#i love the way john hurt delivered do…….Nothing

[milkwands]

even she was weirded tf out

[sakuravalelp]

Phantom letters - DPXDC PROMPT

The bats wake up one day to the internet going crazy; people around the world were getting letters from they're diseased loved ones. The reactions are mixed, from people being outraged for the "prank" to people crying in melancholy at getting closure.

All the letters have something in common: They're closed with a green sealing wax that had an stylize DP and the name Phantom beneath it. Posts about the cards were using the # Phantom Letters.

The bats are discussing the viral posts in the cave when Alfred comes holding a basket filled with letters, announcing they were left at the doors. The letters had the sealing wax that they recognize from the posts. Checking the cameras they can see how they glitch before the basket appears.

Alfred starts to distribute the letters that had only one destinatary. Letters from each Thomas and Martha to both Bruce and Alfred. Letters from each John and Mary to Dick. A letter from Catherine to Jason. A letter from the Drake's to Tim, and another one to Bruce.

Once they had calmed down enough from the shock, Alfred proceeded to read the shared recipients. From Thomas and Martha to "The grandchildren we never got to meet." From John and Mary to "the family that took our little Robin in." Letters from Catherine to "My little boys family." The letters were directed to people the deceased didn't get to meet.

As much as the mere existence of the letters tugged at their hearts, they decided to not read them until they verified that the handwriting actually belong to the ones it claimed. They checked each letter, and in the end confirmed the letters were in fact from they're lost love ones.

After much discussion, each person makes the decision to read they're own letters later in private, and they proceed to read the ones that shared recipients out loud. The letter mentioned specifics like names and events that the deceased shouldn't have been able to know, including they're vigilante abilities, which had them pause each time to panic a bit. But what was more interested were certain pieces of the letters that mentioned a Prince Phantom.

"Prince Phantom said to don't mention things past our death, but it wasn't a command, so we're hoping this won't be much of a problem." - John and Mary

"I still can't believe Prince Phantom is letting us do this, but I'm so glad." - Catherine

It finally paints the mystery in a more concerning light when at the end of Thomas and Martha's letter there is a call for help.

"We're sorry for ending the letter on a serious tone, but seeing the kind of job you all get involved in, we wanted to ask: Could you please help Prince Phantom? Phantom had asked us to not give information about this, but he's so young, and has already been hurt so much. Please, check on Amity Park, Illinois."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Meanwhile, team Phantom has decided that they needed to get the news about the GIW out of Amity and ask for help. Two problems:

the GIW blocks any technological attempt made.

People might be afraid to learn that ghosts exist and side with the GIW.

As a way to deal with the public image, Phantom opens a possibility that the death have never had:

"All afterlives are open to write letters to their love ones that are still alive today. Nothing that includes threats, and don't go talking about the anti-ecto acts or Amity Park yet, we're trying to ease people into our existence first. Also, I know you all check on your love ones when the veil is thin, but please keep the things you shouldn't know out of the letters if possible. If you want your letter to be sent in the first batch, make sure to deliver your letter before the week ends."

Letters are a good way to reconnect people with the death, they aren't digital, and the GIW won't be able to intercept letters if they're send through inter-dimensional portals. Two birds in one shot.

[beloveds-embrace]

you wrote this:

Kyle offers to escort you on walks, but you refuse, choosing instead the quiet solace of the garden paths shared with König. Simon’s attempts at conversation are met with cool civility, and Johnny's food largely goes untouched. You allow none of them closer than courtesy demands.

I can see the conversation with johnny playing out. you're sat at the table for the first time in ages, having dinner with john and simon when johnny notices you haven't touched your food.

"Is something wrong with the meal? I can make you something else if it's not to your liking."

and you say just as polite as can be, "I didn't want to mention it before because i didn't want to embarrass you but your dishes were always a bit lacking. you seem to have trouble with the timing of the meals and sent food out burnt or undercooked. I felt it was better if I just didn't have any so as not to hurt your feelings. a delicate stomach, you understand."

and johnny has to stand there called out bc what reader said is technically true but it was said so politely, and he's really not a bad cook. he just can't argue with you about it without saying he did it on purpose.

anyways i'm loving all these stories, the way you're telling them is wonderful!

<33

You got it so perfectly like yes 😩

Original Post

I’m just imagining the way the room falls into stunned silence. John freezes mid-cut into his steak, his eyes flicking between you and Johnny. Simon raises a single brow, his expression unreadable but his gaze sharp with interest. Johnny, meanwhile, stands there as though struck, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

The words are technically true, delivered with such measured civility that he can’t argue without admitting the malice behind his past actions. His face reddens, his hands clenching briefly at his sides before he forces a tight smile. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll… I’ll do better next time.”

What else can he even say? Fully admit that he’d been purposely, pettily feeding you horrible food?

