s amazed by all the different products and how you can tell them all apart

-       “Freddie, baby, can you hand me my mascara?” “Uh... sure?”

-       Hands you your concealer

-       He just wants to help!

-       He teaches you how to ice skate out on the pond

-       Loves kissing your frozen red cheeks when you two come inside after being in the snow

-       Will boop your nose

-       You spend a lot of time with Ginny on breaks

-       She looks up to you greatly, so she gets so excited when you stay with the Weasley’s

-       “Y/n, Y/n, you’re here! Come, put your stuff in my room! We can have a sleepover-“ “Wow, Ginny, hadn’t realized Y/n was your girlfriend and not mine.” “Shut up, Fred.”

-       You help Fred and George play pranks on differently family members

-       Molly is typically the only one that is immune from these pranks

-       All three of you are far too terrified to make her angry

-       You will often rummage through Fred’s closet instead of opening your suitcase

-       And when he catches you in the act

-       Fred will chase you around the house

-       “That’s my jumper! Oh you’re in for it, Y/l/n!”

-       Some days at the Burrow, Fred and you barely get out of bed

-       Especially on rainy days

-       The sound of raindrops pounding against the roof of the house was comforting, the warm embrace of Fred had that effect on its own even without the rain

-       Maybe once a trip, you guys will take the car into town

-       It’s a bit of a drive so the Weasley’s don’t like to make more trips than necessary

-       Molly refuses to hand the keys to either of the twins and will only give them to you

-       She doesn’t trust the twins not the wreck the car

-       Every trip to the Burrow, you find yourself growing closer to your boyfriend

-       You spend every day together at school, but being outside of the castle is a little different

-       You have more freedom, more choices

-       It makes the both of you thrilled about graduating and moving in together

-       Fred can’t wait for the day he is able to spend every day with you by his side 

[heart-of-gold-outlaw]

Welcome Home | Chapter Ten: Still Breathing

Finally—finally—, the day comes to rescue Sean. You honestly don’t know what to expect. Most of the others in camp aren’t much help, referring to Sean with a roll of their eyes and something along the lines of: “half a mind to let the bounty hunters keep him.”

They should be saying that about Micah, you think to yourself as you watch Charles and Arthur saddle their horses. Maybe then Dutch’ll kick him out.

Still, Sean is a bit of a wildcard to you. You won’t figure out what he’s really like until you meet him, and until then, you decide to keep an open mind. Worst case scenario? He’s Micah’s long-lost brother. Best case scenario? He’s… well. Maybe it’s best not to think about all the things he could be. Keep yourself on your toes.

You sit on a tree stump while the boys get ready. Taima is an absolute beauty of a horse, and you can tell by the way Charles dotes on her that she’s got a good life. Briefly, thoughts of having a horse of your own cross your mind. That appaloosa gelding is probably still for sale in Valentine. Maybe if you can get enough money, you can buy him.

Arthur and Charles take their sweet time packing more than enough ammo, which means you quickly get bored. Every scratchy detail on the tree stump bothers you, too. Hopping to your feet, you decide to get some chores done. Everyone’s been so preoccupied with the big upcoming rescue, they’ve neglected some of the finer details in camp.

The ax is in its usual spot, surrounded by whole logs that need to be chopped. You grab ahold of the handle. It feels lighter than it used to, and you realize you’re getting stronger.

Goodbye noodle arms, you think as you bring the ax down on to the first log. You don’t quite split it, but it’s getting closer than ever. And hello Jack Lumber.

A few chops in, you feel the muscles in the back of your neck tense. Someone’s behind you, and you’re not quite sure who. But soon enough, a low, sinister chuckle reaches your ears. Micah.

“Well,” he says. “Looks like the camp nuisance is finally doing some work.”

You slowly count to three before turning around. Micah stands by you, a little too close for your liking, and he’s got a smirk on his face that twists your gut something awful. You’ve started wearing a gun belt, and the hand that isn’t holding the ax inadvertently twitches toward your revolver.

“You know something, Y/N?” He takes a step toward you. “I think you’re starting to wear out your welcome.”

Fire ignites in your chest. No. No. Micah doesn’t get to do this, try and make you second-guess yourself and your place in the gang—especially not after you’ve just started feeling comfortable.

“Back off, you useless mineral,” you hiss.

Micah’s lips curl into a snarl as he takes another step toward you. This one feels infinitely more threatening, and you barely keep yourself from taking a step back. You’ll be damned if Micah wins this fight.

“Take another step,” you warn, “and I’ll jump rope with your intestines.”

Honestly, you don’t really expect him to feel threatened, but the odd choice in words is enough to throw him off. You can see him trying to process everything you said, which gives you enough time to throw the ax down and skedaddle.

Your heart thuds frantically in your chest as you hurry to Arthur and Charles. Micah won’t try anything if you’re with them; that much, you know for sure.

“We ready to go?” You ask as nonchalantly as you can. “If I chop one more piece of wood, I’ll have to start wearing flannel.”

Charles looks confused at “flannel,” but Arthur frowns as he glances over at the chopping block. His expression hardens when he sees Micah storming away.

“Micah giving you trouble?” He asks, a hint of something dangerous in his voice.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” You go to lean against the hitching post, miss, and almost topple over. Face burning, you settle for folding your arms over your chest.

Arthur and Charles exchange looks.

“If he tries anything,” Charles tells you, calm and steady, “let us know. We’ll take care of it.”

We’ll take care of it. How a statement so simple and so general can sound that dangerous, you’ll never know. You wordlessly nod, not knowing how to respond.

Charles leaves, then, to go saddle Taima. You look to Arthur, ready to follow him to Florence, who’s already tacked up and ready. But he doesn’t move.

“Micah been buggin’ you a lot?”

You shake your head. “Not really. I mean, he gave me a hard time when I was cleaning up Pearson’s wagon a while ago, but Hosea scared him off.”

Arthur turns to look at you. “And today?”

“Oh.” You think back to the confrontation. “Well, he called me the ‘camp nuisance’ and said I was starting to wear out my welcome.”

A glint of fury flashes through Arthur’s eyes as he throws a glare in Micah’s general direction. You shiver involuntarily. Thank goodness you’re not on a certain cowboy’s bad side.

“I’ve been called worse, to be honest,” you say with a shrug, and smile slightly when Arthur looks at you again. “I’m kinda used to it.”

He gives you a troubled frown instead of sharing your nonchalance. Confused, you feel your smile waver a little.

“What?” You ask.

“You…” Arthur begins, trails off, then continues: “You know it ain’t true, right?”

“What isn’t?”

“The part about being a nuisance. You ain’t wearing out your welcome, either.”

Something pulls at your heart, something strong, and you’re suddenly at a loss for words. You’ve had so many doors slammed in your face, so many people come and go, never staying, never even wanting to stay… And you couldn’t do anything but watch them leave.

“Oh,” is all you manage around a tight throat.

Arthur looks at you some more. His eyes are soft now, soft and full of what you think is understanding. He reaches out, maybe to put a hand on your shoulder, but apparently thinks better of it and instead motions for you to follow him. You trail a little behind as he walks toward Florence. You ain’t wearing out your welcome, either. Did… did Arthur really mean that? Does that mean the rest of the gang, minus Micah, feels the same way? You can’t help but shake your head in wonder. You don’t think you’ll ever understand these people.

Once you catch up, Arthur easily swings himself on top of Florence, then hauls you into the saddle behind him. You’re starting to get used to horseback. Florence may be absolutely massive, but you don’t feel so unsteady anymore. In fact, you might actually like riding.

“We’re meeting up with Javier just outside of Blackwater,” Charles says as he brings Taima over. “Trelawney thinks the bounty hunters will bring Sean upriver.”

Arthur nods and sets a steady trot out of camp. “Good. We can probably cut ‘em off when they reach the border. I think there’s a canyon that’ll give us some decent cover.”

“Any luck, we’ll take them by surprise.” Charles urges Taima into a canter, which Florence matches. “How many do you think there’ll be?”

“For Sean?” Arthur laughs, and you try not to look too enamored. “Any pair of fools could handle him. But there’ll be a lot of ‘em, no doubt.”

Charles hums in thought, but doesn’t say anything else. Much of the ride passes in comfortable silence. Although you want to focus on admiring the scenery and marvel at the lack of, well, everything, you find yourself thinking about the upcoming fight. You may not know a lot about the past, but you’ve seen enough Westerns to know bounty hunters always put up a hell of a fight. That, and they always keep coming right when you think you’ve killed them all.

Your revolver suddenly feels heavy in its holster. You bite your lip, a little unsure. Yes, you’ve used it once at Six Point Cabin, and yes, you’ve managed to hit a few bottles, but those were honestly lucky shots. And neither of them were shooting back.

Bounty hunters, though? Different story. For as much bravado as you showed Dutch during his little tirade, you have to admit that you’re a little nervous. It’ll be your first real gunfight. You’ll have Arthur and Charles looking out for you, but you can’t help the anxiety knotting deep in your gut.

If I die, I die, you think. No going back now.

///

Conversation lags for the remainder of the ride. Eventually, after crossing a small river, you’re in what Arthur tells you is West Elizabeth. It looks… well, it looks like a perfect snapshot of a history textbook. Rolling hills and open land, bison… it’s absolutely stunning.

Off in the distance, you see two people looking over the edge of a cliff. You recognize Javier, but you don’t recognize the other man, with his mustache and mischievous eyes. He smiles when he sees Arthur and Charles, then peers at you curiously.

“And who might this be?” He asks as Arthur dismounts, leaving you alone atop Florence.

Your brain goes into a blue screen of death, and before you know what you’re doing, you say: “My name is an enigma and holds all the secrets of the universe.”

“That would be Y/N,” Arthur says, exasperated. He helps you down and grabs his rifle from the saddle. “Y/N, this is Josiah Trelawney.”

Trelawney bows with a flourish. “At your service, my dear.”

You instantly decide you like him. Waving hello to Javier, you approach the edge of the cliff, crouching low like everyone else.

“Sean?” Arthur asks as he looks down the scope of his rifle.

“I think he’s in that boat over there.” Javier gestures to a small vessel upriver. “Think they’re docking to take him further inland.”

Arthur turns the scope, then gives a hum of confirmation. “That’s him alright. Giving those bounty hunters hell.”

Trelawney nods and rises before mounting his horse. Setting a slow walk, he motions for everyone to follow him. Arthur helps you on to Florence, and then you’re off once more.

“If we do this right,” Trelawney says, “we can cut them off. Remember: we’re just innocent folk out for a ride on the trail. Let’s not draw their attention just yet.”

The five of you ride toward a canyon. Ahead, you can see the boat docked at the shore, along with several well-armed, intimidating bounty hunters standing guard. They don’t look like they’re in much of a mood to negotiate. In fact, they look ready to shoot on sight.

Everyone takes cover around the bend. Trelawney, odd man that he is, seems more preoccupied with his coat than the problem at hand.

“Now ain’t the time for a fashion statement,” Arthur drawls.

“Au contraire, my dear fellow,” Trelawney says with a smile. “Bounty hunters are even more gullible than hillbillies. I have to look the part if I’m going to make the proper distraction.”

Then, before any of you can say a word otherwise, Trelawney strides confidently toward the bounty hunters. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you just know he’s spinning a tale bigger than the Grizzlies. He waves his arms in a grandiose gesture. In another situation, you would have mistaken it for part of the act. But now, along with Arthur, Charles, and Javier, you recognize it for what it is: a signal.

Arthur fires a quick shot, striking one of the bounty hunters between the eyes. From there, it’s chaos. All you can hear is the sound of gunfire and shouting. You take cover behind a rock, firing your revolver without really trying to hit anything. You don’t know if any of your bullets find their marks. Honestly? Probably not.

“Let’s push up on ‘em,” Arthur commands.

You stick close by him as you make your way up the canyon. The bounty hunters have regrouped by now, which lets them put up more of a fight. A bullet whizzes by your ear—too close for you to ignore—and you yelp and duck further into cover.

Arthur quickly lays down some cover fire, then hauls you up and pulls you behind a larger rock. You don’t even have time to tell him thank you. The firefight picks up again, bullets flying, ricocheting, sometimes hitting their targets, sometimes hitting the canyon walls. It takes nearly all your self-control to keep a level head.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Javier reloading his guns, but also just barely peeking out of cover. You look up the canyon trail. There, off in the distance, half-hidden by gun smoke and dust, you can just barely make out the silhouette of a bounty hunter—and he’s aiming right at Javier.

You steel yourself. You’re not some useless coward who needs to be protected. You’re a member of the Van Der Linde Gang—an outlaw. And one of your own is in danger.

Your anxiety flees, replaced by determination. Edging ever-so-slightly out of cover, you fire off a shot toward the bounty hunter, then duck back behind the boulder. A pained yell tells you that you hit your mark, and it’s followed by silence.

Javier looks at the fallen bounty hunter, then at you. He nods his head in thanks. Smiling, you tip your fingers in a mock-salute, then follow Arthur as he pushes further up the canyon.

It doesn’t take long for your little group to reach a clearing. Right away, you see someone dangling upside down from a tree. He’s also surrounded by vicious-looking men who you would honestly rather avoid.

Well,you think to yourself. That must be Sean.

The bounty hunters have been expecting you, and they fire several warning shots into the tree line. You duck behind the trunk of a massive pine. To your right, you see Arthur considering the situation, trying to figure out the best approach. On your left, Javier and Charles wait on a signal. You don’t know what happened to Trelawney, but you think he’s alright.

“If we can get around them,” Arthur eventually says, “we can come at them from all sides.”

Javier grins. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Charles gives him a look. “Only the fish can shoot back.”

Arthur nods, then looks back toward the clearing. “Someone’s gotta get to Sean quick as they can. I got a feeling he’s gonna be bait.”

“I’ll do it,” you tell him. “There’s enough cover behind that tree he’s tied up in. I’ll be fine.”

For a long, long moment, Arthur looks uncertain. But when you give him a pleading look, silently begging him to let you prove yourself, he sighs and folds the cards.

“Alright,” he agrees. “Wait until you got a clear opening, then go for it.”

Everyone heads off in opposite directions, leaving you to prepare yourself for the sprint of the century. One by one, the boys shoot the bounty hunters, hitting each with impeccable aim. Then, almost before you’re ready, you spy the perfect opportunity.

Making a beeline for Sean, you dive behind the tree just as the bullets start flying again. You sit there for a few seconds, catching your breath. You can’t believe you’re still alive. All that time in open space, and not a single scratch on you.

“It’s over!” You hear one of the bounty hunters shout.

He sounds dangerously close to you. Peeking around the tree, you see him standing not a foot away, pointing his rifle at Sean.

Shit.

You duck back into hiding before you’re spotted. This is exactly what you didn’twant to happen, and it happened anyway. Wracking your brain for ideas, you look around for anything that could be of use.

Think think think think think think—

There’s a corpse not too far from you, and you spy a knife on its belt. Moving purely on instinct and adrenaline, you snatch it from its sheath, turn back to the bounty hunter, and shove it through his throat right in the middle of his next sentence. He stays on his feet for maybe a second longer, then collapses.

You slowly back away from him. Dimly, you realize that the fire fight is over, that everyone else is okay, but you can’t bring yourself to focus on that. All you can do is stare at the body on the ground… the man you just killed.

“You alright there, friend?” Sean asks, still upside down.

“Uh,” your voice sounds far away to your own ears, “yeah. I’m fine.”

After that, you have maybe five seconds before your stomach lurches. Doubling over, you heave violently for a while before coughing, spitting out the taste in your mouth, and wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

“Hiya Sean. I’m Y/N.”

//

Accompanying Music: Still Breathing | Green Day

Ko-Fi

[cutesilyo]

no place in the world (like manila) — an amephil fanfic

A few months after the outbreak of the Philippine-American War, Alfred falls in love with and is betrayed by a bright-eyed teenager with the prettiest smile on this side of the Orient in a single night. 

This is not a love story.

Also available on AO3.

—

"Sir, I don't think it's safe for you to leave the camp," Major-General MacArthur warned. "I don't know how, but the revolutionaries know your face. They could attack you!"

"Pshaw," Alfred snorted. "I'm a nation. What could they do that could take me down, huh?"

MacArthur's mustache bristled in displeasure. "Be that as it may sir, might I remind you that you only arrived in Manila a week ago? Knowing you, you'd just get lost and I'd have to put together a whole squad of troops just to hunt you down. You could get captured, Alfred. I don't know how to tell you just how badly that would bring down morale."

Alfred just wagged his fingers, a bright grin on his face. "Look, if I get captured, I'd bust out of whatever crappy holding place they'd put me in without barely breaking a sweat! And knowing our soldiers, that's just the stuff that would make a great story to tell at dinnertime. How's that for morale?"

The way that MacArthur simply stared at him blankly told Alfred that this was not a convincing argument.

"I hate it when you do that," he groaned, slumping back on his seat. The leather was hot with the heat of the tropical sun and it stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Oh, how badly he wanted to just finally get up and leave. "I'm just saying, I can't stay inside here forever just waiting for you to dictate our next move."

"It's part of our strategy—"

"And it's boring. I'm bored, Major-General. I might as well look around." Alfred's eyes glinted dangerously. "Besides, you'll capture the whole nation for me soon enough, won't you? No harm in wanting to see what we're winning once this war is over."

The silence lasted for a few seconds before the major-general sighed in defeat.

—

Private Patton R. Wilkes was assigned to “accompany” Alfred while he roamed around Manila, but he knew that MacArthur just wanted someone to make sure he would actually return to camp instead of getting lost or, God forbid, taking the next ship back to America. Though the both of them were dressed in civilian clothing, the private carried himself with a strict stiffness that just screamed hardened military man. If Alfred wanted any chance of escape, it looked like the private would be hard to shake off.

Alfred tried to stay optimistic about the trip anyway. He hadn't paid much attention to the city while he was on the way to the American camp, but he certainly expected it to have an air of exoticness. He was a bit disappointed not to see anything like the palaces of Japan or the distinctly oriental architecture of China. Instead, he found street signs written in Spanish, the excited chatter of fast-talking brown-skinned people, and the cacophony of guitars, church bells, and the sound of horse-drawn carriages trotting along the stoned roads. Walking around Manila was like looking at a funhouse mirror version of Mexico: more or less the same, but with just enough differences to make his head spin.

"Uh, you alright there, sir?" Patton asked.

"Was just thinking about a bad memory, is all," Alfred grimaced. He's sure that Alejandro would have his head once he returned to the continent. He's been pissing off a lot of Spanish-speaking nations recently, that's for sure. "Come to think of it, the Philippine Islands must have its own personification too, right?"

The private's face darkened. "He's a force to reckon with, sire. Haven't seen no hide nor hair of him myself, but some guys in the other squadron barely survived after fighting with the kid."

"A kid?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't know there were still nations out there who were that young. Then again, he was only a teenager himself, and he was even younger when he fought against Arthur as well. "I don't know how I feel about fighting a kid. Couldn't I just give him a lollipop or something and this could all just work itself out?"

He meant it as a joke, but Patton seemed to take it seriously and started furiously shaking his head. "Don't think you could even try negotiating with him sir, the kid's a savage. Hacked and slashed his way through the guys with some kind of golden knife, they said. We're lucky our medics are so darned fast, otherwise, we would've been down almost a dozen men from him alone."

Something in Alfred's resolve hardened at the thought of losing his soldiers to someone so brutal. He clapped the other man on the shoulder and said, "Don't you worry, Pat. We'll end this soon, and when we win, we'll make sure that nobody from these islands ever lays a hand on any of our own."

That seemed to comfort Patton somewhat, though he was still shaking with anger. "I'll give them a good walloping right by your side, sire."

"Now that's the kind of patriotic determination I wanna see!" Alfred crowed. He then immediately scrambled for his wallet and hurriedly gave the private a wad of bills. Some onlookers openly gawked at seeing the number of dollar bills in his hand. "Tell you what, why don't you buy some booze, head back to camp, and inspire your fellow soldiers, eh? God knows we need some fun around here."

"Um," Patton blinked, caught off-guard. "I don't know if Major-General MacArthur—"

"Tell Major-General MacArthur that I'm just trying to boost morale," Alfred winked. "Also, tell him I'll back by next morning!"

He didn't get to hear Patton's response as he took off running wildly in the opposite direction. He barely registered running past the stores, wet market, and the cathedral; he just wanted to be alone and independent, exploring this new land to his heart's content. The buildings were shorter and the roads were narrower here than in his own country, but Alfred was just so glad to finally be in a place filled with people just like he was used to.

Alfred collapsed on his knees, winded. When he looked up, he was surprised to see that he had apparently made it to one of Manila's many ports. Past the numerous small fishing boats and trading boats, he could see that the sun was already beginning to set. The sky was painted in a pretty combination of pinks and oranges in contrast to the ocean's blue, the stars already starting to twinkle faintly into appearance one by one. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the rocks seemed louder than everything else around him — a stark reminder that no matter where he went, there was always something bigger to discover.

He stood there for a moment, mesmerized when a loud grunt startled him out of his stupor.

He turned to find some kind of bull staring at him with its beady eyes, its long horns curving towards the back instead of to the front. It was pulling a wagon full of leafy vegetables that Alfred couldn't recognize, and the old man riding it looked startled to come across a foreigner.

"Hijo, padaan naman po," he said, with a strained smile.

"Oh, sorry, I don't know what you mean," Alfred tried, but the man just continued smiling at him. He was starting to think that maybe abandoning Patton, who wasn't fluent but at the very least conversational in Tagalog, was a bad idea.

Luckily, someone came to his rescue. A teenager with bright eyes approached him, an amused twitch of the lips on his sharp face. He was dressed simply: unlike the suit and tie ensemble of the richer Filipinos he'd come across or the pale blue uniform of the Philippine Army, he wore a thin white top and trousers cut just above his ankles. The scabbard on his hip would have been concerning if Alfred didn't know just how many Filipinos carried knives in their daily lives. All in all, he looked just like any other street vendor, but the red handkerchief tied around his neck was vibrant enough to make him stand out. "You are American, yes?"

"Ah yeah," Alfred flushed, a bit flustered. The way the stranger leaned in was a little too close for comfort, but he looked harmless and at least he spoke English. "Can you help me? I think that man is talking to me, but I can't understand what he's saying."

The teenager grabbed his arm to pull him to the side. The old man tipped his straw hat in thanks, and the teenager smiled, saying: "Pasensya na po, lolo! Hindi kasi taga-rito."

The two of them watched the wagon pass them by. They stood there in silence for a moment, and then Alfred blurted out, "I didn't know I was in the way, I swear."

"You did seem quite distracted." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy laugh. The both of them turned to each other at the same time, a small smile on each other's faces. "Not that I blame you. I am sure you have sunsets in America, but it is different here than in other countries. I think the colors are more vibrant, do you agree?"

"Certainly takes my breath away," he admitted. "I do have to ask, how come you speak English so well? I've only been in Manila for a few days but I don't think I've met another Filipino that's as good as you are."

The teenager only laughed again and held on to Alfred's arm tighter. As he looked up at him, his eyes and grin were equally bright with mirth; and despite himself, Alfred was a bit charmed. "Us Filipinos are not as stupid as you think, señorito. Now, you say you are a stranger to Manila, yes? Come with me, and let me show you around my city."

—

They ended up hailing a tranvia, a carriage made to carry a whole group of people instead of just a pair. Alfred found it small and quaint, making an internal note to build tram lines in the city once he was able. Yet the energy that the teenager had with him was larger than life. He had apparently noticed the other passengers giving Alfred a suspicious side-eye, and immediately launched into a round of jokes to dispel the tension. Though he barely understood the jokes due to them being told in a mix of Spanish and Tagalog, the way that the whole tranvia burst into loud laughter was enough to assure him that his companion was quite the comedic performer.

When they got off, the driver even thanked them for the entertainment and told them not to pay the fare anymore. Alfred let out an excited whoo! as the teenager did an exaggerated bow.

As the carriage rode off, Alfred turned to his new friend and exclaimed, "Wow! The way you handled that was amazing! I mean, I've been through worse than an awkward train ride, but you definitely saved my ass back there."

The teenager blushed slightly. "Think nothing of it. I would rather see my companions happy and comfortable in my care than anything else."

"Still, that thing you did was certainly a swell sight." Alfred breathed in the cold evening air and let it out with a contented sigh. He looked straight into the other boy's eyes as he said, "And it's really nice that you're going through all the trouble to be with me tonight too! Like, we don't even know each other's names but you just whisked me away like some kind of fairytale hero! That was really awesome of you, I have to say."

"You are a man of sweet words," the teenager said, with a smile that looked almost bittersweet. Then, as if he had completely forgotten about his melancholy, he grabbed Alfred's arm again and dragged him towards the next street corner. "But let us not waste time talking! Most of these shops close soon, and I would hate for us to miss them!"

Helpless, Alfred let himself be strung along.

