#fill it up and nothin without you were actually supposed to be giffed but i ran into waaaay too much trouble in the process

[dakbees]

Favorite songs from the first half of 2023 -> moving posters

thank you @ambivartence for tagging me! i'm a bit late, and it was super hard chosing which songs i wanted to included, but here's the final product <3

honorable mentions are fill it up - lucy, nothin' without you - blk, macarena - blitzers, show down - alice, autopilot - purple kiss, thriller - wei, man in a box - xdinary heroes, shh - pentagon, love virus (feat. sunwoo) - giuk, chamomile - dgna, nevertheless - billlie, love crazy - kim lip x jamie, like we've never been - mont, and gravity - onewe

i'm sure everyone who has wanted to do one of these has done this atp, but everyone is free to tag me if they somehow haven't <3

[floatingpetals]

Call of the Mountains || Ch. 6

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Werewolf AU!)

Warnings: Nothin, a little bit of language

Word Count: 3100+ 

Summary:  (Werewolf-AU!Stucky x f!reader) Life had begun to overwhelm her. Work was insane and her life was a mess. There was a tug in her soul that called her to take this trip, deep into the forest away, where there was the peace and stillness of nature. She didn’t know why, but she knew she needed to listen. It was meant to be a relaxing trip, but one misstep on some moss sent her tumbling into the rapids of the flooded river. She thought she was gone and the earth decided it was time to reclaim her. She didn’t expect was to be pulled from the river nor the creature that saved her. Her entire world is turned upside down and all it took was an accidental step to the left. (18+ Only Story)

A/N: Yaaaa! I started this during my move and just now finished lol. The move went smoothly and my roommates are actually really sweet. Now the fun part of emailing and begging for a job lol. The plan is to have a job by mid-March. I’m tired of hoping and dreaming. I’m going to get a job by mid-March. Just like how I was going to move to New York. This isn’t the year of hope and maybe. Its the year shits gonna happen. But back to the story, I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think! ❤

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Series Masterlist

After Steve’s hasty retreat, Bucky and Y/N finished their dinner in relative silence. Bucky tried not to show how annoyed he truly was, but Y/N could tell from the tenseness in his shoulders that the interaction bothered him more than he let on. It also could have been how he was aggressively stabbing at his meatballs with his fork.

The sun was beginning to set when he led her out the back door. He was explaining something to her about his house, she wasn’t paying attention when a strange feeling washed over her. Y/N froze on the steps down when she felt a pulse, the hairs on her arms standing on end. She sucked in a sharp breath when a strange wave of blue light came from under the wooden steps and passed along the tips of the blades of the grass in front of her. Y/N watched in alarm as the thin glowing line moved at a leisurely pace, breaking around Bucky’s feet before connecting once passed by. She watched with morbid fascination as the light did the same with the trees, rocks, and houses before it disappeared out of her line of sight. It was pretty, she thought distantly, if not completely unnatural and in every way terrifying.

Bucky hadn’t noticed her stop, too busy talking about Natasha and her antics. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he turned back to Y/N where she still stood on the stairs, her eyes wide in terror. Frowning, Bucky walked back the short distance.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He asked gently. Y/N’s tried to open her mouth to reply, but she found it hard to find the right set of words. It only caused Bucky’s worry to grow the longer her silence went on. “Y/N?”

Gently, he placed his hand on top of hers. She jumped and her eyes drifted to his in a haze.

“I-.” She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. She wanted to tell him about the light, to badger him until she got the answers she wanted. Every fiber in her being was screaming for answers to whatever the hell this place was. Completely reasonable in her opinion. Clearly, this place wasn’t exactly human. But so far, she hasn’t managed a straight answer from any of them. The uneasiness settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t tell him. She was alone in this. Clearing her throat, Y/N finally replied. “Nothing.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side and eyed her curiously. He knew she was hiding something from him. He could smell the change in her emotions, sharp and bitter like burnt cinnamon. She was nervous, a touch scared and incredibly uncertain. It made the wolf inside him restless. He had to bite back the whine ready to burst from his chest, startling himself with its reaction. His wolf never did that, always letting him take the lead. Bucky immediately dropped his hand back to his side, needing to let sever that contact between them.

“If you sure.” He said slowly and took a step back. Y/N hesitated to step on the grass, her thoughts gnawing at the back of her mind. Bucky watched her inner turmoil, his scowl growing the longer she hesitated and the heavier her scent grew. Bucky was ready to step in, but whatever hesitancy Y/N was stuck in, she shook it off and pushed forward.

Forcing a shaky smile at Bucky, Y/N stepped down onto the grass. If he noticed the shake in her fingers and the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes, he didn’t mention it. He waited for her to follow, and the two fell in line as he led her to his house along the dirt road.

“I hope you like the room. We don’t usually have guests, but it’s always set up in case my parents come in to visit.” Bucky said to fill the quiet.

“Oh, you’re parents live someplace else?” Y/N perked up at the topic change, willing to take anything to get her mind off things.

“Yep. They used to live here, but they moved to Arizona a few years back. Somethin’ about needing a warmer climate.” Bucky chuckled and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Steve’s ma still lives here, but she’s got her own place further up the mountain. She’ll come up every Sunday to have breakfast with us before she goes off to shop in the town though. So really the guest rooms are just used as big storage rooms.”

“Well at least you have someplace for them to stay.”

Bucky snorted. “It makes it harder to get rid of them when they do come to visit. What about you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re living in a suburb right outside the city. Not too far from where I live so, I can go visit whenever I want. Not that I get much of a chance with my job.” She rolled her eyes. Bucky raised a brow.

“Oh? Don’t like your job?”

“It’s not that, entirely.” Y/N let out a heavy sigh. She noticed the road they walked down led away from the clearing and into the thicker forest. Despite not knowing the slightest idea where she was, she didn’t feel an ounce of unease being with Bucky. It was just the forest that freaked her out. “I like it well enough, but it’s just… A lot. It’s actually why I decided to come out here for the week. To relax and get away from the hustle and bustle. Doin’ a bang-up job of that.” She remarked dryly and glared at her wrist. Bucky laughed softly and shook his head, his pretty grey eyes dancing with mirth.

“Has it been everything you’ve hoped and dream?”

“Oh yeah.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Everything’s going according to plan.”

Bucky nudged her with his shoulder, smiling widely at her. It was nice to see her joking in such a short amount of time, all things considered. He turned right on a road and led them up a steep hill. The further they went up the mountain the thicker the tree line grew and the steeper the incline became. She also noticed the way the road cut through the trees but didn’t take more room than necessary to make way for the road. It was clear to her they wanted to blend in the environment. Almost as if they were hiding.

Eventually, after Y/N realized without a shadow of a doubt she was not in shape enough to be traipsing up the side of a mountain, the road lead them to what she assumed was Bucky’s and Steve’s house. Y/N stopped at the top of the road and hunch over with a wheeze, bracing her good hand on her knee. While she struggled to breathe, she caught sight of Bucky out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t look slightly fazed by their climb, not a single hair looked out of place.

“You all good?” Bucky teased. She glared at him and stuck out her tongue.

“You shush. Mountain boy.” She grumbled. Now that she wasn’t gasping for air and her side stopped cramping, Y/N looked over to the house.

It was smaller in size than the main building, but not tiny by any stretch of the word. It was a magnificent two-story wood cabin with a balcony and a wraparound porch perched near the cliffside, the back of the house overlooking the clearing below. There were a couple rocking chairs sitting out on the porch, and a few wooden tables between them. It looked straight out of a travel magazine. The house was adorable, quaint and screamed ‘lumberjacks in the woods.’ 

“It’s nothin’ fancy but it gets the job done,” Bucky said sheepishly. Y/N shot him a baffled look.

“What are you talking about? I love it!” She exclaimed.

Bucky’s ears went pink and he grunted in response, kicking the dirt with the toe of his boot. Her praise made his heart skip and the wolf inside him practically purred in response. An echoing rumble behind them made him pause and glance up at the darkening sky. The clouds off in the distance looked threatening and dark. It made Y/N’s stomach drop.