“Thank you,” you just reply with a nod, already turning your attention back to your plate. The faint clink of silverware resumes as you cut into the fruits instead, unbothered by the tension that now thickens the air. Still… “I am sorry, I didn’t mean it in a way to… embarras you.”

“It’s… alright, Your Grace. I understand.” And thus, Johnny leaves, mouth pursed shut like a wound trying to stitch closed.

Across the table, John clears his throat, attempting to dispel the awkwardness that settles. “It seems you’ve developed a sharper tongue than I recall, Duchess.” He says, his tone light but laced with something.

You look up briefly, your expression serene. You skewer a grape on your fork, and let it hang there for a few seconds. “Only when necessary, Your Grace.”

From his place in the shadows just outside the dining room, König listens silently, his pale eyes narrowing beneath his mask. He says nothing, but the satisfaction in his stance is palpable. When you finally leave the dining room, ignoring the heavy stares from Simon and John the entire dinner, König falls into step beside you as always. Closer to you than your own shadow.

“You spoke well, mylady,” he murmurs as the two of you step into the cool night air of the garden. His voice holds a note of pride, and he offers you his arm. “They deserved no less.”

You glance up at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “I’m glad you think so. Your opinion.. it’s the only one that matters.” And with that, you take his arm, leading him toward the quiet paths that have become yours and König’s alone.

[anundyingfidelity]

WHAT IF...? — Soldier Boy/Ben (3)

Summary: Ben, now as your husband, gives up Vought for good and retires along with you far away from the spotlight and the big cities once you're pregnant with your first child. He knows better than to make the same mistakes his father did.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader

Word count: 1,7k.

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage (this drabble is centered on this basically), heavy angst, hurt/comfort, OOC!Ben and soft!Ben with kid John.

GEN MASTERLIST! — DRABBLES MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

Part 3

1988

Another sob left your lips. You hugged your legs together, back against the cold bathroom wall as you let all the sorrow and pain wash you away, tears rolling down your cheeks.

It felt heavy on your shoulders, on your back, on your neck… Everywhere, as if someone put a ton of weight on you so you would just be forced to sit down and never get on your feet again. You did not have any strength left, every muscle of your face hurted and your body burned like hell.

Breathing in and out wasn’t helping either. All you wanted was to vanish, let the ground open and then swallow you completely. Or disappearing. Just quitting existence. It would be so much better if no one could remember you, right? You thought about it so many times and you wondered if everything and everyone would be fine with it.

At this point, you didn’t care. You just wanted to run away, from everything and everyone.

But then, the door creaked open and you knew who it was. With eyes shut, embarrassedly crying out your misery to the man kneeling before you, you restrained yourself from looking at him.

You felt his hand, warm and broad, rubbing your shoulder slowly. Ben tested the waters, caressing your tense arms, until he took one of your hands, and you seemed to calm down just a little when he, in a serene silence, wiped the tears away from your face with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said in a broken voice that made his heart shrunk. “I’m sorry for not giving you another child, I’m so sorry…”

Ben pulled you in for a hug, both of you on the cold ground. Your head on his shoulder as he embraced you with his arms against the warmth of his figure. After all the years you spent together with your firstborn and living a normal life, he still had a somewhat hard time processing and expressing his feelings, and even more so, comforting you. But right now he felt all your pain. Every single tear, all your suffering, he was swallowing it too. If he’d be feeling that way, you would be there on his spot, letting him cry out on his shoulder.

When you found out you were pregnant again, you became the happiest he ever saw you. Both of you were so excited since you finally were managing to raise John to be a good kid. Ben was learning new things everyday with the little family you were building, and he loved being a father, so starting again was the best news ever.

But suddenly, complications started and it was painful, both physically and psychologically. Never would you have imagined this was going to happen. You were just about to know if it was a boy or a girl, and then, that moment couldn’t be anymore.

Since then, you felt a part of you dying. Your husband became utterly worried seeing you day after day like this, crying alone in the bathroom at night. He could do nothing but hold you tight. You continued shedding your tears against him, trembling and sobbing, remembering the night it all happened, how fast you had to run to the hospital, and how the news were delivered, how much it fucking hurted…

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed into his neck again, holding onto him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said softly and moved away a little. Facing you, he cupped your wet cheeks and you slowly opened your swollen eyes. “Look at me, please… It wasn’t your fault, and I still love you.”

His voice was stern and low, but not enough to scare you. He was just trying to get your attention and make you forget all the negative thoughts your mind had put you in.

“Please stop torturing yourself like this.”

He said it almost like a plea, with his green eyes focused on your own that you tried so hard to keep open. Even though the tears couldn’t stop falling, you gave him a small nod.

You tried not blaming yourself, you tried to keep going every day like nothing had happened, burying the pain inside simply because it was too much to handle. You were just so happy to have another child before, and suddenly everything you built up crumbled down in what felt like a couple of seconds…

“Mommy?”