Sadly, most of the shops they went past had already closed for the day. Still, the teenager cheerily talked his ear off about what wares they sold and the local gossip about the people who ran those stores — like Pepito, owner of the clay pottery store, who had apparently given away all his lotto winnings to the next city's blacksmith. The one time that they had actually been able to buy something was when they came across a small, brightly-colored cart that apparently sold the Filipino version of ice cream. Both the vendor — Mang Tomas, as he was introduced — and the teenager had chuckled when he brought out a wallet full of dollars, so the teenager had to reach into his own pocket to pay with a few coins. As they walked past yet another cathedral, Alfred caught his friend singing the hymns under his breath. When they reached the plaza, the teenager then asked the lady standing nearby — Aling Nena, he was told — to give him a jasmine garland, the scent of the white flowers so powerful that it immediately made Alfred sneeze on his friend's face when he put them around his neck. Yet instead of getting mad like he expected, the teenager had only laughed and told him he looked handsome.

No matter where they went or who they talked to, his friend always seemed to know everyone's names. Alfred had no idea how he had the time to possibly get so familiar with all the people around him, but he certainly understood the sentiment; he loved talking with all the Americans that he came across with too. Personally getting to know the people who made his nation always made him feel more connected with them in a way that war and politics never could.

And if the Philippine Islands was truly to be his someday, Alfred knew he wanted to treat them similarly. More than anything or anyone else though, nobody in the archipelago had intrigued him most than the young man beside him whose smile was brighter than any star.

Yet all his experience in small talk failed him tonight, and not for lack of trying. Every time he asked questions about his friend, he was always diverted away from the topic.

Which part of the city are you from? was met with a vague Do you ask the flower which vine it came from? You are better off simply enjoying the whole garden.

Where is your family? had been completely ignored as his friend said You must be hungry, yes? I know a place with the best empanadas this side of Binondo.

What is your name? earned him a cheeky wink and a teasing If your mind still ventures to inane questions like that, then I am not doing very well in completely impressing you.

How old are you? made the teenager burst out into loud, hearty laughter that lasted for more than a minute. Alfred didn't even bother to try asking anything else after that, choosing to focus on his empanadas and arroz a la valenciana for the rest of the meal.

Later, when they were served a bottle of gin to share along with a bowl of peanuts, his friend had the grace to apologize for his behavior.

"I truly am sorry," he said, but the playful grin on his face made it difficult to take his apology seriously. "I simply do not think that you knowing more about me is more important than us having a good time together."

"How am I supposed to find you again if I don't know who you are, huh?" Alfred couldn't stop himself from whining. He ignored the glass in front of him, taking a swig straight from the bottle and letting the alcohol burn down his throat. His friend watched him in bemusement. "This has been the best night of my life in a long time. And if this is the last time we see each other, I don't think I'm going to forgive myself if I don't push you into giving me a hint."

This time, it was his friend's turn to take a drink: he filled his glass half-full and downed it all in one go. "You are certainly bold, señorito, I will give you that. A good friend of mine warned me about how loud and annoying Americans were, but it seems he neglected to tell me about how forward you all were as well."

Alfred resisted the urge to roll his eyes; of course, he would get deflected yet again. "Alright, I'll bite. Tell me more about your friend."

The teenager looked surprised. "You wish to know more about a man that insulted you?"

"If this is the closest I get to you telling me more about yourself, I'll take it," he shrugged. "Besides, I'd love to know how this friend of yours thinks. Americans are the greatest people in the world! He must be stupid if he doesn't know that."

The other boy laughed. "Of course you would say that, you biased brute. And I will have you know that my friend was quite smart, actually. One of the smartest men I have ever known."

Alfred felt like he wouldn't like the answer, but he asked anyway: "Was?"

All traces of laughter from his friend's face faded away into a hollow smile. "Killed by firing squad a few years ago."

Silently, Alfred poured gin into both of their glasses. They drank in solemn solidarity.

"My sincere condolences," said Alfred, and he meant it: he had lost too many friends himself over the centuries. "And I'm sorry I called him stupid."

His friend waved it off. "No worries. Pepe was incredibly intelligent, but he definitely had his fair share of stupid moments — you wouldn't believe how many times that man fell in love over the course of his short lifetime. Still, I miss him terribly and I wish he was still around. God only knows what he would have thought about everything happening at present."

"Oh, I know the feeling." Despite him dying decades prior, Alfred still longed for George Washington's steadfast guidance sometimes. He reached, a bit messily, for another drink. "It's uncanny, yeah? Some people just have this weird ability to analyze the present and predict the future. I certainly don't know how they do anything like it, really. I kind of just talk big and hope for the best."

"Funny that you talk about the future," the teenager chuckled. "Somehow, my friend even managed to predict that you would come here, Alfred. I did not believe him at the time, of course, but here you are."

"Here I am," Alfred repeated faintly. "Hold on, how did you know my—"

"Why were you all alone in my city, señorito?" His friend interrupted, looking up at him through his eyelashes. He leaned closer, close enough for the skin of their arms to touch, and Alfred suddenly forgot about all his worries. "I was very surprised to see you on your own, looking every bit like a lost little lamb. You are very lucky that I found you."

"Lucky indeed," he murmured, adjusting the collar of his shirt. It felt like the temperature in the room had risen by a dozen degrees. "Just wanted to explore, is all. MacArthur told me we had to stay low for a few more weeks, I got bored, and he let me out."

Those bright eyes were practically glittering as the teenager looked up at him, his fingers slowly tracing up his arm. "And you were alone? I always thought American soldiers traveled in pairs, but perhaps I was mistaken."

"No! No, you're right, you're definitely right," Alfred stammered out. He was sure his face was completely red by now. "I was with Private Wilkes earlier, but we, ah, got separated. He must be on the way back to Bulacan by now."

"How unfortunate," the other practically purred, clearly delighted. "Say, tell me, how did this Wilkes look like? Because I am sure that he does not look as handsome as you do."

That damned smile, now coy instead of kind and sweet, was tantalizingly close. If only he had the courage to lean down—

Alfred, trying desperately to distract himself, grabbed the bottle again and took a long swig.

There were about a million promises that threatened to spill from Alfred's lips, each one more outrageous than the other: Come with me. Stay with me. I'll keep you safe. I'll love you. Yet at the moment, he found himself tongue-tied. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or the atmosphere or the way the young boy across the table had so effortlessly allured him, but he felt like he was about to go insane. He barely registered the both of them standing up to leave, didn't question why they didn't need to pay at the restaurant, paid no heed to what his friend had whispered to the men standing guard by the door. His mind was in a muddy haze, and all he could focus on was the fact that his friend was holding his hand as he was led into the dark streets.

Dimly, Alfred thought that however striking he looked by the setting sun, he looked much more ethereal bathed in moonlight.

He must have said this aloud because the teenager laughed.

"You are a man of sweet words," he said, and there's that oddly bittersweet smile again. "And I wish we could have met in better circumstances."

"What's wrong with the way we met today? I had fun," Alfred argued. He swayed slightly on his feet, and his friend held on to him to keep him from falling. "Didn't you have fun?"

"You forget we are at war, señorito. And you forget that you are seeking to control me and my people, not find a lover." Despite the harsh words, the way his friend said this was soft and sad. Almost like he was somehow hurt. "It does not matter what we feel today if we are bound to fight each other tomorrow. Should you not know this by now?"

They walked together in silence, each supporting the other. Slowly, Alfred's alcohol-induced dizziness began to subside. It was replaced by a growing emptiness in his chest — and a heavy, heavy realization.

"You knew I was America this entire time." When his friend deigned to respond, he continued. "Then, why...?"

At this, the teenager laughed — broken and wistful and desperate, all at once. "I do not know myself. I was ready to attack you, but for some reason, the look in your eyes as you watched the sunset stopped me. I thought, if you could look at my country with such amazement, then you could see that this war is unnecessary. That if you could know my land and my people the way I knew them, full of vibrancy and color and light, then you could realize that they did not deserve to die.

"Yet as the night went on I began to realize my efforts were fruitless. It was not them you were looking at anymore, but me." Here, his friend faced him; Alfred barely catching a glimpse of his wet eyes before the teenager looked away. "Believe me, I would love to spend another night like this with you. But you have your responsibilities and so do I."

"Fruitless," Alfred repeated hollowly. The cold night wind was in stark contrast to the hot rage he felt bubbling inside him. He forcefully wrenched himself away from his friend, yelling: "You made me tell you classified information!"

In seconds, he watched the teenager's face go from shock to hurt to an angry glare.

"Do you not understand how badly I need to win this war? My people did not give their lives to free me from Spain just so you could swoop in and take over! So forgive me, señorito," his friend spat mockingly, "for trying to find whatever advantages my poor nation can get against such an imperialistic nation like you!"

"And do you not understand what we're trying to do here?" Alfred shouted. "We are fighting this war to save you! Don't you see that your country is a mess? That you're underdeveloped, uneducated, and unfit for self-rule? I was the hero who helped save your people from Spain, jackass, and—"

"—and you promised to give us independence, and yet all your countrymen seem to do is kill." The teenager finished, both his eyes and the hilt of his knife glinting golden under the moonlight. "Is that what freedom means to you, America? I beg to differ."

As Alfred stepped away from him in furious, furious betrayal, all he could think about was that the other boy looked so small.

"I thought of you as my friend," he said.

"And I thought of you as my liberator," the teenager said coolly. "I see we were both wrong."

A harsh whinny interrupted them both. Alfred turned to find Patton riding a chestnut brown horse, his face red from exhaustion but seemingly unharmed. The private stopped in front of him, dismounting without grace on the pavement. His face was red from exhaustion and his clothes looked considerably ruffled, but otherwise, he looked unharmed.

"It ain't my position to say this sire, but don't you dare ever try to run away from me like that again," Patton panted, giving a quick side-eye to the other teenager before dismissing him. "We best hurry now, because those two won't be happy about their stolen horse."

Just as he was about to ask who those two were, a pair of Filipinos with muskets turned the corner and ran towards them. He vaguely recognized them as the same two men who were standing guard at the restaurant. They shouted loudly, a mix of Tagalog and Spanish expletives that Alfred could barely recognize, and a phrase distinct enough that he felt like it was something significant: amang bayan.

Patton evidently recognized the words. He looked at him in a wide-eyed panic, saying, "Sire, we need to leave—"

And as quick as lightning, Patton fell to the ground with a sickening crack. Caught completely off-guard and his arms restrained, he was helpless against the teenager who had a knife at his throat: a knife that, as Alfred began to realize with a horrified lurch of his stomach, was engraved with golden flowers and the insignia of an eight-rayed sun.

"You must be Private Wilkes," the Philippines smiled. "I do hope you are enjoying my country."

"Get off him or else!" Alfred screamed, the combined events of the night making him feel like he was about to reach his breaking point. He reached for the pistol he kept hidden on his belt and took aim, hoping to God that the other nation wouldn't force him to shoot. Even after everything, he didn't feel like he had the nerve to hurt Philippines after the hours they spent together; maybe some other day, but not tonight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the two men had caught up to them. They angled their muskets at him from a distance. The horse, which Alfred had been planning to use for escape, had already taken off running in the commotion.

Patton stared up at him with fear in his eyes, a bleeding gash on his forehead, and Alfred's hands began to shake.

Above all else, Philippines was still smiling: eyes bright, amused twitch of the lips on his sharp face. Slowly, he stood to approach him.

Like a switch had been flicked, his features turned soft and kind again — more like the boy that Alfred had met earlier, the boy who had dragged him around the streets of Manila with lighthearted laughter, the boy whose smile was brighter than any star. All Alfred could do was stand there, mesmerized once again, as his hand was gently pried away from the gun.

"Alfred," Philippines said this quietly, almost like he was invoking a prayer. He motioned the men to stand down. "I do not wish to fight."

"I don't want to either," Alfred admitted. Maybe there was hope... "C'mon, we can talk this through, right? Look, we haven't had a battle in months. It should be really easy to negotiate, yeah? I'll set up a meeting with your generals and mine, we'll have a civil discussion with no weapons allowed, and we'll reach a compromise."

The other nation was leaning in, and this time, Alfred took his chance. He held Philippines' cheek in his hands and they kissed, soft and quick and chaste.

"Of course," Alfred said, as he pulled away. "I would need your complete surrender—"

He was swiftly kneed in the stomach, disarmed, and shot.

"Alfred, I do not wish to fight," Philippines said, as he watched Alfred collapse to the ground. "But I have to. I hope you understand."

He vaguely registered Patton reaching out to him as his eyes closed and the blood pooled around him, but all he could focus on was watching the other nation walk away into the darkness.

—

When Alfred came to, he was already back at camp. Without thinking, he immediately trudged to the general's war office.

"Good morning, Major-General MacArthur," he smiled, bright and cheery. "Gather the troops. I want to destroy Manila immediately."

—

Notes:

This is set in October 1899, during those months when there were no battles or skirmishes between the two armies. On the first day of November, the Americans launched a major attack on the Filipinos. This attack happened in San Fabian, Pangasinan, not in Manila, but let's forget about that.

Major-General MacArthur is, of course, Arthur MacArthur Jr., who was a major military figure during the Philippine-American War. I also claim artistic license in hinting that the American camp was in Bulacan because it probably wasn't.

Alfred's comments about Manila looking like Mexico are based on a comment by former president Manuel L. Quezon when he visited Mexico back in 1937: "Everything was the same." He meant that very, very affectionately.

Here's a nifty map of modern Manila. Alfred and Patton start out in Quiapo, which is basically the heart of downtown Manila. Alfred runs all the way to Muelle del Rey, which, coincidentally, happens to be the same place where the Jones Bridge stands today. Alfred and Phili take the tranvia to Binondo, Manila's business district and home to the world's oldest Chinatown.

The names of the store owners and vendors that Phili talks about are references to assorted media in Philippine pop culture. Pepito is a reference to Pepito Manaloto, a long-time comedy show about a man who won the lotto. Mang Tomas (Mang being an informal way to refer to a male adult older than you) is the name of a popular brand of gravy. Aling Nena (Aling being an informal way to refer to a female adult older than you) is a reference to the song Tindahan ni Aling Nena, about a boy who falls in love with a storeowner's daughter.

The garland of white jasmines that Phili puts around Alfred's neck are supposed to be sampaguitas, our national flower. They're usually sold near churches and are given as a sign of respect.

I have no idea if there are actually empanadas and valenciana sold somewhere in Binondo, but let's jot that down to artistic license. But these are very much Filipino foods that were adapted from Spanish foods, which is why Phili brings it up when Alfred asks about his family.

The old friend that Phili keeps talking about is Jose Rizal, our national hero. He is primarily known for being a great writer, whose novels inspired the Philippine War for Independence, and for being killed for it. He is also known for being having a long list of lovers, many of them not even Filipino. Lesser known is the fact that he visited America, hated it, went on a train ride with an American, and hated it. He wrote a whole diary entry about how much he didn't like America and Americans. He had also predicted that out of all the world powers, it would be America who would probably take an interest in conquering the Philippines when Spain was out of the picture. Go figure. Rizal was also affectionately known by his nickname, Pepe.

I imagine Phili to be particularly proficient in arnis, which is also known as kali or eskrima. It's a kind of Filipino martial art, most easily recognizable as that one martial art where everyone is dual-wielding a pair of sticks. The sticks are actually for training. Traditionally, arnis is fought by dual-wielding knives or swords, and it's meant to be quick and efficient in defending, attacking, disarming, and killing. Phili's fictional ornately designed knife is inspired by this very real ornately designed knife. The detail of the eight-rayed sun is a reference to the eight-rayed sun in the Philippine flag.

Lastly (phew!), some Tagalog to English translations!

Hijo, padaan naman po - Young boy, kindly let me pass Pasensya na po, lolo! Hindi kasi taga-rito - Sorry, grandfather*! He's not from around here. Lolo literally means grandfather but is a general way to refer to any elderly man regardless of any actual blood relation. Amang bayan - Fatherland

[floatinginwords]

Saved by the Devil (8/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: you go missing and a lot of people get worried

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (Not romantic..yet)

A/n: I actually wasn't gonna post today but this chapter fell out of me. Its funny how some days are tougher to write and others its like riding a wave. I hope everyone has a wonderful day :)

The man with the busy eyebrows and mustache called himself Inspector Campbell. A fucking police officer. When you came too you found yourself tied to a chair, ropes around your wrist and legs, tight against the skin cutting off blood circulation. He didn’t ask questions first. No first, was the punching against your ribs and stomach. Then your face. He didn’t give you no breaks, not like he would give you any.

 “I think me and you have gotten fairly acquainted with.” The inspector say his foul breath reaching up your nostrils. Blood dribbled down your chin and nose. It was you could taste.

His men have left the room, on his orders of course. He leans on his cane as he stares at you from above. A evil smirk on his face as if he was some god looking down at his pitiful creations. You spit blood at his shoe.

 He grabs your face harshly, you face scrunching up like a fish. “Tell me what you were doing with Thomas Shelby. Or I can make this night a whole lot painful for you.”  He throws you back and all you do is glare at the man. Not saying a word. Not even huffing a sound.

 The inspector laughs. And walks out the door. You see him point to you with his cane as he talks to the other men that were abusing you moments ago.  You brace yourself for the inevitable. The torture last for hours.

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

 No ones seen you for three days. Ada, the first night you didn’t comeback, called Trinity. but she hadn’t seen you since the morning. The next day Ada and James went out looking through the streets at your usual spots. You didn’t have any Ada just wanted to feel as though she was doing something. You didn’t have any family or any other friends. Except one other person who may know your whereabouts. So on the third day of no trace of you, with a little nagging and encouragement from James and Trinity, Ada decided to make a call.

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

 Over at May Careltons mansion, Thomas Shelby listens half heartedly to the woman discussing the progress on his horse. He could care less at the moment. He’s just thinking of ways that he could stay the night. He wasn’t a fool, he knew of Mays attraction to him. It benefited him in more ways than one.

 “Excuse me, Mr. Shelby,” A maid interrupts May in the middle of whatever it was that she was saying, “You have a phone call.”

 “I’m sure they can leave a message.” His eyes not leaving Mays

 “Its your sister, she sounds urgent.” The maid says.

 With that thought in mind, Tommy excuses himself from May.

 “Ada this better be important.”

 “Where the fuck are you,” Ada screeches over the phone, “Ive been trying to contact you everywhere and Polly tells me your-“

 “What is it-“

 “(Y/n) is missing.”

 Tommy swallows hard. “I’m sure she’s around somewhere ada. How long its been?”

 “Three days. No ones seen her. Tommy please, Im worried.”

 Three days ago was when he last saw you. When you agreed to go to dinner with Alfie and Arthur You had left the car without another word. He wanted to follow you but decided against it. He was regretting it now.

 “Ada, just calm down. Ill ask some boys to go look for her okay?” He reassures his sister over the phone promising to find you.

He hangs up.

 “Is everything alright?” May asks from behind him. Her eyes were hopeful looking at him. She too was hoping he would stay though that was something she would never admit out loud.

“I have to go, family emergency.” He says. Turning his back on her without another thought.

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

He didn’t have to leave. He knew that. He could have stayed with May have her fill that hole within his heart that Grace had left about a year ago. He owed nothing to you. He kept telling himself this over and over as he drove back, pushing the speed way past its limit. He begins to reminisce about your first meeting. You were nothing but a chess piece to him at the time but you surprised him a lot in that first meeting. Especially when you didn’t take that money he offered. He was confused to say the least. Everyone took free money. You didn’t. He remembers seeing you again at the Eden club. He though he would never see again. But there you were. He couldn’t not talk to you. He just had to. He knew he hurt you with his words. He didn’t apologize. He never apologizes. He remembers finding out Ada had a roommate. Imagine the surprise on his face when he realized it was you. Of course Thomas Shelby was always in control of his emotions so it never really showed. He was distrustful of you as he always is with people. But you showed something since your first introduction that most people didn’t show their entire lives; Honesty. And he liked that about you. He believed you when you said you didn’t work for Sabini anymore. (Of course he had his people look into it after to be 100% sure) He trusted you to go to meet his brothers, be in the same car as them, come to an auction. He remembers seeing you bloody and a mess. Guilt and rage had filled him up. He couldn’t hold himself back from shooting the guy. When he stitched you up, he liked that you tried to make conversation. You knew when to back up, you never pried. He didn’t know if that was fear of him or if that was just you. He hoped the latter. He liked the way you said Mr. Shelby, though he often wondered how his first name would sound falling off your lips. Thomas Shelby pushes these feeling aside as he drives. He tells himself he just doing this as favor to his sister and because you can be very valuable. But as he drives into the city, a piece of his mind whispers that that just might not be the only case.

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

 Three fucking days. You couldn’t believe that that’s how long it lasted. The torture, the beatings. They released you on the thought that you really didn’t know anything. You never said a word. They drove you out to the fucking country side and dropped you off like you were trash. You were never more humiliated in your life. You walked, each step bring you pain and anguish. But you kept going.

 ‘Its Friday’ You think to yourself. You never got to call to confirm if you were going on that dinner. You laugh at yourself. Out of all things to worry about.

 You find a little pond as you were walking and attempt to wash your face off all the dirt and blood. You looked half decent.

 It took you till sundown to get back into London. People in the streets gawked at your face. You knew you were bruised pretty bad. Worse than before thanks to the inspector. The stitches on the right side of your body were now leaking. You can see the blood drip slowly through your hand. You sigh. Its always one problem after the next.

Once in front of the house, you see all the lights on. Something you knew Ada hated. You see multiple people moving about and you curse underneath your breath. The last thing you wanted was to interact with people. Someone looks through the window, a young boy you didn’t recognize.

 “Is that her Ada?” You hear the boy loudly say not keeping his eyes off of you.

 As soon as the boy says that, a multitude of people rush out to the window to look out followed by a rushing to the door. Ada being the first to run into you, bear hugging you.

 “Where the hell have you been?” She cries out.

 You stay silent, your arms limp across your sides. No energy left to pick them up or say anything. You wished at that moment to escape into eternal darkness forever. You see a bunch of people behind her mostly men. All in black caps and coats.

 ‘Peaky blinders.” You think. You step back from Adas hug and move up the stairs toward the house. The men spread apart not wanting you to push through them. You walk up the rest of the stairs to your room slowly. You can feel all their eyes burn into your back.

 Once you reach your bedroom, you sit on your bed and stare at the empty wall. You couldn’t get the inspector eyes out of your head. It was like he enjoyed watching the life get beaten out of you. He talked a lot.  You replay the last three days in your head trying to piece together what that crazy old man was talking about as he was ‘interrogating’ you

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

 As tommy walks through Adas door the first thing he realizes is that it seems that everyone is fucking here instead of doing their jobs. He watches them lounge about, eating and drinking away his sister’s stuff. He’s about to yell at them when Ada puts a hand on his shoulder.

 “Tommy She came home.” She says, he notices a lack of smile on her face.

 He raises an eyebrow.

 “She looks like she’s been beaten all over. I mean I only saw her face but the way she was walking…” Ada trails off biting her lip.

 “Im gonna talk to her.”

 “Tommy I don’t think-“

 Hes already at the top of the stairs before she finishes her sentence. Its not hard to figure out which room is yours. For reason being your room is the only one open. He sees your figure sitting up just staring at nothing in the dark. He clears his throat, not wanting to scare you with his unknown presence. You don’t turn around. He takes slow steps around to sit next to you on the bed. You both face the wall.

 “Its Friday,” you break the silence, “I apologize for not calling about dinner.”

 Right, he almost forgot that Alfie and Arthur were meeting right now.

 “Never mind that,” You suddenly get up as he talking, limping around the room, “what are you doing?”

 You light a candle on the other side of the room. He sees how bad your bruised face is in the light. And the blood trail your leaving with your freshly open hand.

 “(y/n), you should go see a doctor.” Thomas says standing up.

 “I’ve been through worse, Mr.Shelby.”

 “Who did this to you?” You notice the look of controlled anger on his face.

“Inspector campbell. Know him,” You ask sarcastically,” cause he really doesn’t like you.”

 You laugh and wince, the action hurting your ribs immensely, ”oh and he sure talked a lot. Kept mentioning a general, if I knew him, if I seen him, if you told me his name,” you pause, “what are you planning to do with a general?”

 He doesn’t answer you. The clocks in your brain keep turning. “Cause there’s only one thought that comes to my head.”

 “Why did he question you?”

 “Cause you took me to the fuckers house. And your being followed by the way.” A pain strikes through your head the more frustrated you become.

 “You should lie down.”

 “What did you get yourself into?”

 “it doesn’t concern you.”

 “Look at me, how does it not?”

He stares at you and though to you he looks emotionless, inside the feeling of guilt and fear are swirling. You on the other hand cant decipher anything that going on behind those eyes.

‘maybe this what he looks like when he is lost.’ You think. You know you could lend a hand through this, whatever it is. You assume an assassination. One the police are having a hand in themselves. When inspector Campbell was ‘questioning’ you, you noticed how it didn’t seem like he cared for the generals life but feared of who got a whiff of the info. It seemed that Mr. Shelby was getting something from it, maybe with you helping so can you. A ticket out of here perhaps.

 “what do you want?” He says shrugging.

  “I want to help.”

read pt.9

Tags

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @evelyn-4034 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

[arthurmorgansleftlung]

Secret Cupid 2021 (Part 2)

This @rdr-secret-cupid is for @outlawsworld ! I’m so sorry about it being a little late. I really hope that you like this, I really tried to incorporate horses and your appearance the best that I could without being overbearing.

Sorry about any formatting issues, I’m on mobile!

Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day!