“Huh.” Bucky clicked his tongue. “Wasn’t supposed to rain for the rest of the week. Let’s get inside and I’ll show you your room.”

Y/N sent the clouds one last concerned glance before following him inside. She was surprised to see the inside was actually decorated tastefully, if not on the simple side. The front entryway led straight into the living room and she could see the kitchen and dining room off the left. There was a large black couch with a few blankets tossed on the back, a love seat and a giant flat screen tv mounted on the wall above the fireplace to the right. Dark shades covered the wall of windows, similarly like the main house. She wondered if the view was as breathtaking as she thought it would be.

“Kitchens there on the left, feel free to anything in the fridge. The TV has full satellite, so you're welcomed to use it and watch whatever you want. I just warn you not to delete Steve’s recordings of Chopped. He might have a meltdown again.” He chuckled unabashedly. “Steve’s room is upstairs to the left with the second spare room and mine is on the first floor here down this hall. Yours is right across from mine. Don’t worry. You’ll have your own bathroom down the hall so you don’t have to share with little old me.”

Y/N giggled at the wink he sent her way and followed him down the hall. He showed her the bathroom before leading her to her room.

“If I assume right,” Bucky began as he opened the door. “Ah, yeah, she grabbed it.”

Sitting on the floor next to a desk against a window was the backpack Y/N hadn’t realized she had been missing. She had other more important things to worry about than the pack, not like it contained anything valuable anyway.

“Natasha had taken it while you were unconscious and tried to dry what she could.” Bucky leaned against the door frame and glanced around. Y/N stepped in and headed towards the backpack. “You said you were camping near here?”

“Huh?” Y/N paused her shuffling through the pack. Her books, while crinkled, had been dried and the bookmark returned in place. “Oh, yeah on the nature reserve. I don’t remember the campsite number, but it was the closest to the waterfall. Hopefully, no one steals my stuff, or well, my dad’s stuff.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his brow creasing in thought. He shook his head after a moment and nodded to the stack of clothes on the desk. “Well, Natasha’s made herself at home and grabbed you some of my shirts and pants for you. There’s towels in the bathroom closet and I think there’s some conditioner and shampoo from when Becca stayed over.”

“Becca?”

“My sister.” Bucky sighed, sounding annoyed but the small upturn of the corner of his lips told Y/N he really wasn’t as bothered as he sounded. “She likes to drop in from time to time, unannounced of course.”

Y/N turned to ask more about his family, however, Bucky’s head snapped up and spun to glare down the hall. He wiped the emotions on his face, his features shifting into irritation. Y/N heard a door open and slam closed, the force rattling the house. She sent a worried look down the hall. She didn’t have to see who walked into know just who it could be. Bucky let out a slow calming breath and sent Y/N a strained smile over his shoulder.

“Make yourself comfortable. I need to go… handle something.” Bucky muttered before spinning at heel and stalked off towards the sound. Y/N was fully aware he meant he had to handle a certain someone. Letting out her own heavy sigh and went to pull a shirt and pair of pants from the neatly folded stack.

Now that all the excitement was over, Y/N wanted nothing more than to get out of her river water dried clothes and wash whatever dirt and grime was left in her hair. She stopped and stared at her splint with a scowl. She couldn’t get it wet, nor did she want to take it off and risk injuring herself further. It be would be easier if she could wrap it up but didn’t see anything in the room. She was already picturing the gymnastic routine she’d have to perform to make this work.

Groaning, Y/N grabbed her clothes and went to the bathroom. She stopped short when she noticed the box of trash bags sitting on the counter along with tape, body wash, a brand-new toothbrush, toothpaste, and a shower cap. Laughter bubbled out of her mouth. Natasha really did think of everything. Chuckling to herself, Y/N shut the door to start her shower, effectively cutting her off from the storm happening in the living room.

Bucky didn’t mean to leave her so abruptly. But when Steve walked up stinking of rage followed by slamming the door, he needed to say something. He might not like the situation, but he wasn’t going to take it out on her.

“What the fuck is your issue?” Bucky snarled, cornering Steve in the kitchen. Steve turned from where he was searching in the fridge and glared at Bucky. He growled low in his throat, baring his teeth at the other.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve snapped back and grabbed a beer before he slammed the fridge door shut.

“Would you quit doing that?” Bucky hissed, his face twisting into a snarl. “And the hell you don’t. I could smell you before you even walked in the door. You’re pissed and taking it out on the house cause you know I’ll skin you alive if you take it out on her.”

“So you think,” Steve grumbled and downed half the bottle.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve and stalked around the island to stand toe to toe with Steve. Steve glare never wavered as he lowered the bottle from his lips. There wasn’t much of height difference, maybe an inch or two, but Steve still managed to accomplish looking down his nose at Bucky.

“The thing is, I do.” He growled. “You aren’t that fucking subtle Rogers. Especially since your doin’ a bang-up job at keeping your alpha macho on low. Just because you don’t like having a human here doesn’t mean you need to be a little shit. Thought you’re Ma raised you better.”

Steve snarled and shoved Bucky back, or at least attempted to. Bucky didn’t budge, his hackles rising and teeth snapping in retaliation.  Anyone else might have buckled under the strength and secretly Bucky was surprised by how much force behind the shove, but he wasn’t an alpha for nothing.

Bucky was right once again. Steve was really hating hearing that phrase in his inner monologue. He was losing control of his power, could taste it in the air around him. Steve usually always had better control of himself, the rage, power, and everything. The loss made him even angrier. All because he couldn’t figure out the woman and what she was doing to him.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Steve huffed and stepped around Bucky. He sank onto a barstool and took another drink from his beer. Bucky glared and leaned against the counter, glowering as he did.

“Then why are you acting like this? Why?” Bucky pressed. “Cause it sure as shit doesn’t make any sense to me why you can’t at least be cordial. It’s not like she intended on potentially drowning and getting hurt. If you’re worried about the pack and how they’d handle her being here, don’t. Nat’s already on that. She likes the girl and is our beta for a reason.”

“I’m not worried about the pack,” Steve bit back.

“Then what’s your issue?”

Steve fell silent, glaring at the bottle. To be completely honest, he didn’t know. True, he wasn’t completely jazzed about her being here in their territory. Except he could handle the few ruffled furs and angry snaps from the members. There was something about her that stood out to him. He might have only said a few words to her, but it was still there. That’s what was bothering him. Why did his wolf raise it’s head for the first time in years? It’s never shown interest. Not since-

“Um.”

A soft voice behind him caused him to jump, his eyes going wide. Bucky even seemed startled by her quiet approach. They weren’t that deep in conversation to miss hearing her walk up, were they?

“Sorry.” Y/N said sheepishly when both men turned to stare at her in shock. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. But could one of you help?”

Bucky’s eyes dropped to the back and tape in her hand, blinking in confusion. Steve frowned and tried to figure out what she meant.

“I can’t get my splint wet and don’t want to risk taking it off and well… Slipping in the shower.” Y/N chuckled, ducking her chin to her chest. A slow grin spread on Bucky’s face before he pushed off the counter to help.

“Can’t have that can we?” Bucky teased.

“I figured we all had enough excitement for today.”

Steve watched quietly as Bucky helped tape the bag on her hand, his brows creasing in thought. She giggled at something Bucky said and Steve felt his breath hitch at the sound. Biting back a growl, he shook his head and glared at the bottle once again.

“There,” Bucky said looking down at the finished product. “Let me know if you need help taking it off.”

Y/N thanked him and Steve heard her soft footsteps retreat back down the hall. Bucky let out a sigh and slid in next to Steve.

“I just…” Bucky began slowly. “I just need you to not treat her like you wanted her to drown in the river. She’s actually really sweet and I know if you gave her a chance, you’d actually like her.”

Steve grumbled and finished what was left of the beer. He let out a deep sigh and sent Bucky a halfhearted glare.

“Fine.” He muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll try to keep my attitude in check.”

“That’s all I ask pal.”

The two fell silent, listening to the distant sound of the shower running and the dark rumble of the clouds above them.

“You know I don’t like you sometimes, punk,” Steve muttered. Bucky snorted and nodded.

“Right back at you jerk.”

