#charles smiling but hiding it behind a gesture that draws attention to his lips

[valyrfia]

There’s an entire thesis to be written on body language here

[queenxxxsupreme]

A Soft Heart, A Sweet Soul

A/N: Honestly couldn’t tell you where this came from. It started off as an idea of Kieran coming to Arthur and reader for advice on how to talk to Mary-Beth because I absolutely adore Kieran and Mary-Beth but then it ended up turning into some camp shenanigans and well.... this happened??? This takes place at Horseshoe Overlook.

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff and camp shenanigans

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Kieran comes to you and Arthur for dating advice. 

**gif isnt mine**

“What’re ya workin’ on?” 

You tore your eyes away from the article of clothing in your hands to watch Arthur. He pulled up a chair just across from you and took out a cigarette.

“Just patching up some clothes. A fella I know likes to go around gettin’ into bar fights and scraps with a whole bunch of wild animals. He’s too hard on his clothes.”

He grunted as he lit the cigarette and leaned back in his seat. 

“I ain’t that hard on clothes.”

“I have to patch somethin’ of yours every other day.” You teased, a grin coming to your lips. 

He swatted a hand playfully at you, shaking his head. 

“I don’t believe it.”

“What’s this from, Arthur?” You held the shirt you were currently working on up to show him the hole in the front of the shirt. 

“That one wasn’t even my fault.” Arthur paused for a moment to look around camp, searching for someone. His eyes landed on Charles, who was brushing down Taima at the hitching posts. “That man over there started a fight in Valentine! Didn’t ya, Charles?”

“Charles would do no such thing.” You looked over at Charles, who wore a faint grin but didn’t look in your direction. “You didn’t start that fight, did you?”

“I didn’t start it, but I did finish it.”

“See, Arthur? He’s too nice.”

“Nice my ass.” Arthur muttered with the cigarette between his lips. “Anyways, the fella I was fightin’ tried to stab me but he wasn’t too good with a knife. Only caught the shirt.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll let that one pass since you did a terrible job at blaming Charles for causing it.” You nodded softly, biting your bottom lip to try to hide a grin. 

“Them pants that you have over your lap have a busted out knee.”

“Yeah, I noticed when I was tryin’ to wash them. What did you do?”

“I, uh, I tripped.” Arthur tried to cough to hide what he was saying but just as he spoke Javier was passing by behind him. 

“You what?”

“Shut up, Javier. This don’t involve you.” Arthur waved Javier off but Javier wasn’t giving up so easily. 

“No, no, it does now.” He put one hand on the back of Arthur’s chair. “What happened, Arthur?”

Arthur grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I tripped goin’ down a hill when I was out.” He shook his head, holding the cigarette between his index and middle finger. “The hills over there in the Grizzlies East are steep. Hosea had me out huntin’ and didn’t warn me that it was so steep. And the rocks were loose under my boots and it all happened so fast-,”

“Poor baby.” You frowned, trying your best to not laugh. Javier didn’t shy away from laughing at him though as he moved away from you, throwing his head back and holding his stomach. The other few people around you, including Charles, Karen, and Hosea, also laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur took a drag from the cigarette. “Laugh at me and my clumsiness.”

You reached over to pat his knee

A comfortable silence seemed to fall over camp. It was rare and peaceful. It was one of those evenings where little was happening. The sun was going down behind the trees and many of the lamps around camp were starting to be turned on. 

Arthur was home before dark for once, which you were thankful for. You rarely got to spend time with him before it was time for bed. It was nice to be able to sit with him, even if you had little chores to do while you sat there. 

“Thank you for doin’ that for me, pumpkin.” Arthur spoke, keeping his voice low so only you could hear him. He leaned forward in his chair, flicking his cigarette down onto the ground and then stepping on to it. Then he moved his chair a little closer to you so that if he wanted to, he could lean forward and kiss you.

“You’re very welcome, darlin’. You know it’s my pleasure.” You flashed him a smile. “I always love hearin’ all these stories about how you tear up your clothes on your adventures. It’s very amusing knowin’ you’re just like a giant clumsy toddler.”

“Are you gonna give me a hard time all night?” He raised a brow at you, a teasing glint flashing in his brilliant blue eyes.

“Oh, you know that’s my favorite thing to do.” You looked down at the shirt to watch where you were pushing the needle through. “If I didn’t give you a hard time, who else would?”

“There’s plenty of people to give me a hard time ‘round here.”

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Arthur’s attention. He turned his head to see Kieran making his way towards you two. Arthur let out a small sigh and leaned back in his chair, a little irritated that the peaceful moment between you and him had been interrupted. 

“M’sorry to-to bother you, Mr. Morgan, Ms. Y/L/N. I-I just wanna talk to you for-for a minute, Arthur.” Kieran stopped a few feet away from your chairs.

“Me?” Arthur raised his brows, eyes widening slightly. “Why? You got somethin’ planned, O’Driscoll?”

“Arthur!” You scolded him, reaching over and smacking his arm. 

“Ow!”

“I-I’m sorry to bother y’all.” Kieran turned to walk away, shaking his head.

“Kieran, don’t let Arthur’s bad manners scare you away.” You glared at Arthur before bringing your attention to Kieran. “Is it something I could help you with?” 

Arthur ran a hand over his face, knowing very well you’d get after him later for his behavior. 

Kieran didn’t say anything at first. He nervously messed with his hands and looked off to the side. 

You followed his gaze, eyes landing on Mary-Beth. 

“I-I just…. M’not too sure how to, uh, to talk to her, is all.” He spoke quietly. He looked back to you. “I thought maybe since y’all seem like such a nice couple that you might have some good advice you could give. I just don’t-don’t wanna mess nothin’ up.”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you, Kieran.” You smiled, then gestured to the empty chair sitting across the table from you. “Have a seat with us.”

Arthur opened his mouthed to object but decided at the last minute to not say anything about Kieran joining you both at the table. 

“Just ‘cause we seem like a nice couple, don’t mean we are.” Arthur shook his head, motioning to you with his thumb. “She’s meaner than hell.”

“I’m the one sewing the holes you leave behind in your clothes, Mr. Morgan.” You reminded him, a little smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “Once they’re patched up, I’ll sell your clothes in Valentine. Make a decent penny, and buy myself something nice.” 

“That’s a damn good idea.” Arthur chuckled, rubbing his scruffy jaw.

“Now shut up and listen so we can help the kid out.” You put the clothes in your lap on to the table so you could give Kieran your full attention. “Have you tried talking to her at all yet, Kieran?”

Just as Kieran was about to answer, Sean came over to the table. 

“Why do you lot look so dead? Swear there’s more life in a cemetery.”

Your eyes met Arthur’s and he let out a sigh, knowing he’d have to be the one to make the sacrifice and draw Sean away.

“Hey, Sean?” He stood to his feet. “Come with me a second, buddy.” 

“Sure thing, Arthur!”

“Have you tried talking to her, Kieran?” You repeated your question.

“Yeah, a little.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But it seems…. It-It just don’t feel like it’s goin’ nowhere. It feels like I-Ikeep messin’ up. I just don’t know what to say and-and it’s hard talkin’ to pretty girls. I-I get all nervous and stumble all over my words.”

“Just remember that she’s a person too. It’s okay to be nervous and to mess up with your words. She’s a really sweet girl, Kieran. She won’t think anything of it as long as you’re nice.”

“You think so?”

You nodded your head.

“You should’ve seen Arthur when he and I first started talking.” Your eyes found Arthur. He’d taken Sean across camp and distracted him with something. “He’s not the big brute he likes to make everyone think he is. He’s a sweet man with a big heart. The first time he ever took me out somewhere, he spilt whiskey all over me.”

“Did he really?” Kieran chuckled. “And-And you still talked to him after that?”

“Of course I did. It was an accident. He’s never done anything to hurt me.” You brought your attention back to Kieran. “You’re a good kid, Kieran. All of us here can see that. I’m positive Mary-Beth can see it too.”

“I hope so.” Kieran turned his head to look in her direction. “She’s really nice, Y/N.”

“She is a sweet girl.” You agreed.

“Thank you for talkin’ with me, Y/N.”

“Anytime, Kieran.” You gave him a smile and watched him leave. 

You went back to working on Arthur’s clothes. A little while later, Arthur returned to his seat. 

“That kid needs an off button.” He muttered, glancing over to Sean. “How did talkin’ with Kieran go?”

“Good.” You looked up at Arthur through your lashes. “I told him about how you spilt whiskey on me that time you took me to that dusty old saloon in Montana.”

Arthur groaned.

“Now why would you do that?”

“Because it made him feel better about being so nervous around Mary-Beth.”

Arthur fell silent for a few moments, his eyes finding Kieran and Mary-Beth. The two were sitting near each other chatting quietly. You looked over your shoulder to see what he was looking at. 

“You think they’d be good together? You don’t think he’d….?”

“You’ve got to stop calling him an O’Driscoll, Arthur.” You looked at Arthur then back down to his clothes. “He’s one of us. He saved your life, you know.”

“I know.” Arthur let out a heavy breath. “Just…. Just don’t like it.”

“He’s not like them.” You finished the last stitch on the shirt and tied it off. “You can see it in his eyes, and in the way he interacts with everyone around here. He’s sweet. He just didn’t have the right start at life. Didn’t have the right people around him.”

“Sounds like you’re gettin’ soft on him.”

You rolled your eyes and threw the shirt at Arthur, hitting him in the face with it. 

“You can be such a horse’s ass sometimes, Arthur Morgan.” You stood up and started to move away from the table but Arthur’s hand caught your wrist. 

“I’m just teasin’ you, Y/N.” He put the shirt on the table and then tugged you over to stand between his knees. “Just don’t understand why you’re so keen on helpin’ him. You’re never this nice.”

“I am a very nice person.” You looked down at him, bringing your hands up to cup either side of his face. Your thumb brushed along his cheekbones. 

On his right cheek, there was a faint white line that cut just an inch or so beneath his eye. You focused on that for a few moments. 

“I know a fella that a lot of people think is hard and mean.” You whispered. “Many people wouldn’t think that he likes it when I brush my fingers through his hair at night. Or that when he can’t sleep, he likes to put his head in my lap and listen to me read.”

You were thankful that the sun had finally gone down all the way and that most of the gang was gathered around two of the fires on the other side of camp. They wouldn’t be able to interrupt or witness your moment with Arthur, who very rarely liked any sort of public displays of affection. The ones who did witness it were Mrs. Grimshaw, who had been doing her mother hen rounds to check and make sure everything was in line, and John, who was keeping patrol just outside of camp. Grimshaw pretended to not see anything as she kept walking, humming to herself with a cigarette between her fingers. John smiled a little. It made him happy that someone made Arthur so soft. 

“Who is this fella?” Arthur asked, his voice low and a little raspy. His eyes shut for a moment as you leaned forward to kiss his brow. He settled his hands around your hips, just holding you where you stood between his legs. “Might have to fight him.”

“Silly man.” You giggled softly, running your fingers back through his hair. “I’m a good judge of character, Arthur. Have a little faith in me.”

You started to step away from him. As your touch left him, his hand found yours and he stood up so he could pull you into his arms. 

“I have faith in you. It’s the O’Driscoll I don’t trust.” 

“I’m gonna start keeping count of every time you call him that and there’s gonna be consequences.” You squeezed Arthur’s fingers. 

“What kinda consequences?” A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“Ones you won’t like.” You pulled your hand from his and looked around camp. 

Mary-Beth was sitting on her bedroll reading by a lamp. Kieran was brushing down his horse just outside of camp. 

“I’m not saying you have to be friends with him, Arthur.” You turned your attention to him as he stood from his chair. “Just stop callin’ him an O’Driscoll.”

He let out a rather exaggerated sigh and ran a hand over his face.

“If it makes you happy-,”

“It would make me very happy.” 

Arthur narrowed his eyes at you. You innocently smiled. 

“You drive me crazy, woman.” He put his arm around you and started to guide you towards your shared tent. 

“You know you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Of course not.” He kissed your cheek. “I like the crazy.”

“Did Charles really start that fight in Valentine?”

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[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

full masterlist - fic masterlist

The day after the dinner party in the late afternoon, Celaena was whiling her time away by flipping through the pages of the latest monthly issue of the fashion magazine La Belle Assemblée when she recieved a note of invitation from Lady Towper, one of her recent acquaintances, to a walk in Hyde Park later that afternoon with her and Mrs Burnwell, another society lady Celaena had befriended. The wording made it quite clear it was more a summons than an invitation and having spent the morning by herself, Celaena was eager enough for company that she happily put down her magazine and called for her pelisse and outerwear with alacrity. Twenty minutes later she was roaming around the park when Lady Towper spotted her, gliding across the path—there really was no other way to describe her graceful movement—with an elegant swish of her skirts and a look of exaggerated distress on her countenance, followed by Mrs Burnwell who looked rather piqued. "Dear Miss Sardothein," cried the former, looping an arm around hers. "How glad I was to hear you accepted my invitation. I wanted to take a walk around the park, refresh myself and Mrs Burnwell recalled you were rather fond of exercise and suggested we take you along with us."

Celaena rather thought that on a fine weather such as this, the ladies' primary motive for a walk was perhaps to see and be seen by the upper ten-thousands of the ton, most of which had returned from their summer estates for the social season which was to start soon but said instead, "I am grateful for the invitation. Your Ladyship has quite rescued me from certain death at the hands of boredom."

The ladies tittered politely, protesting that it was no great sacrifice on their part and the trio walked along the paths making light conversation until Mrs Burnwell jerked to a halt with a pinched expression. "Mrs Whitethorn."

Though Celaena had only met the lady once, she had been left unimpressed and could not fault Mrs Burnwell for looking piqued.

Mrs Whitethorn did not improve on a second meeting - not that Celaena had had any expectations that she would - and participated as much in the conversation with as much fervor as a lifeless statue, making occasional noises of agreement and dissent. Celaena who prided herself on being able to draw someone out of their reserve met with failure at every turn and it was not long before the ladies ran out of polite remarks to exchange and their party took their leave. Celaena spotted a group of children from her neighborhood racing each other in a less scenic path around the park and soon abandoned all sorts of decorum to join in on the shouting.

"FASTER, TOM! FASTER, YES, A LITTLE FASTER!" cheered Celaena, bouncing up and down in excitement.

Her cheeks were flushed with exertion and her petticoats muddier than usual. She let out a high-pitched noise when little Thomas reached the finishing line and beamed. "I did it, I did it, I said I would, did I not? Oh, Cece, did you see me? I won!"

"You did very well, dear," said she, kissing his cheek. The smug look he sent his siblings' way had her struggling not to laugh.

"Yes, you won this time—" said his eldest brother in an arrogant tone, "—but I shall be the winner next time. Shall we play something else now?"

"Hide and seek!"

"Hopscotch."

"No! We must play cops and robbers today. You promised!"

"I want to play tag."

"We don't," said the twins simultaneously.

"Then blind man's buff?"

"I suppose we could—"

"Oh, no, I will not play that ever again."

Celaena smiled, watching the children argue over what they wished to do and looked at two children - presumably brothers - finely dressed and staring at the brood of children she was so fond of wistfully. "Here, you two, why don't you play?" asked she.

The younger boy beamed at the prospect but the elder looked uncertain.

He glanced over his shoulder anxiously biting his lip. "Oh, no, mama will be furious if we get our clothes dirty." But he looked at the noisy little children with such longing and he looked so serious in general with those deep blue eyes filled with sorrow and the brows that remained creased as if by default—more serious than a nine-year-old should be; he held himself with a ridiculous amount of poise, posture stiff and yet looked unsure of every little movement or sound he made, Celaena had a whimsical desire to have him enjoy himself.

"I shall tell you a secret," she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "It is healthy to disobey your parents once in a while."

The poor boy looked scandalized at the thought of disobeying anyone. When had he last had some fun? she wondered.

He looked at the boys again, then at his boots, properly polished and finely made, then straightened as if he had come to a decision. "I-I thank you, miss, but my brother and I shall take your leave now." The formal tone so became him, she was struck by the intelligence in his expression and the confidence of his words despite the apprehension evident in his posture. He continued in a softer tone, "Mama says it is not proper to talk to anyone without being introduced."

"Then perhaps we might perform the service ourselves since no one else can? I am Miss Celaena Sardothein of Raven Hall in Derbyshire." She curtsied formally, suppressing a smile.

"Oh." He looked down at his feet.

Celaena took pity on him and smiled. "It's alright, I shan't force you into anything. You are a good boy, dear, to obey your parents so." He looked so surprised, and blushed all kinds of red, though his chest did puff out a little. When had someone last praised him? Knowing there was no more she could do, Celaena was about to bid the child a farewell when a familiar figure rounded the corner.

"Papa!" cried the little boy, latching onto his father's leg.

Mr Whitethorn patted his head and gently freed himself to step forward. "Stephen, what have I told you about talking to—Miss Sardothein!" He jerked to a stop, then recalling himself, bowed to her. "I cannot say how surprised I am to see you."

"Are you really, sir?" asked she. "You know me to be unconventional. This is exactly the kind of place you should expect to find me in." She nodded towards the elder boy who looked vastly relieved to have someone else do the talking on his behalf and the younger who clung to his father for attention, bouncing on his toes. "These fine young gentlemen are your sons?"

He confirmed that they were.

"Perhaps you and your sons could join us for a while?" Both boys looked excited for such a prospect though one was more successful at hiding it than the other.

"Please papa?" asked the five-year-old.

Mr Whitethorn rolled his eyes fondly. "After recieving that look, I should not dare refuse."

The child hugged his father tightly, then ran towards the group of boys. They accepted him immediately, having settled on the blind man's bluff finally and noisily took up positions, directing and misdirecting the child with the blindfold.

His elder brother looked lost standing by the side. He looked down at his hands. "...And he has run off already."

"Why don't you join him?" she nudged gently. I know they will be happy to include you."

Stephen swallowed, looking at his father who had a neutral face on and turned to her. "I thank you, but no—" then at her stern look, he admitted, "I, I won't know what to say to them."

"Just say you want to play."

"But surely, I don't, oh, I am fine here."

Celaena signalled for him to offer her an arm and escort her there. When he refused, she said, "You know it is not gentlemanly to refuse to escort a lady somewhere, do you not?"

Stephen huffed but gave in.

Shs clapped to get everyone's attention. "This is Master Stephen Whitethorn and that—" she nodded towards the younger, "—is his younger brother, Master..."

"Charles," the boy happily supplied.

"Right. Master Charles Whitethorn." The boy grinned toothily. "Be nice to them."

Stephen blushed at the attention, standing stiffly as one by one the boys spoke their names. He half expected them to call him names like wuss or a dreadful bore like his cousins and friends always did but no one did. In fact, as long as he played well, no one cared how loud he shrieked or how often he stumbled on the tree roots or how dirty he had gotten. As every minute passed, he relaxed some more until he was laughing and jumping along with the others with no care for his clothes or boots which were already ruined. Mama would have his head if she found out, yes, and she would scold him until his ears bled but was not all this fun worth it? How often did he have such a chance? He looked back at the spot where his father stood beside the woman—Miss Sardothein—and noticed she was watching him. He rolled his eyes when she mouthed 'you are welcome' but could not help the smile that followed after.

"Poor boy," Celaena sighed to herself. "He is too shy, and he feels inferior to his brother."

Mr Whitethorn said, "He is wise beyond his years. I do not know what to do with him sometimes." He looked down at his feet, a gesture she recognised as evident in his eldest son. "You sound like one talking with experience but I cannot imagine you being shy at all." The concern expressed on his face touched her deeply and she had the strangest urge to smooth the wrinkles away from his forehead.

"I should imagine not." She chuckled. "Eleanor, my adoptive sister is very shy—not like your son, mind—but I have seen firsthand her longing to join in on the fun and her hesitance to act on it."

They watched the children play and he chuckled. "Their mother will have a fit if she finds them so muddied."

"Their mother," said Celaena, barely restraining herself from snorting. "I do not think your wife likes me, sir."

"I think that is a point in your favor, Miss Sardothein," he replied dryly, though his lips twitched. Had she paid more attention to her dance partners the evening of the Thorpe's ball or less occupied with Lord Fenrys' veiled hints, trying to figure out the meaning behind his pointed commentary and the suspicious dinner invitation she had accepted out of curiosity, she would not have been surprised by how handsome he looked. But indeed, occupied as she had been on the previous occassions, it was not until he smiled a little that she was taken completely by how well the expression of fondness became him, how his features so perfectly formed, looked more beautiful and pleasing than ever. She gasped at how beautifully his green eyes sparkled when he stood just so, with the sunlight shining in them and how gracefully he carried himself with a hint of pride that was not unbecoming on his noble mein. If at that moment he had told her he was a prince from the fairytales, she would have easily believed him.

"Are you well, Miss Sardothein?"

Celaena flushed bright red with mortification. "Oh, yes," she breathed out. She spent the better part of their afternoon walk attempting to squash the flutter in stomach by conjuring a confused, miserable Mrs Whitethorn waiting for her husband to return home. The trick did not work as well as she had hoped and when the sun started its descent, she was grateful to be able to part with some measure of equinanimity.

"You met who at a dinner party?" asked Lord Rhoe incredulously for the fifth time.

"Aelin." Seated across from his father in his private study and being the current object of the Earl's ire, James felt like the nine-year-old recieving a lecture from his father over one mischief or another when Rhoe could be bothered enough to care about something more than his next meal or the port supply. He had retreated into his own world soon after they lost his little sister and neither brother was inclined to give him more courtesy or respect than what was his due as a father. James felt he would have been perfectly justified in not informing his father of this discovery but he felt an uncharacteristic anxiety about her visit and was not inclined to risk her running into his ignorant father who would easily recognise her from afar. "Aelin was at the Thorpe's ball, the one my cousin and I attended recently, though we were not introduced. Fenrys ran into her at a nearby bookstore the other day and recognised her. Though I was initially sceptical and asked my solicitor to launch several inquiries into the girl in question and her family, Fenrys convinced me to meet her once and I—" there were hardly enough words to explain himself on this and James fell silent.

Lord Rhoe looked his disbelief.

"I know you do not wish for false hopes, sir, but I would not have come if I was not sure."

"I grieve her still," said Rhoe at last in a tone of gruff affection, "—and I know how it feels to latch onto hope but it is insanity to claim this-this madness—"

"It is not madness."

"You are letting your sentiments rule over reason. Aelin is dead, boy," said he, "and you had better drop this."

James was in no mood to drop it but Rhoe was overcome by a fit of coughs and slumped into his armchair. James rushed to his father, not sure what he would do but there was something so wrong about seeing his ever stoic, ever impassive father reduced to a fit of helplessness - no matter how small - like a common fragile old man that disturbed him greatly. James rubbed his father's back and called for a maid.

Rhoe tried to speak but a hoarse whisper was all that came out.