A sleepy little John stood by the doorframe, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and grabbing his teddy bear with the other.

“John, please go to your room,” Ben said almost in a whisper, and you looked away from your son so he couldn’t see you in such a state.

“Is she okay?” John asked again, innocent as a child could be.

Ben gave you a worried look before answering. It was as if you two communicated with your eyes only in tough situations like this. After a moment, you finally nodded and wiped the tears again.

“Go,” you whispered. Ben hesitated, looking between you and his son. “I’ll be fine, go.”

Ben gave you a rather worried last gaze but he did as you told. He walked out the bathroom, grabbing John’s little hand, and he took him back to his bedroom, which wasn’t that far. There, he tried to wrap John with the covers, but his son remained sitting down with big, blue eyes. Ben knew that look on his face.

“Why is mommy crying?” John asked while rubbing his eyes and yawning, hugging the teddy on his arm.

With a silent sigh, Ben sat down on the bed, trying to form an answer. It was the first time John had seen you like this and he had the right to know but he was just a kid. What kind of parent could have the heart to tell his four-year-old son his sibling died before birth?

“Crying is… normal,” Ben mumbled, tacking a messy lock of his blonde hair and putting it behind his ear. “Sometimes you cry when you’re sad, sometimes when you’re angry, sometimes it’s because of happiness… It helps you to release your emotions in a healthy way.”

“Is she sad?” John asked.

Ben nodded, finding his innocence pure and even a little cute. The kid was, by far, better at handling his emotions than his own parents, but that mere fact made Ben even prouder.

“Yeah, she is. But it’s part of life, y’know that, kiddo,” he continued, forming a half smile on his lips, mixed with sadness, grief and the feeling of the bond he was sharing with the little one right now.

John nodded this time, confirming he had understood his explanation. To be fair, John rarely cried now he was growing up, and would speak calmly and try to find answers before exploding. Ben always thought you had done a great job at teaching him how to react smartly. John was doing exactly that right at that moment.

“Daddy, do you cry too?”

John’s question left him speechless for a second as it interrupted his thoughts. The kid’s blue eyes looked directly to his soul, waiting for any kind of response.

“Sometimes…”

“You’re showing your feelings,” John said with a confident nod. “That is okay.”

Ben smiled widely this time, messing with his hair.

“Go to sleep, champ. Is getting late.”

He was about to wrap him up with the soft covers when you slowly showed up by the door. Your husband seemed taken aback at your appearance, but for what he could see you already had washed your face and probably had a glass of water. There were no more tears on your eyes, just the redness of your face after crying for so long and there was a half, tired smile on your lips nonetheless.

“Can I sleep with mommy and daddy?” John said once he noticed you were there. You walked in to take him into your arms, not before kissing his cheek lovingly.

“Of course you can. Right, dad?” you teased back.

Ben gave you a genuinely broad smile.

“Anytime.”

“I'm sorry, Ben-”

“No, stop apologizing. I fucking beg you. Please, stop that.”

His choice of words made you half chuckle.

“It's no one’s fault. This stuff happens,” he continued.

“I know I just- I really wanted another kid,” you mumbled looking at John who was playing with a kite and running around the backyard. You would have to tell John eventually, and it hurted you just the thought of it.

Ben followed your gaze, leaving his empty glass of ice tea on the wooden table. John was your treasure and you had raised him well. He was smiling, laughing, running around like a free soul. That was what Ben ever wanted, and he had given it to his son. The love of a mother, of a father, a cozy home, normal school with kids who happened to be fans of Soldier Boy… Even with all the fuzz after years of his retirement, he managed to have John safe. All his life purposes couldn’t compare to his little brat.

“Don’t you think he’s enough?” Ben broke the silence, turning his gaze toward you sitting by his side on the bench.

“Of course I do!” you replied with wide eyes, sounding a little offended by the question. Ben curved a brow, waiting for you to go on. “Maybe I wanted to have a bunch of babies running around… I told you that, remember? I still would like to-”

You choked with your own words, and Ben took your hand, rubbing your knuckles softly, looking straight into your eyes.

“Y’know, it’s okay. It’s okay if we do. And it’s okay if we don’t.”

You nodded slowly and he cupped your cheek with his palm, bringing you in for a soft kiss on your lips. “Thank you, Ben.”

“Daddy! Daddy, help!” John’s loud voice and him running toward you forced you to separate. Ben even got on his feet when the kid pointed to a tree. The kite was trapped there on a very high branch. Your husband sighed, hands on his hips as John begged for him to rescue his kite before the sunset started.

Looking between them, you let out a giggle and tapped Ben’s arm. “Go be his hero, honey.”