The two exchanged lopsided smirks, whatever cloud hanging over them both gone. They’d be fine, that they knew at least. If only they knew of the other clouds that hung heavy and dark above their home.

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[my-proof-is-you]

Someday We Could - Ch. 3

Request from anonymous:

Could u do a Dean x Reader where they have been friends since childhood and when they were younger they made a deal where if neither of them were married by 35 they would get married, but the last thing they expected was to actually fall for each other? ( i have been watching too much Friends)

Masterlist  |  Tag Yourself

Previous Chapter

*I do not own and pics or gifs

Now - Dean

Dean had barely slept. He laid there, wound up from the party. He replayed your reaction to the surprise in his head over and over, his mind’s eye focusing on your megawatt smile. 

After a few hours of that, his mind went to other things. 

Like the deal he’d made with you when you were thirteen.

He wasn’t sure if you remembered. You had a pretty sharp memory, though. So he wouldn’t be surprised. 

Regardless, he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t. He couldn’t put you in danger like that. 

He wasn’t even crazy about you living with them. Of course, he loved having you around all the time. But being close to the Winchesters was dangerous. Everyone they loved got hurt. 

His mind ping-ponged all night between several thoughts: what it would be like to be married to you; the risk he’d be taking with your life if he did marry you; 

How much he would actually love to be with you forever.

The last thought was one he would scarcely admit to himself. He was Dean Winchester; he didn’t need anyone. He and his brother against the world, that’s all he knew. 

But there was something about you that screamed “home,” something that made him weak in the knees. 

He made his way off the floor of the living room where he’d slept at Jody’s, heading into the kitchen in search of coffee. Jody was there doing dishes, a fresh pot brewing on the counter. 

“Well hey there, sleepyhead,” she said, getting a mug down from the cupboard in anticipation of his need for caffeine. 

“Mmm,” he grunted in response. 

“Not a good night’s sleep?” she asked with a chuckle. “Gettin’ too old for the floor I guess.”

“Nah, that doesn’t bother me. Just couldn’t sleep,” he responded, pouring the steaming liquid into his mug. He turned back toward Jody who had sat down at the table. He joined her there, watching as she nodded with a knowing look in her eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothin’.” She paused. “This whole thing you did for Y/N was pretty great, Dean.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” she replied with a chuckle. 

You walked into the kitchen then, your eyes half-closed and your hair disheveled. 

“Oh, shit, better get her some coffee quick,” Dean said. You weren’t a morning person, and he was well aware of that fact. You scowled at him and he laughed, getting up and getting you a mug. 

“Fuck off,” you muttered, taking it from him and filling it. 

“Yikes,” Jody said from her spot at the table. 

“Oh, good morning, Jody, I didn’t see you there,” you said cheerily. Dean’s mouth dropped open. 

“So I guess it’s just you she doesn’t like in the morning,” Jody said with a chuckle. 

“Apparently,” Dean deadpanned. 

You gave him a sarcastic smile as you sat down with your coffee. 

“I know what’ll cheer you up,” he said, coming to stand next to your chair. 

“What?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“I have one more birthday present for you.”

Your eyes widened, and Dean laughed. You’d always loved birthday gifts. He took Baby’s keys out of his pocket and held them up, dangling them near your face.

“No. Are you serious?” You asked, incredulous. 

“I am,” he replied, watching your smile grow as you took the keys from him. 

You stood up and nearly knocked the wind out of him with your hug. He had never let you drive Baby in all the years you’d been friends. He smiled, unable to stop himself. 

“Just be careful, okay?” He said sternly, recovering his macho attitude. 

That was what he said on the outside. 

On the inside, though, he was thinking, anything to make you smile. 

Then - Dean

Dean slammed the door behind him as he entered the motel room. 

“Bad day?” he heard from the couch.

“Y/N?” he asked, coming further into the room to see you laying on the couch on your back with your legs crossed. You sat up.

“Hiya,” you said casually, getting up and giving him a hug. 

“What’re you doing here?” he asked. He couldn’t help but feel relieved to see you after the day he’d had. 

“My dad and I were nearby and your dad wants us to go on the next hunt with you,” you replied, opening the fridge. You scowled at its lack of contents before closing it and sitting down at the tiny kitchenette table. 

“Cool,” Dean said. He was excited, but his bad mood returned pretty quickly. 

“What’s your deal?” you asked. You gestured to the chair across from you and Dean sat, glad you were there to talk to. His dad apparently didn’t understand what it was like to be a teenager anymore, and Sammy was too young to understand girl troubles. 

Dean told the story of what happened at this latest school: how he’d met a pretty blonde named Amanda; how he’d told her that he didn’t really have any rules to live by; how he’d been caught making out with another girl; how he’d tried to explain that it didn’t matter, that he was a hero. 

You nodded, listening to his story without interrupting. When he was finished, he looked up from his fiddling hands to see what your reaction would be.

“Why were you in the closet with that other girl?” you asked, your eyes sincere. You truly wanted to understand. 

“I—I don’t know,” he said truthfully. He really didn’t understand why he did the things he did.

“I’ll tell you why. You got scared. You knew you were leaving, and Amanda was getting too close.”

Dean gritted his teeth, annoyed that you were right—just like you always were. 

“And while she was right to say she feels sorry for you—and she was right,” you said with a pointed look in his direction, “the truth is, she never would have understood. She’s not a hunter. She doesn’t understand how hard it is for us to have real attachments.”

Dean sighed. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“Regardless, making out with another girl was stupid. You’re a dick,” you said, getting up and walking past him. You elbowed him as you did.

“Ow!” he yelled, grabbing his side. 

“Keep it up, Winchester, and I’ll be the only one that’ll marry you by default,” you joked, laying back down on the couch. Dean knew you were done lecturing him. He got up and jogged toward the couch, launching himself over the back and landing next to you, grabbing your feet. 

“That would suck,” he said, tickling your feet. 

“I will KILL you!” you yelled between giggles. Dean laughed, too, finally feeling actually happy for the first time that day.

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14 @divadinag @lynne1993 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @infj-slytherclaw @onethirstyunicorn @sammykb1994 @lilulo-12 @mellorine-paprika @tranquility-or-chaos @collette04 @differentstudentrunaway-e70bf763 @hoboal87 @bi-danvers0 @miraclesoflove @defenderrosetyler @babypink224221 @fabfan00 @calaofnoldor @beatifuldisaster018 @olyamoriarty @satans-0-spawn @coffeebooksandfandom @supernatural3002

Deanies/Jensen:

@tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @akshi8278 @weepingwillowphoenix @playingdeep17 @justanotherwinchester @flamencodiva @caligraphee @emma.penberthy.11 @tranquility-or-chaos @jxackles @supersassyprobablysad @heavensangel45135​

Someday We Could

@biggirlauthor​ @bi-danvers0​ @tftumblin​ @thwiso​ @defenderrosetyler​ @ladyofletters67​ @formulafun @shortwinchester​ @the-obsessive-fangirl​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​ @thelittlestarfighter​ @fandomsrourlives​ @greenarrowhead​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​ @letsby-writes​

[exploradora-writes]

Secrets: A Red Dead 2 Fanfiction

Warnings: None

Summary: Arthur takes the day off from working and spends time with Mary Beth. Getting curious about each other's journals, they play a game of dominos in order to potentially catch a glimpse of the other's secrets.

Word Count: 2.2k

Note: Thank you to @girllwonder and @little-box-of-flower-pots for helping me out and supporting me as I write. Thank you @arcadiaforamateurs for the gif. This story just shows more friendship related themes as opposed to romance, and I overall enjoyed writing it. Thank you to those who read it!

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

Arthur returned to camp late into the night, the stars and full moon shining overhead. He hitched his horse and trudged over to his tent, bags already present under his eyes. While he was no religious man, he decided tomorrow would be his own day of rest. He knew for a fact he didn’t want to do any work tomorrow, no matter how minuscule the task. After all he had had to endure that day, he certainly deserved a break.

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

The next day Arthur rose and poured himself a cup of coffee. Suddenly, Ms. Grimshaw came storming after him across the camp.

“Mr. Morgan! I can’t help but notice you’ve slept in a bit.”