A maid stood at the doorway while the other rushed inside, fetching a glass of water from the pitcher. Rhoe drank it slowly, allowing the coughs to slowly fade.

"Aelin died," he choked out.

"You don't know that," reminded James gently. He was hesitant to press more but James wanted to clear this first hurdle before she arrived.

"I saw—I saw her body." Rhoe closed his eyes shut as if he was trying to block out a vision. "There was a body. Her body."

"Aelin disappeared," corrected James. "You found a body and identified it as hers but what if-what if it wasn't?"

"The magistrate found her anklet near the body. It was her. I saw the anklet."

James snapped his mouth shut. He had been nine when his sister disappeared and what little he knew about it was pieced together from eavesdropped bits of conversations and accidental slips from his uncle and aunt between the years. The Earl of Narrowcreek all but banned talk about Aelin in his home and neither son mentioned her for fear of his temper until memories of childhood acquired a dreamlike quality in his mind.

"The other anklet?"

"They never found it," said Rhoe.

James tried to consider his words carefully but . "I am aware my story sound like wishful thinking but I have—sir, I would not have believed my cousin if I had not seen her. She looks like my sister but more than that, she is-she is what I always thought Aelin would grow up to be: witty, charming and-and so wickedly clever." His words were more passionate than rationally thought out now but his father looked unaffected. James blew out a breath. "I invited her here for dinner, father. I wish to make Miss Sardothein aware of my-my suspicions. Despite what you say, something tells me I am right. I know I am. If you change your mind by dinner, you are welcome to join us tonight."

He thought his words might cause his father to at least promise to come; instead Rhoe latched onto another part of his sentence. "Miss Celaena Sardothein?!"

"The very one."

"You cannot mean to invite a tradesman's daughter into my house!"

"She is your daughter, sir!" said James sharply, feeling himself losing his control. "I mean to tell her of her identity today and you will not dissuade me from it." So saying, he quit the study door and left, suddenly quite anxious for the upcoming visit.

Celaena felt strangely off-kilter looking at a house that was as familiar as it was strange as she was handed down the carriage by a footman. Her nerves hightened for some unfathomable reason and in an attempt to distract herself by looking around the foyer of the Galathynius Townhouse, which was very grand. In the pride of the place stood an elegant water fountain, around which she could imagine a noisy brood of children splashing in and out. The elegant structure captured her interest until she stepped inside, feeling a vague sense of deja vu though she could swear she had never seen such a fine house before in her life—surely she would remember it if she had? It was not a forgettable sight—she pushed her unease aside, squared her shoulders and allowed the butler to divest her of her cloak and gloves while a maid waited to escort her to drawing room. The old servant started at the sight of her before he hid his surprise with an impassive expression like a well-trained servant, efficiently performing his duties, though she did not miss the way his eyes flicked back to her face repeatedly. Having never been invited to a private dinner before, Celaena had no expectations from the evening but was nevertheless surprised to be ushered into a private study instead of the drawing room.

A man sat in his armchair in a posture more befitting a young gentleman than an old, wealthy peer, though the grey hair at the edges of his temples belied his age.

"Miss Sardothein," said he.

Lord Rhoe noticed her surprise at being addressed by her name and smiled strangely. "Your reputation precedes you, dear. You have the whole town in a tizzy and you have in twenty four hours coerced my son into issuing a dinner invitation that is quite improper; an unmarried lady dining with two bachelors? Huge scandals have been created on far less."

"Then I wonder at your son's reasoning, for he issued the invitation. I only accepted it."

The Earl shook his head. "I know his reasons but I wonder at yours."

"I was curious."

He raised an eyebrow but she did not offer more explanation than that. "By accepting his invitation, you are putting your reputation in jeopardy, and with it, my son's."

She dimpled. "I might argue he did that himself when he issued it."

"I told you—"

"No, I told you," said she, rising from her seat, "—I am here on invitation. If you wish me gone from your home, ask and I will. But I will not accept an interrogation."

"I demand respect, Miss Sardothein."

"I shall never give it for that reason alone. I could not respect you if I wanted, sir," said she defiantly, rising from her seat, "for you were decided against me before I even entered your house—you who valued the gossip's opinions, or was your prejudice because of the grave sin I committed in being raised by a tradesman?" Her eyes flashed with ire and her breaths came faster. The Earl noticed none of it, struck as he was by the image of another adolescent ages ago shouting at his own father in the very same place. Miss Sardothein was a little older, perhaps and her features were not as delicate and soft but there was no mistaking her. He had crossed swords with his wife's younger sister to recognise her ashryver eyes and the colouring—

"Evalin," he whispered.

Bloody Hell.

Celaena's eyebrows creased when the older man looked at her in shock, then collapsed into the armchair he had been occupying.

"Uncle Rhoe? I heard raised voices—good gods, Aelin! Whatever happened here?"

If either of them noticed what name Lord Fenrys had unintentionally called her and to which she had answered, neither gave any indication. "He was telling me I should not have come and I was-I was defending myself but then he was, he was shocked at something and he said a name—Evelyn or something similar. Then he just collapsed into the chair." Lord Fenrys quickly and efficiently took charge of the situation, pouring her some wine for some semblance of calm, sending for his cousin and a footman to escort His Lordship back to his chambers. Lord Fenrys and his cousin had apparently been waiting for her in the drawing room downstairs and were not aware of her arrival. He had come to fetch a book from the adjoining library to pass his time when he heard raised voices. This assured her to some degree that she was not unwanted in the house, however as it belonged to the master whom she had quite shocked into fainting with her poor manners, she was not sure how much longer she would be welcome and expressed her desire to leave.

Lord Fenrys said immediately, "Leave? Goodness—no, my cousin will be quite cross with me if I let you leave before he comes. Do feel free to look around."

She did look around, taking in the elegant but never ostentatious furniture and the wall patterns which, though pretty, looked rather outdated. The study was well-lit with wax candles but looked cozier than she would expect an Earl's private sanctuary to look like. Her attention was caught soon by a bookcase by the farthest wall—presumably his favourites—and was surprised she shared similar tastes in reading with a man who had in a few minutes embodied all the worst qualities of the aristocracy. She moved past that wall only to come face-to-face with an unexpected portrait. It's objects—a husband, wife and their three children—sat in a formal pose but the picture radiated contentment, happiness and affection. It was perhaps something in the way the refined, elegant woman stared adoringly up at her husband or the look of affection he in turn bestowed on his two sons and a daughter who looked by turns bemused, bored and awfully wicked.

Her stomach twisted uneasily looking at the eldest son. "That. Who is that?"

"Edward," answered he. "Viscount Layton is not much fond of society. By the way his expression darkened, she surmised there must be some rift in the family—

Edward.

Edward Galathynius.

Celaena felt her own disquiet increase. Where had she heard the name before?

She glanced quickly at her host's cousin who was rifling through the drawers and examined the painting more closely. The children and the woman looked a great deal similar in colouring and in their eyes which were turquoise—

Turquoise eyes ringed with gold.

"Miss Sardothein?" Fenrys asked.

"Yes, yes, forgive me, Lord Fenrys. I feel a little, a little warm. He, your cousin—cousins, that is," she corrected herself, "they have—their eyes are a very unusual colour," she lamely finished.

"The ashryver eyes, yes." His tone was flippant, as though he had not seen her eyes. "As rare as they are beautiful, won't you say?"

Her stomach plummeted. She wanted to go somewhere—anywhere else.

Celaena tried to leave the room, her skin feeling too hot. Her knees buckled.

"Aelin!" Mr Galathynius stood in the doorway with his eyes wide.

Aelin.

She tried to ignore the implications of all that being called that name entailed.

Mr Galathynius gently led her to a seat away from the fireplace. Her head spun and her palms felt sweaty. "Home," she croaked out, unable to make out her own words. "I want home." Her skin flushed even more, her palms grew sweaty and her clothes felt coarse against her body.

Ashryver eyes.

The fairest eyes, from legends old

Of brightest blue, ringed with gold

She shut her eyes closed, willing her hands to stop shaking. It didn't work. How did she know that? She couldn't have known that. She had never met these people before, had never seen this place.

She had not.

She could not have.

Aelin was my favourite cousin—you, uh, you remind me of her.

Aelin.

But how could it be?

Aelin died in a fire thirteen years ago, Fenrys had told her. When she was but five.

Arobynn brought her home and introduced her as an orphan the same year, the year she had turned six. Arobynn had found her as an orphan roaming the streets of London when she was five.

The dates matched.

The fire. A warehouse. Two men. A pistol. She tried to remember but came up short.

"Aelin," a voice gently called out.

"You are wrong," she insisted vehemently, "I am not, I am not your sister!" Her voice turned screeching. "I was—my family gave me up, they didn't want me. Arobynn saved me. He told me they didn't want me, he told me so himself."

Arobynn lies to everyone.

But he had never lied to her. To her, he had been honest as he should.

He would not.

"Shh, It's alright, Aelin." James scooted closer and talked in a gentle tone, wishing his elder brother was present to comfort her. Edward would have known how to calm her.

Edward always had.

"Don't call me that." She shook her head tearfully. "I am not Aelin. I am not."

James placed an arm on her shoulder cautiously. The gentle touch, the compassionate voice and the genuine concern almost undid her. "Aelin," said her brother—her brother, she thought with amazement that the words did not sound as strange as they should have—"I am sorry you found out this way. Indeed, there are a great many things we are not sure of but—but my father's reaction and your own confirms what I suspected."

"You told me she died." The words came out almost as an accusation.

"It is all speculation on my part, mind, but we were informed my sister died in a fire in a nearby warehouse. The owner was a rather genial fellow and my sister—you—were friends with the man's clerk. You were playing with Edward that day—that is our elder brother—and you broke your ankle. He went to fetch help from the manor house but by the time father was able to come, you were not there. The search parties could find no signs of you until the magistrate informed her of two bodies found in a nearby warehouse. The first a child, had near her an anklet we knew you wore that day and father thought—we all thought it was you. I do not know where you did go and how the anklet appeared there but—"

She frowned. "You think Arobynn abducted me for some nefarious purposes."

"Indeed not—"

"You do," she accused, looking away from the hurt in his ashryver eyes. "You think—you think he did that. But he did not. He would not do that to me."

"Aelin, I never—"

"He wouldn't!" Celaena sobbed hysterically. "And even if you do not, everyone else will. No one will believe this—this story of ours—your father, oh god, he doubted it! He thought me a fortune hunter and—and everyone will—"

"Father did not wish to hope only to be met with disappointment, dearest."

"I all but told my father to go to the devil," she said between sobs.

"And it is a darned good thing you did," said Lord Fenrys in a flippant tone. "Someone needed to take that old man down a few notches. Besides, I suspect when he wakes up, he will have his fair share of apologising to do."

Mr Galathynius hesitantly placed an arm around his sister's shoulder as though he expected her to pull away and run. But she was too exhausted to protest and too grateful to have something solid to hold onto while the earth shifted beneath her feet. Aelin buried her face in his chest, clutching at the lapels of his coat and James felt a tender affection towards this creature who was clever and witty in ballrooms, whose ire faded as easily as it was stoked and who went from one emotion to another to another in a few moments. If in that moment someone had told him he needed to fell a dragon in order to protect her, he would have happily taken the beast on with his sword. James had been too young to do anything but squabble with his little sister but he felt all the protective instincts of an elder brother now and the first stirrings of hope that his family might not be doomed to unhappiness forever after all.

Aelin pulled back and sniffed. "I am sorry, Mr Galathynius, I suppose—"

"It would please me greatly if you would call me by my first name, dearest." James wished again he had his brother with him. "I do not think father will be angry and even if he is, I hope you will not mind him too much. I sent an express to Edward the moment we returned from the dinner party. He will be here soon and he will be ecstatic. I know I am."

"I don't remember anything."

He shrugged helplessly. "It is to be expected, Aelin. You were only five."

"But Arobynn told me I was given away by my family to, to an orphanage. He found me on the streets."

Mr Galathy—James looked at her seriously, clutching her hands in his. "I don't know if he lied or not, Aelin, but know this: your family did not give you away—indeed, we have been miserable since you left us." He bit his lip, swallowed and asked, "Do you remember even a little bit of that day? You and Edward were playing outside, you broke your ankle and he came back to the house to fetch help. He was—"

"He told me to stay there," she whispered, tears rolling down her face. "I didn't."

"You were but five," said Fenrys in an attempt to soothe. "You could hardly be expected to listen to anyone." The siblings started in surprise, having forgotten his presence.

"Do you remember what happened after our brother left?" James prodded gently.

Celaena shook her head, eyes shut. She tried to remember the day on the field near the estate. A mud puddle. A fallen ribbon. Her anklet's weak clasp. Why are you alone here? A voice.

It was a man's voice.

He had promised to take her back. I will carry you home, come with me. Into the carriage, there. She had climbed into the carriage. Perhaps she knew the man? Surely she would not have climbed into a stranger's carriage?

You were but five.

She tried hard to concentrate but could not remember anything beyond that and she told her brother so.

"You need not force yourself to, but if you do remember anything more—"

"I will tell you," she agreed. "I always wanted an elder brother, you know?"

James Galathynius was an affectionate man and he itched to embrace his sister tightly, but restrained in fear of overdoing things. The last shreds of his reserve melted with her words and he pulled her close. His little sister. He wondered if there were sweeter words in the world. "I missed you so," he answered tearfully, "So did we all. Edward refused to look at pianofortes for months, they reminded him of you, he hardly ever comes to town and father so retreated into his study and there I was—Oh, Aelin, please don't leave again."

"I shan't," she promised.

"A gentleman's word?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I am a lady."

"It's the only kind of promise you didn't break when we were children. A gentleman's word?" She heard her own voice ask the question long ago. A vague memory.

Celaena smiled. "A gentleman's word."

Fenrys broke the moment, his eyes glimmering suspiciously. He sniffed. "Stop monopolizing her, cousin."

Celaena hesitantly rose from her seat, pressing a kiss against her cousin's cheek. "I know it's all a muddle still but thank you for finding me, Lord Fenrys." She smiled sweetly at him. "You told me Aelin was—that I was—your favourite cousin, did you not, Lord Fenrys?"

"You were—you are." He grinned. "Do stop with the lord business though—I am already determined we shall be the dearest of friends. We have always been alike in our dispositions."

"What he means," James grinned back, "is the both of you have always been utter rascals, making all our lives difficult."

"I don't know what you are talking about," huffed she with feigned indignation in her voice. "I am positively an angel."

"Oh, hardly!" Fenrys shook his head. "I never saw a more mischevious child. Aunt Meave swore you were the devil's spawn."

"Oh no," she said.

"Oh, yes." James grinned at a fond memory. "And I cannot blame her. You once sneaked a frog to her dinner table. It ended up in her plate somehow; it was horrific."

"Indeed, you scarred the poor woman," Fenrys quipped. "She specifically invites only adults ever since. James told us later how you twitched and groaned, shifting in your seat, trying to hide it in the folds of your dress."

Celaena narrowed her eyes. "If you knew, why did you not help?"

"I did not want to incur her wrath," he said. "Our father or brother would have protected you from her. I was on my own."

The remark brought her back to reality. "Father—Lord Rhoe—my goodness, I implied he was proud and arrogant and—and he fainted!" James hurried to assure her that he fainted occassionally and a physician had been sent for in any case and she should not worry overmuch about that but she could not help herself. However, not wanting to worry him more—the poor man was acting so casually as if expecting another fit of hysterics—she changed the subject to one she was curious about. "And Edward—you said he has been informed."

"If I know him at all, he will come running." Then, with due caution, "I know you don't remember a thing but Edward and you were particularly close—you filled buckets worth of tears when he left for Eton, you know? And when he came to visit for the summer or holidays and you were obliged to return to the nursery in the evenings, you threw such a royal fit until father allowed you to spend the nights in his room." By the tone with which he said it, Celaena rather thought it cost him something to admit this to her and she thought she heard a touch of envy in those words.

"It was perhaps not proper," agreed Fenrys, "but you would not eat or drink and he was forced to acquiese."

Celaena laughed. "That does sound like me." Then, sobering, "I should not—it's too late, I think I should return home."

"Home?"

Celaena amended with a smile, "Well, not my home, then. But I could not move here today, not with Lord Rhoe so—"

"Father will not object," said he, with conviction. "This is your home as much as it is mine or his. I am sure Edward will be furious with me if I let you leave." Then, noticing her reluctance, he gently smiled. "I understand you will need to get used to reality and I really would like it if you stayed but if you cannot—"

"Oh, no," said she, interrupting him. "I will—I will stay if you send a note to the Rhunns informing them where I am and if my maid and a few of my clothes can be brought—Elide, my maid, she will know what to bring—then I shall stay."

This was agreed to with alacrity and orders sent to prepare one of the finest guest rooms for temporary occupation. James noticed her pale countenance and offered to send a dinner tray to her rooms in a half hour if she would like to retire early. After they were informed that Lord Rhoe had been given laudanum to calm himself and would see them in the morning, there was nothing left for her to do and she accepted her brother's offer happily. Celaena thought she would not be able to sleep for hours, ruminating on the eventful day but the overwhelming emotions of the overdeal caught up with her and she was asleep before dinner arrived.

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@little-crow-corvere // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @bitchy-knees // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @miihlovesnoone // @totenhamboys20 // @sanakapoor // @louisleblancdiggory

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon Epilogue

Jason is a CEO: Epilogue

When i started this fic (around 9 months ago-- holy hell we could have had a whole human in that time) i didn’t expect it to go in the directions it did or to produce the characters and story it did. While it’s not one of my more action-packed fics it is still very special to me because 1. it’s my first jason centered fic (of which we don’t have much of); 2. it’s my first really long multi-chap (the longest before this was 10 parts); 3. i got to explore so many of my crackships and dynamics of friendship i may not have been able to if we (for example) stuck to canon; 4. most importantly i love this fic because it started out (the very first chapter) as an original story that just was not going anywhere but when i decided to make it a fanfic, suddenly ideas were pouring from my fingers like wine from a split barrel. these characters feel as much mine as they are Rick’s (which is a dangerous path to go down and i’m not actually claiming they’re mine-- gods please don’t sue me). in short i love this fic dearly, i’m so proud of how far all these little babies have come (especially jason) and i hope you feel even a smidge the joy i feel over this, as you go on to read the very soft conclusion to Jason Grace as CEO.

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

There was something almost magical in the gleaming silhouette of the Manhattan skyline. There was something hopeful about it too. 

Jason Grace stepped out of his car, relishing in the sound of the gravel crunching under his feet and the babble of people all around him. His suit—  a deep blue, dark enough to look black, and glittering with tiny silver diamantes that looked like stars— clung to his shoulders and hugged his legs. The theme of the evening was “Starry Night”. He figured coming as the actual night was accurate enough. Drew and Silena had done a beautiful job on his outfit, to no-one’s surprise. He would see them here tonight, along with their husband, and the rest of his friends. And tomorrow, oh tomorrow, he would be off to Rome, with the man that filled his life with overwhelming light.

“Jase,”  Someone called out from the darkness, “Are you hiding from us because you put two different shoes on again and are too embarrassed to say?”

“Shut up Annabeth,” He laughed, “I’m coming.”

He walked towards the group of silhouettes, making out Leo and Annabeth, and Nico and Will, and coming from behind them were the dressmakers and their Charles. Hazel and Frank would be making an appearance later in the night.

“You all look beautiful.” He smiled, hugging them, kissing cheeks and foreheads, relishing in their closeness and their comfort, as he has always done. And they did in fact look beautiful. Annabeth in a dress of blue swirling around her and pooling at her feet— the colours matched the sapphire on her ring finger; Leo in a matching floor-length skirt and a sheer polo-neck that showed off every clean brown line of his skin; Nico and Will, in contrast, were complete opposites, the former in a black suit with silver jewellery, and the latter in an off white with gold accents; Silena, Drew and Charlie all had on suits with various parts of the galaxy embroidered in gold, threading a spectacular tapestry through the emerald green. All in all, his friends were really hot.

“Y’all ready?” Will drawled, tilting his head to the entrance of the hotel a little way away.

“Let’s go celebrate!” He winked in response.

And then they’re walking towards the bright lights, launching into conversations and updates and work and jokes. It was familiar in the way driving home after a long time away was, or catching a waft of the specific smell of your elementary school art room, or seeing someone from your childhood and slipping into a comfortable back-and-forth.

“Jase,” Charlie scooted next to him, breaking away from his conversation with Nico, “How’s the construction for the new section of the outdoor center going? I heard you hit a snag last week with the design?”

“Yea there was a few centimeters off with one of the structures and it caused the whole area to be off balance,” He scrunched his nose, remembering the horror from last week. “I’m just grateful we caught it in time.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year since that center went up,” His friend marvelled, eyes wide with the disbelief of time. He knew the feeling well.

“It’s crazy. I came back from my holiday and then everything was just on fast forward.” He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m happy though, with the progress and how far we’ve come.”

“You’ve just burst and grown and brightened,” There’s that soft smile, the one that made all of Jason’s insides turn to mush. The one that told him he was loved in every capacity.

“I know.” He felt the blush creeping up his skin, pale after the long winter months. “I don’t owe it to myself though. All of you guys have—” 

“No way mister,” Annabeth chimed in, “You absolutely owe it to yourself. You got yourself there, we just cheered you on.”

“Yea,” Leo nudged his arm, a gentleness shimmering in his brown eyes. “You were the hero of your own story.”

He muttered thank you’s and tried to embrace the blush but their love and joy and pride still drowned him. Before anyone else could pile on the sincerity they were walking into the lobby and being ushered to the large, elegant ballroom three doors down.

There was a collective gasp from their group, audible even above the low hum of chatter, and the soft jazz drifting through the speakers. The entire room had been made to look like they were standing inside the middle of “Starry Night”. Like they were the townsfolk parked outside their houses witnessing the strange and magical sky above them. Swirls of blue in the draping curtains and circles of yellow in the chandeliers and wisps of the cypress trees growing from the walls as if the very room had been built around a tree.

“This is—” He didn’t even have the words to fully express his awe. If he were an art major he would have died from the beauty of it all. As it stood he could barely keep himself up.

“I know,” A voice said quietly from behind him. “It’s almost divine.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even turn around to see who it was. He simply stepped back and let arms envelope him. He didn’t need to check, because he knew, he would always know. In the heat of their skin, and the hum of their voice, and the love that radiated between them like scorching summer sun.

“Moró mou,” He sighed, tipping his head back to rest against a shoulder. From this angle he could see blazing green eyes and jet-black curls, and impossibly high cheekbones, and a jaw sculpted by Michaelangelo.

“Hello my love,” Percy Jackson smiled. “How are you?”

“Happy.” He muttered, lips brushing against his boyfriend’s cheek.