Soldier Boy taglist:

@delaynew @k-slla @thesilmarillionblog @onlyangel-444 @mrsjenniferwinchester 

@daisy-the-quake @jackles010378 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-spinster-witch @drasticemotions

 @stoneyggirl2 @sapnaploves @believeinthefireflies95 @weaponxgames @lyarr24

@skyesthebomb @thedazzlingburglar @slothbae99 @peachhiz @lorenaloveslewis

@erikaafernns @demodemo909

[fangirl-writes]

What Are We? (F-R-I-E-N-D-S Part 2)

John B. Routledge x Fem!Reader

Part One

Warning(s): swearing, angst

Notes: So I've been asked for a part two to this and I wasn't intending to do one, but I was struck with inspiration and since it's been asked I thought I'd might as well deliver. Don't expect a third part or a happy ending here, unfortunately folks.

Summary: In the never ending drama of John B. and Sarah Cameron, we've reached the cheating plot. Angry and heartbroken, John B. seeks out his old "friend" once again.

Getting cheated on sucks.

There was no other way to describe it. No matter how much John B. wanted to rant and rave and scream at the world for putting him in this situation, he truly had nothing to say.

So, he punched Topper. He punched him down until Kie’s dad and JJ pulled him off. And the asshole didn't even fight back.

So, he ran away. Storming off, away from Sarah. Away from the girl he thought loved him.

And, in a twisted, selfish act, he went where he always went when he was hurt.

Up that familiar driveway.

He knew it was stupid. But it was like there was a magnetic pull to her that activated whenever he was upset.

Like he was grasping for even a wisp of what he had before his dad left him. Of what it was like before the treasure hunt began.

He needed her.

He needed her care and understanding. He needed her to yell at him so he could yell back. He needed her to cry so he could remind himself that he was a fuck-up, too.

He circled around to the back of the house and faced the bricks that led up to her window.

The curtain was down, but the screen hadn't been popped back in.

A small bit of hope bubbled in him at the sight. If the screen wasn't back in, maybe that meant she was waiting for him.

John B. crawled right up to the window and tapped their secret rhythm on the glass.

He waited a minute, then two.

When there was still no response, he tried the window, surprised to find it unlocked, and slid it up.

He moved the curtain to the side and poked his head in to find the room dark and empty.

Where was she?

He climbed into the room, nonplussed by the breaking and entering, he was practically an expert at it by now.

"Y/N?" he whispered to the clearly empty room.

He leaned over and turned on the lamp at her bedside table, illuminating the room in a bright orange glow.

The familiar space popped into view, everything the same as it was when he was there last.

Same unmade bed they sat on, same pillows she threw at him...

He sunk onto the bed.

He had so many memories in that room. So many better memories, but now all he can think about it the tears in her eyes.

John B. took a deep breath, blinking back his own tears.

Was it karma? Did he deserve everything Sarah was doing because he'd been such an asshole to Y/N? Was this the heartbreak she felt when he left her?

The door creaked open, and his head snapped up, fearing it was one of her parents.

But it wasn't. It was Y/N.

...dressed really pretty.

She stood there with her arms crossed and a frown on her lips.

"You should really lock your window, some creep could crawl in through it."

She rolled her eyes. "What, you need someone to clean the blood off your hands?"

John B. flushed. "You know about that?"

"Well, I didn't expect you to notice, but I was there. Kiara's actually still my friend, you know."

He dropped his gaze to his hands, realizing that he did, in fact, have blood on his hands.

Y/N sighed, moving into the room, dropping her bag on her desk chair and grabbing a towel from her bathroom before sitting next to him.

"Here."

She held the damp towel out to him, and he took it, wiping his hands off.

"...you look beautiful."

"Don't. What are you doing here?" She snapped.

"I...I don't know," he said. "I just...need someone that understands."

A beat.

Then, “I’m sorry you got cheated on.”

John B. looked up at her.

She wouldn't meet his eyes, the anger still stewing in her, but she'd granted him some levity, considering the situation.

“I guess I sort of deserve it,” he replied. “After the way I treated you.”

Y/N shrugged. “Yeah, but, like, you almost died for her…multiple times. You’d have thought-“

“My dad’s alive.”

Her head snapped to look at him, eyes wide. “What? I thought Ward-“

“I did, too. Guess it didn’t stick.”

“What- John B. that’s amazing…isn’t it?”

He didn’t look like it was amazing. He looked like he was gonna be sick, actually.

“It was…it's supposed to be, but now he’s got me lying to my friends, and he got captured by some guys who’re taking him to South America-“

“South America?”

It was hard to remember that Y/N hadn't been there the whole time. That she couldn't just roll with whatever insane shit he was going through. She truly had no idea what he was talking about.

John B. sighed, pulling on his hair. “Can we just- forget it? For now?”

“Sure,” Y/N said. “So, I’ll ask again. What are you doing here, John B.?”

He raised his head and took a deep breath. “I just came where I always go when I’m hurt.”

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess you do. That's how it was before..."

Before he'd fucked their entire relationship.

John B. wondered if, had his dad never disappeared, they'd be dating right now.