Arthur scowled. “Pipe down, Ms. Grimshaw, I got back to camp a bit late last night and-”

Arthur was taken aback by a light smack on the shoulder. “I don’t want to hear none of your excuses, Mr. Morgan! We’re all putting forth effort to make this camp run smoothly, and I can’t have any lazy bums hangin’ around here moochin’ off of everyone else? Is that clear, Mr. Morgan?”

He let out a sigh and continued to sip his coffee. “Ms. Grimshaw, I just need one day where I just... take a break. I’ve been hunting for Pearson, collecting debts for that old bastard Strauss. Hell, why don’t you put Uncle to work? That man probably ain’t worked a damned day in his life.”

Ms. Grimshaw let out a loud huff. “Believe me, I’ve tried to get that old coot to work. It just ain’t in his blood.”

“Well, can I please just get one day for resting, Ms. Grimshaw? I promise I’ll be right back to work first thing in the mornin’.”

Ms. Grimshaw rolled her eyes. “Fine, but it’ll cost you!”

Arthur, almost out of habit, pulled out a small stack of bills and handed them to her.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. First thing in the morning, are we clear?”

“Clear as the day, Miss.”

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

Arthur sat on a tree stump near the camp, struck a match on the bottom of his shoe, and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag before beginning to blow smoke rings. He stared into the sky, clouds drifting through the sea of blue. He let out a long sigh. What a beautiful, boring day, he thought to himself, but at least he was relaxed. That was all that mattered to him at that point.

“Good morning, Arthur.”

Arthur stopped and looked where the voice was coming from.

Mary Beth.

“You doin’ alright?” She asked. “It ain’t like you to just sit here doin’ nothing. Something on your mind?”

“Nah, it’s nothin’ just... takin’ a break is all. Grimshaw said it was okay, but not after smackin’ me first.”

To that remark, they both giggled.

“Mind if I join you?” She asked.

“Sure.”

She plopped down next to the stump. He noticed her clutching her journal to her chest.

“You write anything good lately, Mary Beth?”

She blushed slightly and looked down at her feet. “Not much, just some short poems, a few doodles here and there. Doesn’t matter much, they’re all poppycock anyhow.”

Arthur chuckled a bit. “Nothing wrong with writin’ poppycock. What do you think my journal’s filled with?”

They continued laughing while Arthur pulled out a cigarette.

“Wanna smoke?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not!”

Arthur struck another match, lighting his own cigarette, then hers. He handed it to her, which she accepted and placed it between her delicate lips.

Inhaling and letting out a puff, Mary Beth looked to the sky.

“You sure there isn’t anything you want to talk about Arthur?”

He thought about it for a second, then said “You just got me to thinking about my journal again.” He pulled it out of his satchel, the leather slowly starting to show visible signs of wear.

She smirked. “Oh really? Well, I’ve always wondered what sort of secret things you always write about in there.”

Arthur chuckled. “Slow down there, Mary Beth, there ain’t no way in hell I’m letting you read this thing.”

“Tell you what: I’ll show you a page of mine if you show me a page in yours. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Arthur shook his head. “There’s a such thing as knowin’ TOO much, Mary Beth.”

She let out a huff. “Fine... you’re no fun.” She arose and started to walk off.

“Wait, hold on....” Arthur let out a defeated sigh. “Tell you what... how about a game of dominoes?”

She paused. “I’m listening...”

“Well, let’s just... keep at dominoes for now, then maybe later we can share a page or two out of our journals. Sound good?”

She turned back to face him and smiled. “Well, Arthur, you’ve peaked my interest. You’re on!”

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

Arthur sat down with a groan and dumped out the box of dominoes. He began to mix them up in a large pile.

“Alright, you ready, Mary Beth?”

“Of course.”

They began the game. The goal was to get to sixty points. The game progressed with Arthur having only a few points more than Mary Beth. Eventually, the two of them were tied 48-48.

“Damn, this is a close game!” Arthur exclaimed.

Mary Beth laughed. “You’re tellin’ me!” She looked down and gave a little smile.

Arthur looked up at her and frowned. “What are you thinkin’ about over there, Mary Beth? I know it ain’t nothin’ good.”

“Oh nothing, Arthur. I was just going to suggest we raise the stakes a little.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

“Well, what if the winner gets to read THREE pages out of the loser’s journal instead of just one?”

Arthur sighed. “You’re pushin’ it, Mary Beth.”

She laughed again. “It’s anyone’s game, Arthur. Who knows? Maybe YOU’LL be the one who gets to read MY journal!”

Arthur scratched his chin in thought. There honestly wasn’t much that he desperately wanted to find out about Mary Beth. At the same time, he didn’t want her to up and quit dominoes on him. He was bored, and anyway, what was the worse she could have read in his journal? His had some doodles here and there like hers. He remembered just how close the point totals were, and suddenly, he became drunk with confidence.

“Ah, what the hell! What’s the worse that can happen?”

“I knew I’d get to ya, Arthur! Let’s get this over with so I can read that journal of yours!”

“Slow down, it’s only three pages, Mary Beth, and don’t assume you’re gonna win until you do!”

The game commenced once again. Arthur lost the next round and counted the point values of his dominoes.

12 points, the exact amount needed for her to win.

“Yes! I win, Arthur! Now let’s see that journal!”

Arthur rolled his eyes “Calm down, it ain’t that big of a deal. You get three pages.” He looked around. “Let’s get away from camp before someone hears all my secrets.”

She giggled as they returned to the stump near the camp. Before Arthur could sit on it, Mary Beth plopped down on it.

“I believe this seat is for winners only,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes once more. “Okay, here you go.” He hesitantly handed over his journal. “Three pages...”

She accepted the journal. “Might as well start with the first page.”

She began skimming some parts and reading out loud others.

“Hmmm Blackwater.... got this journal....”

Arthur sighed out of embarrassment. “I know, I write like a fool.”

“No Arthur, it’s fine. This is just the introduction to the entire thing after all. It’s not bad, but it’s not quite what I’m looking for...”

“Well what are you lookin’ for, Mary Beth? All of my deepest darkest secrets? You got two more to go...”

He looked down out of shame.

Mary Beth closed her eyes and flipped to a random page. She stared at it for a second, then a huge grin formed on her face.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, trying to look over her shoulder.

Mary Beth giggled and turned the journal to face him. It was a picture of a brown and white stallion.

“You didn’t tell me you were such a good artist, Arthur!” She exclaimed.

Arthur blushed profusely. “Oh that... that’s uh....” he continued stumbling over his words.

Mary Beth continued smiling. “Don’t worry, Arthur. I won’t let anyone know the ‘Big Bad Arthur Morgan’ is actually a talented artist.”

Arthur put his head in his hands, but couldn’t help laughing at her remark. “Just read the last page...”

Mary Beth continued laughing and lightly thumbed to the next page. She skimmed through and read out loud a few things to herself.

“Dream... hmmm... mhmmm.. Nightmare...they were...gone.”

Her smile quickly faded and she froze.

“Mary Beth, what...”

“I’m sorry... Arthur I...”

“It’s alright. What is it?” He began to grow more worried.

“I had no idea about umm....” she cleared her throat. “Eliza...”

Arthur froze and remained still. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

Mary Beth handed the journal back without making eye contact with him. “I’m sorry, Arthur, it was my stupid idea. I shouldn’t have made you share anything so personal.”

Arthur shook his head and mumbled “It ain’t your fault. I shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place.” He took his journal and walked away with his head down.

“Arthur, wait! It’s okay!”

But Arthur continued to walk away in silence.

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

Arthur lay in his cot in a state of worry. What was wrong with him, allowing Mary Beth to read something that personal to him? He remembered when he first agreed to her bet, he figured, ‘what’s the worse she could have read?’

A hell of a lot, he thought. He felt like the most dimwitted man in the world.

A pit began forming in his stomach and his mind swam with troubled thoughts, that she was telling other people about...her. About Eliza.

Eliza... no one knew about her except Hosea and Dutch, and even they were sworn to secrecy.

Suddenly, he heard the flap of his tent and a rustle.