“Good,” The man nodded, squeezing his waist where his arms still wrapped around. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“I will not just survive through it,” His eyes crinkled at the corner as pure joy washed through him, “I will live through it, and I will enjoy every minute of it.” He knew the reason for the question, for the concern. But tonight it was not needed. He was nothing but excited and elated for the hours, and then days, weeks, years to come.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

A glass tinkled somewhere to their right, grabbing their attention. And then Zoe and Reyna were stepping together and drawing people towards them as if they were gravity, magnets, the center. They looked it certainly: Zoe in a stark white dress, hugging her figure, shimmering like stardust every time she moved; and Reyna in a watery blue, gauzy and flowing in time with her body, where she goes it will ripple behind her.

“Thank you,” His lawyer started, giving them a dazzling smile. “For being here. All of you.” She looked them each in the eye, her own filled with love and… were those tears? From his no nonsense, boss lady lawyer? Oh he was so going to give her a hug and then tease her endlessly about it. 

“We have a thousand people to thank for all of this,” She gestured to the room, “And a thousand more to thank just for being here, but that will come in the form of surprise take-me-homes at the end of the night.”

“However,” Zoe’s voice, still as strong and quiet as ever, rang out across the room. “There are two people we would like to thank right here, right now.” Her smile lit up the world as her eyes landed on them. “In typical us fashion, it’s a little out of the ordinary but please can both our ex-boyfriend’s come up here.” 

The crowd burst into laughter, him and Percy with them, as they detangled themselves from each other and walked hand in hand to the front of the room.

“As you can see,” Reyna grinned. Jason held in the groan he knew would accompany her next words. “We did a Partner Swap.”

The laughter only loudened, people whistling, and clapping in time with their amusement.

“I will spare you the sordid details,” Zoe’s own giggling softened to a smile, “But two years ago, after Jason and I had broken up, I called him in a panic asking for help. And despite being on a much needed holiday where he happened to meet a certain someone,” She winked at them, eyebrows waggling comically, “He listened to me, then made use of his contacts and connected me with Reyna.”

“And after I charmed the suit off of her, and won her lawsuit,” Reyna stepped in, grinning wildly, “She agreed to pop open a bottle of champagne and celebrate our win.”

“I’m not quite sure about the charming part, angel.” Zoe quirked an eyebrow, “But yes one champagne bottle and the rest was history.”

“In conclusion to this whole ordeal,” His lawyer turned to them, “Jase, Percy, we have a present for you, to thank you for loving us, and for loving us enough to let us go, and furthermore for bringing us together.”

Zoe handed them an envelope but before they bothered to open it they pulled the women in for a hug, thanking and congratulating them. He would not change what they had for the world. He will be grateful forever. He will love them even longer.

Percy ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He leaned over his boyfriend’s shoulder and read with him.

The universe has a funny way of pulling stars together but we know with certainty that the four of us are born from the same constellation. Thank you for everything. We know we can never really repay you but please accept this as a start. 

Tucked into the last fold of the paper were two plane tickets to Japan. The holiday they had discussed once, a Saturday game night that ended with the four of them huddled around the fire in Zoe’s apartment, chattering softly about this and that. Printed in small font at the bottom of the page was a cherry blossom branch and more text that read,

Get married losers, we want joint holidays so we can get the couples packages.

He bubbled with laughter at that, and looked up at his friends, tears pooling in his own eyes.

“Alright everyone!” Reyna clapped her hands, gathering the attention of the humming crowd. “Let’s get this engagement party started.”

And then music filled the room and people dragged each other to the middle of the space and there were cheers as the song came into focus and truly Jason understood the meaning of life that night.

After they had thanked Reyna and Zoe again, and chatted with their other friends Percy pulled him to the dance floor.

“Jase,” His boyfriend cupped the back of his neck, arranging their bodies into a work of art. “We have wonderful friends.”

“The very best,” He agreed, swaying their hips in time with the beat. “We have built an empire with them by our side.”

“Will you be the emperor then?”

“There is no monarchy in this kingdom,” He smiled, blue eyes glittering and bright. “It is just us, and our love, and everything beautiful the world has ever had to offer.” He saw oceans reflecting back at him, wonder soaking in his words, happiness pressing against his lips.

His boyfriend pressed their foreheads together, bodies still moving to music far away. “And if we look further?” Percy breathed, “Past the empire, to the horizon beyond?”

“It is all home,” Jason Grace smiled. “We are home, my love.”

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Okay there are so many people to thank and you best believe i’m going to thank them all because this fic would literally not exist without them.

@nishlicious-01​​ my favourite person, my biggest supporter and the only person who gets to shout at me when im writing fanfic at 1am because i’m not sleeping but also because ‘why am i not reading it ciara????’

@queen-of-demons-and-hell​​ for every comment, every like, every complaint you took when the writing demon was on strike. you have my heart. id be lost and a little lonely without you.

@leyontheway​​ your comments on this fic were golden and i often came back to them just for that extra burst of motivation and serotonin. i found a friend in you and now i can’t imagine my life without you.

@msdrpreist​​ Sky, mi cielo, you are one in a billion and i cannot believe i found you (and you me) across all this space and time. thank you for your unwavering support and your wonderful thoughts.

@larrikin-is-a-himbo​​ when we started this fic i believe you were @/queenbrunnhilde (or something to that effect) but although your username has changed your loveliness and endless support hasn’t. Thank you for sticking along for the ride

@spoopylucy​​​ Lucy... what do i even say to the person who singlehandedly changed my day, week, mood every time i saw a reblog from them? your tags were the start and the end. they made every upload an exciting task. and i knew no matter what happened in the fic or how long it took as soon as i got a notif from you i couldn’t be anything but happy. thank you my Luce, you’re an angel!

@not-hiesenberg​ for being my ‘ciara what the fuck even does this say? do you know how to spell?’ checker when i was too tired (more like too lazy) to do it myself.

@lesbian-peanuts​​ thank you for the love! you were one of the first people interested in this little universe and i can never thank you enough for that​

@legendary-cupcake​​ your spam when reading this was such a happy moment in my life and im ecstatic that you stayed for the ride! thank you​

to all the people on my tag list, who have liked this fic, and especially those who have commented: i see you, i love you, and i thank you with a heart full of happiness. you changed my world.

[a-libra-writes]

are you still doing that kiss prompt thingy?? if you are, how's about '50. In Secret kiss' with Micah Bell? ((if youre not then dont worry!)) pleases and thank yous :0)

hECK YEAH (sorry i took ten million years yall aggghhh). i went rlly fluffy with this bc my self indulgence is always at MAX

The shot brushed the bottom of the empty whiskey bottle. It shook from the force, but didn’t fall over or break. Micah had seen the mark it left on the glass, but he didn’t have time to look twice. Another shot rang out, and the glass shattered.

“Well, it looks like that peashooter can get the job done,” He said to Y/N. As he anticipated, she gave him that look, then gestured to the four hares she’d tied to her horse.

“I recall you used mine to get that doe.” Micah inclined his head to the doe strapped on top. He missed the shot on that one - a rarity in itself - and Y/N took his rifle, downing the animal before it could run away. By the way the corners of her lips were twitching, she was remembering that.

It was hard to care about his wounded pride when she almost-smiled, because he knew it was more than anyone got out of her in the two … no, was it three years she’d been with the gang? “That one’s Y/N, she doesn’t say much. Leave her be.” Dutch had said to Micah during his first week. There was an odd protectiveness in the man’s voice, one Micah hadn’t heard given to others, besides maybe Jack and Tilly.

‘Not saying much’ was a great understatement. Y/N never spoke. She didn’t laugh or smile, or furrow her brows or cry. The camp acted as though she wasn’t there, with some exceptions. Tilly would chatter beside her as they did chores, she and Mary-Beth traded books, little Jack would trail after her if Abigail was busy, Hosea would bring her along for this or that job. There seemed to be a divide between those who worked with her silence, and those who were unnerved by it.

Micah didn’t want to admit he was in the latter camp. The first time he finally said something to her, he was drunk, and it came out stupid. Completely stupid. He remembered waiting for the usual reaction: Disgust, maybe a slap, storming off angrily. Some women shrieked when a rat scurried across the floor, some reached for an iron skillet. Y/N only looked at him with those sharp eyes, the shadows of the campfire bouncing off her face. 

She walked away, and he breathed out, not realizing how nervous the whole interaction made him. Never in his life had a woman made him shiver like that.

It was sunny now, not a cloud in the sky, and it was hard to believe this sunshined-kissed face was the same one that unnerved him months ago. Y/N took aim, and the next shot sent a glass bottle flying off the rock. She lowered the gun and clapped happily.

Shit. It was so endearing. Micah stood up from where he was sitting - on a goddamned blanket she spread out, because after hunting all morning and afternoon they were both tired, and she wanted to sit with him and rest. Then he suggested the game, and she wanted to play. Who was he to refuse?

Y/N walked up to the bottles and picked up the skinniest one. She walked several feet away and placed it, then ran back. When she pointed at it, Micah squinted.

“What, you gonna shoot that?”

She shook her head and pointed to him.

Micah scoffed. He retrieved his revolver, the right one. “Darlin’, I can do a lot better than that.”

He lifted his gun, put the bottle in his sights, and almost squeezed the trigger. He stopped, although he could already hear the sounds of the glass breaking.

“You try it,” He said suddenly. “With a proper gun, not that old thing.”

Micah was too anxious to look at her, or wait for a refusal. He all but shoved the revolver in her hands. Y/N blinked at it, then held it properly. He watched her fingers curl around it, how easily they fit into place. The gun wasn’t made for her hands, but it looked right. A swell of excitement went up his spine when she touched the barrel and noticed the engraving.

He cleared his throat, coughed a bit and stood behind her. “You shot one of these before, right?”

Y/N turned back to face him, giving him an ‘obviously’ sort of glance. He placed his larger hands around her’s, trying to fight the urge to pull away immediately. It was like her skin was fire, and his chest was hurting. He moved her smaller fingers into a better grip, so the recoil wouldn’t be as hard, and let her lift it to her line of sight.

“It’ll kick,” Micah said. “Every revolver got a different kick.”

Y/N didn’t squirm out of his arms, or look uncomfortable, so he selfishly stayed put. She was concentrating on the shot.

And she took it. She had flinched, but the glass shattered.

He couldn’t hide his grin. His next words spilled out. “Next time there’s a job, I’ll get you a better gun, an’ take you with me.”

Y/N smiled, and he had a sudden sensation of being both punched in the gut and choked out. He stepped away and cleared his throat. Micah felt something tugging at his side, and realized she was putting the revolver back in its holster. He immediately thought of her hands being somewhere else.

To distract himself, he looked at the sky. He was surprised at the late hour, and pulled out his pocketwatch to confirm it. Had they really spent most of the day in this forest? The discomfort growing in his gut was getting worse, and in an attempt to control it, Micah almost offered that they ride Baylock together. To his disappointment, Y/N had already swung up on her horse. He comforted himself with the fact she probably wouldn’t have agreed, anyway. It was a sheer dumb miracle she’d gone along with the hunting and shooting, given how she normally was.

“You better not be bothering that girl, Mr. Bell,” He could hear Grimshaw’s voice echoing off in his head. It was the first or second week he arrived, and her voice was low and dangerous. He’d just been looking at Y/N, and the old bitch was on him at once. “She’s don’t need the likes of you distracting her.”

He had a few choice words for the woman now, but Y/N clicked her tongue to get his attention. She was waiting on him, probably wondering what he was spacing out for. On the ride back, he wondered what Grimshaw, or anyone, would say if they noticed them coming back together.

No one said anything. It was still early in the evening, and there wasn’t much of the gang around. Micah could’ve split off and left to town if he wanted; he almost never came back this early. To his dismay, Y/N returned to that passive face he’d seen so many times before. He felt like something had slipped out of his grasp.

He could at least help her dismount, even if she didn’t need it. It felt stupid to offer his hand, like he was some goddamned storybook prince, but she took it. He relished that brief contact as he helped her down, wondering when it’d come again… if it ever would. This day seemed like one of those that was too good to be true.

“You come get me if ya need help, with the uh, the huntin’,” Micah mumbled. The words sounded stupid again, but they were far better than the first ones he said to her. “Or shootin’. Ya got a good eye.”

Y/N didn’t let go. She looked at him with those big eyes, now not so passive, and the old gunman had to will himself not to look away. He couldn’t, feeling rooted to the ground with both her gaze and her touch.

Then she kissed him. It was on the cheek, but he froze. From how close she was, he could smell the forest, the dirt, the gunpowder.

“Sure.”

He could have missed it with how his heart was beating, how the horses around them nickered and the distant gramophone crooned. She squeezed his fingers and smiled. The sun had set now, but she was so, so bright. 

Y/N turned away and led her horse to Pearson’s wagon. That simple word ran across his mind at least a dozen times by the time she was too far away to call to without drawing attention, and then Mary-Beth ran up to her, and then Charles offered to help with the doe. She nodded and gestured and pointed, the language she used with everyone.

Micah wondered if they’d heard anything she said, if she ever shared that smile. Something told him - something hoped - that wasn’t the case. He watched her until that gut-punching and throat-squeezing became too much, and he swung up on Baylock to head to town. Maybe come morning, he’d find a gun, a smaller one with not much recoil. Maybe he’d hear more words after that.

[outlawsworld]

Trusting Strangers - Chapter 12

Arthur Morgan x Female reader

Summary: Reader and Arthur's relationship in now not so secret. She spends one on one time with Dutch and also some alone time with Arthur.

Warning: robbing, mentions of smut but nothing too bad!

Notes: sorry it's taken me so long with this chapter. I've taken a bit of time off over Christmas. Please let me know what you think....can't wait to write the next chapter after this ending 🤤

You can also read my work on my ao3 account Outlaws_world !!

Chapter 1

--

You had been tossing and turning all night. Each time you were drifting off back to sleep your memories reminded you of the events of last night. As it started to get lighter outside you decided to go check on Dallas. Sleep wasn't coming easy and you decided to make yourself useful instead of just laying in your tent. The cut around Dallas' limb had started to scab over and there was no sign of infection. You reapplied some of the herbs that Charles had given you and fed the horses. It must have been early as everyone was still fast asleep in camp and the morning birds had only just started chirping in the trees. You made yourself a coffee and stood at the end of the dock looking out over the lake. The sun was rising over the hills which filled the sky with a burnt orange. You took in a deep breath which filled your lungs with the freshness of the air before taking a sip from your coffee. There were a couple of birds floating on the water and you watched as they sat there, still and silent. You were so lost in focusing on the stillness of the morning that you didn't hear the footsteps behind you.

''Mornin' Miss (Y/L/N)'' you spun round quickly to see Dutch had walked up behind you. He was smoking on a cigar and smiling at you.

''Mornin' Dutch'' you spoke hesitantly after you caught your breath.

''Sorry dear, I didn't mean to frighten you'' he smirked. Even though it was first thing in the morning, Dutch didn't have a hair out of place and he dressed so smartly. You must have looked scruffy in comparison as you had the same clothes on from yesterday and hadn't combed your hair yet. He came to stand next to you as you both looked over the water. ''You alright after last night?'' he questioned, not taking his eyes away from the view.

''Yeah'' you paused. ''I didn't mean for it to escalate the way it did'' you tried to defend yourself. Dutch sighed as he looked at you.

''It ain't your fault Miss (Y/L/N)'' his voice was hushed as the camp was starting to stir behind you. ''Arthur has taken quite a shine to you. I realise you two seem to be gettin' on rather well'' he scanned your face waiting for your reaction. You continued to look out over the lake hoping that he would avert his gaze. ''I hope this ain't gonna be a problem''. You look at him slightly taken aback by what he had just said.

''I don't know what you mean?'' you question, looking directly into his gaze now.

''You have settled in well here (Y/N). You have also pulled your weight and done well on jobs'' he paused taking a drag from his cigar and blowing it out over the lake. ''I want to see this for myself. What are you doing today?’’ he questioned ignoring your confusion.

‘’I was going to see about those horses with John this mornin’.’’ You scanned the camp trying to find him.

‘’That can wait’’ he protested. ‘’ Ride with me to Rhodes. I’ll let you get on with your morning chores and then come find me’’ he eyed you up and down before adding ‘’ I’ll inform John of the change of plan, the horses can wait for tomorrow’’.

''Of course Dutch'' you said shyly. He patted you on the shoulder before walking back into camp and leaving you standing on the dock by yourself.

You thought about Dutch's words as you sipped on the rest of your coffee. Gaining Dutch's trust was a hard task when you first joined the gang and the last thing you wanted was to jeopardise that. You hoped that your time spent with him would allow you to finally prove your full worth to him. ‘I hope this ain’t gonna be a problem’, what did he mean by that? There was a slight nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach as you thought he might not approve of your relationship with Arthur. Was that what this trip to Rhodes was going to be about? 

You tried to ignore the feeling as you made your way back into camp. Most people had started to stir and were getting on with their chores. Although you knew Dutch would let John know about the change of plan, you wanted to tell John yourself and to clear the air from last night. When you couldn’t find him anywhere around camp you made your way over to the dirty dishes and began cleaning. You had only just gotten settled into your work when Tilly and Karen both decided to settle down next to you. As you glanced up, you saw the huge grins plastered across their faces and automatically rolled your eyes.

''Awwh come on now, don't be like that'' Karen giggled. You looked into the wash bucked and concentrated on the dish in your hand. Trying to block out the eager girls stares.

''You can't hide from us in a pile of dirty dishes, ya know'' Tilly smirked at you. You looked up and sighed. She was right, no matter what you did, you couldn't avoid them forever. ''You gonna tell us then?''.

''Tell you what?'' you smirked.

''Don't play dumb. Tell us about what happened last night'' Karen scoffed. She sat next to you with a ripped shirt in hand as she tried to sew the seam back together.

''With Micah?'' you questioned.

''No you idiot. With Arthur'' Karen tutted. ''He was clearly protective over ya, never seen him so riled up. Micah must have struck a nerve talkin' bout you like that'' she giggled as she spoke. You knew that being cooped up in the camp all day can be boring, so the girls lived for any gossip or drama. You shook your head and sighed looking over to see Arthur was sat on his cot writing something in his journal. He looked so fixated on what he was jotting down, you couldn’t help but wish he was by your side right now to answer the questions that were being thrown at you.

''Would you just leave the poor girl alone'' Sadie interrupted, she was standing over the three of you with her hands on her hips.

''We were only asking'' Tilly spoke shyly.

''Yeah, well I'm tellin'. Can't you see she has enough to do without you two at her'' she gestured for the two girls to move which they did with a grunt and a couple wise remarks. Sadie came to sit beside you and grabbed a dish to clean. ''Told you they would find out'' she giggled. You couldn't help but smirk at her comment but you stayed silent. The two of you continued to wash the dishes. Your eyes scanned the camp to try find John but instead landed on Arthur walking towards you.

''Mornin' Ladies'' he tipped his hat to the both of you.

''Arthur'' Sadie greeted him as she carried on scrubbing one of the dishes.

‘’(Y/N), can I have a word?’’ his voice was hushed as if to try and not draw too much attention to us. You glanced at Sadie who gave you an approving nod before you dried your hands on your trousers and stood up to follow Arthur. The giggling coming from the other girls behind you were more then obvious, but you ignored them. You followed Arthur back towards the dock where you had been standing not too long ago.

‘’You alright?’’ Arthur asked as you reached the dock. He placed a hand softly on your lower arm, almost taking your hand whilst looking straight into your eyes. His touch suddenly warmed your whole body and your cheeks flushed red. You were slightly embarrassed to how easily this man could change your whole mood with a simple touch. His bright blue eyes were unavoidable, you could see the corner of his mouth was upturned as he looked at you which only made your heart race faster.

‘’I am now’’ you smiled up at him. He smiled sweetly back at you as he intertwined his fingers in yours. Quickly, you glanced back towards the camp to see if anyone was watching. Before you could let go of his hand and pull away, Arthur’s free hand reached your cheek to move your face back to focus on him.

‘’Cat’s outta the bag (Y/N)’’ he smirked at your panicked reaction. ‘’I guess I’m to blame for that’’ his hand cupped your cheek still as he looked from your eyes to your lips. He was right, everyone in camp knew by now that something was going on. There was no point in hiding it. ‘’I just wanted to make sure that you were alright with it all?’’ he lowered his voice slightly as you dropped your eyes to look down at the floor.

You wanted to say how much you hated that people were already trying to know all your business, you hated that the attention was focused on the two of you because you were the biggest news in camp. Being on your own for so long you had gotten used to no one paying you any attention and you liked it that way, you never had to explain yourself to anyone. The words couldn’t form in your mouth and as you looked back up to meet Arthur’s eyes all of your worries seemed to fade away. If the whole camp knowing meant that the both of you could stop sneaking around and be together then you didn’t seem to care. All that mattered to you was Arthur.

‘’I’m alright. Though you owe me’’ you smirked at him. ‘’You don’t have to deal with the girls wanting to know every detail’’. Arthur laughed shyly as he pulled you closer to him. He leaned down and kissed you softly. It didn’t feel like your previous kisses, you were very aware that anyone could be watching but it felt more meaningful somehow. You didn’t have to hide your affection for one another. You felt a warm feeling at the fact that Arthur was happy for the camp to know about his feeling towards you.

‘’How about I take you outta camp for the night?’’ Arthur smiled leaning his forehead against yours.

‘’Deal’’ you smiled before placing a soft kiss on his cheek. The two of you slowly made your way back into camp before Mrs Grimshaw came over to tell you both to stop slacking. As you walked into the heart of camp you noticed everyone’s attention was on the both of you and you could feel a hot flush run through your body.

‘’I better finish my chores’’ you gestured back towards Sadie who was still busy washing dishes. Arthur smiled before leaning down and kissing your cheek in front of the whole camp. The gesture produced a gasp and whispers that could be heard from the girls who were watching the both of you. You bit your lip and your cheeks flushed once more before heading back towards Sadie. You sat down next to her and continued with your work, you couldn’t help the smile that graced your face.

‘’I hope you know that I can’t save you from the oncomin’ questions now’’ Sadie giggled. It was as if the other girls had heard Sadie’s comment because almost instantly they had all gathered round you.

‘’When did it happen?’’

‘’Is he a good kisser?’’

‘’Is he romantic?’’

Their questions came thick and fast and you did your best at answering as Sadie sat smirking at you. You must have looked like a rabbit when face to face with a cougar as the questions piled in. Once you washed the last dish you stood up and held your hands up in surrender.

‘’Alright, alright. Enough questions for one day’’ the girls all sighed with the loss of excitement. ‘’I’ll see y'all later’’ you took no time in waiting for their response as you strode across camp to find Dutch. As you crossed camp you scanned it to see if John had made an appearance. He was still nowhere to be seen so you shrugged it off. Dutch was sat in his tent reading one of his novels when you approached him.