——————

The Way He Touched You

Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word Count: 2,350

Warnings: None really, but there is briefly some hostile words and behaviors aimed at the reader.

You were a successful seductress and thief. You were making hundreds, sometimes thousands of money from tempting big burly oafs. They always figured you were no threat, with your small stature and physique. And don’t forget about your oh-so-charming Southern Belle act! These men were fools, and you played them like a fiddle.

Your mistake was staying in the same town and seducing every man who lived there. You no longer had an audience. No bites. No money. Until one day, when a new man rode into town on the finest horse you’d ever seen. He was loaded. But he was big, and strong.

You seduced the man, tricking him into buying you two a night at the nicest hotel around. Once you made your way into the room, however, that’s where things went wrong.

You’d gotten to the point in your routine where you would normally incapacitate your victim. Normally you would find an object close by, like a candle stick or a boot that had been kicked off. Well, when you smashed a glass dish over the man’s head, he did not pass out. Rather, he started bleeding profusely and screaming at you. You bolted out of the hotel, bursting through the door and jumping on the first horse you saw: his.

With a quick kick to the sides the Arabian horse went into a full gallop, the sound of its hooves hitting the ground mixed in with the angry yells of the man you just failed to rob.

Pretty soon, the law and the townspeople were on you. But your stolen horse was faster than them. Eventually it seemed that they had given up. You couldn’t hear or see anything. You slowed the horse and dismounted, giving it a nice pat and an apple (which was also stolen).

You must have fallen asleep, because when you woke up to the sound of thundering hooves and angry men the sky was a different shade of blue. Luckily the horse you’d stolen, who you now recognized was a girl, was still nearby, grazing on the overgrown grass. Unfortunately, she was not a very camouflaged horse. She was the brightest shade of white with a pink nose and blue eyes. The mob found you easily.

You ran and mounted the mare, kicking her to make her go. The horse bolted, and you made decent ground, but the howling of nearby wolves spooked her and she threw you off.

“Fuck!“ You were panicking. You had no other means of escaping. Horse theft was punishable by hanging. Is this how you would go? Suddenly a horse skidded and stopped beside you.

“Those friends of yours?” The man asked.

“No! Can you get me outta here?” You were on the verge of crying. You didn’t want to die.

“I can try! Hop on up here, miss.” You hoped you could trust this man. With a prayer you hopped onto the back of the man’s horse, and after grabbing hold of his shirt you were off. His horse galloped faster than the Arabian had for you, perhaps he was a kind and tender man with his horse.

The man, whose name you had learned was Arthur, took you into a concealed part of the wilderness. You were scared of where he was bringing you, but more scared of what would happen if you jumped off. You saw the dim light of a campfire, the sound of people talking, horses snorting back and forth as they noticed a stranger approaching.

You found yourself in a camp full of people. Arthur lead you over to a tent, where a man with jet black hair and a mustache greeted you. You told him your story, and he laughed and recommended you become friends with a girl named Karen. Apparently she was in a similar “business” as you.

That was almost a full year ago now.

Now you were a dutiful helper around camp. You of course did the regular chores that Ms. Grimshaw assigned you, but you had also become the caretaker of the gang’s horses.

Except Arthur’s. He insisted on taking care of his mare. The one time he had found you taking care of his horse he didn’t talk to you the rest of the day! You found it strange but you respected his wishes.

Currently you were grooming Taima, Charles’ Appaloosa mare. You were running a brush through her black and white fur, giving her encouraging words as you went on. You had finished your other chores: washing and drying clothes, washing bowls for the evening stew; the same old routine. A calm breeze drifted through the camp, causing leaves to flap around and Taima’s man to flow, ever so slightly.

You noticed the sound of hooves alongside the rustling of the flora around you. Arthur was riding in. He had been gone a couple of days on a hit. His horse looked exhausted, covered in sweat and mud.

“Hey, Arthur.” You greeted him. He tipped his hat towards you. He hitched his horse and walked towards you.

“Would you mind givin’ my old girl a brush?”

“I thought you didn’t like me tendin’ to your horse.” He sensed the slight attitude in your voice, you’d been holding a slight, although stupid, grudge since Arthur went silent on you.

“Please, (Y/N), she’s filthy. I can’t tend to ‘er right now...” Arthur headed off to Dutch’s tent, followed by the closing of the flaps. You gave Taima a once over; she looked shiny and clean. You headed over to Arthur’s mare, who nickered in response to you patting her hindquarters.

You gently brushed her, caked mud falling off with ease. She would need a real bath to return to her solid black color. You cleaned her as best as you could. Although her white socks were still a beige color, she looked pristine everywhere else.

Arthur soon returned, letting out a low whistle at the sight of his horse. Of course he didn’t like that he didn’t do it himself, but he praised you on your grooming work.

“You wanna go for a ride, (Y/N)?”

“Why?” You eyed him suspiciously.

“Do you wanna go for a ride or not?”

Without another word you got up on Arthur’s horse and wrapped your arms under his, your hands resting on his shoulders. The mare trotted into the woods, and once you all reached the main road you took off towards Valentine.

When you arrived, Arthur hitched his horse up outside of the stable. Was he buying treats? You followed him inside the stable, where he was greeted by the owner who was eyeing you suspiciously.

“Whatcha think about that one?” Arthur pointed towards a palomino American Standardbred.

“That’s a fine horse,” you said quietly. You didn’t have the money for such a creature, which you voiced with Arthur.

“‘Scuse me sir, I’d like to purchase this horse for my wife!” Arthur gestured towards the golden horse. Wife? Wife? Your face flushed red with anxiety and embarrassment. Arthur paid for the horse, your horse. He got you basic tack as well, and made sure you were good to ride. You didn’t know what to say.

You began to leave the stable, but the owner called after you.

“Wait! Here’s a brush and some treats... for... you...” A realization had been made. “Why— sir! That ain’t your wife! That’s the whore that stole all the men’s money in this town!”

“Don’t you call my wife no such thing.” Arthur warned the man, his hand gripping

his holster. You were flabbergasted, both at Arthur’s new title for you and that you had been caught... again.

The man grabbed at the skirt of your dress, trying to pull you off of your horse. You kicked at him, “Stop it!” You hissed at him, glaring him down. You weren’t scary at all, but perhaps Arthur’s presence gave you a leg up in intimidation. He grabbed at you again, his dirty hand gripping your thigh through the fabric. Without hesitation Arthur drew his pistol and shot the man, blood splatter making its impression on your dress and skin. Now you were certain your dress was soiled.

“Let’s go.” Arthur grumbled. Arthur called for his horse and mounted up. You both calmly left the stable, but you felt like you were burning alive with all of the eyes on you two. You could hear a familiar voice, the sheriff. As soon as you and Arthur had made it close to the outskirts, you bolted. You made a detour and headed towards Emerald Ranch, to avoid giving directions to camp if somebody followed you.

The sheriff and his deputies followed you, but gave up easily. Your horse was kind to you, and easy to handle. But he began to spook. You held on tightly to the reins, causing the horse even more irritation.

“Let loose on the reins, keep your ass in the saddle!” Arthur guided you. You already knew this, but you tried your best to follow his directions. Your horse did calm down after a moment, snorting at you after the ordeal. Arthur smiled smugly at you.

“So I’m your wife now, huh?” You teased Arthur, who was flushed a crimson red. He hadn’t really thought about that.

“In Valentine you are.”

If only he knew how you felt about it. You didn’t push it. You thanked Arthur for your horse, who you’d decided to call Flavian, after his golden appearance. Arthur thought the name was weird, but didn’t question it. The two of you rode off towards camp, traveling through the oil fields to get back. It was a long ride, but a safe one. The hot sun burned your skin, turning you pink. You didn’t think you’d be in the sun for so long, you hadn’t really prepared.

In a daze, you felt something hit your chest. Arthur’s hat. You looked at him, his head already facing forward.

“You’re turnin’ red. Just wear it for now.” You put on the hat, the scent of him forcing its way into your nose and causing a familiar heat to rush to your face. You reached the wooded surroundings of the camp, just as the sun began to set.

After you’d arrived Arthur grabbed a bowl of Pearson’s stew and retreated to his tent. You grabbed a bowl as well and followed Arthur, you needed to give his hat back. When you got close enough, Arthur was sitting and holding his head in his hands, frustrated.

“Arthur?”

“Yes, Miss (Y/N)?” He seemed startled.

“Your hat...” You pulled the hat off of your head, reaching it out for him to take. He looked up at you, beet red. He reached for the hat and gently took it from your hand. “Are you okay...?” You stepped closer, into his tent. He seemed a bit concerned about this, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I’m fine, Miss (Y/N). Just tired. Confused.”

“Confused about what, Arthur?”

“You.”

“Well, what about me?” You kind of laughed, trying to conceal any nervousness in your voice.

“Well, I— It’s not important, (Y/N).”

You silently took a deep breath. You stepped closer to Arthur and sat down beside him on his cot. He recoiled a bit. Ouch.

“What, Arthur?” You were hurt at how repulsed he seemed to be by your presence. Sure, he bought you a horse, but probably because Dutch or Hosea told him to.

“The way that man touched you today. I didn’t like it.” He mumbled. He knew of your past, how you used to tempt men. What did Arthur mean?

The thought of you ever being touched by somebody filled Arthur with a quiet anger. He was jealous today. Jealous and protective and possessive. Over a woman that wasn’t his to begin with. He had been for months, and it worried him.

“I didn’t like him touchin’ you. I don’t like... I don’t like anybody touchin’ you!”

“Arthur.” You brought your small frame closer to him. This time he didn’t recoil. You turned your head to look at him, his eyes avoiding you. You brought a gentle hand to his forearm, his bright turquoise eyes met your green ones. “Arthur I’m in love with you... how could you not tell? Ever since you saved me...”

“You can’t be in love with me...” Arthur laughed with a hint of sadness. He turned to face you, your knees touching. He brought a calloused hand to your cheek, looking like he wanted so desperately to kiss you, but pulled himself away. He seemed ashamed.

“But I am. I am in love with you, Arthur Morgan.” You looked down at the ground, fearful of what he might respond with.

How could you be so vulnerable? How could you just tell him you’ve been in love with him for a year? What now? Were you going to tell him how every time he left on a mission that you’d be so sick to your stomach with worry that you were scared you’d vomit? How you felt a twinge of jealousy and then guilt when he interacted with any of the girls? How every time you saw him you’d try to take a picture in your mind, just in case?

Tears pricked at your eyes. Oh, great, you were crying now. Arthur lifted your head back up and wiped his thumb across your cheek, wiping your tears away. He smiled softly at you.

“We can talk about this later, (Y/N)... I can’t stand seein’ you cry.”

You latched onto Arthur, in the tightest hug you could manage. He brought his big arms around you, careful not to squeeze too tight.

You don’t remember much of anything after. Arthur had been right, you were both exhausted from the heat today.

The next morning you woke up, still encased in Arthur’s arms. It was still early, nobody else had woken up but you were sure somebody had seen the two of you. Arthur also seemed to be awake, and ran his fingers through your hair.

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

[thesetrashimagines]

The Man

A Peaky Blinders imagine (reader insert)

Warnings: fighting, blood, bullet wounds, swearing, murder.

GIF is not mine!

Summary: Accidentally busting into a bar while trying to finish a job may not have been the smartest idea.

Pt.2

  You knew they were on your trail, it was part of the plan. And it was going perfectly. What you didn't expect was for one them to be in a car, driving straight for you. Thinking fast you looked for some kind of cover. Seeing a pair double doors, you made a run for them and honestly in the moment you weren't thinking about who or what was on the other side.

  Throwing the doors open and slamming them behind you, you rushed to the side and waited for the shadowy figures belonging to your targets to enter. It didn't take long which you were greatful for, means that you would get to go home sooner, the group of 3 men walked into the bar. Being behind them gave you an advantage, pulling out some piano wire you threw yourself onto the back of one them. He wasn't able to get his fingers underneath the wire making his death come quickly. The other two men turned around to the sounds of their partner yelling and as soon as the body hit the floor they pounced.

Ducking down from most their collective swings, you scrambled towards one of the tables, there was a bottle on it. Picking it up you turned and saw the bigger man of the two come towards you. Spinnig the bottle in your hand, you rose your brows and gestured your arms out in a 'come on and get me' kind of way. The man barrelled forward and threw a hard punch, hitting you in jaw, you staggered to the side and swung the bottle right onto the back of his bald head, he stumbled before you pulled the back of his collar exposing his chest where you plunged the broken end of the bottle into his right breast. You turned the two of you around and faced the other man, his eyes widened at the scene in front of him. Taking his moment of stun, you pushed the bald man forward into the arms of the smaller man, knocking him over with a loud thud as he hit the floor, this action obvisously drove the broken bottle further into the bald man which caused him to cry out in pain.

Neither man can move now, the smaller man started babbling while the bald one was crying. Pulling out the knife from your shoe you waltzed over to the stacked bodies. "We all know why this is your fate," Spitting out blood you continued, "stop making so much fucking noise."

Leaning over them you stabbed the knife into the smaller man's neck before grabbing the bald man's hand and telling him to hold it there, he was trying to fight agaisnt you but you could tell that he was getting weaker with every shift he made. "The more you move the more you bleed." He stopped moving, "You wont die from that bottle unless I want you to." The man started crying again. Grabbing one of the chairs closest to you, you sat down. "You throw a good punch by the way." His hand slipped off the knife's slick handle. "What did I say to do?" He finally tried to speak.

"Please let me go......how was I suppose to know?" Standing with a sigh you walked back over to the man and gently placed your hands on his neck. "Don't lie, you always knew." Snapping his neck quickly and straightening back up, you finally glanced around the room to assess the damage. 1 broken bottle, and some blood. 'Not too bad', you think to yourself. Turning back around to your chair you started to push it back in when the back door opened and footsteps caught your attention.

"The fuck happened here!?" A man with a mustache started yelling. "Buisness." Glancing up as you answered you noticed there was 4 of them. The man with the mustache, another with a cap on, the third had a ciggarette hanging out of mouth, and the last one had a baby face. With the adrenaline running out you started to feel the pain, looking down you saw your shirt soaked in blood. "Fuck...," looking back to the gaggle of men, who were still glaring at you, 3 of them even pulled out guns. "Look I'll pay for the bottle and the labour for the blood, I apologise for the mess too. Are you lot gonna tell the police?" Now their expressions changed looking st you as if you had multiple heads. "Police!? We're the fucking peaky blinders!" The man with the mustache yelled at you, cocking his gun, "and who the fuck are you!?"

"Nobody." Turning yourself toward the door, "The money will be here by first light." Hearing the other men cocking their guns you stopped and stared at the door in front of you, a different voice spoke out. "It is already first light, its actually 5 in the morning. We were told by some of our men that a group broke in here and were stupid enough to leave their car outside." Closing your eyes you sighed, 'well there goes my ride', you thought to yourself again. The men began talking to you again but you were thinking about how you were going to be leaving, 'Maybe I can still take the car, worst they could've done is fuck with the engine.' Smiling to yourself you turned back to the men.

"Look gentlemen, I dont know who the peaky blinders are. Never heard of you lot sadly, as for me don't worry about it. I'm just another man walking the streets, well not these ones but..." You looked back down and noticed another blood spot was slowly getting bigger, " I've got to get going now, I already got a few bullets in me so if you'll excuse me, you'll find me in the hospitial."

With that you turned and dashed through the door as bullets went flying around you for the 2nd time today It's something you've gotten used to over the years. With every step you took, the pain spiked. Gritting your teeth you hopped into the car and started it. The machine shook alive and you let out a little laugh.The men were now rushing out the door and aiming at the car, stepping on the gas you bolted down the road. Nothing was more exciting then driving a fast car.

"The fucker's getting away!" Arthur shouted, "What do you want us to do Arthur? Chase after the car?" Michael questioned his cousin. John lowered his gun and tried catching his breath, "Did you see the bodies in there? Something don't add up, one of them had a knife in his fucking throat." Tommy walked out of the Garrison doors, "Yeah and the one on top of him has a bottle in his chest. Then there's the one by the door, he's got a mark on his neck, wire looks like." Everyone was silent, mulling over the situation. "He said he'd be at the hospital, we should send someone over there." Michael looked to Tom, taking out another cigarette. "You know Michael that isn't a bad idea, we'll send Finn and Isaiah."

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Getting back to the apartment was easy. No one was up yet, it was 5 AM at the latest, the sun was just starting to peak through the horizon. Taking off your shirt you started unwrapping the binding on your chest, taking a deep breathe would've been nice but the bullet hole in your side reminded you it was still there. Grabbing your supplies and sitting on the bed, you got to work on removing the bullet, luckly it wasn't near any important parts. Biting down on some cloth you pulled the bullet out. "Fuck ,fuck, fuck, fuck!" Tossing the stupid thing on the floor you splashed some alcohol into the wound. Feeling a little woozy you grabbed the needle and thread, 'Come on YN youère almost done.' Stitching yourself up wasn't new but your hands still shake with every pass. The slash on your arm only needed a few stitches but the awkward angle was enough to give you trouble.

Spinning around you realized there wasn't any bandages left, throwing your head back with an audible "ugh" you stood and started to throw on a new shirt, careful not to bump anything and open it back up you threw a oversized coat on and a hat.

The air was cool which was nice on your flushed cheeks, cool air was always nice after a job, espiecally one that you walked away from with new wounds. You kept your head slightly down and collar popped, hiding your face. You knew this life wasn't easy but you knew nothing else, you grew up doing this, your whole life dedicated to this and everything associated with it. Your thoughts cleared when you came up to the hospitial. In and out. Grab bandages, and leave, simple.

Walking into the hospitial you saw nurses bustling about and doctors checking boards and holding conversation with each other. Good, people were busy. Watching one of the nurses walk down the hall and enter a door that said nurses only, you set your attentions there. Everybody glanced at you but with a simple tip of the hat and a "here to see the wife and babe" nobody questioned you, babies were always being born. You could hear some of them coming into the world, the cries of life. Not like the ones you were used to too.

Entering the room some murses looked up at you and some were about to start yelling but you were quicker. "Oh I'm so sorry everyone for being late, you know how it is." Laughing gently you took off the hat and shook out your chin length hair. "Excuse me but I dont think I've ever seen around before." One nurse spoke. Looking over to her while sliping off your coat, "Oh well pardon me, I'm Leanna. I've been sent over for a few days with a patient before we go back home, I'm his personal nurse." Most of the nurses ignored you and left to get on with work you presumed. "Which patient?" You went behind a curtain and changed into a nurses uniform, "Mr.Smith." You replied, Smith was a rather common name anywhere you went in Britain so it was a safe name to throw around. "Smith? I don't think I've heard of him sorry." Stepping out fully dressed you gave her a gently smile "It's quite alright we won't be here long. it was nice meeting you but I have to get going Mr.Smith gets upset when he doesn't recognize where he is." With that you left and walked the halls.

While looking for the supply closet you saw 2 boys dressed very similarly to the men from the pub walk in, you could hear them ask doctors and nurses of they've had a man in with bullet wounds. Of course they said no. But now there was a problem, while walking towards another section of the hospitial these two boys bumped into you, knocking you to the ground, and you felt a pop. Quickly standing back up, you ignored the hands trying to help you up. "Miss! Sorry! We weren't looking where we were going, you know we're trying to look for someone. Maybe you've seen them? A man who was shot-" "shot in the side." Tying your cardigan around your waist you looked up at the boys. One was lean, had freckles and curly hair, the other was a little more built (he did knock you down), smooth skin, and had dark hair. "It's alright, no I havent seen a man, now please excuse me." Keeping things short, you left and found the supplies closet.

You dressed your own wounds and stuck the rest of the bandages into the bust of the dress. Shifting the bust of the dress around you gave yourself the okay and left the closet. The boys were still in the same spot but now babyface and the cap wearing man had joined them. 'Shit.' Holding your head down you passed them again. " *whisle* thats one pretty girlie, oi nurse!" The capped man was catcalling you.....honestly could've be worse. Walking faster you made it back to the lockers, changing was nice until you noticed the smallest blood stain on the dress, "Oh for fucks sake." You held the dress in the crook of your elbow, now standing in the nurses locker room, dressed in mens clothing with coat pockets full of bandages and other supplies, holding a nures's dress, to make it even better a nurse walked in and was staring at you with wide eyes. 'fuck'

"Look miss my girl works here and she asked me to throw her uniform in the laundry here, you see there's some blood on it and she's in the bathroom right now, the blood it makes her dizzy, I-I I'll leave, oh Lord this is embarrassing." Lying came easy, sometimes you enjoyed it, every word created a story and here you were acting in it, you found it funny. 'No! No! It's quite alright you're just trying to be a good husband here lemme take it for you, you go see how she is alright." The nurse came over placing a hand on your arm and grabbed the uniform. "Thank you miss" You gave her a smile and left the room swiftly.

Leaving the hospitial was suppose to be as easy as getting into it but the tiny detail you forgot about was now you were in the same building as those men from the pub. Wanting to face plant into the ground and wanting to let put the biggest groan, you kept silent and your head on a swivel. Looking around every corner and down every hallway. Alas your efforts were futile when you rounded a corner and bumped into the same chest as earlier. You landed on the ground again and quickly pulled your hat down to cover the majority of your face. "Oi watch where your going." You nodded and stood up making sure not to make eye contact, side stepping around them you carried on your way when you heard, "Isaiah thats him!" Upon those words you ran, 'so much goddamn running.'

You weren't far from the entrance when some men stepped in front of the hospitals doors, wearing those stupid hats, 'you've got to be fucking kidding me'. Looking around you noticed a open window, you slowed down to a halt and stared at the men at the door, they slowky walked forward and you could hear the shoes hitting the floor in chase behind you. Throwing a smirk at the two at the door you dashed to the window and used your arms to send yourself out of it legs first. Sticking the landing you stood up and glanced into an alleyway and decided to take it, you could still hear the men running after you. Looking up at the walls around you, specifically at the windows again and these were barred. Perfect. Stopping in front of one you noticed how high it was, your arms weren't gonna be long enough. The slapping of shoes filled the alleyway, making up your mind in that moment, you decided on a run and jump. The first attempt didnt work, at all.

By now when you started the second attempt the men could see you easly scale the windows, then the fire escape, then they watched you jump onto the roof and disappear. "Now who in the fuck does that?" Isaiah looked back at the group of men. All of them were out of breath. "Yeah who the fuck is he? Why's he so important?" Finn looked at his older brother, "He broke into The Garrison and killed 3 blokes" John answered. Finn looked to the roof and laughed. "Fucking hell."

The group started their journey back to the betting shop but what they didn't know was that they were being followed by the 'man' on the roof. Granted jumping from roof to roof only worked so far before you had to get down, you watched them enter a building and recognized the area around you, it wasn't too far from the apartment, letting out a sigh you walked back 'home'. How were you going to leave this place now? Taking everything off you started yourself a bath. Seeing your reflection was weird, you were so used to being seen as a man by the outside world that when you did see the feminine parts of you it was like a surprise, a nice surprise cause you knew you were one badass lady. Taking off the bandage made you huff in annoyance, getting knocked over causing your stitches to pop open and then all that running and climbing, all that hard work just to be back at square one. Walking to your room you redid the stitches, not as shaky this time, then climbed into the bath.

It's at moments like these where you wished you had your beloved record player with you. Music is always able to help you calm down. You could say music was your only weakness.

You lounged there wondering when you should drop off that money, would they even want it? They didn't seem to enthustiastic about your offer. Whatever you promised, maybe you could deliver the new bottle...nope, knock and run away? Yeah that sounds alright.

The water was getting cold so you stood up and wrapped yourself in a towel and made your way to your room to grab the bandages from your coat after dressing yourself you noticed there was a whole in your coat, 'the windows', letting out another sigh you grabbed some wide cloth and binded your chest, then grabbed a shirt, trousers, your hat, and some cash, then headed to the nearest store to buy a bottle of whatever you could find. Seeing as your coat had a hole in it you couldn't help but stick your hand in and out of it as you walked, you even pulled at the frayed edges before you mentally yelled at yourself saying that you're only gonna make it worse. Shoving your hands into the pockets you walked into the first store, it looked like a general store, had a little bit of everything. Looking around the shelves you noticed they had a very small liqour selection and guessing by the dust on some of the bottles, they weren't very popular. You saw an older man with a white beard and mustache behind the counter, "Excuse me sir, what kind of drink is this?" Throwing a gesture towards the shelf with your head the man looked to the side at the bottles.

"You want to buy them?" He looked surprised. "Yes but only if you tell me what it is." You let out a small laugh. The older man chuckled, "Yes well, the ones in the front row are whiskey but everything behind them is rum." Rum? You haven't had rum in awhile. "I'll take two bottles of rum, the ones in the furthest back please." He turned and set them down in front of you. "Is that everything?" He asked with a raised brow, "No, do you sell coats by any chance? Or know of somewhere that does?" The older man was about to answer when a woman behind you spoke, "You can buy coats down the road now can you please hurry im in a rush." Turning towards the woman you noticed the short haircut, to the chin like yours, her eyes were a bright blue and she wore red lipstick, she was also wearing a fur coat. Once your gaze went back up to her face, she had a mischievous look on her face. "Are you finished? Thats a rather large hole in your coat, what happened?" Laughing to yourself, you turned back towards the man and placed 2 bills down. "keep the change." With that you left and hearing the older man yelling thank you as you left, put a smile on your face. You enjoyed making people happy.