Maybe. But he hadn't gotten his head out of his ass long enough to ask her before it all. And when he got a push, instead of running into her arms, he ran away.

"I didn't apologize for that, last time," John B. said. "I'm sorry I fucked up so badly."

"You really did," Y/N said. "I loved you, you know?"

"You won't believe me, but I loved you, too."

"What changed?"

It was a hard question. One he wasn't even sure he knew the answer to.

"I guess I did."

Y/N looked at her hands. "Did you just...outgrow me?"

That hurt, too. Something that should have been a crazy thought, something that never would have crossed his mind a year ago. Him and Y/N were forever.

Until they weren't.

"I...I guess I did."

John B. noticed her blinking back tears and felt his heart ache.

"Please don't cry," he whispered. "I'm not worth it."

"You don't know," she replied, strained. "You don't know how much I cried when you left. When I thought you died. As much as I hate you for ditching me, I still care about you. A lot."

It made him feel worse, again. She never cried, but she cried over him.

"I know I've been stupid. And selfish. And a horrible guy, but...do you think we can start over? Be friends?"

Y/N shook her head. "Come see me again when you've gotten over this Sarah thing and...we'll see, okay?"

It hurt, the rejection, but he understood.

"Is your phone number still the same?" he asked.

She gave him a confused look. "Yeah, why?"

"Can I call you? I think a late night phone chat is overdue."

She laughed through her nose and he smiled.

"Yeah. I guess that would be okay."

He had so many questions he wanted to ask her. To get to know her again. But now wasn't the time.

He was hurt, she was hurt.

It was gonna be a while before they could get back to how they were, if ever.

God, he'd fucked up so bad.

"You better go before my parents find you," she said.

John B. knew that wouldn't happen. In all the years he'd been sneaking through her window, they'd never as much as come upstairs, let alone come into her room to find him.

But it was her polite way of asking him to leave.

"Okay," he said, standing up, handing her the towel back. "Thanks for...letting me clean the blood off my hands."

"Hey, no problem."

He slid her window back up and threw a leg over the sill. "Seriously, though, lock this? There are freaks in this world."

She laughed again, out loud this time. "Your the only freak who's ever tried to climb in that window, trust me."

It gave him an odd sense of solace in that. Knowing he was the only one she'd snuck in.

It was another selfish thought. But that one he'd let himself have.

"Good night," he said, smiling softly at her.

"Good night, John B. Good luck with your dad."

Oh, shit. He'd actually almost forgotten about his dad. Which was horrible, but he just nodded and slipped out.

Now. How does one get to South America on short notice?

[lvlyghost]

Maybe Someday

PAIRINGS: John Price x F!Reader

SUMMARY: She never expected to see him again, but months after their breakup they find each other.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

TW: suggestive themes, angst, hurt/little comfort. heartbreak. lovers to(? 3rd pov. think that's it.

A/N: just something that came to my mind today whilst in the middle of a storm. enjoy!

Masterlist✨

The soft pitter-patter of rain above her dampens her hair.

The Big Ben marks the hour.

Six o'clock.

A gentle breeze that blows her strands in different directions; she shouldn't have come, shouldn't have agreed to this meeting. God knows it'd be painful. But she came, she showed up, and maybe bringing an umbrella would've been a good idea, not that she cares. She hasn't felt a thing for months now, stuck in a permanent state of numbness, the sky's dark and people around her run away from the rain. But not her. She waits as the cool air hits the uncovered flesh of her legs, resulting in goosebumps and a shiver that travels through her body.

And then the rain's gone, her sight partially blocked out. A warm body behind radiating enough heat; she remembers it. It's familiar. Eyes threatened to close and take in the well known sense of belonging. She knows him like the back of her hand.

"Eager to catch a cold, aren't you?" heart beating fast at the sound of his voice, deep and raspy. Breathing deeply she spun around facing a big broad chest, strong shoulders and a beard. Her eyes drift all the way up until she finds his face, those baby blues she was enamored with. "Rain's coming down hard, yeah?" The corners of his lips quirk up in a faint smile. 'Was he just as nervous as her?' Was he remembering all the things both had gone through? The nostalgia in his orbs glowing.

"John." She greets him at last.

Her voice is music to his ears. The same tone, the same softness and quietness. Something he loved. Soothing his nightmares away.

His bad days.

When he saw her standing alone, arms crossed over her waist, staring up at the sky in that bloody outfit. He almost wanted to scold her for her poor choice of clothing. The dark green jacket did little to nothing to protect her from the weather. Her bottom barely covered her legs.

"Love." He whispered back, leaning over her ever so slightly, something that has her sucking down a sharp breath. The black attire he wears only serves to make his eyes even more blue. Like the blue of the sea in Mykonos. John hesitates for a second but eventually offers his much better dark coat to her to which she refuses. He sighs, closing his eyes and opening them back again. "I believe you've got something for me."