‘’Ahh (Y/N)’’ he closed the book as he saw you stood in the opening of his tent. ‘’You ready to go?’’.

‘’Yeah’’ you nodded as he put his book down on his cot and gestured for you to lead the way to the horses. Dallas favouring his leg still so you took one of the spare horses for the day. You both mounted up and you followed closely behind Dutch as he led the way out of camp and onto the main road to town. The both of you rode in silence which only made you more nervous. Dutch had always been kind to you and impressed with your work but you had never had to prove yourself to him before or spent any time with him alone. Luckily Rhodes wasn’t too far from camp and you both hitched your horses outside of the saloon before making your way inside. Dutch ordered you both a beer and you took a seat at a free table in the corner of the room. The saloon was quiet as it was only midday but there was a piano player which filled the empty atmosphere.

‘’So, I want to see first hand what you can do Miss’’ Dutch broke the silence as you took a sip from your beer. ‘’I’ve heard a lot of great things but never seen it for myself’’ he smirked at you before joining you in a drink. You didn’t exactly know what Dutch was expecting. All the jobs that you have done for the gang had been planned by someone else and you just did as you were told.

‘’What’s the plan?’’ you asked, slightly confused.

‘’No plan’’ Dutch raised his eyebrows. ‘’Just do what you do best’’ he leant back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest, expecting to watch a show. You took a deep breath and glanced around the bar trying to find a target. Rhodes wasn’t too far away from the city of Saint Denis which meant many rich folk passed through regularly. You spotted a couple of men sat at the bar, both well dressed and merrily drinking. They looked like they were celebrating something as they toasted to one another’s success. You quickly gulped the rest of your drink before giving Dutch a nod in their direction. Dutch glanced over at the two men and the corner of his mouth tugged upwards in a mischievous smile before he nodded at you. You straightened out your clothing and fixed your hair before making your way over to the bar to stand next to the two men.

You gestured for the bartender before ordering another beer. Once, you had been served your drink you stood, leaning on the bar in a way that would attract a man’s eye to the curve of your bum. One of the men took the bait straight away and turned his attention to you as you began to drink your beer.

‘’What is a beautiful woman such as yourself doing in a town like this?’’ he leaned towards you. His breath stank of alcohol and his eyes were slightly glazed over indicating he was a lot more drunk then you had first thought.

‘’Just passin’ through’’ you smiled sweetly placing a hand on his forearm. ‘’How about yourself?’’. Before you knew it, you were standing in between the two men drinking your beer and creating convocation. They both had closed some sort of business deal that you paid no interest too and were celebrating. You hummed along whilst congratulating them. They were both quite young, handsome men so you acted as though you were falling for their charms. After your second beer that they had bought you, you decided to take your leave and go back to Dutch. Both the men were slightly disappointed that you were leaving however, they let you go without any complaints.

‘’I think it’s best we leave now’’ you smiled at Dutch who sat watching you with a confused expression. He didn’t question you and followed you out of the saloon and to your horses.

‘’(Y/N), I think you missed the point of this trip’’ he finally turned to you before you mounted your horse. You grinned at him, before he could say another word you produced 2 watches, $20, a golden ring, a packet of cigarettes and what seemed to be an engagement ring from your pockets. You placed all the items in Dutch’s hand.

‘’Pretty sure we can sell this stuff at the general store. Plus, I found out that they have a bunch of deeds back at their house which isn’t too far from here. Turns out they will both be out of town on business next week. Might be worth a look’’ you smirked feeling pretty pleased with yourself.

‘’Well I must say, I am impressed’’ Dutch nodded at you, you couldn't help but hear the slight shock in his voice. This only made you more smug about doing a good job. ‘’Let’s go see what we can get for these’’ Dutch chuckled as he stuffed the items into his pockets. The both of you mounted up and began to head to the main street. As you were riding down the street you passed by Hosea and Arthur. They were on their way to the saloon with a wagon full of moonshine. Hosea had dressed Arthur up in a hat and a pipe sticking out of his mouth and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. They both tipped their hats to you as you passed one another but no words were exchanged. Arthur rolled his eyes as he saw the amusement on both yours and Dutch's faces.

"He's never been one for playing dress up" Dutch remarked. "No doubt we will get an earful later" he bellowed whilst laughing.

Dutch and yourself entered the general store and sold the items for $40 altogether. He decided to buy you a broach of a horse’s head cast in bronze that you had taken a shine too. You thanked him on the way out before pinning the broach to your shirt. The two of you began your journey back to camp ignoring the noises coming from the saloon. Clearly whatever Hosea and Arthur was up to was working in their favour.

‘’Good work today Miss (Y/L/N)’’ he smiled at you as you rode side by side. ‘’I’m glad we found you’’. This made you light up. You knew Dutch was hard to please and to hear him say these things only made you feel more at home in the gang. Although, you couldn't help but think of your convocation that you had by the dock that morning. You hadn't spoken about your relationship with Arthur this whole trip, which you originally though that's what this was about.

‘’Thanks Dutch’’ you smiled at him. ‘’Can I ask you a question?’’ he nodded at you to continue. You cleared your throat and gathered up the courage before speaking up. ‘’Earlier, you said that you hope that me and Arthur don’t become a problem, what did you mean?’’ you asked so shyly that you thought he might not have even been able to hear you. You heard him take a deep breath in as you looked at the road in front of you, avoiding his gaze. The silence was deafening, the only sound was your heart racing as Dutch thought about your question.

‘’I meant no offence’’ he cleared his throat before carrying on. ‘’Things like relationships can be a hard thing with the way we live. They can get in the way and distract us from our responsibilities. As long as you know the gang comes above anything else, it shouldn’t be a problem. Keep up the hard work’’ Dutch scanned your face for your reaction. You looked up to catch his gaze before nodding. "And Miss (Y/L/N), I won't tolerate any more fighting in camp" he warned looking straight into you.

‘’I understand. It won’t get in the way’’ you promised Dutch. Although you knew he meant well you couldn’t help but feel he thought you might take Arthur away from his work or even the gang. You had no intension of doing so as you knew how much the gang meant to him, and how much it was starting to mean to you as well. It was like a family, one that you have been needing for so long.

Once you were back in camp Dutch left you to tend to the horses. You brushed the borrowed horse and the Count before feeding them some carrots as a treat. It wasn’t long before the sun began to set on another day and you helped yourself to some of Pearson’s stew. Lenny came to keep you company and sat on the log next to you by the fire. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn't interested enough to ask about your and Arthur's relationship. Lenny was the youngest in the gang but he talked as though he was the oldest. He was incredibly smart and always good company.

‘’You seen John today?’’ you asked as you scanned the camp still unable to locate John.

‘’Yeah, he has been on guard most of the day, didn’t want anyone to relieve him of his post’’ Lenny shrugged. You turned your nose up at the thought of John wanting to be on guard all day. He hated that job, he always complained that it was boring. Maybe something had happened between him and Abigail which made him want to be by himself for a while. You were about to go and check on him when you saw Arthur ride back into camp. He dismounted Siego and marched over to speak to Dutch and Micah. You and Lenny both tried to overhear their conversation without any luck. Whatever they were taking about, you could tell Arthur wasn't too pleased about it. You turned your attention back to the remainders of your stew and scraped the bowl clean.

‘’Ma’am’’ Arthur drew your attention from your bowl. He held his hand out for you to take which you did gladly. He pulled you onto your feet before taking your bowl from you and placing it in the wash tub. ‘’You ready to go?’’ he questioned, his tone was slightly irritated still by his convocation with Dutch. You had completely forgotten about going out of camp with Arthur tonight but you nodded to not irritate him further. You said your goodbyes to Lenny before grabbing a couple of spare clothes from your tent and meeting Arthur by the horses.

You rode together back into Rhodes. Arthur remained quiet for the ride, you could tell something had angered him but you didn’t want to pry just yet. Instead you decided to let him calm down. Arthur led you up to the Rhodes hotel, you glanced at him slightly shocked. You had expected to go back to the open field that you had slept the other night. You followed sheepishly behind him, trying to remember the last time you had slept in a real bed. Arthur paid for a room and for a bath each before grabbing the key and guiding you to the room.

The room was spacious, with a double bed in the middle of the back wall and a wardrobe to the side. There was a draw at each bedside with a lantern placed on each one. As it was already dark outside so the room was slightly dim lit but that didn't faze you. You gingerly walked around the room and placed your things to one side. As you passed each draw, you automatically searched through them to see if there were any leftover belongings.

‘’We ain’t robbin’ the place’’ Arthur smirked as he watched you open and close all the empty draws.

‘’I know’’ you giggled slightly embarrassed. ‘’I don’t remember the last time I stayed inside that’s all’’ you felt the softness of the bed and took a deep breath in.

‘’Well we needed to get away from camp. Thought this would be better then a cold night outside" he watched you with a smile.

"You alright?" you finally asked. "Ya seem irritated".

"Nahh it's just Micah. Thinks it's a good idea to rob both the Grey's and the Braithwight's" he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't think it's the best idea but Dutch seems to take his side" he placed his things in the same pile as yours before walking over to you and placing both his hands on your waist. You place your arms around his neck and pull him close to you for a full enbrace.

"Doesn't seem smart but I'm sure Dutch knows what he's doin'." You tried to reassure him. The truth was you thought it was dumb too. It was a small town and people talk, even with a family feud they would still know it was us that robbed from them. You let go of him just enough so that you could see his face. His jaw was tense and his eyes were looking over your shoulder, deep in thought. You place your hand on his cheek to bring his eyes round to focus back on you, just like he had done earlier. His jaw relaxed as his eyes met yours. You kissed him gently, you could feel his whole body relax when your lips met. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, as if not wanting to ever let you go. You broke the kiss and smiled up at him.

"I'm sorry, let's not talk about the gang tonight" he smirked. ‘’Why don’t ya go get a bath, I’ll get mine after’’. You nodded at him before grabbing some clothes and walking out of your room and down the hall to the bath.

You submerged yourself in the warm water hesitantly. The water felt lovely against your skin, better then washing yourself in the cold lake. You took your time in scrubbing your body head to toe, using the soap provided. It smelt of lavender and filled the room with it’s relaxing scent. Once you had finished you sat in the bath for a couple moments, embracing the last of the warm water before climbing out and drying yourself. You pulled on the clean clothes you had packed before tip toeing your way back to the room. When you walked back in you were surprised to find Arthur was not there. He must have gone to the second bathroom that you had noticed. You perched on the edge of the bed, feeling it dip from your weight. It was so soft and you couldn't wait to have a comfy night sleep. You sat there for a while before deciding to get ready for bed, it was getting late and you were begining to tire. As you rummaged through your things you realised you had forgotten your nightwear. You rolled your eyes and breathed out an irritated sigh at your forgetfulness. Instead you decided to slip on Arthur's shirt that he had given you weeks ago on your hunting trip and remove your trousers. Once, to were comfortable you climbed onto the bed laying down with your head placed on the plump pillow.

There was a knock at the door before Arthur crept back inside the room. He closed the door behind himself before finally letting his eyes find you. His mouth dropped slightly before he took a large gulp finding you in this slight state of undress. The shirt you had borrowed fell down to the middle of your thighs but both your legs were on show to him. You sat up slightly leaning on both elbows and you let yourself look over him. He was standing at the door with just his jeans on, his suspenders left to hang by his legs. You couldn’t help but gaze over him, his upper body was toned with hair gracing his chest leading a path down his stomach into his jeans. The both of you were silent as you allowed yourself to explore with your eyes. Your heart was racing in your chest and a new warm feeling began aching between your legs. You had both seen each other like this when you spent the night away from camp hunting but at that point you avoided looking over each other. This time you both welcomed each other to look. You could feel your heart begining to race as you felt his eyes wonder down your body.

‘’I wondered where my shirt had gotten too’’ Arthur said in a low tone as he slowly made his way over to you. His voice seemed to vibrate through you, making the ache between your legs worsen. This feeling was foreign to you and you began to think something was wrong with you.

‘’I may have forgotten to give it back’’ you admitted shyly, watching every step he made towards you. His shoulders were broad leading to his muscled arms that you longed to warp around you. You couldn't hide the slight shaking in your breath as he got closer. Arthur slowly sat down on the bed beside you and licked his lips. Your chest felt like it was going to burst open as he rested a hand on the bare skin of your leg, just below your knee. The sensation of just his touch sent shivers throught your body. The heat between your legs was intensifying with every passing moment and a knot in the bottom of your stomach started to grow. You slowly looked over his body and back up to meet his striking blue eyes. He didn't shy his gaze away once you met his. There was a look on his face you had never seen before. It was hungry but weary at the same time. You suddenly had a growing awareness of your need for him. You needed him to kiss you. You needed him to touch you and you needed him to relieve this unfamiliar burning feeling between your legs.

--

Chapter 13

@kashasenpai

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt 7

Part 6 - Masterlist

Part 8

This is a bit of a filler chapter, which is stupid for the ratio of original wording to in game script ratio. Next one will be more engaging, I promise. Also sorry for the long wait; I took time off from writing last week because it was my birthday, and then England swept into a second lockdown so it’s been poo trying to prepare especially in work because I process somms for small-medium businesses but whatever. No one is getting much for Christmas this year lol

****

You find, much to your relief and Arthur’s annoyance, that Sean’s chaotic charm and energy swallows everyone’s attention over the next few weeks. He’s loud, boastful and brash: The Irish Terrier as Arthur and his adopted fathers call him.

You can’t help but find his totally unapologetic nature comforting. Whilst washing shirts, you overhear him get Molly to admit she considers him no better than a chimney sweep from the local bog - and immediately crucify her for it, calling her “snotty nosed” and a “right little madam”, much to her dismay. After the weeks of dirty looks (despite little to no actual confrontation), Sean brings a breath of fresh air. With him nearby, you know exactly where you stand and whether anyone in the vicinity is plotting against you.

“Please, Y/N,” groans Arthur into his hands one evening. “Please tell me you ain’t makin’ friends with that bastard.”

“Why?” you ask, genuinely surprised. “Isn’t he like a little brother to you?”

“Yeah, but not in a good way.” He moves his hands to give you a look of despair. “What’s wrong with Lenny? Or Tilly? Or Mary Beth?”

“Karen’s fun,” you muse, earning yourself another groan.

“Always with the loud drunkards,” he grumbles.

“Mmhm, and what was it Dutch said? When you go missing he checks the saloon, and if you’re not there he checks the jail?”

“Shurrup.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his body, grinning as you protest, laughing.

“Don’t play innocent - Hosea’s been telling me stories!”

“Ahh, don’t go listening to him. He spins stories for a living, and anyway I was a kid in most of them.”

“And the stories I’ve heard from Lenny?” you smirk, still fighting despite it proving futile with you laughing so much. He growls, peppering your exposed skin with kisses as you wrestle playfully.

You cry out when a flailing limb makes contact with one of your swollen breasts. Arthur immediately releases you, watching you with concern as you try to rub out the punch without swearing.

“Y’alright?”

“Fine,” you huff. “Just sensitive is all.”

“I’m sorry - shouldn’t be playing so rough with you when you’re… in the way tha’ you are.”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” you repeat firmly, staring him down. “I’m fine. You didn’t knock my stomach, so we’re fine. Like I said, I’m just sensitive.”

He hums doubtfully.

Following a shootout with the Pinkertons and the law in the middle of Valentine, Dutch had ordered the camp out of Horseshoe Overlook and ushered you south east into the state of Lemoyne. On the other side of Dewberry Creek, Arthur and Charles had scouted a hideout chistened Clemens Point. Arthur hadn’t been the keenest to tell you that story, but you had weaseled it out of him.

Micah had recommended the dried out river bed, but when Charles and Arthur had arrived to scout it, there was an abandoned camp nearby, complete with a dead body. Whilst trying to assess the location’s risk to a group of outlaws should they move in, Arthur had moved some crates to find a woman with her two children.

“I guess I saw you,” he mumbled sadly, avoiding eye contact. “An’ the mess I might leave you in one day.”

You rubbed his shoulder patiently. “What happened?”

“I told ‘em to go ‘cause we needed the land.”

You were confused by the guilt still plaguing him and told him so. With a heavy sigh, he described how the girl translated her mother - that their father had been kidnapped and how it took Charles insisting otherwise to convince him to go look.

“So it’s really thanks to him we found this place,” he says gesturing at the open space bordered with woodland and lake.

If anything, you prefer this new destination to Horseshoe Overlook, and not just for the absence of bad memories. You love the sense of freedom swimming gives you: how it makes you weightless, how easy it is to tilt your head back and listen to the low rumble of the earth and water. You also enjoy that the road is more than a stone’s throw away here. A wanderer would have to purposely go out of their way to discover the camp, to hear the noise or see the light of the campfires. Clemen’s Point made you feel safe, even with the occasional canoe sailing by with a wave.

The new location lifted everyone’s spirits. So much so, Dutch dragged Arthur and Hosea out fishing. They returned hours later - singing and surprisingly sober - with deputy badges and a boat load of fish. Whilst the shiny badge continues to earn Arthur a lot of gib from you and everyone else in camp, Dutch insists the news is beyond fantastic.

“We are inaugurated in the local law!” he cries during one of his many speeches. “Hiding in plain sight!”

Still tired and snacking throughout your waking hours, you are relieved to find your morning sickness has passed its peak. Whilst you feel like your veins are popping out of your skin, Arthur insists your stomach is beginning to curve. You accuse him of an overzealous imagination until you try (and fail) to button the jeans from your past life as an O’Driscoll and your shirts that still fasten offer little to no breathing room.

“Think a trip to town is in order.” You jut out your bottom lip, demonstrating the distance between the buttons and their corresponding holes as your lover looks on laughing.

“I think you might be right.” You don’t resist as his fingertips tilt your chin up to plant a kiss on your lips. “Let me go see if Pearson’s got a list and we’ll head out. Think they’ll do another couple hours?”

“Don’t really have a choice,” you grumble, stealing Arthur’s worn blue shirt from under the cot. You can hear Sadie and Pearson bickering even from the edge of camp, so it doesn’t surprise you when Arthur’s tone cuts through the noise.

“-ain’t cooking work?”

Looking over, you see Arthur has taken the expostulating Mrs Adler aside. You look away quickly - there’s no reason to ruin an acceptable day by agitating her enough to start shouting at you too. Her and Pearson have been at each other’s necks since she’s pulled herself out of the worst of her depression, almost as though he has become the target of her grief.

You focus your attention on preparing the cart. A trip to town means a trip for supplies, and with so many mouths to feed, horseback wasn’t a viable option.

"How are you, Miss?"

You turn around, surprised at being addressed directly by someone other than Arthur. Seeing Kieran’s familiar pastiness relaxes you a little. As an ex-O’Driscoll himself, you trusted him the most not to stab you after Arthur and the little boy, Jack.

"Fine," you reply flatly, brushing out the tangles of the shire’s mane.

"We ain't really had much time to talk since we was in Tall Trees a few months back, have we?" You hum in response, trying not to flash any amount of flesh by moving too much. The poor boy was skittish enough. He immediately begins to help you, being the horse fan he is.

"I never even suspected a thing, Miss,” he gushes. “So I bet you anything Ol' Colm won't have neither."

"So you two were close, huh?" You barely contain the sarcasm.

He shrugs off the question awkwardly. "Which feller was you again?"

"Well I must’ve been good if you have to ask." You feed the shire a carrot, avoiding eye contact. "I was Thomas," you admit quietly. The following silence is prolonged. Doubtful.

“Thomas Donoghue?” You shrug your shoulders. “So you were friends with Paeder then?”

“Peter?” You respond coolly. “Never knew him.”

He opens his mouth as if to argue, but Arthur is marching across camp, shouting back over his shoulder to Mrs Adler. Spooked, Kieran bolts to a safe distance, doing nothing but look on as Arthur helps you up onto the back of the cart.

Acknowledging you with a sneer, the other woman takes her place on the bench up front. “So I’ve graduated from choppin’ vegetables to shopping?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth…” grumbles Arthur, reins in hand as the cart moves off. You give Kieran a small, apologetic wave farewell, but it’s difficult to contain the relief of your companions’ timing. Paeder was a private matter, and one which you had no desire to discuss out loud. You’re sure the shaky man meant no harm, but some things were better buried.

“You cooled down then, yet?” Arthur asks the widow, distracting you from your thoughts.

“I guess,” she grumbles. “And I ain’t no scullion! And I sure as hell ain’t takin’ orders from that sweating halfwit!”

You can almost hear his eyes roll. “Well I guess we all gotta do our share, princess.”

“Where’s that letter?”

“Oh, you reading his mail now?”

Sadie throws him a dirty look. “Robbing and killing’s ok, but letter reading’s where we draw the line?”

You stifle a smirk as Arthur pulls it from the inside of his coat, knowing he’s been had. “Here.”

“Dear Aunt Cathy-”

“You are somethin’ else…”

“I haven’t heard from you in some time, so I prayed to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further… bla bla bla… s’boring… Oo! Wait a sec, listen to this! Since we last corresponded, I have travelled widely, making no small name for myself.” You all laugh out loud. “Before you ask, I am still yet to take a wife, but I can assure you it is not for lack of suitors.” Arthur barks out laughing again as Sadie giggles. “He ever actually talked to a woman he ain’t paid for?” she asks in disbelief.

“Look, we’re all hiding behind something.” Whilst his tone advises the limit of fun has been reached, the smile is still audible.

“And what’s this? Return to Tacitus Kilgore?”

“Oh that? That’s Dutch’s idea. All mail to be sent to the same alias. Whenever we set up somewhere new, Strauss, he heads into town, tells them to start expecting mail from a Tacitus Kilgore or whatever they changed it to… Here, gimme that back. We got work to do.”

You all sit quietly as the cart rolls into Rhodes. The locals watch you, wary of the unfamiliar faces, but you keep your head high. Strangers smell weakness. It’s better to come off aloof and avoid trouble than to present as vulnerable and be beaten down at every turn.

“Ok, here we are.”

“So what’s the plan?” Mrs Adler points a pistol at the side of the building, squeezing one eye shut as she gauges the iron sights. “I shoot the shopkeeper, while you-?”

“No! You insane?”

“Well I thought we was outlaws…?”

“Outlaws! Not idiots!" he hisses, pushing down the gun as he looks around for any witnesses. "We rob fools that rob other people! These people- they’re just tryna get by! So you head on in there, and you buy us some food to eat. And no guns.”

“Are you sure?”

“This time.” The two of you share a look again as he helps you down. “There’ll be plenty o’ time for killin’ soon enough.”

“What are you doin’?”

“I’m gonna go check the mail, nothin’ exciting.”

Sadie shrugs and saunters off. Arthur sighs and shakes his head, touching your arm. "You gonna be alright?"

"Here's hopin'."

"Any trouble, holler. Stay outta her way best you can though, alright?"