The store selling coats was crowded, people were everywhere in there, some were customers, and others were employess with tape measures around their necks. A woman walked up to you when you steped through the door. "Hello! How may I help you?" You locked eyes with her and gave her your most charming smile, "I'm looking for a coat, mines got a hole in it." Showing her the whole she gasped. "My thats a rather large rip, well if you could follow me I can show you some im sure you'll like." She gently wrapped her arm around yours and took off down the racks of coats before stopping in front of a section with many black and navy coats. "So here we have some coats that match the colour and wear as the one you have on now." Going through a few you noticed one a little further down the racks. "What about this one?" Pulling out the dark forest green jacket, you turned to her and smiled, "Can I try this one on?" She stared at you for a moment.

"Yes of course you can sir though I do have to warn you it is one of our more expensive pieces." Taking off the jacket you had on and giving it to the lady, you swung the green fabric over your shoulders, your arm protested but you masked the pain. You looked over yourself and you were quite happy with how it looked on you. "I quite like it, miss I think I'll take this one." The woman started speaking fast, "but sir that jacket is very expensive, yes you look very handsome in it but-!" You walked over to her and grabbed her hands, "It's alright, but now I have to get it if I look so handsome in it." Winking at her, you let go of her hands and grabbed your old coat, pulling out some money. "Is this enough?" She glanced at the money in your hands and grabbed the bills, she refiled through them then handed back 2 bills. "There its yours." She smiled at you with flushed cheeks. Smiling back, you placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, "thank you miss, have nice day." Her face got brighter as you walked away, you wished she kept the old coat but you needed to get the bottle of rum to the building before sundown.

You saw the woman from earlier walk out of another shop in front of you. Her arms carrying a box and a bag on top of it. You could hear the clicking of her heelings against the pavement, she was walking with purpose you decided, guess she was telling the truth about being in a hurry. Then you noticed the men, the men in caps,'they're everywhere'. The woman noticed them too. "If you're just gonna watch me all day atleast be helpful and bring this back to the house." She placed the box and bag into the arms of one of the men and kept on walking before entering a car.

You watched the car leave and felt jealous but kept on with your travel on foot. You walked towards your street and on the way you saw a small girl running in nothing but a dress. Watching with careful eyes you examined the path the girl was running in and saw a pump in the road, almost as you were about to call out she tripped and fell. Rushing over, you picked her up and sat her on your knee and brushed off her legs and arms of the gravel stuck to them. She had her face tucked into your neck as she cried, getting you wet with her tears. "Hey you're alright now, I've gotcha." You gently brushed the dirty and gravel off her injured knee. "Nothing more than a little scrape aye?" She looked down at her knee and sniffled, "It hurts." Rubbing her back you replied, "I know darling but you're a strong girl. You look tough now and once this little scrape heals you'll be good as new." She studied the side of your face as you were checking the rest of her legs for scrapes.

"You've got long hair mr." She was gently pulling on the strands poking out from under your hat, "It looks pretty." She giggled as the hair sprung back into place. "Why thank you, I must admit I only ever want my hair to look pretty." You wrapped your large coat over her small frame and tied the long ends in a knot. "There you can have my coat, now I know there's a hole in it but you can throw it when you get home, it's just something to keep you warm yeah?" She looked at you with big eyes "Yea!" "Now watch where you run." She nodded, hugged you and ran away. The sleeves of the coat covering her hands.

Laughing you turned back and continued the walk. When you finally reached your street you saw the car the woman left in, 'curiouser and curiouser', the car was parked in front of your rums destination. Standing next to the car you gently leaned against it and began to come up with your 'escape' plan. "So after almost a day of my men trying to find you, you end up on my door step." Spinning your head towards the alley and the voice, you made eye contact with the man from the pub, and just like when you first saw him, he was smoking. Looking back to the door you answered, "I was just going to leave the bottle and money and be on my mary way." You heard in let out a airy laugh. "Mary way? I didn't peg you as the type of man to go about things maryly especially after what I saw you do to those 3 in the bar." Looking up at the sky you sighed.

Still sitting on the car you tilted your upper half and placed one of the bottles of rum on the top of the car, then you held up some cash and placed the bottle on top of the pile. Holding up your own bottle of rum and stepped off the car, "I'll be on my mary way." Throwing him a small smile you walked past him. "This rum?" You spun back around to him and opened your bottle. "Yep." You gave the bottle a swig and let out a hum. "It's pretty good too." You tipped the bottle towards him, "Cheers." You spun back around and walked towards your aprtment.

Watching you walk to the apartments at the end of lane Tommy smirked and grabbed the rum. He opened the bottle and gave it a sniff and quickly scowled at it. He put the top back on the bottle and counted the money, eyes shooting up to your apartment again. Where the hell did you get this type of money?

"You alright Tom?" Turning towards his sister he placed the bottle of rum in her hand, "I'm fine Ada." Recognizing the bottle, Ada made eye contact with her brother. "Where'd you get this from?" Tom looked at the bottle then back at his sister, "why?" Ada shook her head. "It nothing I just saw a man earlier today buying a few bottles," she let out a laugh, "he was asking where to buy a new coat cause his had this giant tear in his." Thomas glanced down the lane again to the apartment building he watched you enter earlier.

"A man eh?"

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Aaaahhh it's been forever since I last wrote anything, truly am sorry, but! I have been craving to write for peaky blinders again (I honestly love that show and its universe) I had loads of fun writing this and I actually know where I want this story to go so please let me know if you want a part 2 or maybe I'll write a part 2 anyways cause I have many plans for it. Anyways enough of my rambling, I really hope you enjoyed this and thank you so much for reading! <3

[sleepypeaky]

now i’ve found you

finn shelby x male reader

request: male!reader, who is Tommy's assistant, is pretty sure he's straight. but he ends up falling for one of the shelby brothers (your choice!). insert gay crisis, and potentially tommy/aunt polly/ada being supportive?

w/c: 1,363

a/n: i love this headcannon so much thank you. i know i do finn for everything but i thought this would work the best and also i love him so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ note that john is alive because im in deep denial. i know i went for a heavier take on this than i could have, but i think it works. also yes i ripped that scene right out of the DA movie. i hope i did the mlm a good. #wlwmlmsolidarity

this is 1928 ish so finn is 20 and so is the reader

this is very obviously way more fully formed than any of my other fics but its tuesday and i have nothing to do so 

Ada Thorne had always looked out for you. So when she managed to get you a job working for her brother, you knew you would be safe. Now you hurried up the steps and knocked on a large heavy wooden door, which opened presently to a sitting room where you awaited your new boss.

Ada held the phone to her ear.

“Listen,” she said. “I have a lad who needs a safe place to work. He’s smart and capable and before you say anything, no, he’s not a spy.”

Tommy silently acknowledged the last part with approval. “Ok, but protection from what?”

Ada looked over her shoulder, making sure none of the others in the house were about. She sighed, “I know this means little to you, but he -lets put it this way- doesn’t fancy the ladies. And life is hard enough for people like him without having to worry about being kicked out of work for something that’s no one’s goddamn business.”

“As you said, this lad’s private life is moot to me, but if you can vouch for his work ethic and loyalty, i’ll give him a try.”

“You must be (y/f/n), nice to meet you.” Tommy shook your hand and led you into his office.

“My sister talks very highly of you, and she is quite possibly the only honest person i know.” He offered you a chair and lit himself a cigarette.

“So, the job is simple enough. I need an assistant, the most recent of which, is my wife, who can’t very well be working for me anymore.”

You smiled and nodded. 

“Well I have two years of university to my name so I hope I can be useful.”

Tommy chuckled, “Well you are more qualified than any other man here lad, and it’s probably smart to get some new young blood on the company.”

You smiled, “Thank you sir.”

He motioned you to follow him out of the room and into a smaller one just off it.

“This is your office, across the hall-” He motioned behind him through the door, where directly adjacent was another room, “-Is my cousin Michael’s office, he is the account handler so to speak.”

“Now,” He turned back to you, “There is the matter of this.”

He placed a pistol and a handful of ammunition onto the desk between you.

“You know how to shoot son?’

You looked concernedly at the weapon casually lying on the table,

“No sir.”

“Well, hopefully you wont ever need to use this but it seems to be company policy, never can be too careful. I’ll have someone teach you.” 

You thanked him and placed the items in a desk drawer.

“If you’ll follow me, i’ll give you the rundown of the company,” he said. “I’ve got some time and I need to wrangle up some people.”

You followed him out the door and through a series of buildings where different operations took place. At one point, you walked into a sort of yard-warehouse area.

Beginning from a distance and gradually growing louder,  you could hear ‘duck!’ ‘hit!’ ‘shift!’ etc.. 

All was explained when you and Tommy turned the corner.

In a roped off section of the cement yard were two very handsome young men. Both boxing and both, seemingly to vex you on your first day, shirtless.

“That’s Bonnie and Finn, don’t mind them.” Tommy commented off-hand. 

He turned left and walked into another building, leaving you just enough time to glance back at the two shirtless men, before ducking in after him.

After Tommy had introduced you the Charlie and Curly, he led you back to the office and then said he had to run, and you could start filing the stack of papers on his desk. 

You went right to work, and before long, had forgotten the time completely.

~~~~

You were in a filing induced trance when a noise took you out of it.

The noise turned out to be the door opening.

“Oh hi.. i didn’t know anyone was in here..” The boy stammered.

You looked up to see on of the boys from the boxing ring, taken slightly by surprise, you fumbled out from behind the desk to introduce yourself.

“Sorry to surprise you, hi i’m (y/n), Mr. Shelby’s new assistant.” You held out your hand and he shook it.

“I’m Finn,” he stumbled “Tommy’s brother.” he released your hand.

“Can I help you with anything?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Well I thought I’d find my brother here but i guess i’ll see him later.”

In a hasty fashion he held up a hand as a brief farewell, and scurried out of the room.

You sighed and cursed silently to yourself.

Out of all the people he could have been, why my boss’s brother.

~~~~

Like no time at all, the weeks and months seemingly flew past. You had become acquainted with everyone and felt like you had finally found your place. There were, of course, still some aspects with which you couldn’t fit in just the same as any other.

“Oi, you’re a good looking lad! Why don’t you come along with us tonight. Get some drink and find a girl, Birmingham’s best!” Arthur wheezed.

“That’s not saying much, but do come along mate!” John followed up. Giving you a friendly slap on the back.

You smiled,

“Thanks,” You gave john a man-pat on the shoulder, “But i got some work to finish here.”

“Suit yerself.” And they were gone.

You sighed with relief. You knew you’d have to go someday, but right now you couldn’t handle the idea of,,,that.

A few minutes later ,you heard a knock on the door and Finn entered, holding two crystal glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“i heard you skipped goin’ to the Garrison with the others so i thought i’d bring some to you.”

He placed the things down on your desk and sat on the chair opposite you.

“You’re a life-saver! thank you.” you exclaimed.

Finn chuckled, pouring you a glass and handing it over, 

“Yeah, it’s not really my scene either.”

You hummed, taking a sip and savoring it quickly in your mouth. You wondered, a stupid thing to do, if it wasn’t his scene for the same reasons as you. Though the more you got to know him. You suspected.

Suspicions are a dangerous thing. Especially ones that are led by the heart, and are ever so biased on your own happiness. Nevertheless, a week or so later from that night, you popped in to tell Finn, with perhaps too much certainty,

“You know, I think I know a place you might enjoy.”

~~~~

London always induced a joyous feeling inside you. Not that you had only fond memories from living there -far from it- but there was something about a city where the air wasn’t 80% coal soot.

You and Finn got off the train and made your way to Ada’s house. It was always a delight to be in her presence. Especially because you owed her so much, in fact, probably you owed her your life in so may ways.

After tea, and insisting that you had to make your way to a surprise spot, you and Finn made your way into the night.

Through a maze of mews and side-streets, down alleys and cracks you led him.

“I know i grew up in small heath,” He said at one point, when you were in a particularly funky alley. “but where the hell are you taking me?”

“Trust me.”  you assured him.

You both came out of an alley and into a small courtyard-like space. You brushed off your clothes a little and knocked on a door in the dark brick wall.

A little notch opened up and you whispered the password. the door swung open.

“Hello Love!” The doorman said, “ ‘aven’t seen you ‘round here for a long time!” 

You greeted the man back and made apologies. Presently, you went inside, leading Finn behind you.

Inside was an immaculate ballroom filled with people. Jazz music was pouring from the stage at the far end of the room. But as Finn looked around more, he started thinking that something was off. 

When he realized he froze.

All the people dancing, all the paired up couples, were men. Some dressed lavishly and others in plain working clothes. some with curled mustaches and some with cheeks of rouge and powdered skin.

Finn couldn’t believe his eyes.

He saw for the first time, a pair of men dancing hand in hand with wild smiles on their faces. Laughing, singing along.

Finn couldn’t move, nor could he take his eyes off the sights around him.

He felt your presence next to him, 

“Was i right to bring you here?” You asked.

He turned his head to face you, he was quivering. He looked you in the eyes, eyes that were lined with tears. 

“I had no idea,” He whispered,

“I had no idea there were others.”

Your heart ached for him in a way that only those like them know. You knew what he felt, the wonder, the pain, the confused elation.

You took his hand,

“There are.”

You slowly pulled him to the dance floor.

The music had gotten slower, and the dancing changed to a sort of swaying four-step. 

You took his other hand first, letting him go at his own pace, but soon you were as close as the others on the floor. both of you had a hand on the others waist.

Finn looked around again, at all the other people, eyes all closed and heads close. He turned back to you and moved even closer. He brought his lips up to your ear, 

“Thank you.” He whispered. He kept his cheek at yours, you felt his hands on your back.

He moved his head slowly so he could look at you again, it was such that your foreheads touched. Your heart beat slow, but hard. You whispered

“Can i kiss you?”

His eyes flicked up to yours before looking down again and moving his lips to yours.

It was ever so soft, barely even there. But it was there, and that was beyond anything Finn had ever felt or imagined before. He closed his eyes and kissed harder this time, and from beneath his eyelids came small lines of tears. The release of an unseen, unknown burden that he had carried for so long.

All you felt was warmth. And the ballroom surrounding you disappeared. You were on a different plane of being, the jazz music still crooned, muffled. 

All there was was him, and for him all there was was you.

~~~~

Epilogue

Finn stood outside the opaque glass of the door. And in the irony of psychology, he had never felt more confident about what he was going to do.

He opened the door to Tommy’s office. 

“Hello Finn.” He said from behind the desk, cigarette smoking from his lip.

Finn went right up and took a seat across from his brother. 

“I’m a homosexual.” He declared, his gaze unwavering despite the magnanimity of his previous statement. 

Tommy took the cigarette from between his lips and put it out.

“Well then.” He reached over and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, pouring two glasses and sliding one over to Finn. He took a sip.

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Because I’m in love with (y/n).” He replied casually, taking himself a swig.

Tommy raised his brow, but made no other physical impression of surprise.

“Well then.” He said again.

Finn sat there in the silence of Tommy’s company. Surprised, and at the same time not, at his reaction. 

Tommy got up from his seat and made his was around the desk. Finn stayed where he was. In an act so small, and yet untellingly powerful, tommy placed a hand of finns shoulder, and kept it there.

“How will the others find out?”

They found out at a family meeting a month later, when, a new agenda item was introduced.

For a while after, there was silence. 

John, being john, broke it with,

“Falling for a secretary huh?” he chuckled, “that seems more like something i’d do.”

That lightened the tension. Amid the other items on the list, Finn leaned over to Ada, who sat on his right.

“Tell me,” He asked quietly to her, “did you know?”

She breathed a moment, finding the words to use.

“I knew you had more on your mind than we could ever know.”