“Arthur, it’s... Mary Beth. Do you want to talk?”

Arthur let out a heavy sigh. “Sure, come on in.”

She opened the tent flap fully and stepped in. “Arthur, I just wanted to say-“

“Mary Beth, it ain’t your fault. I... shouldn’t have let my guard down.”

Mary Beth shook her head. “Arthur, it’s okay to be upset, but I don’t want you getting down on yourself just because of something I suggested. I also came by to... well... to ask you if you wanted to go for a walk with me?”

Arthur hesitated a bit, but eventually nodded. They stepped outside of the tent into the warm sun and began to walk.

The two of them strolled onward in silence for what felt like ages, neither of them making eye contact with the other one and both looking at their feet. Mary Beth was the first to break the silence.

“Lots of people have secrets, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Mary Beth paused before asking, “did I ever tell you about my mama?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Well, not a lot of people know this but... she died when I was fairly young. We were poor but... we had each other. She taught me to read, taught me how to steal for a living, and taught me that love was all that mattered in life. When I lost her, I was devastated to say the least. She was... murdered,” She paused for a few seconds, then quietly added “and sometimes I have nightmares about it.”

Arthur nodded in contemplation. “Yeah, my mama died when I was young, too.” He sighed. “We sure do live in a cruel world, don’t we, Mary Beth?”

Mary Beth smiled. “You’re one of the few men, the few people even, that recognizes that, Arthur. My point is, most secrets you want to keep, but sometimes it’s nice to share some of these things with those closest to you, because you know they won’t tell anyone. I won’t tell anyone your secret Arthur.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “And I know you won’t tell anyone mine.”

To this, Arthur smiled. “Thank you, Mary Beth.”

She smiled. “Would you like me to share one of my silly poems with you?”

He laughed. “Sure!”

They both found an area to sit down as she cracked open her journal.

“Here goes nothing,” she sighed as she began to read.

‘I cannot help but stop and look at the intense passion.

Are you enthralled by how pure it is?

Does it tear you apart to see a passion so strong?

I cannot help but stop and look at the delicate romance.

Never forget the fine and lovely romance...’

She stopped reading. “That’s all I have so far,” she started to blush and laugh.

“Well uh... good job Mary Beth.” Arthur’s face turned red as well.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s absolute hogwash...”

“No, it was good! Better than any one of my silly old horse drawings.”

They both started laughing. “So are we even now, Arthur?”

Arthur chuckled “Of course!” He looked to the sky, seeing the sun slowly setting. “We should probably head back to camp.”

“Let’s keep this between us, shall we?”

“Of course.”

With that, they both headed back to camp, neither of them relishing the thought of resuming work tomorrow. Perhaps they could discuss their writings another day. For now, simply being in the presence of a supportive friend was the only thing they really needed.

[unofferable-fic]

The Flower & The Serpent (Arthur Morgan x OFC)

Chapter 6 - Violent Delights

Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they’ve made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws. And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made. No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?

Gif originally found here

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Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OFC

Warnings: Language, some fluff, sexual tension.

Word Count: 6,071

Previous Chapter    Next Chapter

Playlist: “Tyrants” — Catfish and the Bottlemen, “Too Dry to Cry” — Willis Earl Beal, “First Apparition” — Jed Kurzel

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A/N: Also available on AO3. Chapter six comin’ at y’all.

30th August, 1893, outside Winterset, Iowa

It’s been a few days since our night in the De Soto saloon, and I think everyone has finally recovered from their hangovers. Surprisingly so, our new friend, Reverend Swanson seemed to have it worse than all of us. I suppose I shouldn’t make assumptions based on his profession, but I was still surprised to see him struggling for a few days…

Today, Hosea and I plan on robbing that homestead in Norwalk, just outside Des Moines. It’s a big house on the northern side of town that’s apparently used by rich folk who holiday there. They’re usually rich folks who own tonnes of livestock that are getting transported across counties for selling and such. Karen heard that the current residents have been there a while because they’ve been selling and buying livestock around the area, so they’re sure to have cash on them. Hosea thinks it’s a good opportunity to make some money, and I’m more than happy to help him out. He thinks we might need another set of hands for the job just to be safe, and I think I’ll suggest we take Miss Hennigan along. She hasn’t been on any jobs since her accident at the bank, so maybe this will help her get back on her feet.

* * *

“Marston! Did you take my pocket watch?”

At the sound of William shouting across camp, Arthur looked up and shut his journal.

John sat by the campfire eatting a bowl of stew for lunch. “What?”

William stood over him, hands on his hips and his expression beyond frustrated. “My pocket watch — did you take it?”

“No, why would I do that?”

“If you’re lyin’, this isn’t funny.”

“I didn’t take your damn watch, Hennigan!”

Sensing that a brawl was possibly imminent, Arthur strolled over to the pair. “What are you two yellin’ about?”

“I can’t find my pocket watch,” William explained with visible irritation. “I tore my tent apart lookin’ for it all mornin’.”

Arthur frowned and scratched at his bearded chin. “The silver one?”

He nodded. “I can’t find it anywhere. I thought Marston might’ve taken it.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” John asked defensively.

“’Cause you love to do my head in.”

“Well, I didn’t take it. Just buy yourself a new one in town.”

“It’s my da’s,” William said through gritted teeth. “I can’t just replace it.”

At that revelation, John shut his mouth and said no more. This was clearly something dear that the kid held close to his heart, and Arthur wasn’t about to let him get upset and anxious with its absence. Though he knew next to nothing about their parents, he gathered that this wasn’t something William could forget about. “This watch… It must mean a lot to you then, kid.”

“It does.”

“When do you last remember havin’ it?”

“I definitely had it when we went to town yesterday… I can’t remember if I had it on me last night.”

John quickly finished his stew and then got to his feet. “C’mon then. We can go into town and see can we find it. You comin’, Morgan?”

“I would, but I’ve got some work to do with Hosea.”

“I guess it’s just me and the kid then—”

“Again,” William cut in. “I’m only two years younger than you. If I wasn’t grateful for your help, I’d eat the head off you for that comment.”

“Let’s just get goin’.”

“See,” Arthur said with a small smirk. “You two can be nice to each other!”

He watched the two young men mount up and head on out of camp to go in search of William’s most prized possession. He shook his head in mild amusement as they continued to bicker as they rode away, and headed over to one of the camp tables where Hosea was sat with a number of plans laid out before him. They greeted each other as Arthur ran his eyes over the paper sheets.

“You ready for tonight?” Hosea asked.

“Ain’t I always? It’s been a while since we robbed a homestead.”

“That it has. It’ll be a refreshin’ change. Any ideas for who you want to bring along?”

Arthur hummed as he pulled out a cigarette. “I’ve been thinkin’ maybe Maebh would be a good addition. I know she’s been lookin’ for work since recoverin’ from the bank.”

Hosea grinned at the suggestion. “Good idea, Arthur. Why don’tcha ask her to join us?”

Taking a drag off his cigarette, he looked over to the food wagon and saw said addition chopping vegetables and plopping them into the stew pot. “Maebh! You free?”

She looked up at his call and gave him a thumbs up. “Fan nóiméad!”

Having been around the Irish siblings for a few years, he was able to understand some of the phrases used in their native language, so he waited patiently while she washed her hands and joined them at the table.

“How’re you feelin’, Miss Maebh?” Hosea asked and looked at her from beneath the brim of his stalker.

Maebh brushed her brown hair out of her face and replied. “With regards the hangover or the fact I love fallin’ off horses?”

“The horses mostly… You feelin’ fully recovered?”

“Yeah.” She paused and then nodded at the older man. “I think I’m finally feelin’ like my old self now.”

“In that case, fancy robbin’ a homestead with us?”

Her eyes darted between them, and Arthur couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm. “Uh, yes please! You sure you’s want me in on this?”

“Of course we are,” Hosea answered without hesitation. “You gotta get back into earnin’ your keep and you’re exactly the woman we need on this job.”

His admission actually had her smiling ear to ear, a rare sight that Arthur hardly witnessed. Full toothed grins were usually reserved for William, but he was quite happy that he could be part of bringing such an expression to her youthful face. “Count me in then.”