Knowing that his concern lies with your companion's open hatred for anything remotely O'Driscoll rather than your ability to defend yourself, you nod. Blowing him a cheeky kiss, he waves back at you with a grin as you enter the general store.

"-flour, oats, salt, eggs, apples if you have them..."

"Sure, not a problem,” responds the shopkeeper as he begins to gather the goods. “Big family, have you?"

"Somethin' like that." Mrs Adler barely spares you a glance as the titter of the doorbell announces your presence. "And you sell clothes?"

So Arthur had explained to her your purpose for the journey. You're flattered, if a little bewildered at this kind gesture. From the looks she’s been giving you, you’re surprised she has buried the hatchet of your past so quickly.

"We do. Not the widest range of ladies fashion, I'm afraid."

"That's alright. I'll look at everything you got."

"Of course, Mrs…?"

"Kilgore," she smirks, turning to bat her eyelids at you. You realise then that her request is completely unrelated to you. Why wouldn’t it be? You’re not the only person that has been swept into the Van der Linde gang with little more than what you were wearing on your back. From Arthur’s story, she escaped with nothing more than her wedding ring and her nightclothes, so it’s only natural that she is also in need of a new wardrobe. "What? You don't even trust me to handle the shopping by myself?"

"You're not the only one in need of new clothes, Mrs Ad- Kilgore." You force a polite smile at the sales clerk whilst Mrs Adler browses the shelves dully. "What are the biggest sizes you have in stock? Any maternity wear by chance?"

"Ain't many women round here makin' babies," he sighs, pulling out a few options. You can feel Sadie's eyes burning past you at the pile. "You're best tryin' Saint Denis or ordering outta the catalogue. There's a tailor in Blackwater I heard is pretty good for that sorta thing, but it's quite the journey-"

"Too far for me, I fear." You flick through the pages as Mrs Adler leaves to try a few things on from the pile in front of you. Writing a quick list with estimated sizing, you purchase the largest button up shirt and skirt for sale. The trousers will have to wait for another day - you know investing twenty dollars in a pair that you'll breach the waistline of in a matter of weeks is a luxury you can't especially afford right now.

Mrs Adler on the other hand spares little expense with a sturdy pair of jeans. Finally out of the cumbersome skirts, her whole character changes and suddenly you feel the same pit of dread you did when faced with a full camp of spitting Van der Lindes all those weeks ago.

Intimidated, you step outside whilst she settles the bill. You take a short wander up the main road, taking in the familiar buildings with apathy. Who would have thought you would end up here again? Now you’re not so apprehensive about your life span, you can see how rundown this dusty crumbling town is. The few shops that are open have seen better days, and the best kept building is the bank. You feel your skin crawl as you spot the large parlour houses on the horizon. Of course this place is struggling to survive - anywhere that profited from slave labour deserved to rot. Part of you hopes it’s slow perilous march to abandonment continues: it would be disappointingly merciful to see a place be lost to one good shoot out.

“I’ve birthed foals with more strength than you!” Mrs Adler’s cursing sinks your stomach as you navigate your way back to the store where a man is helping her load the cart. “Hell, my sister’s newborn had more strength than you and he came out bright blue!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Spotting Arthur, who is strolling back himself, fills you with relief. The shopkeeper walks back to the porch, checking the list before walking back. “I think this is everything,” he says, swinging the sack of salt on the cart.

“Thanks… here, take that for yourself, okay.” She flicks a silver coin and he catches it out of the air, scowling.

“Thanks,” he spits.

“Well, give it back then! Jesus! I didn’t ask for his goddamn help..." She pushes the sack on more securely to stop it rolling off when the cart moves. “OK, get on. I’m about done here.”

“Why don’t you drive?” suggests Arthur coolly after making sure you’re sat safely amongst the supplies. “C’mon lady, get a move on.”

She scowls as she takes the reins. “I like Sadie, not lady.”

“I know. So you get everything?”

“I think so.”

“And some… new clothes, I see?”

“Don’t start,” she sighs, the heat returning to her voice. “I can wear what I damn well want. Like I told you, my husband and I shared all the work. I wasn’t some little wife with a flower in her hair baking cherry pies all day.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that. You sure look the part now. Won’t be long before you’re smoking cigars and playin’ the harmonica.”

“I’ll have you know I used to love playing the harmonica before… well… my house and everything I owned got burned to the ground.”

“I know... I’m real sorry. About what you… you know. Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for another one.”

“I don’t want no pity,” she snaps. “Just… treat me equal and know… nobody’s taking nothing from me ever again.”

Arthur hums in comradery. “Just don’t kill the camp cook…”

A horse gallops up alongside you. “Hey there! What are you folks up to?”

“Just heading home,” says Arthur casually, adding a quiet “keep it cool, Sadie”.

“You’re in Lemoyne Raider country. You need to pay a toll to pass through here.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” The hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the anticipation of conflict. You realise with a sinking stomach that you’re completely unarmed. “How about you pull over right now?”

“Pull over?” he repeats incredulously. Your eyes scan the bags and boxes around you. There has to be something here that can double as a weapon of some kind.

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey!” calls Sadie coolly. “How’s about this?”

A pistol cracks and the Lemoyne Raider cries out in pain. She ushers the horses on with a Go, go, go! as Arthur stands up, drawing his revolvers and firing. You duck down as bullets fly over your head, your hands scrambling for anything that could be of use.

“What the hell was that?” cries Arthur furiously.

“They was gonna rob us!”

“A new pair of pants and you think you’re Landon Ricketts!” He curses loudly as more men run out in the road ahead.

“I’m gonna run this son of a bitch down!” she shouts, pulling the wagon over one raider and off the road.

“Well you wanted to see some action, lady, now you got your wish!” Arthur slings his longarm from his back and shoves it in your direction as he continues to fire. You can see more men coming out from between the trees and you take aim, knocking them down one by one as Arthur clips off any extras over your head.

“You alright there, Sadie?” you shout over the gunfire. Arthur is still firing behind you, but she’s out of your line of sight from where you’re crouched behind sacks of grain.

“Of course! You think I can’t handle these fools?” You don’t retaliate and you can almost hear her voice aim at Arthur. “Told you I could shoot a gun, didn’t I?”

“I don’t remember asking you to prove it,” he grunts, tossing you extra ammo just in case. The last bastard is fleeing south down the dirt track. You take aim, but he’s out of range.

“Yeah you run, you goddamn coward!” screams Sadie before taking a steadying breath. “I think we’re good here. Nice shooting. I’ll drive us back-”

“No! Pass those reins here!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve caused enough trouble already.”

She doesn’t find grounds to argue, instead looking back at you, her face straight and unreadable. “We showed those bastards, huh?”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Arthur scowls.

“They was clearly plannin’ to bushwhack us!” she argues, facing forward again.

“You did good, but that’s a lotta mess to make near camp. Hope it don’t bring anyone sniffin’ around.”

“Are you gonna tell Dutch?” she asks mockingly.

“Maybe… if he asks. But, maybe not.”

“So who did they say they were? Lemoyne Raiders?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Who knows… Anyway, don’t you go ribbing Pearson about that letter.”

“How dare you? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Riiight, you wouldn’t…”

“I have travelled widely, making no small name of myself…”

Arthur laughs. “I won’t be giving you no mail to post any time soon, that’s for sure.”

She chuckles too. “I just wanna peak in that journal of yours. The mind boggles.”

“Not a chance…”

“You didn’t get yourself killed then, Miss Adler?” calls Pearson, strolling over smugly as Arthur pulls up near the horse station.

“Not quite,” she responds truthfully.

“Well, I’d like to say I missed your refined conversations, but I’d be lying.”

She accepts the box shoved into her chest without complaint. “I… I enjoyed myself out there.”

“Yes, we err… Mrs Adler did ok!” He holds up his arms and lifts you down gently by your waist.

“At shopping?”

“Yes, at shoppin’...”

The double meaning doesn’t go unrecognised by Sadie who thanks him with genuine gratitude.

“Don’t mention it. I would ride with you again, Mrs Adler, if you will ride with me.”

“Maybe,” she laughs. “If you prove you can handle yourself.”

“Well, they say I lack finesse, but I ain’t afraid of gun smoke.”

“We got this, Arthur. You’ve already done me a big favour today.” Turning to you with a smile, Arthur accepts the repeater you proffer. It’s best to remain unarmed for now - there’s no need to risk one of your lesser fans finding an excuse to regard you as a threat. “Okay, Miss High and Mighty. And… nice pants by the way.”

“You okay there, Y/N?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side. “You manage to find something too?”

“Just about,” you admit. “Had to put in an order. How long do you think we’ll be around here for?”

“Until we can’t most likely. Everything alright? They didn’t catch you or nothin’, did they?”

“Of course not, Arthur.” Your weak smile is genuine and heartfelt at his concern. “I’m not above shouting when I’m shot.”

“‘Course not.” He rubs your back, leading you back to your shared tent. “You gonna try them on, or what?”

“Nah, I figure I might as well make the most of still being able to fit in this stuff, even if it’s only for a few more days.”

He laughs, pulling you into a big hug. “Fair enough.”

From under his arm, you spot the rousing attention of Herr Strauss nearby. You nudge him in warning, but it’s too late.

“Ah, Herr Morgan! How are you enjoying yourself out here?”

“Well enough, I guess,” he replies gruffly. “And you?”

“Well, it turns out the pursuit of freedom is not a cheap business. Not for us, and not for some of the locals.”

“Sharking, already?”

“I prefer to call it banking.”

“You ain’t the one handing out the beatings,” snarls Arthur.

“No, but I am the one feeding the women and children in the camp,” he retorts. “What choice do we have, Mr Morgan?”

Arthur sighs. “Ah, I don’t know. Well, come on then! Tell me who…”

You stop listening as Strauss reads off a list of names, and only tune back in to hear Arthur ask how many he expects to be able to pay.

“With enough encouragement, both of them!” he chuckles, his black eyes twinkling from behind the round spectacles.

Sighing, Arthur returns to where you’re sat on the camp bed. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’d best be gettin’ on.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You stand up to kiss him. “The gang comes first.”

He grimaces at that, but doesn’t dispute it. You give him another kiss for good luck and wave him out camp before dropping the flaps, not missing the glare of bitterness from Sadie across camp.

[yeenybeanies]

Dreaming of Snakes

i haven’t written anything in a Hot Minute, so i think i need some soft cowboy to get me back in the groove :>

red dead redemption | arthur morgan & devin clarke ( oc )

1868 words

no warnings

reblogs > likes!! feel free to leave comments in the tags!!

The pitter-patter of rain on canvas should be soothing, but instead it’s a constant reminder of an unfortunate situation. Rain isn’t usually a problem so much as an inconvenience, but this rain—this rain has been droning on for three days. There hasn’t been a break yet, and it doesn’t look like there will be one anytime soon. Devin sighs, chin resting on their propped-up palm and eyes staring unfocused into the middle distance. They came to Arthur on the second day of the downpour. What a sight that had to have been.

“ Arthur—- “  the borrower croaked, peeking out from their hiding spot. Arthur’s boots squelching in the mud announced his arrival.

“ Devin? ”   Surprised, he quickly glanced behind him to check for any prying eyes and ears near his tent, then turned his attention down to the voice. they hadn’t visited in a few days, and he was starting to worry. Seeing them like this—clothes and hair dripping wet—didn’t alleviate that worry any. Arthur sat down on his bed, acting natural for the sake of discretion, but his eyes were filled with concern.

Devin shuffled out from their cover, awkward, uneasy, absolutely soaked.  “ I, uh . . . my home flooded because of the rain, and I . . .. ” they trailed off, feeling embarrassed. A borrower was supposed to take care of themself, no matter what. Yet, here Devin was, coming to a human ( again ) for help.

Arthur patted the spot next to him on his bed, inviting the borrower closer. Devin did not hesitate, quickly scurrying over and up to join him.

“ You can stay here if ya need—if that’s what you’re askin’. ”  His smile was warm. It was always warm, comforting. His hand settled lightly behind them, the radiating heat from his palm quickly seeping into Devin’s soaked form.

They were asking, though they didn’t like to. Devin’s shoulders drooped in time with their heavy sigh.  “ Thank you, Arthur. ”

“ Not a problem, Miss Devin. ”

What a sight then and what a sight now. Devin hasn’t been able to move much since coming here. They’ve occupied themself with staring forlornly into the rain, and hiding whenever any of the camp’s many members comes within twenty feet of Arthur’s tent. The downpour has subdued some of the camp activity, but not all of it.

More embarrassing than needing the shelter, though, is Devin’s inability to ( safely ) gather food and materials for themself. They were willing to venture out in an attempt to save some semblance of their pride, but Arthur has been pretty insistent from the get-go that they stay here. So here they stay, displeased, but realistic about the situation. In rains like these, there’s a high likelihood that they could get swept away. It’s hard not to feel a bit like a pet, though they know that Arthur would never think of them as such.

The day is long. With nothing to do, it feels longer. Charles visits at some point to check up on Devin, which is nice, but he can’t stay too long lest he draw attention. Nope, Devin is alone and bored out of their mind for most of their day. They aren’t used to being so . . . inactive. With the rain droning on and nothing to occupy their time, Devin’s thoughts begin to wander. Dark things come to the forefront—things they avoided thinking about for years.

Arthur isn’t the first person they put their trust into. He’s the second. The first was a vile man. He always wore an ugly snakeskin hat. He started out nice, gentle, kind—a bit like Arthur—-

No. Devin shakes their head. Arthur isn’t like that man. Arthur wouldn’t trap them and keep them, show them off to his friends like some exotic marvel. He wouldn’t.

Devin huffs. They don’t want to think on their past traumas with the Snakeskin Man.

By the time Arthur returns, the sun has sunk well beyond the horizon. It’s dark, and Devin is nowhere to be seen. The gunslinger calls out softly. No response. Odd. He checks a few of their common hiding spots. Nothing. Concerning. Arthur isn’t one to worry over nothing; normally he’d just assume the borrower ran off to handle their own daily affairs, but with the rain still pouring and all the flooding he’d seen on the ground today . . . well, he’d really rather find them inside the tent.

“ Devin? Where’re ya at? I brought ya somethin’ to eat . . ..”  He’d left some food out for them to snack on during the day, but he still thought it’d be nice to bring back some treats.

After checking a few more hiding spots, Arthur lets out a sigh and sits down onto his bed. He’s ready to wrestle with his growing worry, but a squeak to his left draws the man’s attention. Just barely visible is a small lump under the blanket––a small, twitching lump. Arthur gingerly lifts the blanket up and peers underneath. Much to his relief, he can see Devin’s little form curled up, their back to him. They are indeed twitching and mumbling though, which is unusual. It looks like they’re dreaming, and it doesn’t look particularly pleasant.

“ Miss Devin? ”  Gentle fingers reach forth and brush the borrower’s back, giving them a tiny nudge. That dream has a tight hold, though; Arthur chews the inside of his lip and tries again, this time giving them a little shake at the shoulder.

The day’s boredom took its toll on the borrower: those thoughts of the Snakeskin Man have crept their way into their dreams, poisoning their sleep with unpleasant memories. His careless hands shake them, his distorted voice yells at them, and when they open their eyes, they swear it’s really him in front of them. He’s found them somehow! 

They scream. They flail and they thrash and they scramble back from the hand, bleary eyes staring fearfully up at the bean hovering over them. That hand retreats quickly, very unlike the Snakeskin Man. Devin blinks and spares a moment to rub their eyes, clearing their vision enough to see that it’s not him, but Arthur–––

Oh, Arthur . . .. 

The gunslinger stares down at them, eyes wide with shock at their outburst. In the coming seconds, that shock turns to hurt. Devin feels guilt rush over them quickly, but they’re still trying to recover from their fright.

It was just a nightmare. This is Arthur! 

“ I–I–– ”  they stammer over the beginnings of a sentence, but Arthur cuts them off.

“ I’m–I don’t mean to frighten you, Miss Devin . . .. I was just tryin’a make sure you were okay. Here––I can––– ”  he folds the blanket down and scoots back a ways, giving Devin some space.

“ No—Arthur, it’s not—just give me a minute, okay? ”   He nods, but there is uncertainty on his face. Devin’s heart would be broken, but it’s too busy pounding against their rib cage. They breathe in and out, fighting the adrenaline.

Slowly but surely, the worst of the fright ebbs away, though Devin is still quite shaken. They run their hands through their hair to try and tame it, then look over at Arthur, who’s averted his gaze. His lips are tight, his body tense.

“ Miss Devin, I want you to be honest with me, okay? ”  The gunslinger watches them from his peripherals, but he doesn’t face them directly. There’s a quiet, guarded tone in his voice.  “ Do I scare you? D’ya think I’m gonna hurt ya? ”

Devin opens their mouth, ready to reassure Arthur, but the words don’t come as quickly as they’d like. They wouldn’t be entirely truthful. The guilt rushes back––not that it ever really left––and Devin looks down to their lap.

“ I don’t think you’re going to hurt me, ”  they say. That much is true. Arthur can and does hurt people, but he does not mean Devin any harm. This they believe.  “ However . . . ” this part is a bit harder. Devin fidgets with their hands.  “ It’s . . . difficult not to be intimidated. It’s not your fault. I promise. It’s just . . . y’know, you’re so much bigger than me, and the last bean I trusted––– ”  they shudder before they can finish that thought, eyes squeezing closed. 

They never mentioned the Snakeskin Man before. They never mentioned his name, or anything about him––or even that he was a he. All Arthur knows is that he isn’t the first human  “ bean ”  that Devin has come into contact with. He has tried to ask a little about Devin’s previous experiences––both with and without any past humans––but they’ve always been sparse on the details. Out of courtesy, he’s never pressed much, though he’s always felt a curiosity. Now, hearing this, that curiosity burns even more.

“ Y’don’t gotta tell me anythin’ ya don’t want to, ”  he reminds ( though he wishes they would ).

“ I want to, ”  they say quickly, before Arthur can try to placate them further. They scoot over and gesture for Arthur to make himself comfortable; it’s quite the story Devin has to tell.

On nights when Devin visits, it’s not uncommon for Arthur to turn off the lamps and lie down while the two of them share quiet conversation in the dark. It’s less conspicuous, and far easier for them both to talk with the height difference mitigated. It also gives Arthur an opportunity to see Devin up close––even if it’s only in faint moonlight.

Once he’s settled on his side, Devin clears their throat. There need not be any light for him to see that they’re nervous. Worry pricks at his mind.

The things Devin tells him, the abuse they recall, the trepidation in their voice––Arthur listens, silent, but stewing. He is not an innocent man, this he knows, but Arthur struggles to imagine how someone could intentionally bring harm to Devin. The mere thought threatens to send him into a rage. This  “ Snakeskin Man ”––Arthur swears he’ll gut him and skin him like a deer if their paths ever cross. 

He keeps that to himself, though. More immediately, he focuses on Devin. They’re shaking slightly, no doubt rattled from their none-too-pleasant trip down memory lane.

“ Come ‘ere, ”  he says, offering an open hand. Wordlessly, Devin leans into it, their cheek pressed to his warm palm. Arthur swears he can feel a faint dampness, like the smallest of tears. His fingers curl around them, cradling and sheltering them. What he lacks in his ability to comfort with words, he more than makes up for with his gentle touch. 

Devin doesn’t say much more, their words spent and exhausted. Huddled up in the gunslinger’s hand, though, their shivering stops.

“ Micah kinda reminds me of him, ”  they say.  “ He just needs to sound more English. ” 

Arthur snorts softly at the thought of an English-sounding Micah. He didn’t think it possible to imagine the man sounding any more ridiculous. 

“ Micah’s probably one to avoid. ”  If that snake ever did get his hands on Devin, Arthur’s sure he’d kill him.

“ Yeah. I don’t plan to introduce myself anytime soon. ”  Devin breathes out a sigh and runs their fingers idly over the ridges of Arthur’s palm. They’ve calmed down for now. Arthur, it seems, has a talent for making them feel safe, even if they are a little intimidated at times. 

“ Did . . . you say you brought back food? Or did I dream that up? ”

[fics-not-tragedies]

Stop making the eyes at me

It’s based on this gold medal worthy request, hope I didn’t went too overboard with it, because honestly and as a writer: this idea deserves a separate chaptered series, because it’s a pure gold (as I already said), so I decided to leave an open window for myself if I’ll go mad one day and decide to write it, like I don’t have enough ideas, please...

SUMMARY: Knowing Keanu for few years made falling in love with him easier. Being afraid of showing your feelings made not a single thing easier. Words:  1674; Warnings: none;

The fan was blowing the cold breeze right into your face, the heatwave that got to your town was absolutely exhausting and you still had few more papers to fill in.

A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts and you raised your head just to see Keanu leaning with his arm onto your door frame, the muscles of his arms wrapped in short, yet too tight sleeves of his navy blue T-shirt.

With a smile on his face he sauntered inside your office and you had to grab the bottle of chilled water you had by your desk to cool yourself a bit, the view of him in this shirt mixed with the hot weather was doing you no good.

“How are things going?” he grabbed the spare chair that was placed by the wall and pulled it closer to yours, before he sat onto it, huddling up inside it. He placed his elbow onto your desk and rested on it, his gaze making you melt.

“I-I- good, everything is just too… hot” including you chuckling to yourself you finished the sentence in your head, he giggled, hiding his face behind his hand.

“I just actually came here to ask you a question…” he scratched his forehead and run his fingers through the fluff of his raven hair, “are you coming to the party tonight?” the lines on his forehead became more visible, as he waited for your answer.

“Oh, I don’t think I am” you lied to him, your hands busy with the papers that were scattered all over your desk, “I still have a tonne of things to do” yet another lie that flew out of your mouth with such an ease.

Keanu just mouthed “oh” with such disappointment it torn your heart apart. He came inside your office with loads of joy and now, he’s gonna leave with sadness painted all over his gorgeous face.

“What a shame, I was hoping for a dance… with you” he added, like the statement wasn’t implementing that he had you on his mind when he said that.

“Maybe next time” a smile appeared on your face, like you desperately tried to fix his sadness with your gesture. He smiled back, but it wasn’t the sincere Keanu smile that always lights up the whole room.

“Be seeing you, then” with a shy wave of his hand he stepped out of your office.

“Be seeing you too, Keanu” you waved back at him and when the doors closed behind his disappearing figure you rubbed your temples harshly and mouthed “fuck”.

Falling back onto your chair you covered your face with your palms.

Every time you found yourself with only him in the room it never felt intimidating, he was like a waking ray of sunshine, his smile contagious. You loved how he always covered his mouth with his hand when he was laughing, it was a tiny gesture, yet an extremely cute one.

It seemed like he was always orbiting somewhere around you, no matter the place of the set you went to. Smiling and waving to you every time you passed him by. Too obvious, at least for you. That’s why you’ve never found the gut to talk to him about how you felt about him or what his smile was doing to you.