Finn looked back ahead, letting her words sink into his mind. Her hand rested on his knee with quiet warmth and reassurance.

~~~~ You waited outside the meeting room until the rest of them filed out. Finn was the last, and when he appeared you gave him a quick peck on the lips, and held his hand, walking together out of the building.

[jadekitty777]

It’s done. It’s done! HOLY SHIT IT’S DONE. Two months later and I finally complete this monster of a tale. I can’t believe the effort this baby took that, once upon a time, was supposed to be a oneshot.  Gosh, I hope for those reading the wait was worth it - I for one am so relieved to complete this!

(Still) Day 8: Free Day for @taiqrowweek

Rating:  T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 16k - yes, 16,000 words

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: ...On Your Every Word

~

Between the hecticness of getting checked in, shown to a private room where Qrow was allowed to be uncuffed and dress in more ‘court appropriate’ attire, and then meeting up with Rhodes for one final run down – the next hour pretty much passed in a blur.

Before he knew it, he was walking into the massive conference room in which the UFK did all their business. The room was mostly taken up by tiered, half-circled seating so that the four kingdoms could face one another as they talked politics. But the rest of the room was left open, allowing for a “stage” in which prototypes of innovations could be placed or guest speakers could stand. This area had been transformed – at the far ends were two desks for the defense and prosecution to sit at and a single chair in the center for the testimony portion. There were a few reporters standing near the entrance so they could capture every second of the trial, but no gallery for an audience. Qrow wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

He took the seat beside Rhodes at the defense table, clasping his hands in front of him to hide their shaking. He was certain his scent was giving him away anyways.

The prosecution came in next. The tall, sharply dressed beta strutted in with a smirk and an aura of arrogance, like he’d already won before proceeding had even begun. Qrow had heard bits and pieces about Arthur Watts – apparently, Pietro and he had a long-standing rivalry in the courtroom, though the elder man didn’t go much into it. What he had gathered was the lawyer was sharp on his feet and merciless. He could change tactics faster than a snake bite and the only defense who’d ever been able to keep up with his quick wit was Pietro himself.

“Gentlemen.” Watts greeted them, snide in just one word. Qrow was already annoyed.

The questioning portion was going to go great.

Finally, the entirety of the UFK filed in, taking their seats in their respective portions of the stands. Over thirty people in all, there were many faces Qrow recognized and even more he didn’t. Yet, the four that took the only seats in the front row, the heads of the councils, needed no introduction. First was the jovial and high-spirited Theodore, the representative of Vacuo, who’d held his position so long because the votes always ended in a landslide on his favor. Beside him was James Ironwood, holding two seats on the Atlas council and, as a medaled general of the military, had helped to fund some of the most prolific technological advancements of their age. Next sat Leonardo Lionheart of Mistral, a man who’d spent his many years in term building up the educational needs of his people, and had the average-high tests scores to prove that focus had paid off. Lastly, was Ozpin, who was the youngest head of Vale’s council ever to be inaugurated into office and since that induction, had been pushing forward as many progressive policy changes as he could.

These were the four Qrow would have to plead his case to and hope he drummed up enough sympathy for them to pardon him.

From the way they looked down upon him, eyes seeming to judge the very way he breathed, it never felt more impossible.

“If we’re all in order, I believe we may get started.” Ozpin was the one to speak up and though his voice was something Qrow recognized easily, there was something so uncanny hearing him in person, rather than on the radio or TV. “Though it’s a tad untraditional, Theo, James, Leo and I will all be your acting judges for this trial. Each one of us can sustain and abstain a motion and we will move this trial along if any filibustering starts up. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your honor.” Pietro replied, echoed by Watts.

“Good. Are the defense and prosecution ready?”

“We are your honor.”

Ozpin nodded. “Then, the trial of Qrow Branwen v. the Four Kingdoms has officially begun. The prosecution may begin their opening statement.”

Qrow took a deep breath as he watched the opposing lawyer get to his feet.

Here we go.

~

“-are usually upset and asking for me to help them.”

“How do your clients find this hidden parlor of yours?”

It was too easy.

That was the whisper prickling at the back of his head, as he orated how his clients located him. Pietro and Rhodes had coached him, prepared him on what to say for every question and how much to say. So, he’d been expecting the interrogation of his livelihood – his full name, when he started his work, what he made financially, the ways he kept himself off the grid, where he purchased his inks and needles, how he mixed it with his own scent, who he contacted when he needed a new dwelling to hole up in.

It was everything he’d been expecting, which meant something was wrong.

“I see, so everything was word of mouth. Yet, you claim your average clientele was about 4 people a week.” Watts was pacing, a hand running over his mustache.

Qrow tried not to follow his movements too much, nor look up at the council staring down at him as he sat in the center chair, feeling like a jester about to perform. “Yes.”

The lawyer hesitated, hovering almost thoughtfully, before turning to face him fully. “That’s quite a lot for an underground business, Mr. Branwen. Are you certain there isn’t something else you were offering your clients?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” He replied stiffly, the stifling vernacular feeling odd on his tongue.

“Then let me rephrase: Were you also having sexual transactions with your clients?”

His eyes blew wide, his temper rising into an explosive, “WHAT?!” That wasn’t quite drowned out by Rhodes extremely loud, “OBJECTION! What’s the relevance?”

“I just find it strange that the accused has held up a traveling business for twelve years now on underpaid work, yet kept up a steady stream of customers. Customers whom, may I remind the court, are already feeling emotionally vulnerable – as Mr. Branwen here himself has already attested to. As an outsider looking in, that raises some concerns.” Watts didn’t quite hide his smirk as he looked up at the council, and Qrow realized at that moment he’d gotten him. He had been trying to throw him off kilter, and it had worked.

“Abstained.” Leonardo said just as Theodore enthusiastically hollered, “Sustained!”

The Mistrialian shot his fellow councilman a frown. “What? Why?”

“I just want to see where this goes.” He looked a little too proud as he lent back in his chair. Qrow felt himself sinking in his own.

“This isn’t a courtroom drama, Theo. We can’t simply have people follow useless tracks of information simply to indulge ourselves.” The other said, sounding like a man whose patience was already wearing thin. “This has nothing to do with the crime the defendant is being tried for.”

Theodore rose a finger, tsking. “Isn’t it though? Mr. Branwen is on about a dozen counts of misconduct and malpractice. Who’s to say this isn’t relevant?”

“Well…” Leo started, then merely trailed off with a shake of his head, as if he’d lost the heart to fight.

For a split second, it seemed the motion from Vacuo would pull through – then James spoke up instead. “Be that as it may, there is no evidence to continue this inquisition.”

In all his years, Qrow never thought he’d want to thank Tin Man Jimmy, but right then he could have kissed him.

Then Watts had to open his mouth yet again, “I actually believe one very specific document we’ve submitted might in fact raise some concerns that not all of Mr. Branwen’s dealings were solely professional. But if it would please the court, I can rephrase again.”

What!?

As the council leaders mulled that over, Qrow sent a panicked glance back at his lawyers. The duo shared a look, before Rhodes made a quick hand gesture of twirling his index fingers around one another.

Roll with it.

How was he supposed to just-

“We’ll allow it, for now.” Ozpin decided, sealing his fate. “Proceed.”

Watts nodded before turning back to him, looking very much like a shark about to circle its’ prey. “Mr. Branwen, you’re an unbound alpha, correct?”

“Yes.” He answered, forcing down the growl that wanted to erupt.

“And as you’ve reported, every single one of your clients was an omega. It would not be unusual for a connection, of sorts, to come about. These things happen every single day after all.” Watts said, gesturing to the air as if love was equally plentiful. “So, my question is, did you ever develop feelings for any of them?”

His reply was short and clipped, “Of course not.”

“May I remind you Mr. Branwen, that you are under oath. Is what you just said completely true?”

For a split second, he hesitated. There was no way he could know.

…Right?

Yet, something about the glint in the beta’s eye told him to be wary, so this time when he repeated his defense, it was as unambiguous as possible, “I never developed any feelings for any of my clients while I was working with them.”

“I find that’s a very interesting claim to make.” Watts strode over to the far side table, where the evidence for the case had been laid out. His tattoo machine and inks were the most prominent pieces there, but the lawyer bypassed them, rifling through a stack of papers at the end of the table. When he returned to where Qrow was sitting, he was holding just one sheet. “I have here a log of all visits made to you during your stay at the prison. I’d like you to read a few of them for me.”

Oh fuck.

“Let’s start with November 30th, shall we?”

Mouth dry, Qrow weakly said, “Pietro Polendina and Rhodes Dium.”

“Your lawyers, of course. And December 6th?”

He almost felt detached from his own body as he obediently read it off, “Taiyang Xiao Long, Yang Xiao Long and Ruby Rose.”

“The clearance level for these three lists them as family.” The beta glanced up towards the court to clarify. “Records show that Taiyang and Mr. Branwen’s twin sister Raven are the sires for Yang Xiao Long. Now…”

Qrow braced himself as Watts looked down on him once more.

“What about November 27th?”

He blinked, so baffled he gave an audible, “Huh?”

“November 27th, right up here Mr. Branwen. What does it say?”

His gaze followed where the other was pointing. “Clover Ebi?”

In the corner of his eye, he noticed how James sat up a little straighter, a hint of metallic musk filling the room, but most of his focus stayed on Watts. He couldn’t actually be thinking that he… and Clover…

Yet, sure enough, the beta pulled the page away and said, “Now why would the Captain of the Atlas Ace Ops be visiting you?”

Qrow couldn’t quite fight the smile on his face and for the first time since the trial had started, he felt himself relax. He knew Clover was down the hall, probably laughing his head off as he waited for his turn to take the stand.  

“Something humorous, Mr. Branwen?”

He settled back. “Of you thinking Clover and I are getting it on under the sheets? Yeah, that’s hilarious.” He heard more than one barely contained chuckle from around him – and Theodore didn’t even try. “Clover’s a former client and a friend. When he found out I got into a bind, he came by to help me out. There’s nothing more to our relationship beyond that.”

Again, even as his attention stayed mostly on the beta, Qrow noticed the Atlas leader lowering his hackles.

How odd.

Watts was glaring at him now, but Qrow didn’t balk, waiting for the other’s next move. The last thing he was expecting was what followed, “I have no further questions.” Before heading back to the prosecution desk.

Even Rhodes seemed confused as he was motioned over for the cross examination. Yet, as they met eyes, a silent agreement passed between them not to falter as they got ready to read their lines.

~

“And how old were you when you lost Eris Branwen?”

“Thirteen.”

It was the sob story of the ages.

At least, that’s what it was meant to sound like. Yet, as Qrow spun the tragedy of his childhood, he couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed, using his mother’s name to try and sway the court.

Rhodes hummed, as if he were thinking it over, even though he already had the next question ready to go. “Would you say it was her passing that eventually inspired you to start your work?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t enough to simply speak it, he had to perform too. So, he kept his head angled down, playing it up like the loss was still affecting him terribly.

Purgatory. That was probably where he was going when he died. If not, then something worse. Some place with fire and pitchforks.

“What did you hope to accomplish?”

He clenched his fists, the ferocity in his tone no act, “At first, I was just kind of down on my luck and trying to make a quick buck. I had the drawing skills so I thought, why not? I could give omegas another way to get rid of their brands without them having to carve out their own skin, and make a little money on the side until I could find something more stable. But the more involved I got, the more I felt I couldn’t just walk away from this. I realized I was giving them something they desperately needed – a way to take back their lives.”

Qrow looked up, meeting eyes with each of the kingdom’s leaders as he spoke, “Every omega who has to go to a reformatory is branded. It doesn’t matter what reason they’re there. They could be considered too outspoken. They could have just lost a mate. They could be sick like my mom! And part of their bullshit recovery is to scar them? They don’t get a choice of anything – not the word, not the placement, not even that it happens.” He gestured a bit wildly, voice rising an octave. “They’re treated more like property then people! And while this is happening to thousands of omegas every year, too many of us look the other way. But after my clients started sharing their stories, their pain with me, I refused to look away anymore. So I decided to dedicate my life to my work.”

“Even knowing that one day, you’d probably end up in the courtroom?” Rhodes asked, voice soft in the wake of Qrow’s intensity.

“Yes.” He replied firmly. “I’d go to jail a thousand times over if it meant making the difference for just one person.”

“And how do you know that it does?”

Internally, he felt himself ease, knowing this was the last question. “Because they keep finding me. No one would keep telling others where I am if they didn’t think I’d helped them.”

Rhodes nodded, taking that in, before he moved to dismiss him, “Then Mr. Branwen, I only have one final question.”

Wait, that wasn’t the plan!

Qrow tensed as the beta continued, “You’ve already attested with the prosecution that your relationships with your clients were always kept either on a professional or platonic level. Is there a particular reason why?”

He took note of the way the lawyer shot a meaningful glance towards Watts’ table, and it clicked. Right, Clover’s testimony went after his – there was no doubt the opposing lawyer was going to try poking holes in his own story by grilling the omega. This was his last chance to strengthen his own case.

He could have said anything, really, but what Qrow decided on was the truth, “Because I was already in love with someone well before the day I started my first tattoo.” His lips quirked up, the smile small but eternally fond, “He never felt the same, but I already know no one is ever going to take his place in my heart.”

What must Tai be thinking, watching this from home?

Heh, he probably thought he was pathetic.

If Rhodes was surprised by this revelation, he didn’t show it. “Thank you, Mr. Branwen. I have no further questions. You can return to your seat now.”

As he stood, Qrow couldn’t help but glance back up at the leaders, trying to gauge their reactions. Theo was nodding to something his most trusted righthand, Xanthe Rumpole, was whispering in his ear, their expressions a bit tight. James seemed lost in thought, rapping his knuckles along the desk in front of him. Leo kept mussing up his mane of hair, frown pronounced. As for Ozpin, he was a complete enigma. Expression hidden behind the hands crossed in front of him and eyes concealed in the glint of his glasses, it was impossible to say what he was feeling.

It was even more impossible to say whether any of it was positive or not.

He slumped back into his seat, accepting the pat from Pietro and whispered, “You did good my boy.”

“Sure hope so.” He murmured back. It was a relief to be done – but the trial had only just begun.

Across the room, Watts stood to call on the first witness.

~

“Name and occupation.”

“Clover Ebi. I’m the Captain of the Ace Ops.” The announcement was almost unneeded, as the omega had come dressed in full uniform, all his merits in plain view. He was even standing at parade rest, rather than taking the seat offered. But the most obstruse item of all was the mark on his arm – normally covered by a bandanna, the tattoo on the lower part of his bicep was in plain view. It was a simple rewrite of Ebi, now in brilliant green ink, with a trail of linked shamrocks branching off from the end of the I and circling around his arm to meet back at the E.

Watts’ eyes narrowed as he regarded him before turning to the council, eyeing Atlas’ side. “Before I go further, perhaps it would be wise to address the obvious conflict of interest here.”

“Objection.” Pietro called. “Arthur, we cleared this prior to coming here. If this was a concern, it should have been brought up then.”

“A slip of judgment on my part, clearly. It does not change the fact that the person who appointed the good captain here to that position is currently sitting as an acting judge right now.”

James crossed his arms over the table, leaning forward. “If it would ease any concerns, I could certainly testify as well.”

“Ah, not to correct you your honor, but the proper ethical thing to do is to disqualify yourself.” Watts said, running his index and thumb over his mustache. Qrow almost expected him to start twirling the ends of it.

This wasn’t good though. James had two votes on the Atlas council – if he was taken out of the equation, it would be nearly impossible to win Atlas’ judgment.

Underneath the table, Qrow’s foot started to bounce nervously.

Next to him, Rhodes lent in, murmuring, “It’s okay, we were expecting this to happen.”

Sure enough, Pietro cleared his throat, clarifying in a way that almost sound practiced, “I think the proper term in this instance is ‘excuse’, as he should only need to be absent for the proceeding he may be biased against. General Ironwood would clearly be welcome to return once Captain Ebi’s testimony is finished. If that is how the court wishes to proceed of course.”

There were some whispers from above, but it was Leo who spoke first, “It would probably be for the best James.”

“Ha! Yeah, he is your golden pup after all.” Theo joked boisterously.

James shot the Vacuon a disapproving glance, “Must you be so crude?” He turned to the man across from him. “Oz?”

“I have to agree.” He decided. “Your judgment is generally sound, but the connection is undeniable. Stepping down for now is the right call.”

“Very well. Feel free to come get me once this portion is complete.” The general stood.

Almost automatically, Clover saluted him. “Sir.”

In the wake of his departure, Qrow could hear the reporters jabbering on excitedly from the back. Faintly he could pick out one of them saying, “There’s no telling how Atlas’ judgment will go with the head of the council being excused during their most critical witness.”

It filled him with dread – but between Rhodes and Pietro, neither of them looked even slightly unfettered.

“The prosecution may continue.” Leo allowed.

“Thank you, your honor.”

~

Round and round the questioning went again. Back in parade rest, Clover answered everything with a decisive and steady demeanor. Most of it was the typical stuff – when had he first heard about Qrow, how did he locate him, how much did it cost him to have the work done.

Eventually, the dreaded one came: “During your dealing with the defendant, did he ever show any inappropriate behavior towards you?”

“No. He was very professional and respectful of my personal space.” Clover reported.

Watts rocked back a bit on his heels. “But unlike most of Mr. Branwen’s clients, you happened to keep in touch with him?”

“Not exactly. I left Qrow my contact information in case he ever got into trouble and needed help. He only utilized it a few times over the years.”

“Is that how you ended up visiting the defendant on November 27th? He called you?”

Clover shook his head. “No. Qrow was never allowed to make a phone call.”

“That means you would have had to of located him on your own.”

“Yes.”

“I apologize but I don’t seem to understand.” Watts held out his hand, as if gesturing for the other to throw him a bone. “You’re telling me that for the most part, your relationship ended after the transaction. Yet, when Mr. Branwen was arrested, you voluntarily chose to locate him?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you go through such a hassle for someone you’ve met all of once and talked to only a handful of times?”

Clover shifted his head, just enough to spare Qrow a glance over his shoulder, before he faced forward once more. “Everyone needs someone in their court when they need help. Qrow had sacrificed a multitude of things to be in ours. I wanted to be in his if there ever came a time he needed it.”

“So it was merely obligation.”

“No.” Every without seeing his face, Qrow could hear the smile in the omega’s voice, “I’d like to think we’re friends.”

Watts didn’t seem moved by this show of comradery. “Are you absolutely certain Captain Ebi that there is not more to your feelings then that?”

“I’m positive. But if you need proof,” Clover posture relaxed so he could reach up, pulling down his collar in a way that was almost obscene. “I can assure you I did not get this from Qrow.”

Watts stared, then hissed between grit teeth, “I have no further questions.”

As he stepped away, the council went alive with noise as did the reporters. Qrow could already hear tomorrow’s headlines.

Ace-Ops Captain, Bonded?!

He swallowed down the guilt as he imagined the heckling the omega was likely to get upon returning to work. While he only knew the rough basics of military culture, he absolutely knew how much shit omegas got if they were discovered to be in any sort of relationship. The few retired ones he’d worked with over the years all generally held the same belief that joining the service not only meant signing away their life but also their right to finding a mate.

If that weren’t bad enough, Clover would also have to deal with Jam-

Qrow could practically hear the flip switching the light on, his eyes going wide.

No fucking way.

He glanced over at Rhodes as the man got to his feet to start his cross-examination, giving him an assured smile as he went. To his left, Pietro just seemed pleased, like things had gone exactly the way they’d planned. Had this been why they hadn’t been worried when James got tossed out? Because the mere presence of his own mate would have a sway on him?

That was either ridiculously brilliant or needlessly risky. No wonder they were the perfect lawyers for him.

~

Like a major gearing up to grill down a new recruit, Rhodes paced back and forth across the floor as he spoke, “Captain Ebi, you claimed Qrow was not given a phone call when he was imprisoned. Do you have proof of this statement?”

“Beyond Qrow’s word, no.” Clover admitted. Unlike Qrow, who was following his lawyer’s movements, the soldier was perfectly disciplined, staring straight ahead.

“Then, what makes you so certain he’s telling the truth?”

Before he could reply, Watts interjected, “Objection, that answer would be an opinion not a fact.”

“I’ll retract it then.” Rhodes conceded. “Captain, were there any other issues with my client’s legal rights that you’re aware of?”

Clover nodded once. “He wasn’t in the public system. Everyone incarcerated should be listed there, but I had to use my military clearance to locate him instead.”

“And how-”

Obnoxiously, Watts cleared his throat. Qrow couldn’t help but shoot the other man a glare – though the lawyer hardly seemed to notice as he drawled, “As fascinating as this all is, that’s prejudicial evidence and has very little to do with the crime the defendant is being tried for. If Mr. Branwen wishes to file for improper due process, he can handle that in Atlas’ civil courts.”

“Sustained. Mr. Dium, I suggest moving on.” Oz decided.

“Yes, your honor.”

It wasn’t a surprising outcome; truthfully, they’d both told Qrow it would likely get tossed out before they really took off running with it – especially after they discovered who the prosecutor was. Regardless, they’d agreed to keep it in to hopefully drum up more sympathy in the council. With so little said, it was hard to say if it would make an impact at all.

Hardly shaken, Rhodes barreled on. “Captain Ebi, you attested before that omegas in the military are branded with their last name. When does this procedure occur?”

“During the first week of recruitment training.” Clover reported.

“Do you get to choose where that mark goes?”

“No.”

“And alphas and betas are exempt from this?”

“Yes. Only omegas have to go to the brander.”

“I see.” The lawyer paced over to stand before him. “Did any of your commanding officers ever explain this discrepancy?”

Though Clover remained steady, Qrow could see the way his hands clenched a little tighter where they were crossed behind his back. “My sergeant at the time had said that when we signed up, we signed away everything to our Kingdom, including our bodies. Since omegas can’t control their scents or how distracting they might be to the other alphas in service, the tattooing was a way to alter that smell so it would be less desirable.”

“Now, perhaps this is merely because I’m a beta,” Rhodes waved a hand to himself as he said this, “But I always believed alphas had just as strong of a scent. Are you saying theirs wasn’t distracting to you on the field?”

The soldier shook his head in response. “No, they were. A few omegas were even known to freeze if an alpha’s scent was particularly overtaking in the moment.”

Though his eyes were trained on the two of them, in the corner of his eye Qrow noticed the furtive looks Sleet and Camilla – two of Atlas’ council – were sharing. Yet, it was anyone’s guess if their concerns came from the obvious discriminations or from allowing omegas to enlist at all.

“Did no one notice that issue?” Rhodes asked, beginning to pace again.

“They did – but our drill sergeants would only lay in on the recruit for losing their nerve.” Clover explained.

“During your time at the training camp, did anyone ever claim they had frozen up from an alpha’s scent?”

“No. Everyone was too afraid too. I spoke up once though when one of my buddies was getting reamed for it.”

“And what happened when you did that?”

“I was told to drop until I dropped.” At Rhodes’ arched brow, Clover clarified, “Meaning I was forced to do physical exercise until I was close to passing out. It was a common punishment for extreme insubordination.”

Qrow had heard this story before – it had been one the younger had shared with him while under the needle. That was how he knew just how much Clover was glossing over. Like how his drill sergeant at the time was also an alpha, and when she started shouting at the recruit in question, the shock of another alpha’s hormones so soon after the first only caused them to freeze up more. Or how the screaming had gone on for nearly ten minutes before Clover had stepped in. That during the duration of his punishment, the omega was constantly forced to push his limits every time he fell down from exhaustion, because his sergeant would threaten him with being kicked out if he didn’t get up.

It was from that, that Qrow finally understood why Clover had wanted the rebrand so badly.

Either Rhodes had already also noticed the inequity or had planned out his questions, because his next was: “Was anyone else given the same treatment for speaking out of turn?”

“No.” Clover’s tone didn’t quite hide his annoyance. “The only other time I saw someone go through it was for someone who tried to smuggle beer out of the kitchen.”

“Would you say this experience was what led you to eventually find my client and ask for his assistance?” Rhodes had stopped again, facing him once more.

“Yes; when I was appointed Captain, I felt a responsibility to my fellow omegas to take a stand against the inequalities we face in the military. Rebranding was the most visual way I felt I could do that.”

“Yet, until this day, no one publicly knew about your rebranding. Is there a reason for this?”

He hesitated, before continuing bravely, “My significant other convinced me not to. He said that I was already rocking the boat and if I rocked any harder then I’d capsize it. I took his advice to heart and committed myself to waiting.”

“And what were you waiting for?”

For the first time, Clover dared to break posture, looking up at the council as he declared, “A day in which I could tell my story and know people were finally listening.”

A brief but powerful hush fell across the court.

Rhodes let it hold a few seconds more, before finally saying, “Thank you Captain Ebi. I have no further questions. You may step down.”

~

There was no denying that something had changed in the court. The air had become tense and heavy.

It only seemed to grow as Maria took the stand next. To appear less threatening, Pietro took over the questioning when it came time for the cross examination. That way it seemed kinder as his questions unraveled bits and pieces of Maria’s past as a trafficked omega when she was only thirteen. Hearing it the second time through was no less easy then the first, and Qrow had to lower his head to hide his shining eyes. Simultaneously, Theo’s jokes seemed to disappear, his expression having hardened to something grave as he listened to one of his own people’s cruel upbringing.

“In my time, there was no way to take a stand against the things that happened to us.” Maria pointed her cane towards Qrow. “Having that whippersnapper over there redo my mark was my way of fighting back after all these years. The atrocities of my generation are thankfully long gone; but it’s clear to me there’s still much to be done with this one.”

After her, was Robyn. Needing no coddling, Rhodes stood at the forefront once more – but he hardly had to ask questions to get the woman to talk. She hadn’t taken the position of the Omega Alliance’s leader by being quiet after all.

That’s perhaps why it seemed to boom across the walls as she pointed up at the council, “With all due respect to the court, not a single person on any of the four councils is an omega! Who speaks for us? Our rights are decided by those who don’t know what it’s like to live oppressed. That’s why the Alliance protected Qrow – because when you’re oppressed or even simply supporting the oppressed, the rest of the world is quick to try and silence you.”

By the time Rhodes was dismissing her and taking his seat once more, he seemed a bit overwhelmed. “Miss Hill is quite the spitfire, isn’t she?”

“That she is. I think even our council was a bit overcome, seeing her in person.” Pietro’s laugh was hearty.

Qrow couldn’t fight the faint smile, though his nerves quickly took it away. There was only one witness left and then it was judgment time. The hours they had been at this suddenly seemed too short. “So, only Vernal left?” He asked needlessly, wincing when his voice cracked.

“Well, actually-”

Pietro never got to finish as Watts stood up and said, “I’d like to call the final witness, Taiyang Xiao Long, to the stand.”

There was no conscious thought.

He stood up, fast enough his chair tipped over, snarling angrily at the other lawyer, “WHAT?!”

In the next second, Rhodes was pulling him down by his arm, getting to his feet and saying rapidly, “Ah, can the defense have a quick recess first please?”

“I see no reason for that. We’re almost at the end and the UFK’s time is very valuable.” Watts interjected, smirking like things were finally going his way. “We can simply excuse Mr. Branwen if he can’t control himself.”

Fuck everything. He was going to go punch him in the face.