Hosea gestured for her to take a seat, ensuring that the three of them were huddled together at the table, peering over some of the plans and maps Hosea had laid out. Right away, he got to filling her in about the job. He pointed to a photo Arthur had snapped of the residence. “We’re robbin’ a house up on the northern side of Norwalk. It’s used by rich folk for holidayin’ and as somewhere to stay when sellin’ livestock across counties. The railroad that swings through town brings the livestock to various markets and farms. Karen did some investigatin’, and heard that its current guests have been there a while. They’re also attendin’ a party in Des Moines tonight, so the house will be empty.”

“Damn,” Maebh sighed. “That’s perfect. How long have you’s been scoutin’ this place?”

“’Bout a week or so. We’re takin’ our time and tryin’ to play our cards right. We’re just lucky that they happen to be headin’ out of town for a bit.”

“Right. So what exactly is the plan of action?”

Hosea pulled a small map of Norwalk closer and pointed to the location where the house resided. “What we’re thinkin’ is, the folks will be gone at around eight o’clock or so. I say, we hide in the bushes here next to the house, and then, once they’ve gone, break in through the side door. I stay on lookout while you and Arthur scour the house for any valuables. It’s a big enough place, so two pairs of hands will get us in and out faster.”

“Sounds good to me, fellas. What time do we ride out?”

“It’s roughly a three hour ride, so Arthur suggested we head out at four and then grab somethin’ to eat in Norwalk. That gives you plenty of time to get yourself organised.”

“Great,” she said and got to her feet. “I’ll go get myself sorted then. Thanks for askin’ me along for the fun, lads.”

“Our pleasure, Miss Hennigan,” Arthur replied and tipped his hat as she walked away. He turned to see Hosea smirking at him. He took another puff off his cigarette and raised his brow. “What’s that look for?”

“It was nice of you to ask her along. Some people would be hesitant involvin’ her when it’s her first job since the bank. I get the impression she was a little worried ’bout not bein’ included or lettin’ people down. I think your offer just boosted her confidence.”

Arthur cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the compliment. “It ain’t nothin’, Hosea. The kid needs to get back on her feet and it’s our job to look out for each other — you know that.”

“Oh, I do.” He began to fold up his plans and stood as he continued. “You like to play the part of the brooding gunslinger, Arthur, but you like to help people where you can.”

The man’s accusations had Arthur staring at his feet with surprising concentration. “I think you’re gettin’ a little delusional in your old age, Hosea.”

“And I think you act dumber than you really are.” Without another word, Hosea left Arthur to his discomfort and made his way to join Bessie by the fire. Arthur watched the couple for a moment, a tiny part of him envious of their connection. His mind wandered to thoughts of Mary, of Eliza and Isaac.

He had never taken compliments well — nor did he ever expect to in the future. As far as he was concerned, they were all carefully woven lies, holding no truth or accuracy to his true character. He was an outlaw, a gunslinger, a bad man by all accounts who robbed and fought to stay alive. Dutch would always insist that they were the ones truly living, but he feared society would never see him as anything else other than a criminal. Regardless of that, the gang’s code always justified his actions with the end goal being to help those who truly needed it. He gazed once more at Maebh in her tent as she went through her belongings.

Huh, maybe Hosea wasn’t too far off the mark…

* * *

Later that afternoon, John and William returned from town. Arthur knew immediately by the look of displeasure on the latter’s face that they had not managed to find his pocket watch. He was brushing Boadicea when John approached him. “Can I ask a favour, Morgan?”

“That depends on what the favour is,” he replied and looked at him suspiciously. “Whatchu want?”

“Got a piece of paper I could use?” he asked. “And a pencil? I figured you would be the right man to go to.”

“Sure I do. But you gotta tell me why you need ’em first.”

John sighed in defeat and shrugged. “I just wanna write Maebh a note.”

Arthur immediately let out a howling laugh. “Oh, I didn’t peg you for the sort to write love letters, Marston!”

“It ain’t no love letter!” he replied defensively, looking around camp to see if anyone had heard the outburst. “Look, I just picked up somethin’ for her in town and wanted to leave it in her tent with a note. I owed her a favour. That’s all.”

“Right, right,” he hushed him and reached into his satchel for his journal. He carefully tore out a page and handed it to his friend, along with a pencil. “Calm down, I’m only needlin’ ya.”

“Some pack is shy a damn joker,” John muttered and squatted by a nearby crate to write his note. Arthur returned his attention to his horse, though he noted that the familiar  noisy scribbles of lead on paper hadn’t yet begun. He glanced at the younger man, seeing him staring at the piece of paper in confusion.

Arthur let out a sigh. “You don’t know how to spell her name, do ya?”

“It’s an odd name, okay,” John replied, though his face blatantly showed his embarrassment as he looked up. “I ain’t never met someone called Maebh before and it’s not like I can speak Irish… D’you know how to spell it?’

“Sure.” Forcing himself not to smirk, Arthur nodded and gestured for him to write as he spelled it for him aloud. “It’s M-A-Y-U-V.”

John wrote it down and then looked at the page for a moment. “You sure that’s right?”

“Yeah, Marston. The U is silent.”

“It looks sorta… weird.”

“Well the Irish are a weird bunch.”

“Right,” he mumbled and quickly continued the rest of the note while Arthur turned back to Boadicea and tried not to laugh. “Thanks, Morgan.”

Arthur dismissed his thanks as the younger man headed back into camp after returning the pencil to its rightful owner. Not long after he’d left, Maebh and Hosea appeared, all geared up and ready to go.

The trio set off, horses moving at a comfortable trot in the humid afternoon. While the weather slowly became wetter and windier the further they travelled, they were wrapped up well for the journey. Upon arriving in Norwalk, Arthur gazed around the new town. It was small, with a population of only a couple hundred, but a homely looking saloon on its main street grabbed their attention. After braving the rotten weather, a hot meal helped to lift their spirits and the heat of the saloon’s fire assisted in drying their clothes. With eight o’clock getting closer, they mounted up once more and travelled to the outskirts of their target. Hitching the horses a safe distance away, they snuck up to a group of bushes located beside the house. The gang mates weren’t hiding for long when the couple residing within came outside, dressed to the nines and ready for an evening of  excessive wealth and glamour. Arthur frowned as they climbed into a waiting coach and left.

“Did you see the size of that fella’s top hat?” Maebh whispered, eyes wide. “I’ve never seen somethin’ so excessive in my life!”

“We did tell you they was wealthy,” Arthur replied, watching until the coach disappeared around a bend in the road.  “What did you expect?”

“Well I certainly didn’t expect that.”

“Right, they’re gone,” Hosea announced and lead the way as the three of them approached the building’s side door. “You know the drill — I’ll keep watch and you two grab what you can. Remember, no killin’ unless you’ve no choice.”

Arthur pulled out a pair of heavy duty pliers and quickly snapped the door’s lock. “Got it.”

Maebh nodded as she gripped the hilt of her hunting knife. “Any other residents we should look out for?”

Hosea shook his head. “Just a cat as far as our information says.”

“Grand. After you, Mr Morgan.”

Arthur led the way as requested, keeping low and entering the fancy house as quiet as he could. Hosea remained in the doorway while they found themselves in a large washroom of sorts. They moved stealthily through another door and into a long hallway.

“Okay,” Arthur said in a hushed voice. “You search down here while I look upstairs. Come up when you’re finished.”

“Yes, sir.” With a nod, she slunk off into the nearby sitting area and he scaled the excessively extravagant staircase to the landing. At the top, he noted five doors to choose from and, knowing that there wasn’t much time to consider his options, got to searching through them as quickly and quietly as possible. He grabbed whatever he could — trinkets on shelves, bottles of unopened bourbon and rum, loose change, money clips, jewellery — and stuffed it into the bag he carried over his shoulder. In a room he assumed to be an office, he searched through the desk drawers and found some more money, along with bonds in relation to livestock and a couple of business related letters. He noted details they could use for possible future robbers if needs be, and found himself grinning at the possibilities. They had really struck gold with this lead.