From a black purse she takes out a manila envelope, trying not to think about how close he's standing, feet almost touching.

"Kate apologizes for not delivering it herself. But she's quite busy right now." She explains as John examines the envelope with curious eyes. "Said she'll reach out to you as soon as she's able."

Stuffing her hands in her pockets she chewed down on her lower lip, something that doesn't go unnoticed by John.

"You alright, love?" she freezes. Eyes boring into hers. She knows what he's truly asking. What he so desperately wants to know. The things that were left unsaid...

Give me a sign. Just one.

"Apparently the CIA wants nothing to do with this. So they're passing it on to someone who may get the job done...-"

He interrupts her, her name leaves his lips in a hushed voice that reminds her of shared late nights at his loft.

"Please... you know you can tell me. It don't matter what happened to us."

-

Sweet moans bounce around the place. The headboard that slams against the wall with every thrust of his hips. His fingers intertwined with hers. John's lips kissing down her neck. The sound of skin against skin. Hands that leave marks on his back, that he would proudly wear tomorrow morning as the everything that could have been.

Another blink of her eyes and she lays on her side, facing him as tears roll down her flushed cheeks. The same he gently wipes away with a broken heart and a deep frown on his lips. John's holding back his own emotions. It won't help anyone. She doesn't have to know how utterly broken he is by this.

"Hey..." he calls her in the quiet night. "Talk to me."

She shakes her head, she won't say a thing. He wanted answers and maybe he should've fought more. Fight to keep her close. But he always gave her what she wanted. What she asked for.

His bare legs tangled up with hers. This is it, she thinks. The last time they'll be together and it's ripping her apart at the seams. She cries silently, and John can only watch swallowing down the lump in his throat.

"Maybe someday we get that ending you imagined for us." From one moment to another he's pulling her close to his arms, laying a kiss on her forehead. More salty tears trailing down, hitting his exposed chest and she swears there'd be no one after Johnatan Price. "Just not today. Not in this lifetime. Not in this universe."

-

He waits patiently, glaring over her shoulder every now and then. He was sure no one had followed him but he couldn't risk it. One could never be too sure. If only she said the words he'd take her home. Back to where she belonged. In his arms, next to him. The small golden ring that was tucked away for months was still waiting for her to come back. It felt heavy whenever he held it in his hands.

"I guess...-" she trails off trying to find her voice. "It's hard to see you again."

John sighs feet shifting and jaw tightening.

"Not a day goes by where I don't think if... we-" his mouth snapped shut.

A loud rumble echoed through the sky above that startles her.

"Storm's coming in." She observed. Taking a step back from him, out of his reach.

John can't find it in himself to let her go just yet. Just a little longer. Please.

Please.

"Let's take cover... there's a café down the street." he points out the opposite direction.

"I don't think that's a good idea." She reasons but doesn't decline his invitation either. Taking a deep breath she fiddles with her hands. "You and I together are never a good idea." He snorts. Despite the situation. Despite the months apart, he hasn't stopped thinking about her. He hasn't stopped loving her and looking out for her even if she didn't know. What he'd do to have one more night with the girl. "But you know I can't deny that I'd kill for a latte and a chocolate cake."

Smiling fondly he gestures for her to hold the umbrella for him, she obliges. John is quick to unbutton his coat and wrapping it around her small figure. His hands rest on her shoulders and gives them a gentle squeeze.

"Now don't tell me you don't feel much better now." He takes the umbrella back and starts walking with her following down the street, arms brushing with every motion.

"You always knew how to treat a girl."

His lips twitch when he hears the words out of her mouth and she blushes aggressively. Her brain seemed to stop working when he was around.

The short trip is silent, two souls that were drawn to each other yet not meant to be together. All both could ever hope for is that another universe would soon come for them.

Or pray that something changed in this one.

[blingblong55]

To live without- 141 + Alejandro

Based on a request:

Hii can I make a request for some angst?? Maybe the reader having an argument with the TF 141 + Alejandro, inside the car or anywhere resulting to a break up?? Cause I'm a sucker for angst, thankss 🫶

F!Reader, angst, established!relationship, break-ups, cheating (not all)

A/N: This will be in 5 parts

Part 1 (John Price), Part 2, (Soap), Part 4 (Alejandro), Part 5 (Ghost)

It has been a stressful few months for him, between his job, you, his own safety and yours, let alone the current argument over his birthday. It's why you and he are now in the car, having this argument.

Gaz:

The end of you started months ago when his job was his only priority. And like any other soldier, he kept you by his side, feeding you just enough love and attention to keep you hooked for a few more months. You weren't to blame, you loved him because he consumed your very last thought. What you had for him was pure love, nothing more.