“Now, now, let’s all just calm down. It’s been a very long day and I’m sure all of us could use a breather.” Oz held a hand out towards their table, as if offering them a bone. “Fifteen minutes for the defense.”

They made it out the door in one.

The little sitting room he was brought to by a guard was entirely ignored as he whirled on his lawyers, voice rising, “How could you do this to him?!”

“Now Qrow-”

“Don’t!” He growled, not that it had any effect on the betas. “Denounce him as a witness! I am not going to allow you all to humiliate my best friend in front of the whole world!”

“We can’t do that. The only way Taiyang can be dismissed at this point is if he refuses to testify.” Pietro explained.

“Oh fucking perfect! This is just...!” Qrow threw up his hands, storming to the other side of the room. It was only the fact that the armchairs looked more expensive than his childhood house that prevented him from kicking any of them.

He picked up a forgotten notepad from one of the tables, tearing the pages to pieces instead.

Pietro rolled up beside him. “We didn’t seek him out. He volunteered to testify.”

“And you let him?!” Riiip. “You’re so smart, but you couldn’t figure out why I didn’t want him to be a part of this?”

“We know you’re hopelessly in love with him.”

It was a good thing magic didn’t exist – otherwise the glare he sent to Rhodes might have melted him on the spot.

Pietro hastily intervened, “What my associate means to say is, we understand your feelings have led you to be… less than objective on this matter.”

He couldn’t turn his imaginary superpower on the old man even if he tried, so he just went back to his quiet destruction.

“But the fact of the matter is, no one made this choice but Taiyang. For the same reason I imagine you made yours, my boy.” He gave him a comforting pat. “He wanted to protect you.”

Qrow paused halfway through a sheet. But after a beat, he scowled, tearing the rest. “Of course he does, that’s just… him! He’s not thinking it through. If this goes badly, he’ll never be able to get away from being part of this case. Someone will always remember. I don’t want him to live with that shame.”

“You know, I sat down with all the potential witnesses.” Rhodes began gently, “Most of them had another agenda, coming here. Good ones, of course, but still. Everyone else we considered were all preoccupied with making a statement. Taiyang was the only one who came here solely for you.” He came over, standing on his other side. “I don’t think the repercussions matter, even if he hasn’t considered them. Because to him you’re worth the risk.”

His old friend, Déjà Vu, nettled at the back of his head. Why did that sound so familiar?

Pietro added, “I think we all also agree you certainly shouldn’t go rotting away in a prison either. So, trust us all a little bit longer. We’ll see this through.”

“Can’t cry ‘till it’s all over, right?”  Qrow grumbled, the ripping finally stopped.

“That’s how it goes. Chin up, my boy. We got a case to win.”

~

It was certain. After today, wherever Qrow was going after he died, a section would be reserved solely for him.

Because he seriously could not be marveling just how wonderful Tai looked in a suit as he walked into the room. He even shot Qrow his ever-radiant smile as he made his way between the tables, taking his seat in the chair still set in the center of the room.

Leo lent forward. “Young man, do you swear that everything you are about to say will be nothing but the truth?”

“I do.” Tai said, placing a hand to his heart.

“The prosecution may proceed.”

Watts stood. “Thank you, your honor.” He was already spitting out his first question as he crossed over. “Please state your name and occupation for the court.”

“Taiyang Xiao Long. I’m an 8th grade teacher at Signal Academy.”

“Mr. Xiao Long, how did you come to know the defendant?”

Tai lent back in the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee as if he was about to have a casual conversation with the other man. “We grew up a few houses down from each other. Both our parents were of Mistrialian descent and Qrow’s family had recently moved to Patch. My mother felt it was important we got to know them and make them feel welcome. The rest is history.”

“What age were you?” Watts plucked at his mustache. Every time he did, Qrow couldn’t help but think the other was scheming up something.

“It was right before 1st grade started, so I was five, almost six. And Qrow was already six.”

“That’s quite a long time. And what would you consider your relationship with Qrow to be?”

“We’re best friends.”

Watts arched one fine eyebrow. “Not brother-in-laws? After all, the record shows Yang is his biological niece.”

“Uh, well,” The omega rubbed the back of his neck. “Raven and I never married. So, we’re not legally related.”

“I see.” Was the reply, something methodical behind the way the elder let the words drawl out slowly. Stalling as he thought. “But you two have remained close all these years?”

“I mean, we’ve had our ups and downs like any other friendship and his work tends to keep him distant.” Tai lent back, his next statement confident and sincere, “But yes, Qrow is my closest and most trusted friend.”

Though Qrow already knew that truth, the sentiment still made his chest warm brilliantly.

Unfortunately, the moment didn’t have a chance to settle, because Watts chose now to take the shot.

“So then surely you noticed when Qrow’s fascination with omegas first started?”

Tai spluttered. “P-Pardon?”

“Hmm, so that’s how he’s playing it.” Qrow barely caught Pietro’s murmur under the crack of Rhodes’ hand smacking the table.

“Objection! Arthur that’s a leading question.”

The other lawyer gave a shrug, as if it didn’t truly matter. “So it is. I retract it.”

Had he done that on purpose? Nails scratching across the table, Qrow barely withheld a scowl as he started to figure it out as well. Watts was trying to give the idea he was obsessed. It didn’t matter that the question was getting tossed aside; just the implication he wasn’t fully mentally sound would stand out.

He breathed out slow, trying to reign in the anxiety.

It was fine. They still had to do the cross examination – which would be the chance to do some damage control.

“Am I still allowed to answer it?”

The entire court’s attention snapped to Tai, shocked and bewildered.

A beat, then suddenly the reporters were in a frenzy while Qrow desperately tried not to tear out his own hair.

Tai what are you doing!?

Even Watts wasn’t completely unfazed, having to clear his throat first. “Uh, yes, well... I suppose that is up to the court.”

“If he wants to, why not let him?” Predictably, that was Theo.

James sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Because it can lead to unsustainable evidence. Really Theo, have you ever sat in on a real court hearing before?”

“Nope!”

Qrow was beginning to think the only way he was winning Vacuo’s majority was by entertaining them enough.

From the opposite side of the bench, Oz sipped from his mug (when had that appeared?) as he peered down at Taiyang. “Do you believe what you have to say is important to this case?”

“I do, your honor.” Tai sounded so certain. What in Brothers’ names was he up to?

“Then let’s hear it.”

He nodded, facing the prosecutor once more. “The reason Qrow has such an interest in omegas is because he used to be one.”

Oh boy. Qrow sunk a bit in his seat, practically feeling the cameras turning towards him.

For the second time in ten minutes, the court went into a frenzy – bad enough that Leo had to call for order to quiet everyone down.

Watts was staring at Tai like one would a countryside bumpkin. “As fantastical as that claim is Mr. Xiao Long, biology does not work that way. Qrow was born an alpha, therefore he is an alpha.”

“Yes, he is, but he wasn’t raised like one. Qrow’s parents were convinced he would be an omega, so they groomed him to be one. He went to omega-based primordial classes. He could sew by the time he was nine and he was cooking with his mom a few months before she passed away. And that doesn’t even begin to cover all the socialization differences.” Tai uncrossed his legs, leaning forward. “Just because Qrow presented otherwise doesn’t take away from the fact that for thirteen years, he was an omega. So of course he feels a connection with the dynamic he was once a part of.”

“That’s a bold claim to make, but I’m afraid you don’t have the psychological expertise to back it.”

“Perhaps, but I do have personal experience.”

“As a teacher, you mean?”

“No.” Qrow didn’t have to see it to know Tai’s smile was smug. “As someone who lived his first fourteen years as an alpha.”

That got the court going again, though more contained this time around.

Watts seemed to be at the end of his rope with this clown show, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

It was a small, but significant, victory.

~

“So, you’ve never sat in on any of Mr. Branwen’s tattooing sessions with another client?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“I had no reason too. Not only would it be invasive for the omega having the work done, I’d seen and experienced first-hand how careful Qrow was with his work.”

“How can you be certain he wasn’t just treating you, his closest companion, as an exception?”

“I suppose he did in some ways. Like not minding our eight-to-ten-hour sessions for weeks on end. But as far as his work ethic goes, when I found him, he was thin as a stick because he was sacrificing his grocery budget just to make sure he had all the needles and antiseptics he needed in stock.”

The questioning had been going on for nearly forty-five minutes.

At first, he assumed Watts was just continually trying to dig through his history via Tai, hoping to find something incriminating to prove Qrow was, in fact, a spawn born from the deepest pits of darkness. While that was certainly somewhat true – such as spinning his introverted habits into something more sinister (“Did Mr. Branwen ever have other instances in which he had issue working with others?”) – it didn’t seem the lawyer’s primary goal. The realization of what was creeped up on him as he noticed Glynda hide a yawn behind her hand and Lil’ Miss check her watch.

“He’s stalling.” He hissed.

“Yes.” Pietro was equally displeased. “It’s one of his favorite tactics. He knows the more time he takes, the less we have. I figured he might do this right at the end.”

“Can’t you do anything?”

He rubbed a hand under his chin thoughtfully. “In a normal court, no… but perhaps in this one…”

“We’ll give it a shot.” Rhodes agreed, getting to his feet. “Objection! Arthur, you’ve been at this for quite some time. Is this line of questioning going anywhere?”

The other lawyer waved to Tai, “I merely wish to delve into as much of the defendant’s history as possible, seeing as Mr. Xiao Long here is our only character witness.”

“But wasn’t it also you who said the UFK’s time was valuable?”

“Are you accusing me of wasting time Dium? That’s not a true objection.”

From further above, James asserted, “As it is, I’m thinking to sustain it regardless. I’ve heard about as much of Mr. Branwen’s teenage escapades as I care to hear.”

As the conversation went on above them, Qrow couldn’t help but notice the way Tai fell back some in his seat, a line of exhaustion weighing his shoulders. It seemed Watts’ tactic hadn’t just affected the court. The omega had been very careful the entire time, never giving too much with any answer and, if he could, trying to keep things in a positive light.

He imagined since his best friend was trying to hold up one of the most cynical bastards he’d ever known, his arms had to be getting tired.

“Stop that. You’re not a joke, you know?”

The echoing words chiding him left his lips quirking upwards.

Heh. Right. When was he going to learn to stop underestimating the other man? Tai wasn’t here simply to get him out of trouble; he was here because he believed in Qrow. Not just what he represented, or the work he did, but him at his core. If anything, Qrow was the one being the real fool, not even humoring the idea that very little of what Tai had said so far even stretched the truth.  

That maybe, just maybe, Tai truly did regard him that highly.

Gods, He thought fondly, What did I ever do to deserve you?

As if he could feel Qrow’s stare, Tai glanced back. Though it was hard to tell from this distance, he seemed almost nervous.

Despite knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to make it out, Qrow mouthed as precisely as he could, ‘You’re doing great!’

Something must had translated, because Tai grinned.

“-Four more questions, understood?” Leo was saying, tuning them back into the trial.

“Understood your honor.” Watts replied. There was something almost deadly in his eyes as he faced Tai once more, like he was staring down a dueling opponent and he was best trying to figure how to win the draw. “Mr. Xiao Long, we’ve been speaking of the defendant’s purchase history for some time now, but there’s one in particular I would like you to look at with me.” Much like he had with Qrow, the lawyer picked up some documents from the evidence table, bringing them over. “As the court is already well aware, alphas and omegas are both required to be registered with the pharmacy, so that suppressant usage can be documented and properly distributed.” He stopped in front of Tai. “This is from six years ago, during the same months you happened to have testified you were within contact with him in Argus.”

Qrow sat up, ramrod straight as a stone dropped into his gut. Fuck.

“Will you read for the court the purchase made on July 27th and then the one made on August 12th, including the amounts and prescription length?”

Tai seemed confused, even as he complied, “Moschidor, 200mg, thirty-day use. $28.50. Odocoilus, 300mg, fifteen-day use. $53.66.”

“So, let me clarify what occurred here.” Watts said, gesturing with the papers to the court, “The defendant was on Moshidor, one of the cheaper suppressants on the market, but known for its general effectiveness for every day use. However, before the defendant’s prescription was even close to being finished, he was purchasing Odocoilus, a much more expensive and aggressive suppressant. We’ve also already covered that the defendant’s budget constraints hardly allowed for such lavish spending. Which only leads me to believe that he was in a position in which he had to make this purchase.” He spun back to Tai and took the shot, “So the question is Mr. Xiao Long, do you happen to know if some sort of incident occurred to spark this change?”

At a loss for words, the omega just spluttered. “I, well, uh…”

“Please answer the question Mr. Xiao Long.” He pressured.

Tai shifted uncomfortably, ducking his head. “He… had a spontaneous rut.”

Qrow’s nails dug into the grain of the table, hearing the too-loud whispers of the reporters start up.

“Well now isn’t that fascinating.” Watts exclaimed, looking much like a man who had just discovered a gold mine. “Spontaneous ruts are most often caused by the presence of a potential mate. It wouldn’t be an unforeseen happenstance, being around as many omegas as he was. But then, that doesn’t line up with Mr. Branwen’s declaration of holding a candle for someone well before his tattooing days, now does it?”

In the brief hush, Qrow worked out the options. Tai could lie, of course. Could say he just missed a few doses – but then Watts would string that along to make him seem irresponsible and intentionally hazardous. Or, maybe he could convince everyone the suppressants just stopped working because his body became too accumulated to his current prescription. It would work, if only it couldn’t be easily countered by the fact that effectiveness goes down overtime, and other rut-like symptoms would have popped up months prior to the full cycle.

It was with a sinking feeling he realized there was only one ‘good’ answer to that question.

A flush was working its way up Tai’s neck, pinkening his ears, as he no doubt came to the same conclusion. “It does, actually. Because…” His whole back rolled with the breath he took before raising his head, “I’m that person.”

Yet again, an explosion of noise overtook the court.

Qrow shut his eyes, as if he could shut it all out. The little victory they had gotten earlier on in the testimony felt like a consolation prize to the defeat they were facing now. Even with only two questions left, Watts had a dozen little ways he could twist that information and the precious seconds it took the leaders to call for order only gave him more time to figure out exactly how to best ruin the most beautiful thing in Qrow’s life.

Ruin it he clearly wanted too, what with the way Watts steepled his fingers together and smiled menacingly as he waited patiently for order to be restored before speaking, “Mr. Xiao Long, I’m afraid I feel like I’m missing a few pieces here. Your statement implies you triggered Mr. Branwen’s rut. However, spontaneous ruts don’t come about from a mere crush. Otherwise, we’d have every teenager in the world out of school every other week. Mr. Branwen had to be in a situation in which he felt you could become his mate for a rut to happen in this manner. So, what occurred between you two to create this chain reaction?”

“We… spent the night together. Platonically!” Tai stressed quickly. “It was my birthday and we’d had a few glasses of wine together. He invited me to stay over for the night. Nothing else happened.” A pause, then Tai added in rashly, “We’d done it a million times before so I didn’t think anything of it. I hadn’t known Qrow had had any feelings for me at the time, otherwise I wouldn’t have stayed.”

Qrow grimaced and hunkered down, already knowing what was about to be said.

Sure enough, Watts grabbed the lead in like he’d just fished his best catch of the day, “I find that very curious of you to say. Because Qrow’s already attested to the fact you never returned his feelings – but he failed to say when you rejected him. Now from this account, it seems to me he manipulated you into a hazardous situation, using your ignorance to his potential gain.”

Fury burnt in his gut, angry tears brimming. That wasn’t what happened! He’d never… could never have lived with himself, if he’d hurt Tai like that. How was it right that someone could mock his love this way? Make it seem like a sham.

Yet just as it felt like all he could do was sit here helplessly as the one thing he’d held most dear fell apart for all to witness, Tai stood up for him, chair scraping back, voice near explosive all on its own, “No! That’s not the truth!”

Watts merely arched a brow at the emotional display, and rather than calling him out for the outburst only egged him on further with his final question, “Then what is the truth, Mr. Xiao Long?”

“The truth is it was my fault!”

Oh Tai… Qrow shook his head, willing him not to take the fall for him but unable to stop him as he bravely carried on.

He expected some outlandish lie to protect him.

Some sort of tall tale that he’d conjured up to push the blame off of himself so that Tai looked like the guilty party in all this.

What he didn’t expect – the last thing he’d ever expect in the entire world – was what Tai said next.

“Qrow’s rut didn’t trigger because of his feelings, they triggered because of mine!”

WHAT?!

….W…What?

Even as the press stirred up behind him and the council bore down from above, Tai didn’t halt, tone trembling on the words, “I had started falling for him when we met up again. But I was too much of a coward to tell him, because the last time I had, my entire life was upended!” He pointed frenziedly towards James’ section. “I got shipped off to Atlas and my daughters ripped away from me! Years I’ll never get back, because I had dared fall in love a second time. I couldn’t stand the thought of it happening again, so I… I never told Qrow.” His arm fell and, with it, his ferocity.

Qrow didn’t need to see him to know he was crying.

“Not that it would have mattered. Qrow was already staying away as much as possible to keep me and my girls out of this. Telling him, when we couldn’t be together, would have been cruel.” Tai hung his head, ending softly, “I loved him too much to break his heart that way.”

The irony was, he certainly didn’t feel that was even possible, with how full his heart suddenly was. He wanted to cry. He wanted climb the tallest mountain in the world and shout his happiness until it echoed into the canyons. But more than anything, he wanted to jump up and take Tai into his arms and never, ever let him go.

Watts cleared his throat, reminding him where he was and that his life was on the cusp of being nothing but three stone walls and a door with bars. “I suppose… I have no further questions.” He walked back to his table, only stopping long enough to gripe, “And take your seat, Mr. Xiao Long.”

As Tai sat back down, Ozpin lent forward, surprisingly kind as he offered, “Would the witness like a moment, before we continue?”

“No.” He snuffled, running a hand over his eyes. “I’m okay. I apologize for the display.”

The leader only nodded, “Very well. The defense may proceed.”

Pietro gave Qrow a firm pat on the back, “Hang in there, my boy.” Before making his way to the evidence table. He picked up a paperback book and, strangely, a measuring tape, before rolling himself over to Tai. “I promise to be brief, Mr. Xiao Long. Now, you said it took about six months for my client to finish rebranding your mark, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And during those six months, you met every Sunday for up to ten hours a day, correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And where is your brand?”

“It’s on my back.” Tai made a vague motion towards the area. “Across my shoulder blades.”

“I see. So, it’s not in plain view. Would you please remove your shirt to show the court?”

That had Watts snapping, “Objection! We’ve seen Qrow’s work on the other witnesses. We don’t need to disgrace Mr. Xiao Long in such a manner.”

“I do promise that I am going somewhere with this.” Pietro told the court. “Mr. Xiao Long’s time with Mr. Branwen was significantly longer than any other witness or potential witness we encountered, but I believe seeing it will only truly express why.”

The four leaders glanced at one another, before James tipped his head, “We’ll allow it. Mr. Xiao Long, if you would.”

Tai got to back to his feet, turning around. His fingers fumbled a bit over the buttons of his shirt as his eyes met Qrow’s, a confliction of feelings playing across his face. Qrow couldn’t help but feel a storm well within him. There was so much he wanted to say and to make up for. But all they could have right now were their gazes on one another, the longing between them almost tangible.

Tai shrugged out of his shirt, the fabric falling to the floor.

A ring of gasps could be heard from some of the councilmembers.

Qrow didn’t need to see it to know why, remembering every line he’d etched like it had been just yesterday.

He could almost feel his hand moving once more, his outline detailing the S into an 8 – Tai’s birthdate. Within the top and bottom circles, the colors of dawn and dusk bloomed anew along the beaches of Patch. Both the upper and lower half were drawn out symmetrically so they mirrored one another. Both had the same sands, the same waves, the same distant isles of Vale, and even the same birds flying in the sky. The only difference was the time of day, so that the sun rose and fell in infinity.

Beside it was the former L that was now shaped like an arch window. Spilling out of the shadows of a deep cave was a glorious four-legged dragon, with scales of gold and wings like a bird’s folded upon its back. It was peering down at where the end of its tail was curled up like a small spiral, where a little black bird was perched, beak open in song.

Then was the U, no longer detectable as it had blossomed into a simple silver rose, a loving reminder of a pendant Summer herself once wore. The edges of the rose were given a red tinge to match the woman’s graduating hair. A few of the petals were giving way, delicately falling on either side. Cursive script had been added both above and below the rose, the exact words of a poem the woman had once adored, versing out: ‘Thus kindly… I scatter’.

Finally came the T, now transformed into a maple tree not unlike the ones spread around the yard of Tai’s house. This one was on the cusp of autumn, its bright green leaves having a blush of reds, oranges and yellows. At the time it was a wish, the colors a representation of the family Tai hoped to raise at his former summer home. Below the tree, a sea of white daisies and sunflowers had sprouted up, stems bent like they were dancing. A new beginning in the sunlight.

Each one was created with a steady hand and careful consideration for the man who bore them. So that when Tai walked out the door that final time, it was no longer with shame, but with pride that he could wear something on his back that was as beautiful as he was.

Pietro allowed them to stare for several long seconds, before he requested, “Rhodes, if you could assist me for just a moment.” The other lawyer was quick join him, taking the tape measure as it was handed over. “If you would, could you measure out the length of the first tattoo for me?” The ruler made a metallic hush as it was pulled out and held against the man’s back. “Now Mr. Xiao Long, could you read for us the reading on the tape?”

Tai glanced down as Rhodes held it out towards him. “Eight and a half inches.”

“And what was the first letter of the word on your back?”

“It was an S.”

“Is the S still discernable?”

“Yes. It’s one half of the figure eight.”

Pietro nodded, glancing at his associate. “Just to make sure it is fully understood, Rhodes, can you trace the letter so that the court can clearly see what Mr. Xiao Long means?”

“Of course.” Rhodes complied, stepping to the side so it was in clear view as his finger followed the line.

“Thank you. You may return to your seat Rhodes. As can you, Mr. Xiao Long.”

Tai met Qrow’s eyes one more time, and this time gave him a tiny smile, before he turned to settle back into the chair. He fetched his shirt up off the floor.

While Tai was making himself decent once more, Pietro drew the attention his way as he held up the book to the court. “I have here in my hand a guidebook from the New Horizons Reformatory, the very same one Mr. Xiao Long attended. In chapter three of this book, are the guidelines for omega branding.” He flipped over to the chapter he had to be talking about, holding it out to Tai. “Mr. Xiao Long, would you please read aloud the parameters for acceptable size of the brand, as listed under section 3?”

“A brand is not to exceed the length of two inches and no larger than the length of the chosen body part to prevent words from circling around the limb.” Tai recited obediently.

“Mhm. And can you also read aloud section 5?”

“The chosen word cannot in any way be considered: derogatory, defamatory or otherwise indecent to be seen by the public eye.”

Pietro lowered the book. “Mr. Xiao Long, the word that was on your back is entirely indiscernible, but am I correct to assume it was a four-letter word that started with an S?”

“Yes.”

“Would you please tell the court what that word once was?”

Tai took a breath and the room seemed to hold it with him.

Then, he released it and the terrible truth along with it, “It used to say ‘Slut’.”

Not a word was uttered. Even the reporters in the back had nothing to say, because it spoke for itself.

Qrow chanced a glance upwards. Few could look at Taiyang, and those who were did not hide their humanity. Of course, it was the four leaders that seemed the most prominent. Theo’s frown was heavily pronounced, his gaze burning holes into the tabletop in front of him. James was running a hand over his eyes, a sagging to his once proud shoulders. Leo was shaking his head, murmuring quietly to himself. And Oz, as usual, was near completely unreadable, hiding his expression behind his hands again.

Hope beat like a frail thing in his chest and he tried not to hold it too hard.

The silence was eventually broken by Pietro snapping the book closed with an air of finality. “Thank you, Mr. Xiao Long. I have no further questions. You may step down.”

“Well,” Leo spoke up, as the two men began to move. “As there are no further witnesses, we’ll allow for the final statements. After that, the jury will convene for a judgment and-”

The rest of it faded to background noise, Qrow’s fixation completely on Tai as he passed between the tables.

The omega paused, just long enough to mouth a single word to him before he continued on:

‘Soon.’

It felt like a promise.

~

Thirty minutes was all it took to decide his fate.

He had thought the deliberation period would last longer. That everything they’d done here today would shake up at least some people’s conventions. Yet, for the decision to be made so quickly meant there’d been little to no discourse. No split votes. No uncertainties. Nothing that held up their ruling.

Almost as if their verdict had been made well before he even first walked into the room.

It didn’t seem to add up. After all the heavy expressions, outbursts, and shocked silences, Qrow had thought they had had an impact.

Had it all just been for the cameras?

Had nothing mattered?

Traversing the path back to the conference room for the last time, Qrow felt like he was walking back to the gallows.

“Don’t look so glum. It’s not over yet.” Pietro urged as he wheeled along beside him.

He scoffed. “Tch. Might as well be. Face it wheels, they already knew what they wanted to do with me before we ever started this dog and pony show.”

“Perhaps…” Was all he said and thankfully no more.

On his other side, Rhodes offered him a firm pat to the back, though it failed to do much when his own expression was crooked with nerves.

Too soon, Qrow was settled back into his chair between his lawyers. Not much had changed about the room, except the witness chair was gone and the reporters had been given permission to encroach further in the room – most of them stood only ten feet away from his table. Across the way, Watts was completely at ease, his hands clasped before his face to hide a smirk. No doubt because he too knew this was already over.

Ozpin spoke first, “We’ve called you back in here because our councils have reached our verdicts. Each head of council will give their individual verdicts based on majority vote before giving our unanimous ruling. Mr. Branwen, we ask you to come to the center of the room as we read our verdict.”

The heat of an invisible spotlight followed him every step of the way as he did as requested, until he stood in the exact spot he’d made his initial testimony. But the anxiety he’d felt then was nothing compared to now – heart pounding, ears rushing, hands curled up into fists to hide their shakes. It took all of his strength to look up and face the court. Every face he looked at was carefully blank, giving away nothing.

Barred, like he soon would be.

“James,” Oz gestured towards him, “Since the defendant was apprehended on your kingdom’s grounds, I feel it only appropriate to allow you to go first.”

“Thank you Oz.”

As the general got to his feet, Qrow ducked his head to hide his grimace. It was better this way. Hearing the one kingdom that assuredly condemned him meant he couldn’t possibly get his hopes up by any other rulings.

James began, voice commanding all attention to him, “In the case of Qrow Branwen v. the Four Kingdoms-”

He screwed his eyes shut. On the cusp of the end of his life, he swore it flashed before him. Tiny, trivial, nearly uncatchable bits of the people he’d left behind or let down.

His father’s stern hand.

The softness of his mother’s hugs.

His twin’s pretentious stance.

His nieces’ excitement every time he came home.

The buzzing of his pen as he drew a thousand different works of art upon a thousand different people.

“-We, the council of Atlas, ruled 3-to-5 and find the accused…”

But of everything that slipped in and out like sand through an hourglass, the one that held tightest without letting go was Tai. Until there was nothing left in his memories but the bright smile he’d first fallen in love with eighteen years ago.

A smile he’d taken for granted twelve years ago.

Had fought to bring back six years ago.

Now, today, he’d be taking it away, as the world who cared nothing for an omega’s happiness found a way to break his heart for a third and final time.

I’m sorry, Tai. Qrow thought helplessly just as the verdict was declared.

“-Innocent of disorderly conduct against omegakind.”

Qrow wasn’t sure if the boom he heard was Watts’ hands meeting the table from shock or his own head exploding.

Had… he truly heard that right?

As he dared peek in James’ direction, he swore he got the hint of a smile on the man’s face as he took his seat once more. A glance back, and he could see Pietro and Rhodes’ optimistic expressions. Watched the reporters twitter about animatedly, repeating the ruling into their cameras.

“Can you believe-”