After going through a study, a fancy bathroom, and a bedroom, he eventually arrived at the master bedroom. Upon opening the door, he was greeted with the sight of a ginger cat sitting atop a large bed. They stared each other down for moment, before the cat eventually looked away and returned to licking its paw.

“Hey there, kitty,” Arthur greeted the animal quietly. “Don’t mind me — just stealin’ from your owners… Not like you give a shit.”

He worked his way through the cosy room, going through drawers, wardrobes, and cupboards in search of anything useful. An extensive jewellery collection had him grinning like a moron, as well as a number of Cuban cigars. As he reached one of the bedside tables, the cat seemed to take a curious interest in him. It proceed to rub its head along his outstretched arm, purring contentedly. Seeing no harm, he gently scratched its head.

“Arthur?” he heard a low voice call from the hallway and answered to let Maebh know where he was. Upon entering the bedroom, she smiled at the sight before her. “Hadn’t pegged you for a cat person.”

“Ah, I don’t mind cats or dogs,” he admitted before returning his attention to the drawer’s contents and pointing to the right side of the room. “Help me take a look ’round. I ain’t checked that side yet.”

She got to work, rooting through a large chest of drawers for anything they could sell.

He noted the size of her own bag and asked. “You look like you found enough.”

“Oh definitely,” she replied. “These people have way too many things. There was a whole cabinet of fancy alcohol down there.”

“Well, don’t tell Karen or the Callander boys that,” he joked. “Or we’ll never get to taste it ourselves.”

“Better safe than sorry.” There was a short silence between them before she continued speaking, though her tone had shifted slightly from its previously jesting manner. “I, eh… meant t’say to you. Thanks for askin’ me to come along on this job.”

He turned his attention away from the chest he was ransacking to look at her. She had her eyes fixed on a fancy hat before she met his gaze.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “I knew you’d be a helpful set of hands for it.”

“Well, thank you. It’s just…” She sighed and shoved the hat into her bag. “When you’ve been out of action for a bit, people can be hesitant ’bout involvin’ you in important work. I’m just relieved you don’t think I’m a liability, or somethin’.”

“O’course I don’t think that,” he reassured her, shutting the chest and moving to the other bedside table. “No one at camp thinks that neither.”

“You sure?”

Her tone was enough for him to understand that she was indeed a bit worried that her fellow gang members were worried about her abilities. He had to remind himself that she was still young and learning and — though he knew little of her upbringing — hadn’t been living this life anywhere near as long as he had.

“I’m sure.” He looked at her earnestly. “Look, Maebh, we all mess up sometimes. It’s part of the job. All you can do is learn from it and try not to do it again. I think you’re bein’ too harsh on yourself anyway. Keep workin’ hard and you’ll be fine.”

She restlessly picked at her palm and offered him a genuine smile, much like the one he had witnessed that morning. “Right, well, thanks for the reassurance, Arthur.”

He gave her his best attempt at a smile and went back to searching in the other bedside table he had yet to empty. Though he felt her eyes on him, he kept busy, cursing himself for being so awkward when it came to conversing with women in most regards. He hoped he at least hadn’t made himself look like a fool. Really he just hoped that she did feel a bit better about her capabilities…

He aimlessly picked up a letter within the top drawer just so he had something to stop himself from acting like an ass. He read its contents before realising that this actually was something that could be exceedingly useful.

“I think I found somethin’,” he announced. “C’mere.”

Maebh approached him quickly, looking over his shoulder at the letter in his hand. “What ya got?”

“A letter,” he explained, then finished reading it, and handed it to her. “Addressed to the husband’s brother. Says somethin’ ’bout a train full of rich folk comin’ through here in September.”

She studied the parchment and her eyes narrowed in thought. “That’s about two weeks from now. Sounds like a lot of money travellin’ on one train.”

“And that railroad runs right through some mighty quiet country…”

She grinned mischievously at the suggestion. “Arthur Morgan, I think you might’ve struck gold.”

“Maebh Hennigan, I think we may have. Let’s get outta here.”

Having cleared the room, they quickly headed down the stairs with their bags weighing heavily on their shoulders. The ginger cat watched them leave before returning to its relaxing slumber.

They rounded the stairs and reached the hall just as Hosea’s hushed voice warned them from his spot by the side door. “Take cover! The husband is back!”

“Wait, what?” Maebh said, looking at the door as Hosea closed it and hid from view.

“Awh shit—!” Before Arthur could comprehend any plan of action, the front door rattled as a key announced the return of the house’s occupants.

They were currently standing in the centre of the front hall, completely out in the open and resembling sitting ducks.

Without warning he grabbed Maebh by the arm and pulled her into the darkened corner beneath the staircase. He found himself shielding her frame as she was pressed into the wall, and look of surprise covering her face. At that moment, the door opened with a ominous creak. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but he merely placed a finger on his own lips. Choosing not to risk having a peak just yet in case it compromised them, Arthur placed his hands on the wall either side of her as they squeezed themselves into the safety of the darkness.

His heart pounded in his chest as he heard the husband mutter under his breath. “That woman and her damn shawl…”

Footsteps sounded on the wooden flooring and Arthur used them to judge just how near or far the man was. He could feel anxious energy seeping from Maebh and noticed how she was cautiously gripping the hilt of her sheathed knife. Ever so carefully, he peered slightly around the stairs and saw the man impatiently grabbing a scarf from the coat rack next to the door.

“I have it, darling!” he called to his wife before rolling his eyes, muttering something about her constant forgetfulness, and storming out the door. He slammed it shut, once more leaving them alone in the large house. Arthur took a step back from her and heaved out a relieved sigh, just as she did the same. He attempted to clear a lump that had formed in his throat, hyper aware that he just all but shoved a young lady — his friend no less — into a dark corner in an unfamiliar house and forced his way into her personal space. He probably made her severely uncomfortable in the brief moment that the husband had returned.

You goddamned idiot, Morgan, he thought, rightly scolding himself for being such a damn lout. She ain’t no delicate flower, but why do you insist on bein’ such a heavy-handed fool? Thank God you had a damn bath yesterday, lest you make the girl suffer even more.

“That was close,” she mused. “We would’ve been done for if you hadn’t’ve pulled us under here.”

He was quick to wave off her thanks. “I think we’re in the clear now at least. Sorry for uh, manhandlin’ you.”

She let out an amused chuckle at his apology, causing him to frown. “You’re grand. If you hadn’t manhandled me, we’d probably be fleein’ from the law right now. I’d rather you did it again instead of leavin’ me to get caught.”

“Okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

She placed a gentle hand on his bicep and gave it a reassuring squeeze before releasing him again. “For future reference, I’d much rather you reef me under a staircase than leave me to fend off some rich bloke who has an unhealthy obsession with overpriced gin.”

He chuckled awkwardly and fixed his eyes on his boots. “Duly noted, Maebh.”

Before she could offer a response, the side door swung open, revealing a worried-looking Hosea. “You two alright?”

Arthur nodded and the two quickly walked to the washroom to join him. “We’re fine, but it was damn close.”

“Sorry for not givin’ you much of a warning. I didn’t hear them comin’ back until he was walkin’ up the path.”

“It’s fine, Hosea,” Arthur reassured him. “He didn’t see nothin’ and I think we might’a gotten ourselves another job outta this too.”

“Well good work then, you two. C’mon,” Hosea urged, ushering them out the door and into the night once more. “Let’s get outta here before someone sees us.”

Arthur breathed in deep as they left the uneasy atmosphere in the house behind. The cool air filled his lungs, relaxing his heart that was still beating irregularly after their close encounter.

Close in every sense of the word.

He slung his bag full of valuables over Boadicea and hoisted himself into his saddle just as Hosea offered them both a compliment for a job well done and a confrontation thankfully avoided. He tried to banish any worries from his mind that he may have made his friend uncomfortable with his recklessness as they began the long ride home. He guessed he would simply have to take her word for it and ignore the nagging thoughts in his tired head.

* * *

It was late at night when Maebh arrived back at camp. John welcomed them as he stood guard, and Arthur and Hosea lead the way up the dirt path to the tranquil little encampment. The latter offered her some small words of encouragement as they hitched their horses and left them to enjoy a well-deserved rest. She thanked him for bringing her along before then thanking Arthur for having her back as always. He left her with a tip of his hat and a wish that she slept well.