- - -

You were sitting on one of the fancy chairs they placed on the wide balcony. The music coming to your ears muffled from behind the glass doors. The wine glass you were holding was already empty, a cigarette caught between your rouged lips. After arriving at the place you said your hi’s and hello’s to everyone except for Keanu. Looked like he disappeared somewhere right before your arrival.

You remembered he wanted to dance with you and the truth was you were dying to have this dance with him, but he was nowhere to be found. Asking everyone if they saw him wasn’t a good idea, because you really didn’t wanted to hear that he left with someone else.

It was already late in the night and you were on the verge of holding your emotions inside. You knew him for few years now, you two became friends on the set of the first John Wick movie and grew closer with every month that passed by.

The floor length dress you put on was pooling on the floor right next to your feet. They probably will be covered in blisters by the next day, high heels you put on weren’t comfortable enough. But you loved how he stared at you, for a tiny bit too long, every time you made an effort and worn them to work.

Many men would just nod their head for few seconds and blurt out that you have “killer legs”, but he was more of a silent admirer type of man. Of course he told you many times that you looked amazing, his words being the ultimate praise.

Everyone around you saw the electricity flickering between you two when you talk or when you just simply were sitting next to each other, sipping iced coffee on hot days, or sharing a cigarette outside the studio.

Yet, none of you ever admitted that has feeling for the other one. Of course you noticed how his chocolate eyes lighted up every time you walked inside the room he was sitting in. When you stopped by his trailer just for a moment to discuss something, which always turned in an hour or two of talking about various things.

As for your own self you admitted many months ago that in fact you did fell in love with Keanu Charles Reeves, but you were too afraid to say to him something simple, yet stupid like “I love you”.

You were really holding to the thought that deep inside he feels about you the same way you do about him. But the magical moment of him telling you that he thinks about you not only as a friend, but as something more, never came.

You jumped up when suddenly the doors opened, thudding in their frame. It was him, in all of his suited glory, bear neatly trimmed a drink in his hand.

Keanu leaned on the door frame and lighted up the cigarette that was hanging between his lips. Taking a long drag he looked at you, “Bad habit, isn’t it?” he asked joyfully and moved closer to you.

“Everybody needs one” stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray you rose to your feet.

His eyes scan your figure as he breathes in the view of your body wrapped in the silky material of your evening dress. There’s no need to say anything, that’s why he doesn’t, the glow of his eyes says it all.

After he’s done with his cigarette he stubbs it out into the ashtray. He plays with the glass he holds in his hand, fighting with his own self. After a one final swig of the liquor he places it onto the window’s ledge.

The sounds of a new song starting came to your ears and he gently wraps his fingers around your hand, bringing it closer to his face.

“May I have this dance?” his lips caress your hand, leaving a gentle smooch.

“Of course, Keanu” the words flow from your mouth subconsciously. He wraps his arm around your waist and leads inside, to the dancefloor.

He spins you around and you giggle, the warmth of his hand placed on your back makes you shiver. Your body pressed close together, swaying in sync to the song that’s playing from the speakers.

The smell of his cologne was clouding your mind, the heat he was radiating so cozy, you could spend the rest of the night nowhere else but in his arms and his arms only.

“Isn’t the song quite… ironic, I’d say?” another verse started and it got to you to what song you were dancing.

Somethin’ Stupid. Yes, it was too ironic to be honest. The irony was overwhelming at this point, that you couldn’t do much and just laughed like the fool you were.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing I love you” he blurted out on one breath. His face was in a shade similar to the one you had on your lips.

You moved your face closer to his, “Me neither” a soft whisper left your lips.

“So are we both…?” now he was the one whose face got closer to the other’s.

“Yes!” you almost shouted, a giggle curving the corners of his mouth upwards.

“Perfect” Keanu breathed, your lips almost touching with his now. Then, his arm wrapped around your waist pulls you closer onto his body and without much effort his mouth falls onto yours.

His lips taste like the last cigarette he smoked and the glass of whisky he finished on the balcony. You waited for the moment for far too long. It was now impossible to count how many times you dreamt of kissing this man, of how his lips would taste like.

After he lets go of your hand his own wanders to the back of your neck and presses you even closer, like your bodies weren’t pressed close enough to each other already.

The song already ended, but you stopped paying attention to it few moments ago.

He draws back from you only for a moment, to drag you from the dancefloor and as you press your body against the cold wall his lips are back to kiss yours.

Cupping your face in his large hands he moves upwards to smooch your nose, then your cheeks one after another and finally he gently kisses your forehead.

“I love you” Keanu press his forehead with your, trying to get his breathing back to normal.

“Oh Keanu, how I wanted to hear you saying that… I love you too!” your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with his long hair.

Kissing your lips again he pulls you into the loving embrace of his strong arms.

[tilly-pomeroy]

Modern AU of RDR2, a flat share, the reader is the new roomy of Charles. She has unexplored feelings and hides them as good as possible. Not for too long, promised, Charles really likes her back. #female reader

*********

Charles was different than the men you‘ve known before. He was quiet, not very talkative, often caught in his thoughts, not present to the events around him.

His looks instead were quite deep and pervasively when someone talked to him or when he would tell about something important to him. His eyes would lighten up and start to gleam.

Mostly he would only sit next to a conversation and listen carefully, taking part passively.

The biggest part of his time he spent in his room, his safe space where he wasn’t bothered by others. If he wasn’t home he went on short trips into the woods where he could be completely by himself or worked in the local zoo as an animal care worker.

He loved his work and the animals company, teaching him to read their behavior and building a deep connection.

*********

Once you visited him at the elephants enclosure where he was busy changing water. Completely sunk into his work he didn’t notice you for a few minutes. You watched him work, fascinated how careful he was when he stroked over an elephants’ skin, absent-minded and tender.

His movements were smooth, soft, prudent.

The moment he detected you standing at the fence his face turned almost frightened, surprised by your presence. He brushed his long black hair hastily, adjusting his ponytail and the tiny strands falling out of it. He looked kind of embarrassed in your direction as if you made him nervous.

You just smiled and waved, trying to hide the leaps your heart made, triggered by the shy smile he gave back.

He came towards you, cleaning off his hands at the overall of the zoo employees. Which suited him pretty well, flexing and stretching at his shoulders and thighs where he was just too broad and coarse for the fabric. But you didn’t show your affection in your face, barely could hide your blushed cheeks.

“Hey, you’re early.”, he said to you slightly surprised.

“Um, yes, I left the library earlier. But don’t hurry, I have time.”

The following afternoon was so beautiful. So calm, so soothing and tender as he led you through the zoo, telling you about the animals in his quiet and yet pervading voice, reaching through your ears straight to your heart.

Each time he touched your arm slightly to draw your attention to an animal his fingers would leave a burning spot. From that day you knew you would fall in love with him.

*********

The weeks went by and you got to know each other better. Never on a romantic or sexual level. It was only friendship.

And yet you still tried to convince yourself you’d feel nothing. The lightning bolts shooting through your nerves each time he was nearby didn’t make it easier and you tried to ban them as soon as they showed up.

It didn’t get easier. He started to do small nice things for you, like bringing you coffee to your room every morning, always mindful he wouldn’t catch you without clothes.

Other small gestures followed, never big or very profusely. Still they meant the world to you.

*********

One day you are on your period, your body cramping and quivering of pain. You wear few layers of clothing, trying to keep you warm, even though it is a hot summer day.

You want to make another cup of tea so you go to the kitchen, passing by Charles who sits on the sofa reading.

He smirks at you being packed in clothes.

“Are you cold?”, he asks with a tease in his voice.

You turn around with a weak smile, your eyes near to tears of pain. His face changes from witty to startled and a little shocked.

“Oh God, are you ok? I didn’t know you weren’t feeling good...”

You can’t be mad. “It’s alright, just, you know ... women stuff.”

You are too weak to be embarrassed about your “women stuff”. Charles doesn’t react awkwardly either, looks only seriously concerned.

“You look like you’d faint any second. I doubt you’re alright.”

“I just need some tea, my hot water bottle and my bed. Don’t worry.”

It feels weird to bother him with your issues.

As if he reads your thoughts he shakes his head.

You turn to the kitchen again, your eyes fluttering from the exhaustion of standing that long. Steps get audible behind you and suddenly big hands reach around you, lifting you up like you weighed nothing. Charles carries you back in the other direction to your rooms.

“What are you doing?”, you ask suprised.

“Putting you to bed.” is the short answer.

“I can walk!”

“You shouldn’t.” His voice is calm but firm. You don’t resist.

He walks not towards your room instead to his and on your asking look he answers simply “My mattress is softer.” He must know your mattress from when you moved in and he carried it to your room to unfold.

You barely can keep up your head, so you place it on Charles’ chest, too done to give counter words.

He lays you down, bedding you softly in pillows.

“Never seen so many pillows in a mans’ bed”, you joke weakly.

He only grunts with a smile, then leaving the room for the tea.

You must’ve fell asleep so you don’t notice Charles coming back. Not until he lifts the blanket to place the hot bottle under it, making sure you won’t get burned. He brushes your hair out of your face and gets up to leave the room.

“Stay here”, you whisper. His presence is so calming and comforting.

So he sits down next to you, upright leant against the head of the bed, lightly stroking over your hair. You reach for his hand to hold and squeeze if the pain gets worse.

The sleep comes over you pretty fast.

Hours later your eyes flutter open, the first thing they see is Charles’ face next to yours, asleep as well.

His expressions are calm, relaxed, restful. Just looking at the peace on his face makes you feel better.

You rise your hand to touch his cheek, just slightly, feeling the warm and a bit stubbly skin.

He wakes up by the touch but it is not abashing. You want him to feel your hand. He smiles tired.

“Must’ve fell asleep too. Just felt so comfortable next to you.”

His voice is sleepy and deep, smooth and sweet like dark hot chocolate.

“Hope I didn’t bother you.”

“No, actually ... on the contrary.”

A shiver runs over your back realizing those words. It meant he liked your presence in his bed.

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes, I guess. Still pretty tired.”

“Just stay in bed and relax. It’s the best you can do for yourself.”

You hesitate over your answer.

“You care about me ...?” You don’t know whether it is a question or a statement.

“Of course I do.” That sounds like an answer to a rhetorical question, as if there was no doubt.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Well, there were many reasons why not, most obvious that he hadn’t known you for very long.

“I don’t know ... not many people would take care of their few months known roommates.”

“So we are only roommates?”

You can’t figure out if the question is meant teasingly or seriously.

“No, you’re not only a roommate to me.”, you confess.

“So aren’t you.” He is serious.

“But still, not many would care like that at all, no matter how long knowing each other. That’s special. You are special.”

You aren’t scared to say the last words. They’ve been on your mind for long enough and now they wanted to be spoken, showing him how important he is to you.

Instead of answering he fixes his eyes on yours, trying to guess how serious you are. You do not look away and lock his eyes with yours.

“No one ever told me I was special ...”

“I really don’t know why.”

His head shakes a little as if he tries to make sure the memory of being special to someone was secured and wouldn’t fade.

You smile softly, now a little embarrassed.

“Sorry, this got cheesy.” Your cheeks are slightly blushed.

He laughs quietly and puts one fingertip to your jaw, stroking it smooth.

“Not at all.”

His faces gets closer to yours, you feel his breath on your lips as his were so close to yours.

He breathes heavily, preparing his next words.

“I really want to kiss you right now. Actually, I wanted it since quite a while ... “ He stumbles over his words, confused, trying to overplay the words slipping out of his mouth.

You chuckle a little. He is adorable.

“Well, luckily we have the same opinion concerning this.”

You move your face forwards and close the gap between your lips, placing yours softly on his, feeling the warmth raying from them, breathing in his air and exchanging it with yours.

You feel how he is a little suprised you just kissed him so bold and reckless. He needs a second to realize your lips on his. But then he responds. Opens his lips, taking in your air and carefully, almost shy, getting your tongues together.

You let them explore each other for a while, meanwhile his hands catches your cheek and waist, pulling you closer to him and his warmth, protecting you in the big arms. Your hands aren’t staying at one place, you have to caress over his chest, arms and waist, stroking his broad back reaching up to the muscular neck and the long hair, running your fingers through the raven feather alike locks. One falls over his face and tickles softly yours.

It feels so good, so safe and peaceful, caught in his arms reaching around you, holding you as tight as possible to his body which radiates comforting warmth.

A good while later you free your lips to look at him. Like you’ve never seen it on him before his face has turned red under the softly brownish gleaming skin.

“Are you embarrassed?”, you ask wondering.

“No, dear. Just a little agitated. Kissing you is something else.”

You take it as a compliment and smile with a little mischief.

“Very cute how you get that confused by a small kiss.”

“You call that a small kiss?” He laughs.

“Yeah, maybe a little more.”

“A little, yes.” You smile at each other with feeble-minded faces, still dazed by the kiss.

Your hands do not stop to caress each others bodies, exploring them.

“You feel better?”, Charles asks, remembering the reason why you are in his bed at all.

“Better is way too understated. I’m feeling great.”

“Don’t take it too easy too soon. You still need to rest.”

“I’ll be careful, don’t you worry about it.”

“But I do worry.” He looks dead serious.

“You are important to me.” A little pause.

“I know I’m not the best at showing it and I may seem absent sometimes. But I listen every time you are talking and I would never not care over even ignore you.”

Again he stumbles. It seems like he starts to get uncertain anytime he talked longer, struggled over his words and forgot what to say, leaving him insecure.

You stop him, put a hand on his arm.

“Hey. You don’t need to explain. I noticed every time you did something for me. I always knew you listened and always was sure about your presence.”

Relief became visible on his face.

“I hoped so.”

“Do not think about any doubt, okay?”

He nods, pulls you even closer, your head against his unshakable and sturdy chest, building a safe space with his body.

You snuggle tightly at his strong torso, breathing in Charles’ subtle smell of fir wood and dark cocoa. It lulls you into sleep, your body becoming heavy, sinking in his hug.

In the middle of the night you wake up. As if your heart needed to make sure Charles still laid next to you. And he did, breathing deep, tranquil, in harmony with this dreams.

You smile languidly, close your eyes again and fall asleep. Feeling home.

*********

So, this is my first attempt of a fanfiction. Just a little bit of fluff for my soft boy.

Hope, I did Charles justice as a character! Also I am kinda insecure about my English, really hope I didn‘t screw up what I had in mind.

#charles smith x reader

#charles smith/reader

#rdr2 x reader

#charles smith

#red dead redemption 2

#fluff

#fic

#charles the gooddest of all the bois

#this soft and fluffy teddy bear

#also period stuff

#charles takes really good care

#he is so handsome I’m dying like actually look at the gif jesus

[vexedtonightmares]

La Fin Des Temps Chapter 3 (Elu Hogwarts AU)

Vendredi 18:00 - “That’s not why you were expelled, right?”

Lucas sat in the room of requirement waiting for his friends to arrive for Daphné’s meeting. If they left him hanging for this he would not forgive them. Although, as long as Eliott showed up, the meeting couldn’t be too terrible. Eliott had shown up to classes the last two days and Lucas had been surprised to see that, aside from potions, they actually had a fair amount of classes together, including charms, defense against the dark arts, and astronomy.

They didn’t really talk much in class, especially the ones that Lucas shared with his friends, but Eliott had sat next to him at each meal except dinner every day since his first day. The professors and staff were usually around during dinner, and they weren’t as lenient about students sitting at other tables. Yann had been consistently absent during mealtimes, something that Lucas was becoming a bit suspicious about, but also meant that Lucas hadn’t had to share Eliott too much. The only other person that sometimes joined them was Manon.

Lucas looked around the mostly empty room. “How many people did you say were coming to this meeting Daphy?”

She flashed him a wide smile that didn’t totally reach her eyes. “Don’t worry, more people should be here soon. You told your friends to come, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I can force them to show up,” Lucas said hurriedly, not wanting to be blamed for the fail of a meeting. So far it was only him and the girls, Manon, Emma, Imane, Alexia, and, of course, Daphné.

The door started to form on the wall and Daphné squealed in excitement, expecting newcomers. Four students walked in, fourth or fifth years from the look of it. They took seats and engaged in conversation with Daphné, who spoke animatedly. Manon came over to take a seat beside Lucas. “Bets that they’re the only ones to show up?”

“I won’t even fight you on that one,” Lucas laughed. “Where’s Charles?”

Manon rolled her eyes. “Quidditch practice. He has his first game tomorrow, against Hufflepuff. I told him that this was important, but…”

“I can’t really blame him,” Lucas admitted, “Quidditch versus… whatever this is going to be? Easy choice.”

She nudged his side. “Shut up! You don’t even like Quidditch.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s my point.” He laughed again before jolting as someone sat beside him. Yann. Arthur and Basile were with him, they all must have come in while he was talking to Manon. She got up and winked at Lucas before heading back to the girls.

“This meeting is really the place to be, huh,” Arthur said sarcastically.

“I promised Daphné I’d come,” Lucas said defensively. It wasn’t as if he’d forced them to come. Arthur just shrugged as Yann said, “I think this is a great idea, but Daphné? She’s great, but she’s a little too over the top. You should have heard Emma complain about her endless ideas for the school back when we were dating.”

Lucas shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Every time Yann brought up the fact that he and Emma used to date, he wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible. Emma knew, but Yann didn’t, that Lucas was the main reason they were no longer together. If Yann knew, Lucas wasn’t sure if he would forgive him.

“What’s wrong with Daphné?” Basile asked indignantly. He’d been trying to date Daphné since second year, with no luck so far. The boys always told him there was hope, but it was a lie and they all knew it except for Basile himself.

Daphné clapped her hands at the front of the room. “All right! Let’s get started, we have a lot to go over…”

Lucas looked around the room. A few more people had come in, making the meeting thirteen people in total. Eliott was not one of them. Lucas felt foolish for hoping that he would. Daphné kept talking about her aims to unite the different houses, but Lucas tuned her out. He didn’t even notice when someone came to sit in the seat Manon had vacated until they whispered in his ear, “Exciting meeting, huh?”

Lucas blinked and turned to the source of the voice. Eliott. He tried to hold back his smile, feeling relief pour out of his chest in a wave. “I thought you weren’t going to show up,” Lucas said quietly.

Eliott scoffed. “And miss this? The event of the year?”

Lucas laughed, drawing Daphné’s attention. “Lucas? Did you have an idea?”

“I-- uh, well, you see--” Lucas stuttered, trying to find a way to bullshit himself out of the situation. Lucky for him, Eliott was much better at thinking on the spot.

“I do, actually,” Eliott said. Daphné smiled and gestured for him to continue. “The best way to have school wide unity is by bringing a little bit of the muggle world into the school.”

Daphné looked confused. She was a pureblood, so her muggle knowledge was quite minimal. Maybe Yann was right, and muggle studies did matter more than everyone thought. “How so?” she asked, smile still plastered to her face.

“Social media,” Eliott answered simply. “Not only can we connect with each other, but also with other wizarding schools. I got nearly everyone at Beauxbatons on Instagram.”

“That’s not why you were expelled, was it?” Lucas joked quietly, seeing the corner of Eliott’s mouth quirk up in response.

“Oh! Of course… Instagram,” Daphné said, turning to the other girls in a panic. Manon saved her.

“Instagram is an app muggles use on their phones to share photos with each other,” Manon explained to the room, mostly Daphné.

“Their phones…” Daphné said to herself. “Like those things where you spin the dial and talk into them? How do you take pictures with them?”

“Daphné, I’m a pureblood and I know what a phone is,” Emma said incredulously, “The kind you’re talking about haven’t been used in years.”

“Oh,” Daphné said quietly, face reddening. “Well, how would that work? It’s a good idea, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who doesn’t know much about muggle technology.”

Eliott explained various things patiently to Daphné, as well as many others that Lucas could tell were just as confused as she was. Lucas snuck a glance at Manon, who raised her eyebrows and bit her lip to hide a smile. The two of them had secret phones hidden away in their dormitories. It wasn’t strictly forbidden to have a phone, but it wasn’t strictly allowed either. She was his only contact, but they would send each other messages sometimes when neither of them could sleep.

“If I can get phones for everyone… will you help teach how to use them? We can call it the inter house unity club!” Daphné asked Eliott excitedly, the latter of whom looked a little taken aback.

“Putain…” Eliott mumbled under his breath, before looking back up at Daphné with a dazzling smile. “Sure. Of course. For the sake of inter house unity. Speaking of… I’m staging a protest. I don’t think we should have to sit at separate house tables for meals, it only causes division, so I’ve been sitting at the Gryffindor table every day since I’ve been here. It would probably be more effective if other people joined as well, though.”

“Ah! Yes! You mentioned that… Once we get the phones, I’ll send the word out, post it on Instagram. That’s how that works, right?” Daphné asked hesitantly, desperately trying to show that she understood. Eliott nodded and she clapped her hands in approval.

“Charles already has a phone, I’m sure he’ll be able to help us with this as well,” Manon offered to Daphné, who enveloped her in an excited hug.

“Well… I guess that wraps things up for today then!” Daphné said excitedly, still holding onto Manon. “I’ll let everyone know when we have more information about the phones… maybe we can set up a workshop on how to use Instagram!”

Eliott coughed into his hand and Lucas turned to him, raising an eyebrow. The cough sounded suspiciously like he was trying to cover up a laugh. Eliott looked at Lucas innocently before returning his attention to Daphné.

“Thanks to everyone who came today! Don’t forget to tell your friends about the inter-house unity club!” Daphné’s smile was so wide that it nearly covered her entire face. The few people that were there began to stand from their chairs, chatting amongst themselves as they left the room.

Lucas shifted to talk to Eliott, but found that he had already stood up and made his way to Daphné, where they were in deep conversation. Holding back his disappointment, Lucas turned back to his friends. Arthur spared a glance at Eliott before addressing Lucas. “I didn’t know you and Eliott were friends. You never talk during class…”

Lucas shrugged. “I don’t really know if we’re friends. He just sits by me at lunch for the inter-house unity whatever.”

Arthur’s eyes widened behind his glasses as if he’d had some sort of revelation, but before Lucas could ask him what he was thinking about, Yann chimed in, “He seems cool, we should hang out with him.”

Basile nodded. “Definitely.”

Arthur looked Lucas up and down once, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Lucas wasn’t entirely sure what was up with Arthur, but he figured he could get it out of him eventually. The boys stood and made their way out of the room, Basile going on about how great Daphné looked that night while the other three of them exchanged glances behind his back. Basile and Arthur departed for their separate dormitories after a while, and soon Yann left for the library, leaving Lucas to walk alone back to the Gryffindor common room.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned to the sound, smiling involuntarily when he saw that it was Eliott. He turned around quickly to hide his smile, but slowed his pace so Eliott could catch up.

“Salut,” Eliott said as he sidled up beside Lucas.

“Salut.” Lucas smiled again, ducking his head.