“The ruling is in-”

“-and in this shocking turn of events-”

“-Atlas’ decision is innocent!”

The shock hadn’t even had a chance to start wearing off, before Qrow’s focus was forward once more as Leo was encouraged to go next.

His proclamation was much shorter: “The Mistral council finds Qrow Branwen innocent in a 6-to-9 ruling.”

Then went Theo, who had the audacity to wink at him before speaking, “The Vacuo council ruled 7-to-11 that Mr. Branwen is innocent.”

Breath coming short and every bit of him tingling, Qrow could barely contain his anticipation as Ozpin stood to give the final verdict:

“In a unanimous 8-to-8 ruling, we the Vale council also declare the accused innocent. As the UFK has reached a shared ruling, Qrow Branwen will be acquitted of all charges against him.” Before the commotion could really get going, the leader held up a hand, speaking over it, “Furthermore, this case has brought to our attention that omega branding has become an outdated and, quite frankly, inhumane practice. Thus, we have decided that any form of branding will be prohibited in all institutions across the four kingdoms from this day forward.”

The reaction to those words was a thunderous roar that rattled the windows and shook the rafters. It took Qrow a moment to place the source, until it hit him that it was coming from outside. It was the massive crowd that had gathered on the lawn, all cheering so loudly that it was bouncing off the walls, amplifying the noise until it resonated more like a pride of lions triumphantly sounding off, letting their voices be heard.

Silenced no longer.

In the wake of it, Ozpin was almost inaudible as he finished, “This court is now adjourned. Qrow, you’re free to go.”

It took him a moment to get his legs to cooperate, relief turning his limbs to jelly as he swayed back over to the table. Both lawyers were quick to greet him.

Rhodes’ excitement was palpable in the way the pat he delivered to his back was enough to whoosh all the air from his lungs. “Come on Qrow, smile! You’re not walking out of here in handcuffs.”

“I know, I just… did that really just happen?” He questioned, half-expecting to wake up from the past five minutes and discover it was all just a dream.

“That it did. Hold it with pride that this was a well-earned victory.” Pietro congratulated, holding out a hand. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, my boy.”

For some reason, that was what finally got the tears to gather, though Qrow stubbornly tried not to let them fall as he shook the other’s hand. “Thank you. Both of you. I wouldn’t have had a chance without you.”

“Believe me when I say the thanks is all from us. Working on a case like this is something lawyers only dream of.” Rhodes replied. “I haven’t seen this old man so invigorated in years!”

“Now Rhodes, don’t make it seem so self-serving. Anybody with eyes could see Qrow was no criminal. In the end, it’s not the prestige that I’ll be holding onto, but the joy in seeing this young man walk free.” The elder admonished.

The battle was lost as the first tear slipped down his face, though Qrow was quick to wipe it away. “I-”

“Mr. Branwen! Can I get a statement?”

He started at the shout, seeing one of the reporters beelining towards him – though her call had drawn the attention and ravenousness of the others. Sharks, all of them.

Pietro mumbled quietly, “Rhodes, I believe Qrow needs to make a hasty exit.”

“Got it.” Before he could blink, the lawyer was pushing him between the cameras and the microphones, saying diplomatically as they went on by, “While I’m certain Mr. Branwen would love to answer all your questions, he has a rather important matter to attend too.” He would have sworn it was just a ruse meant to dissuade the press. But then they reached the doors, and Rhodes was leaning over, whispering in his ear, “Take a left, then go down the second hallway. You’ll find an elevator there. Tai’s on the second floor, room 218.”

The realization hit like a strike of lightning.

Right, no more cells. No more handcuffs. No more guards.

If he stepped out of this room, no one would stop him.

He was truly and wholly free to go.

Which meant…

“Go get him.”

Qrow hardly needed the push, feet pounding loudly on marble as he sprinted down the hallway, running faster than he ever had in his entire life. His shadow stretched alongside the wall beside him, cast by the falling sun outside that came through the floor to ceiling windows. A glance outside revealed the masses still celebrating. They were a sea of faces, indistinguishable in the dimming light, but their rapture was universal. Seen in the hugs being shared. Shoulders being cried on. In the group that had started to dance for no other reason than to share in each other’s joy.

Tomorrow, they’d remember the other battles still left to be fought, the inequalities still meant to be corrected – but today was for rejoicing, for reveling in one of the most monumental gains for omegakind in over fifty years.

Through the tinted windows, Qrow smiled to them before disappearing around the second corner without a single one of them ever knowing he was there.

Unseen as he always was meant to be.

~

The elevator was taking too long.

“Come on, come on.” Qrow pressed the button another half dozen times, tapping his foot impatiently. As he waited, he couldn’t help but wonder what Tai was doing right now. Was he still watching the newsreel on his scroll? Or was he standing by the window, watching the ongoing merry-making of his fellow omegas? Or maybe he was pacing the room, just as anxious to see him as Qrow himself was.

Gods above, he didn’t even know what he was going to say to him. All he knew was he needed to be with him, right now.

He stared at the light above the door like he could will it to light up.

Another few seconds passed and it remained offensively dark.

“Tch!” He scowled at it, rushing back into hallway, sprinting for the door at the end that had a sign marked “Fire Escape” on it. He sent a silent prayer that it wouldn’t be alarmed as he reached for the knob.

Only for it to swing open of its’ own accord.

Qrow’s heart jumped as he suddenly found himself staring back at Tai, disheveled and winded, on the other side. Like he���d just run the entire way here.

The omega took about a half-step out before his eyes blew wide as he realized who was standing in front of him. “Qrow! How did you – I mean, what are you doing?”

“Coming to find you.” Qrow rasped, swallowing a bit. “How ‘bout you?”

Tai’s scent spiked, nerves making it sharper, more prominent. “I, uh, same. Was trying to use the elevator but-”

“It was taking too long?” He guessed, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips.

“Yeah.” Tai said, beginning to grin along with him.

Then they were laughing, as it hit them that in their haste to see one another, they had done the exact same thing. Qrow’s amusement only grew, when he surmised that the reason the elevator was probably taking so long was because it was on Tai’s floor, waiting for the blond who already was long gone.

He was just starting to get ahold of himself, taking in a breath to speak, when a ding sounded off and voices and footsteps filled the hall. He glanced back, unease filling him as he recognized Robyn’s voice. Though he imagined she was probably going to join the festivities out front, if she spotted him, she’d surely want to catch a word. He wasn’t the only one to pick up on the issue, because Tai abruptly grabbed onto his wrist, yanking him into the stairwell. The door whispered shut behind them.

“Sorry, I just…” Tai trailed off, letting go.

Which was just unacceptable. Qrow reached out, capturing his hand in his and squeezing tightly. “I know. Me too.” The omega looked between their hands back to him.  “So… all this time?”

“I, yeah.” He sucked in a sharp breath, a swell of emotions caught in his tone, “I wanted to tell you so long ago. But, I just – Gods I don’t even know where to start.”

He hushed him soothingly, brushing away the tears threatening to fall. “Hey, none of that now. Remember what you told me before? Just because they’re your feelings for me doesn’t mean I own them.” That same hand quested further, winding around the back of his head to card through blond locks. “In fact, forget all that. I don’t need you to explain and by Gods do I not want you to apologize, for anything.” He lent forward, until their foreheads brushed and all they could see was each other. “I just want to know: This is really what you want? You want to be with me?”

Those beautiful blue eyes that Qrow’d seen be as turbulent as a stormy sea and as calm as an undisturbed lake stared back at him in a way he’d never quite seen before. They had softened to something strikingly warm and crystal clear, much like the beaches of Patch. Like home.

“Yes.” Tai resolutely replied, gentle and sweet. “Yes, I really do.”

Overwhelmed, Qrow could only bring him that much closer, promising against his lips reverently, “Okay. Then I’m yours,” before the distance between them closed.

Somewhere, the world was still turning around them. But for Qrow, his own had been off its axis for months now.

It was only in Tai’s lips against his that he felt it finally right itself once more.

~

It was still blissfully early in the workday when Qrow led his final customer back to the front of his shop, going through the care instructions like a mantra. “-And don’t forget, no direct sunlight until it’s fully healed. Got all that?”

“Yep!” Gretchen assured, her high voice giving an almost musical lyre to her words. “Thank you so much. I can’t wait to get rid of all my stupid knee-high socks.”

Distracted by a random flutter of anxiety, his response came late, “Ah, don’t mention it.”

They walked into the lobby area – or, as he often jokingly referred to it, his art museum. The walls were covered in nothing but framed mementos of his work. Some were just drawn onto sketchbook paper, others were actual photos of past clients showing off their marks. The room was fairly sparse besides a small desk that had his itinerary for the year and a desk phone. A few chairs were also scattered about the room for friends or family of the client.

In one of them sat Gretchen’s brother, Hazel. Upon seeing them, the absolute mountain of an alpha got to his feet, trudging on over. “All done?”

“Uh-huh.” The woman launched herself at him and despite her petite size, Qrow could tell her hugs were rather large. “Thank you for paying for this.”

“I’m just glad it made you happy.” He said with complete sincerity, his own embrace lifting her off the ground.

Qrow had to wonder if it was like getting a hug from a grizzly bear. Still, the sight pulled a smile out of him. It was always reassuring, seeing his clients getting the support they deserved. “Call if anything doesn’t seem right, okay?”

“I will.” With a wave goodbye from Gretchen and a silent nod of gratitude from Hazel, the pair left his shop together, plans to visit the ice cream shop down the block trailing after them.

He locked the door behind them, a sense of anticipation rolling through him. It was rare he got to close up shop before sundown on a Friday and he was looking forward to a nice, relaxing weekend at home. He worked out the stiffness in his neck and wrist as he went about the motions of preparing for the following week. The pen was taken apart and dropped into the ultrasonic cleaner. While the cycle ran, he settled back out front to make a few calls, confirming Monday’s appointments.  Next, he checked the inks, refilling the black and blue that had begun to run low. By the time he was done with that, the cleaner was done and he reassembled the pen, storing it away in its’ kit.

After that, there was nothing left to do but pull out his scroll and text Tai.

Early night at the shop. Should be home by six.

He felt the response in another wave of anxiety well before he heard the jingle from his device. Just getting dinner started. See you soon.

Qrow hesitated, tempted not for the first time today to just ask what was up with his mate, but like every other time, he pushed the selfish desire down.

After they’d bonded, he and Tai had established early on that neither of them wanted the other to drop everything to be at each other’s beck and call whenever they felt a hint of a negative emotion. It was too stifling and, when it came right down to it, too insulting. He didn’t need Tai in his ear while dealing with an ornery customer any more than Tai needed him at his side every time one of his coworkers got on his nerves. They both wanted to feel trusted, not coddled.

So, curiosity wasn’t a great reason to break that trust.

Whatever was making Tai feel so jittery, he knew he’d tell him when he was ready. Until then…

Could pick something up on the way home, if you’d rather. He offered.

The reply was just a picture of their kitchen counter, spread with the familiar ingredients for his favorite curry dish, followed by a cheeky, You sure?

He folded quicker than a bad poker hand. Forget I said anything.

Tai just sent back a bunch of laughing faces.

Qrow took it as a good sign.

~

Harbinger’s Tattoo Parlor was located in a small shopping center in central Patch, easy to find even for the farthest of travelers. It was also a convenient fifteen-minute drive from the forest-entwined cabin Qrow called home. The trees acted like a natural privacy fence, with only a winding dirt road the only way in. Driving in, the home seemed to glisten in the late afternoon light, a recent coat of timber stain having given the logs a dazzling sheen, making the decades-old structure appear newer than it was. Little planters of sunflowers and daisies surrounded the front and eastern sides of the home, adding a serene splash of color to the dwelling. He gave the blooms an appraising eye as he continued down the path to the backyard, parking by the shed.

No sooner after he’d cut the engine and started making his way towards the house, did the door burst open and his nieces came flocking out.

“Hi uncle!” Yang said, snatching the keys as she went. “Bye uncle!”

He blinked down at his empty hand. “Hey, wait!”

“Love you!” Ruby dropped a kiss to his cheek, bouncing on by with a few colorful giftbags swinging on her arms and a bundle of fur clutched between her hands.

“You’re taking Zwei too?!”

Already halfway in the driver’s seat, the younger alpha shouted back, a clear tease in her tone, “Thought you didn’t like the ‘mangy mutt’?”

“I don’t – was just hoping you were leaving him there!” He retaliated, waving a hand behind him as he headed inside. “Have fun. And don’t crash my car.”

The roar of the vehicle coming to life drowned out whatever response they may have given him. He counted his blessings the Valkyrie residence was only a few houses away as he watched them peel away before stepping into the kitchen. The sound that greeted him was the swishing of a wooden spoon mixing food into a skillet, the heat up high to bring it to a shimmer.

“Welcome home!”  Tai greeted with an unusual amount of enthusiasm.

Unsure if it was wise to address it or not, Qrow erred on the side of caution as he strode over with nothing more than a casual, “Hey sunshine.”

He waited until the omega had set the cover down on the pan, before gathering him up in his arms and pulling him back against his chest. When that was met with no resistance, he nuzzled against the side of his neck. After being surrounded by a variety of different scents, it was nice to be enveloped by only his mate’s earthy aroma.

“Mm, how was your day?” Tai asked as turned in his grasp to return the gesture.

Qrow tilted his head back to allow him. “Good. Finished off Gretchen’s mark today.”

“The one who wanted the gingerbread house?”

“Yeah.” He shivered a bit as lips brushed against his bond mark, the scarring having left the area extra sensitive. “How was yours?”

Another spike both in his gut and in Tai’s scent. But his mate only brushed it off with a chuckle. “Oh you know my students, they always like to kid around.”

He groaned, nipping his ear in retribution. “No.”

That got him a more honest laugh. Tai wiggled free, turning away to start cleaning up the dishes and spices he’d left out. “It was math and movie day, so nothing interesting to report.”

With his back turned, he couldn’t see the way Qrow frowned. He’d hoped once they were in the same room together, Tai would open up. Now, he had no idea what was going on. Unless…

He eyed the skillet, his favorite dish still bubbling away underneath the top. It wasn’t unusual for him to make it, but after a long, tiring week at work, slaving over a stove was the last thing either of them wanted to do. Usually, they had pizza or leftovers or something quick and easy. Tai deciding to do something special reeked of him trying to butter him up for something.

Then, there was the oddity of the girls’ bringing Zwei along for a birthday party. Fun as the puppy was, he was also a lot of work and Qrow really couldn’t see a group of teenagers willingly wanting to spend an entire weekend watching him. Especially when he couldn’t get his own to clean their rooms.

Which meant, either they’d been bribed or Tai had been.

“Really, nothing at all?” Despite his mounting suspicion, he kept his tone casual, crossing over to the fridge to fetch himself a drink.

Another clench in his gut. Another lie on Tai’s tongue. “Yeah. It was just another normal day.”

Normal his ass. Qrow pulled out a beer, cracking it open and kicking the fridge door shut all in one motion. He swore to the Gods, if all this was over some new mutt hiding out in their shed, he was going to lose it.

Tai passed him on the way to the sink, pausing just long enough to drop a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

…But, he supposed he could play along.

~

“Want dessert?”

The call from the kitchen roused him and Qrow’s eyes slipped back open.

He had long ago kicked off his shoes and his ankles were crossed over the coffee table while he lounged back on the couch. The T.V. was playing the latest episode of All Our Life but he’d long ago tuned out whatever comedy the campy sitcom was trying to pull. It had been going downhill ever since Season 3 anyways. Tai must have felt the same, if he’d decided to clear the dishes instead of waiting for the credit roll.

“What are we having?” He yelled back, hitting the power button on the remote with his toe. Maybe they could put on a movie instead.

“Tried and true!”

He snorted. “Sure.”

There was a clack as the pantry opened and closed. The nerves had spiked again, bad enough Qrow had to take a few deep breathes. He sat up straight, bracing himself for the ‘news’. He’d already planned out his reaction. He couldn’t wait to yank Tai’s chain over adopting yet another mangy menace for them to care for – even if he was going to give in in the end.

“Oh, that reminds me, I thought of a great joke.” Tai said as he came back into the room.

Oh Gods, this was how he was going to tell him? Forget it. The furball was going back to pound. “Great is relative with you.”

“Oh hush up and listen! So, what did the bumblebee say to the sugar ant on his birthday?”

His brow furrowed, confused. That didn’t really lead to ‘puppy’ or ‘kitty’. “I don’t know, what?”

“He said,” Tai replied as he tossed him the packaged cupcake, winking as he did, “Boy, this sure is a sweet gift!”

“Ha. Ha. I’m just dying over here.” He deadpanned, ripping open the plastic.

Qrow waited for the rest of the punchline to come, but his mate only dropped down next to him, saying nothing even as his anxiety skyrocketed. Alright. Still not ready then.

He sighed softly, tugging out the cupcake, removing the cardboard bottom.

And froze.

“Speaking of gifts…”

Tai’s voice seemed to come from far away, barely tugging away Qrow’s focus as it centered on the little square in his hand.

Flecks of chocolate had clung to it, but it wasn’t enough to block out the words written on it in happy, yellow ink:

We’re pregnant.

“We’re… You’re…” He stilted out, mind whirling as he looked at his mate, “We’re gonna have…?”

Tai was biting his lip, but it didn’t quite tame the growing smile as he nodded.

Love and affection surged so strongly in Qrow’s heart, Tai’s eyes started to water. The omega was laughing by the time Qrow had dropped the things in his hands to instead pull him into his arms, hugging him as tight as he could. He rained kisses and adoration along the other’s face. “I love you. I love you so much. My Gods. We’re really having a pup?”

“Uh-huh.” Tai swiped away some tears budding in Qrow’s eyes now, even as more fell from his own, the emotions growing between their bond intense and overwhelming. “Found out this morning. I’ve been waiting all day to tell you.”

“I knew you were freaking out about something. But I thought you were gonna tell me we were getting another dog!”

Tai guffawed loudly. “Of course not! Unless…”

“No!!”

He only dissolved into more hysterics. Qrow was soon to follow, the joy contagious.

~

It was hard to know how long they stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, but eventually they found themselves sprawled together on the couch, talking long into the night about all the little wonders their future now held. From how they’d break the news to Ruby and Yang to how they wanted to decorate the spare room when it became a nursery, there was so much to think about. But rather than feel worried, Qrow only had anticipation in his heart.

“I can’t believe you thought I’d freak out.” He remarked, smoothing soothing circles along his mate’s back.

Tai rose a bit from where he was resting on his clavicle. “I mean, I know we talked about it here and there, but we hadn’t exactly planned this.”

“Sunshine, I dunno where you’ve been the past two decades, but nothing in my life was something I planned out.”

“That’s not-!” The omega paused his own argument, adding humbly, “…entirely true.”

He snorted. “Good save.” He carded a hand through blond locks. “Look. A few years ago, I never even dreamed I’d ever have you, let alone the chance to make a family with you. So, no matter how it happened, I definitely don’t need a plan to know I want this. Don’t you?”

“More than anything.” Tai confirmed, ducking his head. “In fact I… couldn’t help but think this was a do over. That this time I’d get to raise a child without interruption from, well, anything.”

Sorrow skimmed over their connection, almost unnoticeable. Old hurts from broken hearts and cruel injustices, things that had healed with time but never forgotten in how they hurt.

Qrow pressed a kiss to his forehead, murmuring, “Third time’s the charm?”

“Heh, guess it is. Though,” His expression turned teasing, “Aren’t you a bit of a bad luck charm, Mr. Crow?”

He groaned, dropping his head back against the armrest of the couch. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

Tai pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “That’s the crime of loving me.”

“Well, if that’s the case, lock me up and throw away the key.” He declared like the delinquent he was.

“And you say I have bad jokes.”

“You do. I, on the other hand,” He said, gesturing grandly, “am an artiste.”

Tai’s chuckles were a victory all on their own.

But the reward was in the kiss that followed, devotion intertwining through the bond.

Qrow tilted his head, giving back as much as he was given. His left hand clenched onto the back of Tai’s shirt, where just underneath rested the colorful tapestry that once was the symbol of a new start. Now, it lay with his right hand’s caress to the side of Tai’s belly where their child was steadily and surely growing.

A new beginning that they’d embrace together.

[champagnesuperhoeva]

Seasonal depression is on its way back, so why not analyze another scene from Red Dead Depression 2???????

I’ve been meaning to do another screeching ramble about one of Red Dead Redemption 2′s many incredible scenes, but just couldn’t put my finger on which one. So I threw a rock and hit the Saint Denis bank robbery, that’s the story

strap in, motherfuckers, it’s time to regret the concept of empathy

It is such a missed opportunity that we weren’t able to chaperone the girls as they went about putting on their various bullshit personas to gather reconnaissance. I want to see Tilly reading a newspaper with glasses, a fake nose and a mustache

Something Red Dead Redemption 2 spoiled me on is just how much ROI they squeeze into every last line of dialogue. Not a single word feels generic or hamfisted. Every sentence, every twitch and blink, adds up to a greater whole. The more I watch, the more I unearth. There are several AAA titles that frequently get painted with the ‘Good Dialogue’ brush like Uncharted that don’t hold a candle to Rockstar’s work here. 

Take Hosea grilling Dutch here, for example:

Dutch acquiescing to Hosea’s justified criticism is depressing in its hindsight. Sir Spam der Linde is an arrogant blowhard that could give Dr. Gregory House a run for his money...and yet he still mumbles and bows his head when being told he needs to get his shit together. Compare this to earlier in the game, when he was snipping at both Hosea and Arthur for all their doubts and questions. Double that for the camp interactions you can find where Dutch and Hosea argue about the Blackwater Heist. 

Is reality finally sinking in a little for our manic pixie dream man? Does he just have a hard time bullying Hosea, who’s around 5,000 years old and doesn’t give a fuck? For every answer you get, you get another question...and I fucking love it. This character -- and the series at large -- toes the razor-thin line between transparent portrayals and thicc layers of intrigue. This kind of carefully sewn subtlety is sorely lacking in not just videogames, but mainstream media in general. Sometimes I still can’t believe I got to experience this game.

This little scene is just one of many ingredients to make you wonder that, if the bank job had turned out all right...if Dutch really would’ve started changing for the better. 

Arthur clutching his belt buckle like he clutches my neck in my dreams

So the plan is made and the cowboys are off to Sand Penis, and I bet nobody in the history of the world has made that joke before

Just the build-up to the bank sends goosebumps up my arms. 

Even with apprehension in the back of your mind, it’s hard not to get sucked into the whirlwind of adrenaline here. You have each member playing their part, from Abigail as the helpless damsel to Charles and Bill as crowd control. Great back-and-forth dialogue as characters anticipate what’s about to happen (with some delicious doubting from John). It’s like a group project, except you don’t want to slap your partners!!!*

*except micah ‘I Haven’t Scrubbed My Nailbeds In Fifty-Three Years’ bell

Fun fact: if Dutch hadn’t said ‘one last time’, the bank robbery would’ve been a success. Should’ve browsed TVTropes.

The direction of this game remains impeccable. 

This is a simple shot of a few dudes riding their horse...and it’s made just that much grander by the camera angles, slung low to the ground to create a stronger sense of scale. With the tense drums in the backing track and the sudden quiet that’s befallen our beloved anti-heroes, this provides the perfect finishing touches to one of the most memorable and stressful parts of the game:

The runway.

We start off this display of cowboy couture with Dutch Fam Der Linde, well-known in the West for wearing crushed velvet while hiking the open trail. Dashingly long coattails make up the bulk of this iconic look, with a sexy pop of red to round it all out. A complimentary red bandana lined with a hint of gold brings out the buttons, chain and belt buckle. Very regal. Much fucky. Still want to slap him for future crimes, so 9/10

A surprising comeback from the man who invented skid marks. Lavender pinstripes add a splash of character on an otherwise minimalist black ensemble. Complimentary silver bow on the hat and dark bandana makes me uncomfortably wet, so 9.5/10, would leer again

A classic suit with just a touch of more. A wide velvet collar with matching velvet cuffs create a refined softness, contrasting the gold buttons and dramatic coattails. Shoes shiny. Skin moisturized. Even his everyday ponytail looks fancier than ever. 15/10, if Javier kicked over my sandcastle I’d thank him

What are those????????? I think Bill got pranked by Uncle while out shopping for robbery gear. That, or he confused one of Susan’s tablecloths for a three-piece. The topmost layer of dust is so thick it could be peeled off and donated to charity. 3/10, could probably still pass for a picnic table

Shameless. Unacceptable. Walking around like a bootleg Egoraptor with a crinkly suit that looks like that oil-stained pizza napkin you keep forgetting to toss. Why did I take a screencap that makes it look like Dutch is jacking him off. Micah’s even jutting his beer gut out in an ominous foreshadowing for the Guarma chapter. ThereIsn’tANumberLowEnough/10

Arthur strolling in with that slow, confident walk that gets me pregnant in both legs, someone please fetch the plan B

Dutch calls a Hosea an artist and is most certainly one himself. He speaks with the affect of a poet, even as he’s holding a pistol in people’s faces and making them shit themselves in slow-motion. This man redefines stage presence. Why would he want anything less than the best, when this is the final hurrah of his iconic, infamous career:

THE RUNWAY: PART TWO

Bill out here just confusing everyone’s laundry for low-level loot. 5/10, may or may not be susan’s granny panties

charles: “is my iron giant cosplay valid robbery wear”

dutch: “no, charles, iron giant cosplays are not valid robbery wear”

dutch: “gorons from legend of zelda aren’t valid either”

JAVIER IF I GIVE YOU A 10/10 WILL YOU LEAVE

Here’s a little detail I didn’t notice (even after several viewings of this scene): Charles over in the corner looking like a dweeb.

Notice how awkwardly he holds that rifle: two-handed and with his knees bent, suddenly looking like he’s never handled a weapon before. This is such an odd contrast from the unapologetic badass we know. Remember, this is the same man who can wield a sawed-off shotgun one-handed like it’s nothing. One of the most adept physical fighters in a gang full of cutthroat motherfuckers. 

This detail on top of his dorky robbery gear? It’s actually a peek into just how out of his element he is. 

Charles has been with the gang for less than a year at this point. Even then, he’s usually helping with tracking, hunting and scouting. Whenever he goes off with Arthur on a mission, he’s always the first to suggest a peaceful route. This is not someone who’s used to robbing people for a living and it shows in the most adorable way. What you see here is a man putting on a persona of what he hopes looks like a bloodthirsty robber.

This whole scene is a fucking blast. Herding the upper-class elite into the far rom, figuring out the combination key under codenames, listening to the banter of the squad in the background. It doesn’t help I’m a slut for baroque-styled architecture and half my attention was on the pastel decor. Yeah, yeah, I know we have three thousand dollars on the line, but look at that gold filigree

These outlaws move like a finely oiled machine, not a detail out of place...which makes the ensuing mess all the more tragic.

...and this post is getting too long, so I’m going to post the second part separately. Ain’t I a stinker?

[bucketofcowboys]

Anyways so here's a fic I made about my RDR OC Kathren Whiteman. (I probably won’t elaborate too much on her after this fic because honestly RDR OC culture scares me)

Also Arthur’s age in this is 12 because I headcannon he joined the gang around then. (thank you @wynkenblynken​ for that headcannon <3)

Words: 3,386

Warnings: No real warnings. Just some OC and kid Arthur content.

The local saloon was much like any other you could find in any old town in the west. Loose wooden doors that would swing open freely at the slightest push and old oak floorboards that would give an awful groan whenever a heavy boot would press down on it. It even had round wooden tables that were chipped at the sides and covered in scratches and booze stains on the top. At this time of day the saloon was pretty empty. Most of the people inside were eating a freshly bought meal from the bartender and few actually had drinks in their hands. The hot noon sun beat down on the dusty roads outside and rays of sun that cast down through the front windows of the saloon gave a lazy heat. 

The splintered wooden door at the front of the saloon gently swung open and a woman walked through. Not wanting to linger in the doorway for too long, she headed straight for the bar. The copper spurs she wore on the heel of her dust stained boots rang with each step she took. She inspected the seats by the bar and made sure to sit on the one that had the least amount of splinters. 