Her legs stung and ached from the lengthly ride home as she quietly entered her tent, seeing William already passed out on his bedroll. She had fully intended on following his lead when something on her pillow caught her attention. She gently placed her loot bag on the ground, stooped down, and picked up a small object wrapped in a piece of paper. She slowly unwrapped it, careful not to make too much noise, and discovered a chocolate bar. The gift was a thoughtful one and she originally assumed that William had left it for her until she read the piece of paper it had been wrapped inside:

Mayuv,

I heard you complaining saying to William about how you would ‘murder some chocolate’ this morning. Figured I would pick this up for you while I was in town today. Consider it a thank you for the bottle of bourbon you got me.

John

The gesture, though small, warmed her heart a little — more than she would probably admit to John’s face. He was right though, as she had been doing William’s head in about craving chocolate that morning before he realised his pocket watch had gone on the hop. It was commonplace within the gang to leave people gifts as favours and the action never failed to bring her a little bit of joy. It was the simple things in life, she supposed. She was even willing to overlook the complete bastardisation of her name because well, no one here spoke Irish other than her and her brother. At least he tried.

Grabbing the chocolate and a bottle of bourbon nicked from the house in Norwalk, she exited the tent in search of John. Though the entirety of camp had gone to bed, his tent was empty when she checked.

He’s probably still on guard duty, she mused and proceeded to head down the path to the outskirts of camp. She spotted John sitting against a tree in the darkness, smoking a cigarette and looking rather bored. Though he clearly didn’t hold much interest with guarding camp, the carbine in his hand was still ready should anything occur.

“Mr Marston,” she greeted him, her feet crunching on the leaf-covered ground already announcing her arrival.

He gave her a nod before tossing his cigarette on the ground and snuffing it out with his foot. “Miss Hennigan. What you still doin’ up?”

She took a seat next to him. “I got your gift and wanted to say thank you.”

He shrugged it off. “I owed you for that bourbon you got me anyhow.”

“And I got you that ’cause I owed you for those drinks in De Soto.”

“I guess we’re just gonna keep owin’ each other shit then.”

She popped open the bottle of whiskey before agreeing. “I guess you’re right. Drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, taking a large swig from the bottle before handing it back to her. “That’s the stuff.”

She followed his lead and drank, enjoying how the liquid warmed her up and burned her throat in the most pleasurably of ways. “We nicked this from the homestead in Norwalk. Place was swimmin’ in drink.”

“So it went well, I’m assumin’?”

“Very.” She unwrapped her chocolate bar and plopped a square into her mouth before offering him one too. “We have lots to sell and lots to give away. Arthur found some info ’bout a train too that looks promisin’.”

He took the square and gave her a curious look. “A train?”

“Yeah, full of rich fellas passin’ through some quiet country. It’s askin’ to be robbed really.”

“Can I have in on that?” he asked, eyes wide at the prospects.

“I’m sure Dutch’ll want you in on it anyway, Marston, but I’ll put in a word anyway.”

“Consider it a thank you for the chocolate,” he joked and took the whiskey to drink some more. “You owe me now.”

“Ah, while we’re on the subject of that.” She lowered her voice and leaned in as if she had a precious secret to share with him. John took the bait and met her halfway. “M-A-E-B-H.”

He blinked in confusion. “What’s that?”

“How you spell my name. I’ll give you credit for tryin’ anyway.”

“For Christ sakes...” John frowned and wiped a hand over his flushing face. “I’m gonna kill Morgan.”

Putting the two together, Maebh started to laugh. “I should’ve known he was involved in this. That makes it even funnier.”

“You said B-H?” he grumbled, looking baffled. “How does that even work?”

“It makes a V sound in Irish,” she explained, unable to stop smirking at his amusing confusion. “If you think that’s difficult, you’re in for a shock with some of the other words. I feel like you should understand this as a Scot.”

He looked back at her with an equally sour and embarrassed expression before suddenly his eyes drifted over her head. They settled on something that caused him to start. He immediately heaved himself upwards, pulling her up too, and shoved her behind him.

“Who’s there?” he called out into the darkness, the repeater now aimed at something unseen in the distance.

Baffled, Maebh followed his line of sight and finally laid eyes on that which had startled him.

“You see him?” he questioned her under his breath. “Up on the ridge?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I see him.”

Up on the small ridge that circled around part of the camp’s outskirts stood a lone figure. It stood motionless, standing over them without offering a name or an explanation of why the hell it was watching them. The light of the moon shone over the tall shape, who she assumed to be a man based on its stature, but the darkness made it impossible to accurately identify it beyond being human. It was rare that she felt intimidated by others, but a cool shiver ran up her spine at the sight of this stranger. Her hand shook as it hovered over her pistol’s grip.

As the silence between them stretched out, John’s husky voice broke it once more. “Identify yourself, mister, or I’ll shoot!”

She could feel him staring at them, apparently unfazed by the threats.

“Go wake Dutch,” John ordered her, not taking his eyes off the apparition. “Tell him we got some son-of-a-bitch who thinks he’s funny.”

“Will you be alright?” she asked, already backing away down the path.

“Yeah, just go!”

Without another word, she sprinted back to camp. Her heavy footfalls pounding on the grass while she hoped Marston could handle the mysterious man alone. She called out Dutch’s name, rousing half the camp from their slumber with her unconventional arrival.

Outside of said man’s tent, she caught her breath. “Dutch, we’ve got a situation.”

Suddenly, the tent’s flap pulled back and a half asleep Dutch appeared before her, wearing a pair of pants over his union suit. “What is it?”

“There’s some fella wanderin’ ’round outside camp,” she quickly elaborated as Hosea and Miss Grimshaw appeared with their guns in-hand. “Marston has a gun on him, but he won’t leave or announce himself. He told me to come get you.”

The more she spoke, the firmer Dutch’s expression became. He quickly wrapped a large arm around her shoulder and offered some comforting words. “Alright, Miss Hennigan. You did right to come wake me up.”

At that, Arthur, William, and Davey joined them and the former asked with a tired voice. “What’s all the hollerin’?”

“We got someone snootin’ ’round outside camp,” Dutch said before addressing Maebh once more. “Did you get a look at him?”

“I didn’t ’cause he was standin’ on the ridge and hidden in the low light. Ah Jesus, Dutch, it’s really bleedin’ odd. He was just standin’ there. Didn’t say anythin’ or do anythin’. He was like a damn ghost.”

Dutch’s brow furrowed deeper. “If this son-of-a-bitch thinks he’s bein’ funny, he’s in for a rude awakenin’. I ain’t got no time for jokers who wanna intimidate my family. Hosea, Arthur, you come with me while we confront this visiter. William, Maebh, and Davey, you three guard camp and wait for us to come back. We clear?”

With unanimous agreement, Dutch quickly shoved on his boots, grabbed his pistol from his bedside table, and stooped back out into the night air. Before he got very far — barely even passed his tent in all honesty — the usual crunch as his boots met grass was interrupted with an odd metal clank. He halted in his steps, the others pausing with him. Maebh eyed him, fully expecting for him to simply ignore what he had stood on and continue with the pressing task at hand.

“Dutch?” Hosea urged him gently, but the man didn’t budge from staring at his feet. He bent down slowly and picked up what which he found in the grass. His silence was deafening, but enough for Maebh to know that whatever he found had left him somewhat troubled.

“This wasn’t here when I went to sleep,” he muttered, staring at the object shielded within his large palm. “I would’ve seen it.” He looked at William and quietly asked. “Did you put this here, son?”

“Put what, Dutch?” William asked, visibly perplexed. “Why would I leave somethin’ outside your tent in the middle of the night?”

“Did one o’you leave this here?”

“No one left anythin’ there.”

His reply was met with silence and Maebh gave Arthur a skeptical look before the man repeated his name, just as a silver chain fell from Dutch’s hand, dangling and shimmering in the dim moonlight.

William gave a start, already knowing what he had found before Dutch held up his hand, revealing a much-sought after missing pocket watch.