“Some meeting,” Eliott continued, “Daphné sure has a lot of passion for inter-house unity.”

Lucas raised his eyebrows at Eliott. “And you don’t, idea man?”

Eliott shrugged. “I was helping you out.”

“Fair point,” Lucas laughed. “So, Instagram, huh?”

“Like I said, you weren’t doing so well with coming up with an idea on your own…” Eliott started, cutting off when Lucas laughed and nudged him gently. He smiled softly before continuing, “Plus, if we have phones, I don’t have to wait until lunch to talk to you. All of my best ideas happen when I’m supposed to be sleeping, I wouldn’t want you to miss out.”

Lucas felt his cheeks warm and hoped that whatever blush had crept across his features wasn’t too terribly noticeable. “You could talk to me in class,” Lucas pointed out.

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, you already have people to talk to in all the classes we share.” Eliott’s voice was light but there was a hint of insecurity to it.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you.” The words were out before Lucas could stop them, and his heart paused briefly in his chest as he weighed Eliott’s reaction. Eliott grinned as wide as Daphné, and Lucas’ heart restarted. They reached the point where Eliott would turn right to his common room, and Lucas to the left.

“I’ll see you, then,” Eliott said, pausing where he stood.

Lucas nodded. “See you.”

They stared at each other for a beat without saying anything. It was Eliott who finally broke the stare, turning away to walk to his dormitory. Lucas was still standing where Eliott left him when Eliott cast a final gaze over his shoulder, smiling with his mouth closed and eyes crinkled at the sides before turning his attention to the riddle he had to answer to enter his common room.

Lucas sighed, and was instantly glad he was now alone. His sigh had sounded so awed that if anyone had been around they would have vomited on the spot at its tender quality. Fuck, he couldn’t be falling for Eliott Demaury so fast. He couldn’t. Lucas was a rational person, and rational people don’t go all lovestruck after knowing a person for three days. What he needed to do was get a grip. There was a very high likelihood that Eliott had no interest in him that way, so he just needed to figure out how to be friends with Eliott without spontaneously combusting or falling for him even harder. Maybe it would be a good idea to introduce Eliott to his friends.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

AO3

[kbstories]

Finally got around to writing my part of the gift exchange with @nateobite who wished for some bottom!Charles :3c

Just For The Moment

Tags: PWP, Outdoor Sex, Barebacking, Rimming, Dirty Talk, Body Worship... I think that’s it

Spoiler warning for Chapter 4.

>>Read on AO3!

Arthur is down to his jeans when Charles pipes up from where he's watching him undress a few feet up the peer, mouth pulled into a skeptical frown.

“And you're sure he won't mind?”

With a clink of spurs, Arthur's boots are thrown on the growing pile of clothes by the lakeside. “Who, Hamish? Nah. Real relaxed, him. You'll be just fine.” Arthur pauses, jeans unbuttoned and hanging low on his hips.

“Was his idea, now that I think back on it. 's been tryin' to meet 'that feller of mine' for a while now, heh.”

Closer than expected, Charles asks, “What did you tell him?”, his hands ghosting over the line of hair down Arthur's stomach to settle on his waist. Arthur leans into Charles's bulk behind him, hums a happy note at the kiss Charles gives his freckled shoulders.

“Nothin'. Figured it out a few huntin' trips in, clever fox he is. 'Cut the crap, son', he said– Remember Hosea's no-bullshit-voice? Exactly like that.”

“Sounds like I should be worried, then. Hosea had me shaking in my boots when he gave me the talk.”

Arthur snorts, twisting his neck to catch the look in Charles's eyes, watching his lips twitch like he's trying not to smile. “The talk? Oh, he didn't–“

“Oh he did. 'Break his heart, I'll break your face', the whole thing. I believed him on the spot.” Charles shakes his head with a fond sigh. “Was a good man, Hosea.”

“The very best.”

Arthur takes a slow breath, taking comfort in the mountain air that tastes of morning dew and pines – the familiar weight of Hosea's loss curls in his chest, a little less heavy every day. “In any case”, he says, patting the back of Charles's hand in a wordless gesture to let go.

“You got a week to think of an escape plan. So, Mr. Smith, ya fancy a swim with me or do I gotta go all by my lonesome?”

Charles nudges him towards the water's edge, then, finally allowing his smile to show; it's Arthur's favorite, the one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle and his eyes glint.

“Go ahead. I'll join you in a bit.”

*

It's been years, a decade, maybe, since Arthur went skinny-dipping just for the hell of it.

The lake's clear depths are pleasantly warm, for the most part, only its very center retaining some of the perpetual chill clinging to these parts. Arthur floats aimlessly on his back, feeling a sense of peace settling into his very bones as he stares up and into the expanse of the cloudless sky. One by one, each of his worries give way to endless blue.

He feels rather than hears Charles approach, the water shifting around his swift strokes. “This is what you call swimming?”, he teases somewhere from his right, voice light, and soon after warm fingers wrap around Arthur's and tug, once.

“C'mon, cowboy.”

The midday sun comes and goes above them, and Arthur's limbs are heavy with fatigue by the time he follows Charles onto the peer. It's no longer empty but covered by an array of blankets and some pillows he must've found inside somewhere.

Arthur asks, “What's this?”, glancing unabashedly at the shifting muscles of Charles's back and ass as he makes himself at home in the makeshift nest. Charles meets his eyes and smiles, stretching languidly to let him watch his fill, utterly comfortable in his own skin.

“You said nobody comes by these parts so...” The sentence is finished with a shrug. “Been a while since we got to relax.”

“Almost forgot what it's like”, Arthur agrees and crawls into place beside him. Charles's gaze is on him, roaming over his naked body in a way that makes a warm feeling spread in his chest, down to his very core.

Months ago, it would've mostly made him anxious; now, Arthur just raises an eyebrow – Like what you see? – and Charles hums, propping himself up on his elbows to give him a kiss.

Up here, there's nothing much to do. Hamish had merely asked for them to look after his lakeside cabin while he's taking care of some things in the city, and given how oppressive things have been at camp, Arthur jumped at the chance to get away for a while.

Charles, too, looks like he sorely needed the break: lounging on his belly with his eyes closed, his face loses some of its usual seriousness, a quiet sigh leaving the corners of his mouth slightly curved upwards. Arthur can't resist playing with his hair, for once out of that tight braid and flowing in loose strands over his back, and he follows one of them all the way up to his shaved sides. “I really like this”, he tells him, palms gliding over velvety smoothness and coming away wet.

Charles blinks, looking at him through half-closed lids, mumbles, “Yeah?”, like he wants to say more but can't be bothered to search for words.

“Mhm. It suits ya.”

The sun is hiding behind the surrounding trees, shining golden patterns on Charles's skin that Arthur traces with his fingers. He comes across a few scars, some faded, some not, and gently kisses away the drops of water clinging to them. Charles rumbles wordlessly, nods at the question of “May I?” Arthur breathes against his spine, shifts to his side to allow Arthur's hands to roam over his chest, too.

He's warm under his touch, the soft give of his stomach and muscular pecs something Arthur could lose himself in for hours. Arthur felt a little faint the first time he saw him chop enough wood to keep the fires going for hours, slinging the filled bundle over his shoulder like it weighed nothing at all – but it's his inner strength, this sense of perseverance and pride in everything he does that drew Arthur in the most.

And he's all his, now. Arthur scatters kisses over Charles's shoulders, the back of his neck, lingers over the spot under his ear that makes his toes curl without fail and hums as Charles shivers under his lips. Arthur whispers, “Turn around for me, sugar”, and it's humbling, in a way, that Charles does without hesitation, legs falling open in invitation.

Arousal hits Arthur like a punch to the gut, taking away his breath. “I'm a lucky, lucky man”, he rasps; Charles merely smirks and pulls him close.

Settling between his powerful thighs, Arthur leans into a kiss that is one part heat and two parts comfort, sneaking a glance at Charles's expression and how all tension melts away under the attention. Charles kisses like he doesn't expect to get another chance, a little too intense, and Arthur lets him take whatever he needs, moaning into the urgent slide of Charles's tongue against his.

“Got all week”, Arthur reminds him, voice reduced to a husky whisper as he nips at the stubble on Charles's chin and down his neck. “Been meanin' to take my time with ya, just like this.”

“Guess that makes me the lucky one”, Charles says with a chuckle; it gets lost in a groan when Arthur licks over his nipple, worrying it until it's stiff and sensitive under his lips and Charles's hips move, grinding against him.

“Arthur...”

Putting his weight into it, Arthur pins him down, grinning as Charles's cock twitches against his. “Patience, love.” He runs his hands down his sides, presses a placating kiss to his sternum. “I'll make it worth your while.”

Arthur doesn't tease him too long, however, chasing after the soft noises Charles makes when he works his way down the trail of hair to where he's hard and wanting. Despite his lack of experience he knows Charles, knows he likes it when he takes the time to kiss and lick at his shaft before putting the crown in his mouth.

To try and fit everything inside is futile – Arthur takes enough to feel the weight of his cock on his tongue, until Charles falls back into the pillows and moans, arching into it. “Feels so good”, he praises, breathless in a way that makes Arthur's spine tingle, his own cock hanging heavy between his legs.

It doesn't take long before Charles buries one hand in Arthur's hair, the other clenching in the fabric of the blanket. He chokes out a warning but Arthur keeps him in place, groaning as he tastes the first spurt of Charles's orgasm and swallows until he has nothing left to give.

Charles slumps under his hands, laughing quietly at the kisses Arthur presses to his thighs. “Not done yet, hm? Give me a minute, my brain's not working.”

Arthur grins up at him, giving his softening cock one last peck before busying himself elsewhere, exploring the gentle slopes and valleys of Charles's abdomen and the sweat gathering there. “Gorgeous”, he mutters, tasting salt on his lips.

“Dunno how I deserve you, Charles.”

“You do”, Charles replies simply, running his fingers through Arthur's hair. “C'mere, let me kiss you.”

Crawling up, Arthur practically falls into his arms, ignoring the need thrumming in his veins as Charles draws him into a slow kiss. Home has always been a difficult thing for Arthur to define but in Charles's arms, with their lips coming together again and again, he might've found it: the place he wants to return to, always.

Here, Arthur doesn't have to think twice before he moans, “Charles”, voice full of want, and Charles hums against his lips and nods, gaze intense as he says, “Want you inside, Arthur.”

It takes a bit for both of them to get comfortable, Charles on his stomach and Arthur kneeling between his thighs, fingers slicked with some leftover Ginseng oil he found after some digging in his satchel. Rubbing a hand up and down Charles's lower back, Arthur asks, “You sure?”, chuckling as his partner merely huffs and spreads his legs a little wider.

If Arthur's patience was frayed before, it's all the more so when he pushes two inside and hears Charles's breathing hitch, exhales coming in muffled mmhs as he stretches him out. Arthur tugs at himself once or twice, cock blushed red and wet at the tip, biting his bottom lip until it stings – only after Charles gets his knees under himself to push into his hand does he pull out, kissing away the protesting whine he makes.

“Not yet”, he tells him breathlessly, matching Charles's groan with one of his own at the first, long thrust that has him seeing stars. “Fuck, Charles, so good.”

Arthur opens him up bit by bit, driving in deeper every time until his pelvis presses against Charles's ass and his length is buried in tight heat. Panting, he slows down to take in the view: Charles, on his knees and elbows, hair tossed over one shoulder and leaving his lovely back bared, muscles shining with sweat and working every time Arthur as much as shifts inside him.

Arthur whispers, “C'mere, baby”, cupping Charles's jaw to direct him into a kiss, open-mouthed and sloppy. “Takin' me so well. How're ya feelin'?”

Charles answers huskily, “Good. Full.” He nips at Arthur's lips, moaning at the hard thrust Arthur gives him. “Fuck, keep going, please–”

“I gotcha”, Arthur promises. Blindly, he grabs for a pillow to shove under Charles's hips before he flattens him against it, taking him with forceful strokes that have Charles quickly dissolving into panted moans, ah ah ah, lost to the solitude of the lake around them.

Arthur's vision goes hazy, eyes half-lidded, struggling to focus on anything other than how slick and loose Charles is for him, how every time he clenches around him, Arthur is nudged closer and closer to finishing. “Gonna come”, he slurs against his shoulder, holding himself up with one hand and clinging to Charles's hip with the other, pulling him into each move.

Charles nods, too far gone for words, opens his mouth in a silent moan when Arthur shoves himself inside and pulses, filling him up in four, five thrusts. Ears ringing, he leans against Charles and gasps for breath, caressing his heaving sides until his cock goes soft and threatens to slip out.

“Stay like that”, he mumbles into Charles's ear, scraping together the last of his concentration as he presses heated kisses down the arch of his spine. His entrance is pliant under Arthur's thumb, wet with his spend. Charles curses weakly, “Oh fuck”, voice a hoarse mess – he pushes into the curious brush of his tongue regardless, opening up for him once more.

Holding his thighs open, Arthur feels them tremble under his palms; he licks his way inside, working his mouth until his jaw aches. With how utterly sensitive he is, Arthur knows for a fact that his beard must be rough on him, rubbing against the most intimate places yet Charles sounds like he's on the edge already, panted breaths coming hard and fast.

“Touch me, please, ah–”

Arthur does, squeezing Charles's heavy cock and it throbs, dripping between his fingers. Charles comes hard, going rigid around the tongue buried deep in his ass before he collapses, sprawling bonelessly in the blankets with a whine of Arthur's name.

Short of breath, Arthur wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he answers, “'m here”, patting the closest part of Charles he can reach – his calf, as it turns out.

“You okay?”

“No”, Charles groans, then: “Yes. You broke me. I don't think I can walk right now.”

Chuckling, Arthur shuffles closer and under his arm, finally letting himself relax. Yawning, he says, “Ain't gotta be anywhere, remember?”

“Mhm.”

Despite being clearly worn out, Charles pulls him closer.

“Hey, Arthur?”

“Hm...?”

Arthur glances up, surprised by how serious his expression is. Charles cups his jaw, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone.

“You're the most deserving man I know. Never forget that.”

And despite everything it's this that touches Arthur the most, that in those searching eyes looking so deeply into his, Arthur finds only pride. He smiles and kisses the tip of his thumb, a wordless thank you.

It's all he needs to believe it, too.

>>Read on AO3!

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Destiny: Part 3

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff.

Word Count: 3,891

A/N: Series continuation of Fate.

Catch up on Fate here!

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

“And I was concerned that we wouldn’t have enough room.” You said as you pushed your massive stroller with your eight sleeping pups in it into Charles’ unused ‘summer home’. You looked up at the stunning vaulted ceilings of the late 1600’s mansion as Wanda stopped with her stroller, beside you.

“We have eleven, soon to be twelve kids here, Ms. Barnes. It’s gunna be crazy.” You glanced over at her with a smile at the use of your new last name. While it was probably one of the most unromantic weddings of all time, after four years of being together, you and Bucky had tied the knot that morning between you packing your bedroom and trying to keep your pups out of their rooms and your new husband breaking down eight different kids beds with Sam and Steve to put in one of the many Quinjets that SHIELD owned while Natasha, Pepper and Tony packed bags upon bags of clothes, toys and necessities.

“And I though we were living fancy at the facility.” Aaron teased as he pushed his stroller into the foyer as your three Alpha’s and the rest of the Avengers began unloading the three jets it took to get you all here.

“Ms. Barnes?” You glanced over and nodded as a young man in a wheel chair and a younger man came down the hallway toward you. You nodded at him as a smile spread across his face. “These must be the gifted youngsters we’re protecting.” You smiled as you looked at your adorable pups.

“These would be them. Thank you so much for helping us.” The Beta paused at your side and took your offered hand.

“Oh, it most certainly is my pleasure. This is Hank.” You smiled at the other man, another beta that had a slight hint of Alpha to him, who looked to be about your age and shook his hand. “Now. The house should have more than enough rooms for all of you. Six rooms up stairs, seven down. Three bathrooms up and five down. It was all modernized about five years ago when I needed to hide myself and a friend of mine here. Follow me.” You nodded and pushed your massive stroller after him. “You have a lift down here. And at the ends of all the hallways, you’ll see a small silver door. It’s for the laundry, which is in the basement.” He said as the three Omega’s (not including Steve who was helping your husband carry in bags of clothes) in your group followed him.

“Also in the basement, there is a screen room, a small weight room, a heated pool that is behind a lockable door, and a garage with a collection of vehicles ranging from a 1932 Ford Sedan to a 2012 Chevy pick up truck. You’re more than welcome to use any of them; however, please remember to drive on the left side of the road.” He paused at the end of the hall and turned toward you with a smile. “We don’t need to have you getting into accidents, now. There’s also a bowling alley. My great, great, great grandfather was a fan though I never saw the appeal.

There are three master bedrooms; the fourth was partially turned into the elevator and the rest was closed off but we kept the bathroom. You’ll find one master here, one directly above it and the third down that hallway and to the left.” You turned around to look past the growing pile of stuff in the entry toward the hall he was pointing down.

“There is a kitchen half way down that hall on the left and a dining room if you continue through the kitchen. I’ve taken it upon myself to remove any important heirlooms and stored them in the attic so don’t worry about breaking anything that’s still out. It can all be replaced.” You glanced back at him and nodded as he gestured for you to head back toward the foyer.

“If you go past the main staircase, there is a living room that is big enough for all twelve of your pups to run around and be children. And the stairs to the basement are behind the main staircase.” He glanced up at you with a smile as he paused at the foot of the stairs.

“There is also a house in the garden where the staff live; two maids, three gardeners and a butler that is frankly older than dirt but has been with my family nearly as long as I’ve been around. But fear not, his niece, Karen, covers the slack he misses. If you need anything at all, let her know. She’ll also take care of shopping temporarily so we don’t draw too much attention to the fact that you’re here while we figure everything out. And if you have any questions, please do not hesitate to call me, day or night.”

“Thank you, Charles.” You said as you reached out and took his hand. You squeezed it gently as your eyes teared up the slightest bit. “I don’t know how we could ever repay you.” He squeezed your hand back and shook his head.

“You enjoy your life with your pups. That’s how you can repay me.” You huffed a laugh and nodded at him as a lone tear slipped from your eyes. “Now, go get settled in. Getting your pups used to the time zone change is going to wear you out since the sun rises in a little over an hour.” You nodded at him and glanced back at Wanda and Aaron.

“How should we split up the…”

“Well you’re obviously taking up stairs with your massive family.” Aaron said with a yawn as he leaned on his stroller handle. He looked up at Wanda through his lashes and shrugged. “Which hallway do you want?” She shrugged and looked at the two options.

“I guess that one.” She said as she pointed to the hall with the kitchen in it. “Contain the sound of a newborn.”

“Works for me.” Aaron said as he stood up a little straighter. “I’m going to put these two in bed and start unpacking.” You groaned and looked back at the ever growing pile of stuff in the front hall as Bucky and Steve came in the Mason and Faith's toddler beds.

“Where are we putting these, ‘mega mine?” Bucky asked you. You sighed and pointed down the hall after Aaron. “Buck, you’re coming upstairs with me and Steve, you follow Aaron.” The two of them nodded as you turned away from Charles and Hank and headed down the hall to the elevator. “We have six rooms available to us upstairs. Wanda and Aaron have seven to split.” You paused at the elevator and looked back at him as you pressed the button. “How do we split up the pups?” Bucky sighed and put his arm out into the door as you pushed the stroller into the surprisingly large metal box.

“Well Emma and David aren’t gunna like being split up. And neither are Grace and Tessa.” You nodded at him as he pulled the parts to Mason’s bed into the elevator beside you and pushed the second floor button.

“Mason, Ryan and Allie are old enough to get their own rooms.” You said as you glanced at your sleeping pups.

“Put Caleb in with Mason?” You nodded as the doors opened on your floor.

“We’re right across the hall.” You said as he stepped out of the elevator. You followed him out and put the stroller in the middle of the hall. “So lets do the twins here.” You said as you pointed to the room right next to the elevator. “Grace and Tessa next to them. We’re gunna need to get gates up here.” You said as you both walked past the stairs and down the rest of the hallway. You glanced in the three remaining rooms and pointed at the one on the left. “Put Mason and Caleb in here. They are both heavy sleepers and the baby is gunna be under them. Put Allie across the hall and this one will be Ryan.” Bucky nodded at you and stepped into Mason’s room to put his bed down.

“I’ll bring all our stuff upstairs. Get the pups to bed, Omega.” You nodded at him as he came over and kissed your forehead. You felt his lips pull into a smile as he pulled back to look at you. “Get some sleep, Mrs. Barnes.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Be quick, Mr. Barnes.” He nodded and gave you a chaste kiss.

“I will, ‘mega mine.” With a nod, you both headed back toward the stairs but where you kept going, he headed back down to finish unpacking the jet. You heard Caleb start to fuss with a bad dream and you headed over to get the stroller into your room.

Your nose curled at the unfamiliar and thankfully faint smell of another Alpha as you turned to get Caleb from the stroller. You ripped the blankets from the bed laid him in the middle and immediately grabbed Mason to calm the first pup down. One by one, you laid the pups down in the order they always found themselves in on your bed as Bucky and the team carried bed after bed after bed and bag after bag of stuff to their respective rooms.

With a sigh, you looked around the massive master bedroom. It was at least twice the size of your one in the facility and you were pleasantly surprised with the fireplace along the wall. The pile of blankets caught your eye and you headed over and scooped it up to wash when the pups woke up.

“Guess we’re living the high life, aren’t we babies?” You asked softly as you headed out into the hall to find the laundry chute. With a little pushing, you shoved the blankets down the chute and headed to the stairs to see if you could find your blankets from home for your pups.

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

“Alpha, have you seen the pool floats? No, David. Come here, baby boy.” You laughed as you tried to get your last pup into his swim diaper. They didn’t have the opportunity to go swimming much back at the facility since there were usually some of the staff that lived on the property there and you never wanted to disturb them with eight, rambunctious pups.

“They’re already down stairs. I got the towels down there, too.” You glanced up at him with a smile as you pulled the last diaper into place. With a nod, you got up and smiled at Bucky.

“Such a good husband.” He smirked at you and gave you a chaste kiss.

“Come on, ‘mega. Let’s go swimming. Let’s go kids!” You heard screeches come from the rooms down the hall and the sounds of awkward, kids footsteps running toward the elevator. You ushered David out of the room and toward the elevator since you were absolutely not taking your pups down the stairs. You held the elevator door open as you counted children while they started in on the chorus of ‘I wanna push the button’.

“Daddy is pushing the button.” You said as Bucky picked up Grace and carried her into the elevator. He quickly hit the button as you stepped into the metal box with a sigh.

“Are you having fun with eight of them yet?” He teased as he set Grace down on the floor. You rolled your eyes as the elevator stopped on the first floor.