The bartender was an older gentleman. Crows feet fell upon the crease of his eyes and the laugh lines around his mouth framed his curled mustache. His hair was short, dark, and was pomaded into a fashionable slicked back look. His eyes were a silvery gray and they had a kind quality to them. When the bartender noticed the woman he turned his attention to her. At first he was a bit taken aback by her appearance. It definitely wasn't...traditional. She wore a cowboy's clothing and her hair wasn't pinned up. Instead it hung loosely and was short enough to barely touch her shoulders. The man got over his momentary shock in a moment, putting on a sweet and slightly awkward smile as he looked up at the odd woman. 

"Can I help you ma'am?" He asked. His crows feet deepened as he smiled.

"Yeah. I'm fixin' for somethin' to eat." She offered a small crooked smile up at the bartender. Her hands rested on the bar and relaxed across them as if she was aching to feel the coolness of its surface. The man nodded and his eyes stared up at the ceiling for a moment as if he was recollecting something. 

"Today we have...beef and fish stew and uhh..." he paused for a moment, "Oh! And oatmeal. All for three dollars." 

"Beef stew sounds good." She retracted from her position on the bar so she would reach into the small leather coin purse that hung from the side of her belt. Another odd thing about the woman. She had holsters. One on each side of her hips and both holding old dirty revolvers. Heavily used ones at that. The man's silvery eyes immediately left the holsters when suddenly the woman slid a few worn dollars his way. His faked out smile soon returned as he took the money.

"I'll have that right out for you." 

"Thank you kindly." He then turned to grab the hot stew she ordered. 

As she waited for him to prepare her meal her eyes left the man and instead were attracted to the window. The sunlight that came through the glass stained the floor with a white glow. Where the rays were visable coming in it made it easy to see the dust that flew carelessly through the air. She found herself a bit distracted as she watched the swirling particles as they lazily floated through the light. So distracted that, when she felt a sharp tug on her belt it took her a few seconds to process what had happened. When her eyes shot down to where she felt the tug she was greeted by a child, seeming to he around ten or twelve, pulling on her coin bag until the strings untied from her leather belt.

As soon as she processed what had happened and went to grab at the little thief it was already too late. He had the purse held tight in his hands and was bolting away towards the door of the saloon. She quickly shot up from her chair and slipped in the process. Luckily the woman caught herself and fixed her footing before she could fall on the hard ground. As soon as she was back in balance she began to run after the boy who she saw sprinting out the door out of the corner of her eye. 

"Hey!" She called after the boy. She ran down the steps that lead to the saloon door and out onto the dusty street. Passersby turned their head to watch the scene as she chased the young boy. "Come back here!" Her call seemed desperate. Everything she had was in that coin purse. She wasn't giving up on this chase. The boy tried to make an easy escape, squeezing between two men walking in the street in an attempt to slow his chaser down. When she came up upon the men she pushed past them, mumbling a rushed sorry before continuing the chase. 

It took a few minutes and a couple of angry townspeople before finally she had chased him into an alleyway between the local store and the gunshop. The alleyway was narrow and only had one opening, and that was the opening where the woman was standing. The perpetrator kept running down the alleyway anyways, thinking wishfully that maybe he could find some sort of escape at the end. But all he found were the shadows that the two tall buildings cast into the small space. The woman's chest was heaving heavily now as she breathed and made a slow walk down the alleyway to trap the boy. She had chased people before, but they weren't usually spry young boys. She would much prefer chasing down run down middle aged men. At least they would be just as tired as she was at this point. 

"You're a...fast runner....kid." She mumbled out between heavy breaths. The boy had pushed himself deep into the shadowy back corner of the alleyway. He clutched her coin purse close to his chest, as if loosening his grip at all would cause it to disappear entirely. He said nothing though, the only noise coming from him being his small labored breaths.

The woman had a good look at him now. Her previous assumption about him was right, he did seem to be about ten or twelve and he was skinny. Way too skinny than he should be. His skin was tanned and his cheeks and forehead were covered with blotchy red burns that looked hot to the touch. His unruly hair was a dark shade of blonde and it stuck to his forehead in dark patches as he sweated under the sweltering sun. His eyes were green and blue, like a river dipping between a luscious green valley. Though his eyes had such vivid colors they seemed dulled by the loneliness that hid behind them. She recognized those eyes. They were so familiar to her. 

The boy expected the woman to hurt him. Take her coin purse back before kicking his head in and leaving him bloodied and bruised for what he did. He was sure he deserved it. Usually he would just snatch a dollar or two from the back pocket of some drunk fool at the tavern, but this time he was too desperate and too ballsy and decided to go for the coin purse. He wasn't proud of what he had done, he doesn't like stealing, but it was what he needed to do to survive. He sat in the corner of the alleyway, shrinking himself up in a foolish attempt to hide himself from the woman. He was scared. His breathing became more and more rapid the closer she came and tears pricked at the edge of his eyes as he sucked in the painfully dry air around him. He expected rage, violence, pain. But none of it came.

Instead the woman kneeled down onto one knee about two feet away from the boy and she looked down at him with a soft look in her deep brown eyes. A look of sympathy. A look of knowing. 

"What's your name?" Her voice was soft as she spoke to him and her gaze was steady. It was almost as if she was trying to tame a wild animal. Build its trust. The boy was confused by her soft approach, and he stayed silent for a few moments to process everything. The woman stayed patient until his small weak voice finally broke from his throat.

"Arthur." His voice was raspy as if the desert air had weathered it down. The woman gave a slow nod and offered a kind smile.

"Arthur. Like king Arthur?" She mused, but when the boy answered her question only with a look of confusion she quickly left the subject. "I'm Kathren." Again, he didn't respond. She took the opportunity to take a step towards him. But as soon as she did he flinched back. She quickly took a step back again when she saw that flinch. "Well, Arthur, you have my money and I would really like to have it back." She said slowly. 

Arthur quickly took the coin bag and threw it at the ground between them. He thought that maybe if he just listened to everything she said for him to do she'd leave him alone. Kathren's eyes flickered away from Arthur for a moment to focus on the coin bag. She then took a few cautious steps forwards before she grabbed the coin purse. She took a few seconds to fasten it back on the side of her belt, this time with a much tighter knot, and then focused her attention back on the boy. 

"Where are your parents?" She asked him. He averted his eyes from her to look down at the dirt ground. A dull, aching stare. No answer left his lips, but that reaction was enough for her to realize what he meant. A deep frown made its way onto her features and the sympathy behind her eyes only grew. She took a slow step forward until there was only a foot between them, he pushed himself hard against the brick walls of the alleyway when she did. "I ain't gonna hurt you kid, calm down." She paused for a moment before speaking again, "Let me buy you a meal. You look skinny as hell and I ain't one to let a kid go starving." Along with her offer she offered her hand to him to help him up from the alleyway floor. 

He stared at her hand for a few moments as he contemplated if he should accept her offer or not. He was starving, and there was no way he could lie about that. He hadn't eaten in days and the excruciating pain in his stomach made his decision easy. He took her hand and she pulled him up to his feet. Once he was up Kathren nodded towards the exit of the alleyway before beginning to head towards the main road that was still brightly lit by the smoldering sun. It was a great contrast from the cool shadows of the book she and Arthur found themselves in. 

Arthur hesitated before he began to follow Kathren. His brain was telling him that this wasn't a good idea. That maybe she was just leading him to a quiet place to snuff him out. But at this point his hunger was dictating his actions. He ached to have some form of food and if she was willing to offer it he was going to follow like a moth drawn to a flame. He followed her from a small distance, about three feet between them. He looked around nervously at the people that were congregating in the main streets of the town. They all seemed to be looking their way with puzzled expressions clear on their faces. Arthur was just as confused as them if he was being perfectly honest. He didn't understand why this Kathren lady was being so kind to him.

Kathren and Arthur were soon walking up the steps that lead into the saloon they had just left. Kathren pushed open the front door that freely flung open wide. As she walked in she checked behind her to see if Arthur was still following her. She had a bit of a look of surprise when she realized he was still trailing behind her. They walked up to the bar and the bartender perked up when he noticed the woman was back from her chase, not noticing the boy that had trailed after her. 

"I hope you got your money back. That little thief has been terrorizing the fine men that utilize my tavern and he's been scaring off customers. The little bastard..." he said to her before realizing that there was a second, much shorter figure with her. His mustache twitched as he leaned over the bar to get a better look and when he was greeted by none other than the thief he spoke of. He offered a nervous smile to the boy. 

"Can I get the stew I paid for and uh..." she paused to reach into her coin purse once more and brought out three more dollars, "An oatmeal for the kid?" She slid the money towards the bartender and he stared up at her with an unreadable look before he finally took the cash.

"I uh--alright." His bushy eyebrows were furrowed, but he did his job and turned to make their meals. 

Kathren turned back to look at Arthur. He was giving her a wide eyed look. Unsure of her motives but still satisfied with the fact that she wasn't lying to him about the food. She offered him a friendly smile.

"Come on." She nodded her head towards one of the smaller tables in the saloon that had two chairs facing each other. They both sat down at the table and soon enough they both had full bowls of their respective dishes hot and steaming in front of them. When Arthur began to eat Kathren could only compare the ferociousness of how he gobbled up the oatmeal to a cougar she saw ripping a jack rabbit to shreds a while back. He didn't even pause to take a breath as he shoved spoonfuls of oatmeal into his gullet on for a moment she swears she saw his face tint a slight purple.

"Christ kid, slow down." She grunted, causing the kid to look up from his bowl and at her. His cheeks were filled up with food and he looked a sight. "You're gonna give yourself a bad stomach ache and you'll be hacking up everythin' you just stuffed your mouth with." She scolded him, and he actually listened to her. He sat up in his seat and took a moment to chew the rest of the food in his mouth and made sure to take the next few bites slow. She watched him for a few moments before she started on her own food. After a few moments of silent eating finally the kid spoke one again for the first time since they left the alleyway. 

"Thank you..." his voice was soft and his eyes were glued on his oatmeal. He quickly shoved another spoonful into his mouth. Kathren glanced up at him and chuckled. 

"Like I said, I ain't one to leave a kid to starve." Arthur finally glanced up and caught her eyes. They were a deep soulful brown that were strangely comforting. Comforting in a way Arthur quite liked. 

"...why?" Kathren had to pause for a moment to process his question, as if contemplating something.

"I suppose...cause I was like you once. Starvin' on the street, alone without my parents, stealin' whatever I could get my hands on..." She trailed off and looked off into the distance for a moment before her eyes flickered back to the boy, "That ain't no way of life, now is it?" He shook his head in agreement.

"Your parents are dead too?" Kathren gave a nod. "Did you like em'?" Kathren perked up at the question, having to think for a moment before she spoke again. 

"I liked my Mama. She was brave and beautiful and kind...everything I wanna be." She reached her hand into the space between her button up and her neck. She pulled out a small copper coin pendant that was around her neck and she pulled it forwards to show Arthur. "This was hers. I always kept it cause' it reminded me of her. My pa on the other hand..." she tucked the pendant back under her shirt, "He was an awful man. I didn't like him much. What about you?" Arthur seemed a little surprised when the question was put back onto him.

"Well...I guess we're kind of the same? I quite liked my ma. My father...he was okay I guess. I didn't hate him but..." he trailed off before his eyes met Kathrens, "He wasn't a good man." The look in his eyes spoke numbers on how he felt about that. He didn't seem like he liked that fact but at the same time that same knowing look was there. Kathren let out a laugh. A laugh that seemed so heartfelt that it honestly surprised Arthur.

"I guess me and your pa got somethin' in common." Arthur's brows furrowed at that.

"What do you mean you've got something in common?"

"We both're bad."

"You don't seem that bad. I mean...you helped me." 

"I can be kind and still be bad." She chuckled but the boy was frowning. A few moments of silence fell between them. Kathren took a few more slurps of her stew and soon enough her bowl was as empty as Arthur's. The boy was now pensively looking out the window as he waited for her to finish. She was the one who broke the silence again. 

"Y'know...I could help you. I have a camp a little ways outside of town. We can give you food, water, a home." Arthur seemed to perk up as she spoke and her lips twitched up into a smile when she noticed his interest, "I camp with some real nice people too. A bit rowdy, but they're kind souls. I think Hosea'd probably like you..." she whispered that last part. Arthur seemed to be leaning over the table now.

"All of that for free?" He asked and she shook her head, his face immediately fell.

"No, not for free. But you don't pay with money." Arthur looked confused,  "Just loyalty." 

"Loyalty?"

"Mhm." She hummed back as if it was obvious what she meant. When she saw the lost look in his eyes she realized maybe she was assuming too much of the boy. "You're fast, small, and willin' to steal from others. You'd be the perfect bait for a good couple of robberies." She explained to him. Now he was starting to get it. "We give you the essentials, you steal us money." Arthur had an intense look on his face as he thought for a moment, weighing his options.

"Okay." He finally said.

"Okay?"

"Okay. I'll do it." That same kind smile from before fell onto Kathren's lips when he finally agreed. Like she had won a prize. The way she saw it she just saved a life and got them some good bait for robbing. She knew it would take Dutch and Hosea some convincing to take the kid in but they could be influenced.

"Well, Arthur..." she stood from her seat and offered the boy a hand to shake, "Congratulations,  you are now the newest member of the Van Der Linde gang." Arthur stared at her hand for a few moments before finally he reached out his own and took hers in a firm, or at least as firm as a twelve year old boy could manage, handshake. 

This was definitely the start of something great. Kathren could feel it in her gut.

[interstellarflare]

I Loved You Dangerously - Thomas Shelby

-PART ONE-

Song: Dangerously - Charlie Puth (slowed)

Warnings: Violence, swearing.

Summary: I loved you dangerously, more than the air that I breathe. Knew we would crash at the speed that we were going, didn't care if the explosion ruined me. Baby, I loved you dangerously, Mmmm, mmmm. I loved you dangerously.

An arranged marriage to one of London’s most notorious criminals isn’t something that you planned for. But when you so happen to be kidnapped by the one and only Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders, your story takes a drastic turn full of lies, deception, and a love that you never thought possible.

Author’s Note: This is a series that is all my own. Events happening within will not directly correlate with the actual show. A tag list is open! The people who have been tagged have been previously tagged in my ‘Back to You’ Series. 

With the morning smog settling over London, the smell of industrial smoke clouding my senses, I stared down at the silver and diamond-encrusted band that sat idly on my ring finger.

A sudden mood of despair descended upon my form, causing a heavy sigh to escape my lips. I will never forget this feeling, the feeling of forced marriage to a man who I barely knew. Granted, I knew his name, Alfie Solomons had a reputation I did not want to be associated with. Especially with his current feud with the Shelby Family in Small Heath, Birmingham. My father, believing he was a good man, arranged the marriage without my knowledge. I knew different, I knew what a man like Alfie Solomons really wanted from a man like my father. Financial support. As one of the richest men in London, all Alfie would need to do was marry into it in order to secure one of the largest fortunes in London. And he had done that, by using me as a barganing chip. To safeguard his fortune so-to-speak. I was beyond furious, and so I found myself here: alone and confused beyond all reason.

“And what is my lovely fiancée doin’ out all by erself?” the voice of the said man questioned, his concerned tone almost sounding genuine as he sat down across from my form on the other side of the table. Rolling my eyes in annoyance, I turned my gaze towards him with a fake smile that had an underlying tone of ‘fuck you’. “I was enjoying my morning-” “Aw, don’t be like that...” Alfie whined, shaking his head in what appeared to be amusement. A loud scoff escaped my lips, leaning forward to lean my elbows against the table as I tried to contain my anger “I know what you’re up to...” I spoke lowly, glaring up at him darkly “...to you, I hold nothing but material value. Men like you want nothing more than power, and my father has that. I am nothing more than a precaution” I growled, holding his dangerous stare with what little courage I could muster.

The sound of his laugh caused my entire being to wince, my chest tightening as his eyes narrowed into a taunting smirk. “You are smarter than I thought Miss L/n...” he drawled out, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes “...however, your looks make up for that”. Slamming my hands onto the table, I stood up with such speed that the chair behind me fell to the floor with a loud clatter. “Alfie Solomons, you disgust me” I spat, quickly storming away from my supposed finacé. The rage that coursed through my veins caused an exasperated sigh to escape my lips. How dare he!? That slimy, son of a bitch! If I had stayed with him, I would have killed him. Maybe that wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. “Miss L/n, don’t be like that...” Alfie called out, his footsteps fast approaching “...Y/n, come on-” “Fuck off!” I shouted, weaving through the crowds growing on the streets of London.

As a hand suddenly wrapped forcefully around my upper arm, I shrieked in shock as I was suddenly pulled into an abandoned alley, pushed harshly against the wall and pinned between the cold brickwork and Alfie’s body. “Now you listen ere’, I intend to get what I want whether you like it or not...” he growled darkly, staring down at me with eyes that could certainly kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way. My body froze as his hand gently caressed my cheek, coming to rest at my neck as he forced my chin upward “...now, you can grow to love me, or you can just play along with my little charade” he growled darkly, his breath fanning over my face as he grew intimidatingly closer. I felt my eyes sting with tears, my chest fluttering with nerves as his thumb gently caressed my jawline. Averting my gaze to the ground, I fell silent as I bit my bottom lip between my teeth.

With a knowing and approving hum, he released me from his hold and took a few steps back, his predator-like eyes looking me up and down hungrily. My stomach twisted in utter disgust. Goosebumps covered my entire body, causing my body to tremble slightly out of fear at what this man could do. I felt so little, so weak standing before him, and he knew that. He knew that I was scared of him, of what he could be, and he reveled in that fact. With a haunting chuckle, Alfie smirked and winked, “I’ll see you later tonight love...” he trailed off lowly, looking me over once more before disappearing out of the alley and back onto the streets of London.

It was then I released a breath I didn’t know I had been holding, a choked sob escaping my lips as my right hand flew to my chest. A wave of emotion suddenly coursed through my body; anger, sadness, fear...I didn’t know what to do. Lifting my gaze to the smog-covered sky, my eyes focused on a sole beam of light that descended down into the alley. Wrapping my body in a heavenly warmth, I allowed a few tears to fall from my eyes and onto my cheeks. Everything had gone to shit. My father had thrown me into the jaws of a lion, with no knowledge of its potential consequences. I meant nothing, to either of them. I was simply a prize to be won. Drying my eyes free of tears, and wiping them on the navy blue fabric of my dress, I took long and deep breaths in an attempt to keep myself from crying. I couldn’t fall apart, not now. With a heavy heart and tired limbs, I too exited the alley and headed in the opposite direction to Alfie. The weight of the engagement ring on my finger becoming heavier by the second.

Staring down at the silver band, I couldn’t help but long to throw it away. Getting married to someone who didn’t love me just...wasn’t right. And yet there was nothing I could do to stop it. The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stood on end, the feeling of being watched suddenly causing my blood to run cold. Something wasn’t right. Cautiously turning my head to look over my shoulder, my heart began to beat nervously in my chest as I spotted two black-clad figures in the corner of my eye. One of them appeared to be young, perhaps five years younger than myself. The man beside him was definitely older, a ginger mustache resting on his top lip which somehow managed to make his appearance more intimidating. With every worst possible situation running through my jumbled and confused mind, I wasn’t bothered to stick around and find out who they were.

Increasing my pace to a brisk walk, my breath hitched in my throat as I watched my two pursuers do the same. Despite my utter hatred for the man, I wished that Alfie hadn’t left. Then these men, whoever they were, would not have begun to follow me in the first place. There was still a possibility that I could catch him, if I was quick. If I hurried around the corner, I could possibly meet him back at the cafe we had been at earlier. But it seemed like my pursuers had other plans, as a sudden force hauled me into another much darker alley. “Miss L/n...” a low, husky voice spoke hauling me even deeper into the darkness where the silhouette of a small car could just be seen in the shadows of the buildings above “...it’s an absolute honour to finally meet you”.

“Let go of me you fucking prick!” I shouted, struggling in the grip of my pursuers who could only chuckle at my feeble attempts. “I’d be quiet if I were you” the younger man snapped, tightening his grip on my arm enough to make me wince. Carelessly throwing me into the car, everything fell into an eerie silence as the younger of the two jumped into the drivers’ seat, the older man sat next to me with a deep sigh, the unmistakable glint of his firearm aiming directly at my side. “How rude of us, we haven’t introduced ourselves...” the man beside me chuckled humorously, seemingly forgetting about the situation he was in “...the name’s Arthur Shelby, and that there is John....pleasure to make your acquaintance” he taunted darkly, smirking evilly down at my smaller form with a knowing and victorious expression. At the mention of his name, my body froze completely. Shelby...as in Arthur and John Shelby of the Peaky Blinders. Of Small Heath, Birmingham...Alfie’s sworn enemy. 

As the car’s engine roared to life, and began to crawl its way out of the dark alleyway, I turned to face Arthur Shelby beside me, and blank expression plastered into my face mixed with a hateful glare. He knew I was scared, quite frankly, I was beyond that. But there was no way in hell I would give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing me crumble and fall apart before him. With a kind and sarcastic smile, I sneered in the man’s direction with the most fake, yet sincere tone I could muster. 

“Go fuck yourself”.

Tag List:  @supermassiveblackhope​ @spaghettirogers​ @audioshoes​   @gabriellepearce96​ @twin-skltns​ @daisyxbuckley​ @arachnidscosmopoliton​ @affabletimelady​ @ljb-novels​

[oliver-do-the-twist]

How the Van der Linde Gang showers

(Don't worry its sfw)

Feel free to boo me if I'm wrong

Arthur

this man is a pretty regular showerer

when he gets the chance of course

his showering time tho? not regular

it entirely depends on his mood

when hes happy its like a quick 5 minute shower done and done

but when my guy is sad he will shower until the water gets cold and then some

he just needs the comfort ok??

leave him alone

Dutch

God save anyone who intervenes with his showers

hes in there for an entire hour 

and  he has a plan a structured way of cleaning himself 

sugar scrubs, exfoliates, hair and skin masks, mustache shampoo  

its all there

I would need a whole different list for just his after shower routine

but it mostly consists of him just oiling up his hair again despite all the time washing it

drives everyone up the walls with how much time it takes, but the only person who ever complains is Hosea, because everyone else is to afraid to

but then he doesn't shower until a few days later with the belief that longer showers= less showering

Hosea

Pretty average

he sees showers as just a quick way to clean off 

5-10 minutes done

but if anyone messes w him when hes bathing???

they're gonna need more than God to save them

his bath time is for HIM and HIM ALONE

he gets the candles, nice music, wine, dims the lights if he’s not reading a book

its really his time to unwind and not deal with Dutch’s crap

that’s why its so important lol

John

Ha

HAHAHAA no

Dutch and Hosea tried to make him once, everyone is still getting over the trauma

Once he starts getting more serious with Abigail he does try to be a little cleaner for her though, and she respects that even though he's still reallly greasy

Javier

Oh you know this man is a singer

He takes his hygiene very seriously, but sometimes he forgets to even wash himself hes so busy performing his concert shower

His vibrato will echo throughout the house

He always seems to shower when Bills taking his nap and his singing causes Bill to go into a blind rage

Micah

Actively tries not to shower

But once he saw how much Dutch takes his showers seriously he tried to clean himself a little bit

He quickly gave up

Mary-Beth

Showers are THE prime time for day dreaming for her

So her showers take like, forever

Sometimes like Javier where she'll forget to actually wash herself

Likes the finer things, she'll pay extra for the good products

Charles

Ok I might get hate for this

But he's not a regular showerer

BUT that doesnt mean he doesn't keep himself clean

He knows alternatives to showering because he knows how to survive for long periods in the wildness where there arnt showers

He does like good smelling stuff tho, he'll find good smelling herbs and flowers to stuff in his pockets to smell nice

he considers a good shower a nice treat, and therefore when he does shower it takes forever

Sadie

Showers quick, to the point

Kinda sees them as chores so she doesn't try too hard, just gets them out of the way

Does the bare minimum, could care less about her hairy legs and what you say about them

Sean

Showers like, maybe once a week or two unless he's bullied into more

It takes him forever to do it and he still somehow does a bad job at it

Tilly

Her showers are about 20-30 minutes

She loves to pamper herself with nice things

She actually really likes to shower, she likes the physical act of scrubbing away all the dirt and grime and the feeling of cleanliness

Kieran

I'm sorry but this sweet boy is not very clean

Have you seen at his greasy head of his??

He tries, he really does, but he just can't get the hand of showering regularly

Not to mention he's terrified of getting in anyone's way, if anyone wants the shower while he was planning to use it, he'll immediately give it up

Abigail

She used to like taking her time in the shower but ever since Jack was born she doesn't have time to :/

She still makes it a priority, but its not as possible as it used to be

As Jack got older, (like 2 or 3 yo, not rdr1 age) she would shower with him more often than not (its not weird, she's his MOM)

She always liked splashing with him and playing fun water games

Jack

Little baby loves showers!

Its all playtime and fun when he showers with mom

He is always fascinated by the fact that Abigail can make bubbles with her hands by blowing through them, he always tries to copy her but he always blows the bubble too hard and it pops

That never stops him from trying again tho

Trelawny

Dont even get me started on him lol

Bill

Honestly, he forgets to shower

Until Mrs Grimshaw uh,, gently reminds him

Even then he'll just step in, let the water run over him for a few minutes and call it good

He is then forced back in by Susan with a bottle of two in one body wash and shampoo and isn't allowed out until a good portion of it is used

Lenny

He thinks hygiene is important.

He knows it's important to be presentable, so he makes a nice habit of showering

His showers arnt anything fancy, just the basics, but that's better than some of these people here lol

Molly

Everyone HATES when she's in the shower

She's like Dutch in that she takes forever, I mean hey, this girl was raised nice, there's nothing wrong with getting rid of all the dirt and grime that comes with running with outlaws

Except unlike Dutch, she'll get a lot of hate from the meaner members, poor girl

Loan shark

Very hygienic, his showers have been mastered for ultimate efficiency

Thinks he's better than the people who don't shower regularly

Karen

She likes the idea of being clean

She thinks she showers more than she does, gets annoyed when someone (Susan) will point out that she needs a wash

Her showers also take f o r e v e r

Swanson

Poor man likes to be clean

Which really sucks when hes so drunk he can't tell what day it is

Once he does clean up his act however, he does make a pointed effort to keep himself clean

He sees it as a way to keep himself together

Pearson

Lol why would he shower?? His sweat is free seasoning

Really tho he has a version of the hygiene routine he practiced in the navy, its just not so routine

But really he's just lazy and thinks he's entitled to not have to clean up for people because he feeds everyone

Susan

Between keeping the camp running and keeping everyone alive she doesn't have much time on her plate for much

But does that stop this woman? Hell no

She won't let excuses get in the way of her hygiene

She has mastered the art of quick and effective showering

Thinks that because she can do it, everyone should (she's right)

Uncle

The King of excuses

But they swing both ways, he'll either make an excuse on why he has to use the shower before anyone else does and for as long as he wants, or he'll come up with any reason not to shower

Either way he's a pain to deal with, per usual