And he knew that from the very beginning. Your love was so innocent and sweet, but that once sweet love you held for him to take was burnt down. The constant arguing, his absence, the one-sided love and his job. It all came down to how he delivered it, "Happy birthday!" you hug him and he pushes you away. "Not now, dear," he says in a rude and cold tone. The past mission left him tired and traumatised but that still wasn't an excuse to push you away, emotionally and physically.

You frown a little, he knows damn well you are an emotional person, it's what drew him to you, that and how much you cared for everyone, you were...are so kind it's such a sight to see for him. He sighs, "Look, I just want to be left alone." he looked at you, a stern face and tone in his voice. You nod, "Okay...I..baked a cake for you...should be in the fridge," you tugged at your jumper, feeling awkward now.

"Well, see you" he not once looked at you, eyes on his phone. You nod and walk out of his flat. You finally let go and cry, meanwhile, he can hear this all and listens as you cry your way down the hall. Before you go down the stairs, his mates come up the stairs, "Oh hey r/n! excited for the party?"

Hurt to know he wanted you out to have fun. Yes, you are a kind person but once someone does something to hurt you, that's when kindness leaves you. You walk back to his flat, open the door and march towards him, "a fucking party? And here I thought you needed space!" his friends know best and wait outside, letting you two talk it out.

"I just don't need you here today.." he admits. You scoff, "So what, this whole time you just have me around when you need fucking stability?" you by this point were hurt and furious.

"No, look...you are so...fucking sensitive, the guys can't make a joke without you getting hurt... it's seriously annoying me"

"They make jokes at my expense, make fun of who I am...call me names you know damn well have a bad past for me.."

"Maybe if you weren't such a fucking little bitch it wouldn't hurt!" he raised his hand and quickly put it back down.

That was it, the last point that had to be given so you could finally walk out. And once you finally left his place, his friends walk in and cheer him up. As the party continued, his friends got more drunk, they opened the fridge, taking hold of the cake you made.

Carrot cake just like how he loved it. You must've spent time learning to do such a thing for him. They smashed it and all he could do was watch as the last proof of love he had for you died down with the rest of the night.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 11 - And Felt The Pulse Beat Fast

Summary: Arthur and Hosea share meaningful conversation after a night of advertising some moonshine. Meanwhile Kate finds herself involved in a dubious mission with John and the boys. She patches up Arthur as the day ends with an air of unspoken desire.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters  Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

TW: Brief mention of suicide, body image issues, eating disorder. Period typical racism.

A/N: Another long one, ~8k words. The end had me giggling and kicking my feet. I hope you enjoy! Comments and criticism are always welcome :)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig **please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Kate and I met this strange young bastard, Beau, and his forbidden love Penelope. Poor kids are just lookin’ for freedom but they’re stuck in some old family feud they ain’t even a part of. We delivered some letters for them, Kate insisted on it. I  gave her grief about it at first, but she was determined to go out of her way for these kids. Woman’s got a heart of gold.

Somehow, I ended up marching as a suffragette, the looks of loathing on the face of the locals amused me. I don’t know much about good causes, but I enjoyed my little experience riding alongside them. Kate showed me there’s more than one path, she chose to do the right thing and we still managed to gather some useful information. 

She makes my head dizzy sometimes, this woman. Came right out and asked to kiss me again! I choked up bad. She’s always speaking her mind, like she ain’t afraid of nothing. I love that about her. I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn’t. I just can not do that to her. She’s been through too much already, and she deserves a good man. 

And I don’t deserve that kinda happiness. 

Arthur woke the next morning with a heavy weight on his chest, the remnants of a sleepless night etched into the lines of his weary face. Kate's tender words echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, refusing to fade with the dawn. No one had spoken to him with such honesty and vulnerability in ages, and Arthur couldn't shake the memory of disappointment flickering in Kate's eyes when he couldn't reciprocate her feelings. As much as his heart longed to kiss and hold her again. 

As he lay there, Arthur's thoughts drifted back to Mary, the woman he once loved. He recalled the night he proposed to her, the anticipation heavy in the air, only to be met with the sting of rejection. Mary wanted him to leave behind his life of danger, to embrace a quieter existence with her, far from the chaos of the gang. Arthur understood her desire for simplicity, but he couldn't abandon the gang; the family that needed him. He pleaded with Mary to join him, but she refused, unwilling to sever ties with her own family, especially her younger brother.

Now, years later, Arthur felt he had strayed too far down a path of darkness to ever deserve happiness again. The memory of Mary's rejection lingered as a painful reminder of his inability to change, to be the man she needed. He believed himself beyond redemption, resigned to a life devoid of the joy he once craved.

To his surprise, Kate appeared unfazed by Arthur's refusal the previous night. She greeted him in the morning with her usual warmth, as if their conversation had not left a lingering tension between them. They shared breakfast together, engaging in easy conversation that helped ease some of the weight on Arthur's shoulders. Kate mentioned that she had already discussed their findings with Hosea, who wanted to meet with Arthur later that evening regarding a potential job at the Braithwaite estate.