“Guys, scoot back for Uncle Aaron and Uncle Max.” You said as you and Bucky corralled your kids as far back as they could go.

“Who’s ready to go swimming?” Aaron cooed as he headed into the elevator with Hope on his hip. You smirked at him as your pups all cheered and jumped in the elevator.

“No jumping!” The four adults said as Max set Faith down on the ground.

“Floats down there?” He asked as he leaned against the wall by the door. Bucky nodded as he gestured to the square bag you didn’t realize Max had.

“What’s in the bag?” Max smirked as he pulled open the top. You glanced down and rolled your eyes at the bottles of beers that were next to the kids juice boxes and your wine coolers.

“Great parenting.” You joked as the elevator came to a stop in the basement. You and Aaron both instinctively put your arms out and looked at your suddenly silent, attentive pups.

“No running.” Aaron said as he looked pointedly at Caleb.

“We walk to the pool or we sit in time out, OK?” All ten pups nodded as Max and Bucky slipped out of the elevator and held the door open. With a collective nod, you stepped out of the elevator. Your pups all power walked like the floor was on fire to the open pool door, where you could already hear Vision and Pietro playing in the water.

“Walking!” Bucky called out as he and Max took wide strides to get in front of the herd. You and Aaron both sped up to help get the kids into their rafts and life vests, which was always a process. As you rounded the corner, choruses of ‘plane’, ‘duck’, ‘horse’ and ‘doggie’. Echoed off the tile walls.

“Alright. Have some patience.” Bucky laughed as he grabbed the giant basket that you had thankfully insisted on bringing. You moved around your pack to the pool’s stairs as Bucky started passing you the life vests for your older three; Allie got a pink princess one, Ryan was green frogs, and Mason was blue boats. As those three swam off, Bucky passed you David’s plane, while he put Emma in her duck in the pool. Tessa was next in her doggie, Grace was after that in her unicorn ‘horse’ and lastly, Caleb in his car.

“Now frolic and be free.” You said as you pushed Caleb a little deeper into the water so he didn’t splash Wanda on the stairs.

“How do you keep them all straight?” She asked as you pulled off Bucky’s shirt you had on as a cover-up and stepped into the warm water. You smiled at her as you pulled Emma back over to you since, for what ever reason, she was afraid of the pool but not water in general. You assumed it was because she couldn’t touch the bottom.

“Three years of practice.” She smirked at you as you gave your daughter your finger to hold so she felt safe. “It’s not that hard, honestly. I mean, you know what Pietro’s favorite toys are, right?” She nodded you and you both cringed away from the splash when Faith jumped in right beside you. Max scolded her and said he was sorry as he walked into the pool with his beer held above his head.

“Well, it’s the same thing. Trial and error when it comes to multiples. You buy a boat load of rafts and let them pick. If two of them pick the same one, instead of causing a fight, you put that one aside and have them both pick again.” She shook her head and laughed as Bucky came in the pool with a wine cooler for you.

“It’s chaotic as shit.” He chimed in as he handed you your drink. “I was unbelievably lost after the pups were born. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Shit, I spent seventy years completely alone and suddenly I was responsible for three, then five, then eight other lives? And one pup likes dogs but is terrified of the unicorn and the one that looks identical to her is the exact opposite and another pup wants to fly a plane but if you put him in the car he screams for hours. Like my wife said, it’s all trial and error and learning your kids.” You smiled up at him and giggled.

“You like saying that, don’t you?” He nodded at you and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“And you’ll hear it every day of your life, too.”

“Daddy, jump!” With cat like reflexes, you snagged Bucky’s beer and moved Emma behind you with your elbow as he turned to grab Grace just above the water so she didn’t get her face wet to avoid a melt down. You shook your head and told him to move it down the pool as you set his beer down on the side of the pool and pulled Emma back in front of you.

“You just get used to your spawn.” You said as you moved over to sit on the stairs to keep an eye on your pups. “No matter how many of them there are.” Wanda nodded at you and laughed as you both watched Max help your and his kids out of their rafts and on to the side of the pool so they could jump to Bucky.

“Do you want any more?” She asked as she rubbed her hand over her bump. You and Bucky both quickly said ‘no’ as you held on to the far edge of Emma’s duck float so she didn’t fall into the pool while she played with the water.

“Eight pups and two nieces are plenty. Besides that, we’re not entirely sure I can have more.” She looked over at you as Bucky glanced over in your direction while putting Tessa in her dog raft so she could wait in line in the pool to jump again. It was actually something you were both slightly concerned with but tried not to focus on too much.

“What do you mean?” You shook your head and glanced at Emma before looking at Wanda.

“I was supposed to get my tubes tied when I had the last litter.” You said softly. “But we decided not to. If we’re supposed to have a big family than that’s what we’re gunna do, ya know?” She nodded at you as Aaron came over to join in the conversation. Since he was basically your brother, he was the only person other than Bucky and Bruce that knew about your medical issue. “Well, for some reason, my heats never came back like they did with the first two litters. And neither did Bucky’s ruts.”

“Oh, my God.” Wanda gasped softly as her hand flew up to her mouth.

“We have faith though.” Aaron said as he reached out and touched your arm as you took a long swig of your drink. “It’s all going to work out, right boo?” You smiled at him and nodded as Emma slapped her hands on the water and burst into a peel of giggles.

“Good timing, pumpkin head.” You said as you tickled her side. She laughed even harder and splashed at the water some more. You let her play as you stood up from the stairs and moved her deeper into the pool, forcing yourself to push your worries away and enjoy being mommy to the pups you were blessed with already.

——

“Do you think something’s wrong with me?” You asked softly as you and Bucky got ready for bed. You had gone so long without thinking about your problem but since Wanda brought it up that morning, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Bucky quickly turned around in the closet to look at you and shook his head.

“No, ‘mega mine. There is not a single thing wrong with you.” You tried to hold it back but tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip began to quiver. He dropped the shirt he was putting on and came over to where you were sitting on the end of the bed. His hands slipped under your arms and he lifted you up off the bed. He shushed you softly as you wrapped your arms and legs around him.

“I’m a bad Omega.” You sobbed as you buried your face in his throat. Tears welled in your Alpha’s eyes as he brushed his nose over your bond mark.

“You are not a bad Omega, (Y/N).” He said as he tried to calm you down. He sat down on the bed and held you close as his heart broke for you. “You, are the best Omega I have ever seen. You are strong… so damn strong, doll. You’re a mommy to eight pups, sweetheart. Not all Omega’s can do that.”

“I know.” You sobbed as you reached up and curled your fingers in his hair.

“And now you’re a wife. And I am so, so proud that I get to be the Alpha to call you mine for the rest of my life.” You nodded against his throat as he placed gentle kisses across your shoulder. “You know what we need?” You shook your head as he slid his hands up your spine and pulled you back by your shoulders so you would look at him. He smiled weakly and reached up to brush your tears off your cheeks. “We need to go on a honeymoon. Just you and me.” Your face dropped at the suggestion but Bucky keep talking.

“We can call Natasha and Steve. Have them come stay with the pups just for a couple days. They’ll have Max and Aaron here to help them and they’ve watched the pups for date night in the past.” He cupped your jaw in his warm hand and smiled. “We have a lot on our plates every day, baby. And with this move and the registration thing happening… maybe what we both need is to just relax as a couple where we don’t have to worry about our pups every second of every day. Where we can sleep for more than four hours a night and take a shower that lasts longer than two minutes.” He chuckled as he brushed his thumb across your cheek. “Where we can actually sit down while we eat our meals and be able fall asleep in each others arms without one or all eight pups between us.”

“Mommy?” You huffed a laugh as you and Bucky both turned to look at Caleb and Mason standing in your door. “Caleb had a nightmare.”

“Come on, babies.” You said as Bucky helped you off his lap and onto the floor. You wiped your tears away as you both helped a pup up onto your bed. As you snuggled them under the blankets, you glanced over at your husband and nodded. “Two days.” He smiled and nodded as he turned off the bedroom light, climbed into bed and reached for your hand. You laid them comfortably on your pups stomach as the two boys curled up against each of your chests.

“I’ll call Steve tomorrow.”

[barpurplewrites]

Anticipation

@a-monthly-rumbelling Smut Prompt: stilettos/high heels, party, dirty talk

Rumbelle Non-magical AU Secret Dating.

-x-x-x-

Belle and Ruby arrived at Jefferson’s house wrapped in long coats that were more suited to winter than this balmy summer’s evening. Gold’s Cadillac was parked on the drive already, as they hurried by Ruby said; “I bet Gold is dressed as the Narrator.”

Belle gave a non-committal hum in response. She knew for a fact that Gold was dressing as the Narrator, she’d helped him choose the costume. She would have told Ruby that, but they had decided to keep the change in their relationship status to themselves for a while.

Ruby grinned at Belle as she rang the doorbell, “You ready?”

Belle thought about what she was wearing under her coat, as slight smile tugging at her lips as she imagined Gold’s reaction. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The door opened slowly to reveal Jefferson in a perfect Riff Raff costume he drawled; “Good evening,” and then looked them up and down, “I hope there are costumes under those coats ladies.”

Ruby toyed with the lapels of her coat; “Let us in and you’ll find out.”

Jeff grinned and waved them inside. He pointed to a long rack that must have come from his tailor’s shop, “Coats can go there ladies, we’re in the ballroom, plenty of time to get a drink before we start the film.”

Belle and Ruby peeled off their coats to appreciative sounds from Jeff. Ruby was in a French maid’s outfit making her a very tall Magenta. Belle was in plain white underwear complete with torn slip as Janet Weis. Ruby gave Jeff a twirl and held her hands up to Jeff who responded with the fingertip to elbow handshake that Riff and Magenta share throughout the film.

“This way ladies. The Master is having one of his affairs.”

Belle felt a thrill of excitement as Jeff threw open the doors of the ballroom. It looked like everyone had come in costume. Amid the crowd Belle had no problem spotting Anton who was amazing as Eddie, complete with a sax slung over his shoulder and a scar across his forehead. Ruby pointed out Robin and Regina who were wearing Brad and Janet’s finale costumes, although she did tut that Robin had opted to walk around in stocking-feet rather than brave the high heels. The more conservative guests, like Mary Margaret and David, had gone for the tailcoats and bright waistcoats of the unconventional conventionalists. Jeff had kept the decorations to a minimum, allowing his guests costumes to create the atmosphere.

Ruby bounced on her toes and squeezed Belle’s arm; “Isn’t this wonderful?”

“Oh yeah, but I need a drink before we attempt the Time Warp.”

Jeff waved an arm in the direction of the bar and twirled away to check on the projector. As they approached the bar Gold popped up from behind it, clutching a bottle of scotch. Belle gave him a shy smile, which he returned. He really did look stunning in that impeccable smoking jacket with a cravat knotted around his neck. While Ruby was busily checking out the vast array of alcohol Jeff had provided Gold blew Belle a kiss and mouthed ‘You look wonderful.” Ruby turned to her holding two bottles of beer, Belle nodded at her choice and Gold handed Ruby a bottle opener.

She cracked the tops and grinned at him; “Opted for the Narrator tonight, hey Gold?”

He shot Belle a sly smile and nodded at Ruby; “Ah, yes, after a fashion.”

He stepped from behind the bar and leaned casually on a much longer cane than he normally used. Ruby let out a low wolf whistle. Belle’s jaw dropped, this was not the costume she had helped him pick out, well half of it was, but the rest; Belle licked her lips, oh my. From the waist up Gold was respectably dressed; he wouldn’t turn a head on the street even if he was walking by the convent. From the waist down he had fully embraced the spirit of Frank N Furter. Belle’s eyes roved over the classic black suspender belt, the fishnet stockings and the very impressive black glitter high heels. Ruby nudged her in the side and Belle realised that she’d spent several long seconds openly staring at the snug black briefs that were covering Gold’s cock. A blush raced to her cheeks, when she looked up at his face he was smirking at her with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

Before she could say anything Ruby suddenly groaned and loudly said; “Hi Gaston.”

Belle and Gold turned in time to see Gaston strutting across the room. Belle took a sip of her drink to stop herself laughing out loud. Gaston was dressed as Rocky  in a gold speedo and not much else. Charles Atlas might have approved of Gaston’s well-muscled frame, but Belle found the sight slightly nauseating, although that was probably because she knew what a pompous, slime-bag Gaston was. He barged past Gold and planted himself in front of Belle.

“Ah Belle! I see you’re Janet, want me to touch-a-touch-a-touch you?”

His hands were already moving forward as if there was no doubt of her positive response. Belle snorted and stepped back putting as much distance between her and Gaston’s oily hands as she could.

“Gaston, I don’t like men with too many muscles,” She locked eyes with Gold, before pointedly looking at his groin, “Just one big one.”

How Ruby was holding in her laughter at the dumb look on Gaston’s face Belle would never know, she linked arms with her friend and the two of them started to stroll towards the seating area. As she walked past Gold Belle gave him a smile; “Time Warp with me later?”

“I’ll do my best.”

As Gold watched the ladies walk away, Gaston huffed and glared at him.

“But you don’t have any muscles!”

Gold rolled his eyes and tapped his finger to his temple; “I’ve got the one that counts.”

He walked away from the very confused Gaston, who finally shrugged, “Brains aren’t muscles, huh must be a librarian thing.”

 Gold was drawing a fair amount of attention as he made the rounds greeting people, so Belle’s own gaze was pretty well camouflaged. That smoking jacket had been an excellent choice, it was short enough to sit nicely above the suspender belt, and give her a lovely view of his bum. She was idly thinking about giving that pert arse a nice slap later when she heard Mary Margaret say Gold’s name.

“He’s so much more relaxed lately, don’t you think? I mean I thought seeing him smile was a shock, but I never expected to see him like this!”

Ruby leaned forward and whispered; “Do you think he’s getting laid?”

Belle managed not to splutter on her drink, but it was a close call. Mary Margaret hummed as she considered Ruby’s suggestion.

“Maybe, but who? You know him better than anyone Belle, who do you think he might be knocking boots with?”

Belle was hyper-aware of the odd look Ruby was giving her. Thankfully before she had time to answer Jefferson called out; “Movie time!”

Mary Margaret clapped her hands and bustled off to find David. Ruby smirked at Belle; “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about this Belle, I can tell you know something juicy.”

 Belle could feel Ruby’s raised eyebrow as Gold took the seat next to her, but she ignored it in favour of asking him; “Can you dance in those shoes?”

“Just about, I might need a little support.”

“Oh I can manage that, you know I never mind a bit of hands on assistance.”

Gold coughed at her reference to their Time Warp lessons where dancing hadn’t featured much.

“Yes, I recall that you nailed the pelvic thrusts.”

The lights dimmed and Belle took the opportunity to lean in and whisper in his ear; “As I recall you nailed me.”

She twanged his suspender strap and turned her attention to the film. The atmosphere was rowdy as everyone was shouting out the audience participation lines and singing along. As the Time Warp neared people began to stand up and move onto the dance floor Jefferson had set up for this purpose. Belle took Gold’s hand and the stood up, but stayed close to their seats. During their practise sessions they had found that as long as he missed out the jump to the left he could get through the rest of the dance without too much difficulty. They stood facing each other just in case Gold needed a steadying hand. Belle took another lingering look at his outfit and bit her lip.

“You look so sexy.”

He ducked behind his hair and smiled shyly. Belle loved that little gesture, she was tempted to grab him and snog the living daylights out of him, but the Jefferson hollered Riff Raff’s line and the Time Warp started. They got through it with only a minor wobble, but by the time Columbia’s solo started Belle could tell from Gold’s face that his ankle was paining him. She sat down and nodded for him to do the same. He eased into his seat with a wince.

“Sorry sweetheart, it’s harder with the heels.”

Everyone else was still dancing, Belle licked her lips; “Is anything else harder with the heels?”

Gold gave her a wide-eyed grin; “Well, yes. I was hoping you’d give me a hand with that later.”

“Want me to oil you up and rub you down?”

They’d been edging closer and closer to each other as they spoke, now there was only a tiny gap between them. Gold sighed; “Yes.”

Their lips met and they totally forgot that they were in a room full of their friends who had no idea they were dating. Ruby spotted them first and let out a shriek that alerted everyone else. Belle sighed and pulled her lips away from Gold’s, letting him hide his giggles in the crook of her neck. She grinned at Ruby, who was whooping up a storm. Somebody called out; “Get a room!”

Everyone watched as Gold whispered something to Belle and she answered with a rapid nod. The two of them stood up and hand in hand hurried out of the room. Mary Margaret asked; “Where are they going?”

Jefferson sighed; “Oh, Gold is staying here tonight, so I’m guessing they are heading to the guest room. Which is directly above us. Does anybody mind if I turn the sound up a bit?”

[kbstories]

Uhhh so... RDR2, huh? I’m very excited about Charles. Here’s a fic.

Only Lost The Night

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Violence, Choking, Cowboys being SOFT

Minor spoilers for Chapter 3, specifically the mission “Magicians for Sport”.

>>Read on AO3

>>Second Chapter

Arthur Morgan is no stranger to sudden, violent escalation.

One moment, you're quietly observing golden beams of light spill over the far horizon as the sun rises from her slumber; the next, you're pushing your horse to the limit, chasing your own shadow across the plains, with gun fire behind and a long run ahead. It turns out shit creek is very much a real place – and whoever holds the universe's reins loves to send Arthur up all the way, no paddle, not even a damn boat in sight.

Which is why, when rough hands tear him off his saddle and his neck burns under the coarse scrape of a rope, he's not exactly shocked. Surprised, yes – even after the week he's had, it'd take a stone-cold, dead heart for it not to skip a beat or three – and yet.

Yet, Arthur clings to the ever-tightening noose, to that crucial inch of space he pried free with bruising fingers and the fractions of a breath he can draw, blinks past the black spots in his vision and catches sight of worn blue–

Suddenly, the sounds of a world gone dim return in an overwhelming rush, and Arthur holds his throat, gulps in precious air through the mix of pain and hazy panic clouding his brain.

“Arthur? Hey, hey, easy. It's me.”

Charles, Arthur recognizes, deliriously; without conscious thought, his body slumps, almost limp in the grip of strong, steady hands and a touch grown so familiar over the past months.

“That's it, breathe. You with me?”

“Yeah”, he says– wants to say, but the word rattles between his lungs and his mouth and loses its vowels. Fuck, his neck hurts. Still: Arthur meets the calm steel in Charles' gaze, and the ghost of a smile on the other's lips sets Arthur's rabbiting heart at ease more than he cares to admit.

It seems like mere moments later that Charles slides his arms under Arthur's and pulls – “Come on, up you go. Trelawny's waiting” – and Arthur sways, near-drunk with vertigo. He swallows in a failed attempt to wet his scratchy throat.

“'m up, 'm up.”

Once his legs are somewhat firm and less akin to a young colt's, Arthur kicks his downed assailant in the face, taking some satisfaction in the dry snap of bones under his boot. “Fucker got m'good”, he spits. The hot flare of anger in his stomach momentarily distracts him from his woozy mind.

Behind him, Charles is dusting off a hat against his thigh. Holding it out to Arthur with a mumbled “here”, he shrugs. “Happens to the best of us. I'm just glad I got to you in time.”

A little smug, and touched by fondness. Arthur hums a grateful tune and pulls the brim of his newly-regained hat lower, feeling less vulnerable in its shadow.

He should've realized, then and there, that a gesture of kindness is like pulling a trigger – it shifts the course of fate just so, and things will never be the same again.

*

Dying embers flutter into sparks at the touch of brittle wood. Arthur plants his ass on a pair of folded shirts and scoots as close as he dares to the meager flame flickering to life in the dark.

Around him, the camp breathes in loud snores and the snorts of grazing horses, falling into cadence with the chirp chirp of the first stubborn crickets – a comforting song reaching decades back and, usually, it guides Arthur back to sleep better than any lullaby he knows.

Usually, his neck doesn't hurt like a motherfucker, and things as basic as eating and drinking and breathing come easy. Usually.

With the tip of his boot, he pushes the log further into the smoldering coals, silently willing it to catch properly. Even this far south, the winter's chill still clings to the early morning hours. “Fuck off”, he grumbles quietly, and squints up at the moon as if she's to blame for any of this.

He didn't think of putting on a jacket, or even bringing his sorry excuse of a blanket. Arthur sighs, deeply.

“Might want to consider lightening up a little. You're starting to look more miserable than Swanson.”

A warm weight lands on Arthur's lap. Sheepskin, fleece intact and clean. Arthur huffs, “Don't think that's possible”, and ignores the sting in his throat. He draws the pelt around his shoulders, nodding once at the outline of Charles in the faint firelight.

“Thanks.”

“That's more like it.”

“Also, bite me.”

“You're welcome.”

Arthur meets Charles' raised eyebrow with a small smirk and pats the tree stump beside him. While he gets comfortable, Arthur throws another scrap of wood into the fire, and watches it glow bright with heat for a while. Finally, the tell-tale crackling gains strength, and smoke starts rising in an uneven haze. Arthur tries not to cough, fails, grimaces as it pulls at the sore muscles of his neck.

"This whole gettin' choked to death business? 's really no fun–"

The brush of careful fingers against his jaw is unexpected and anticipated at the same time, like the logical solution to a puzzle left unsolved for too long. Before he's fully aware of it, Arthur trails off, holding his breath, holding utterly still to stop himself from leaning into it.

Charles draws back a little. He rumbles, “Let me see?”, voice low. Hesitant, for the first time since they've met.

Arthur opens his mouth, 's not that bad, the words are on his tongue. He clenches his jaw shut, tilts his head back, and hopes the dark will hide how fast his pulse is going.

Charles' touch is feather-light, barely putting pressure on the bruised and swollen mess that is his throat. Arthur tenses regardless, the burst of pain and sudden realization of oh fuck, this is how I die too fresh on his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he glances at Charles' deepening frown.

“Hurts?”

“Not... Earlier, yeah. Been better. 's okay now.”

“Earlier?”

Charles leans closer, thumb moving below his adam's apple. Arthur's breaths grow shallower, physically forcing himself not to swallow. “Uh”, he tries to round up his scattering thoughts. “Tried to eat. Bad idea.”

“Mh.” The searching prodding smooths out to gentle strokes, up and down the delicate skin over his pulse point. Arthur's eyes go half-lidded, his hands limp in his lap. “Not the worst you've had, though.”

There it is again, that wry fondness that Arthur has started, to crave in the lost hours of the night when his tent feels too cold and his cot too empty. Something in the back of his mind is trying to remind him why indulging... this – whatever simmers between them, has been simmering since the very beginning – is not good.

It's getting harder and harder to pay attention to it, though.

Arthur hums, a soft sound just between them; he reaches for Charles' hand, flattening the other's palm against his neck, and the quiet thrum of pain lingering there relents to his warmth.

"Maybe”, Arthur admits, a hopeful whisper in the dark.

>>Read on AO3