Her calm demeanor brought Arthur a sense of comfort amid his inner turmoil. As they finished their meal, Kate gracefully excused herself to resume her tasks with the other girls. She promised to join him for dinner as usual, maintaining their routine without skipping a beat. Arthur watched her go about her duties with a mixture of admiration and gratitude. Despite his fears of pushing her away, Kate seemed to understand. And didn’t think ill of him for it. 

As the day unfolded, Arthur found himself immersed in a job orchestrated by Uncle—an opportunity to stage a simple yet lucrative payroll robbery. He teamed up with Charles and together they executed the heist with precision. The stagecoach robbery went off without a hitch, yielding a substantial sum that brought a brief sense of satisfaction to Arthur, feeling like a proper thief he was raised to be.

As the sun began its descent, Arthur sought out Hosea near the hidden stash of stolen moonshine. He detailed his failed attempt to sell back the stolen moonshine to the Braithwaites. Hosea recounted how they had approached the Braithwaite matriarch with an offer, only to be met with a cold rejection. The old woman haughtily declared that they deserved no reward for returning what she considered rightfully hers. Instead, in a spiteful act of retribution, she offered a meager ten dollars to distribute the moonshine for free at Mr. Gray's saloon.

Arthur was puzzled by the Braithwaite's response. Hosea clarified that it was a calculated move—a means of exacting revenge on the Grays and the town drunks. By turning the intoxicated patrons into even greater fools for the night, the Braithwaites hoped to incite chaos and leave Sheriff Gray to deal with the ensuing fallout.

Amidst the chaos of the moonshine-fueled night at Mr. Gray's saloon, Arthur assumed his familiar role as "Fenton," a persona he had adopted in previous schemes alongside Hosea. The act required him to play the part of Hosea’s younger idiot brother, who also happened to be mute. His only job was keeping glasses filled without uttering a single word. Though Arthur despised the charade, he couldn't suppress a chuckle at the absurdity of their antics—the lengths they would go to for a successful heist.

Draped in the guise of Fenton, Arthur navigated the rowdy patrons, handing out moonshine liberally as the atmosphere inside the saloon grew increasingly raucous. The scene was a stark reminder of earlier days, when he and Hosea were younger and life seemed simpler, despite the risks they took.

As the night wore on, the situation escalated when Sheriff Gray himself appeared, prompting Hosea and Arthur to spring into action. Shots rang out, echoing through the old saloon as lawmen pursued them. With practiced ease, they slipped through the back door, disappearing into the shadows and swiftly making their way to the waiting wagon. In the chaos that ensued, Arthur expertly handled their pursuers while Hosea skillfully guided the reins.

A small shootout erupted as the Grays chased them through the winding back roads and fields leading out of Rhodes. Arthur remained focused, taking down their adversaries while Hosea expertly navigated the terrain. The tension was palpable, the thrill of the night's escapade mingling with the danger of their flight.

Approaching the train tracks, Arthur spotted a train. With precise timing, they crossed just as the locomotive barreled through, cutting off their pursuers. The lawmen were left stranded on the other side, unable to follow.

Once they were safely beyond reach, away from the danger that had pursued them, laughter erupted between Arthur and Hosea. It was a release of pent-up tension, the adrenaline-fueled joy of a successful escape mingling with the shared camaraderie of outlaws.

“Remind me to never take up a career in���what was it? Bartending,” Arthur chuckled, glancing back at the remaining clinking bottles they were unable to distribute.

“I didn’t know they’d throw so much of a fuss over booze, this town is odd,” Hosea answered, shaking his head as he cracked the reins of the wagon.

Arthur furrowed his brow, considering the surplus moonshine. “What should we do with all the shine we still have left?”

Hosea’s expression turned grim. “That miserable Braithewaite woman wants us to burn the Grays' tobacco fields with it, I was hoping you and Sean could handle that tomorrow night.” 

“Damn, ain’t that makin’ a bit too much noise? I thought we were tryin’ to lay low in all this. These fellas may be drunks and racists, but they ain’t afraid to kill, you saw them back there,” Arthur expressed his concern.

Hosea sighed, revealing a hint of hesitation. “Dutch thinks there's money in this somewhere. His plan is to get them all riled up on each other and use that as an opportunity to slip in and rob ‘em.”

Arthur fell silent, contemplating the dangerous path they were treading by getting involved in a longstanding blood feud. “Things could get real ugly, Hosea. Do you really think one of these families is sitting on a pile of money?”

“Can’t say. But the cash box is getting full again, Arthur. We’ve been doing well on making money. With just a bit more cash, we’ll be out of here,” Hosea replied, injecting a note of hope into the conversation. Sensing Arthur's unease, he changed the subject. “Kate told me about your adventures yesterday. How are things going between you two?”

As their wagon rattled down the road, illuminated by the soft glow of the full moon, Arthur felt a sense of comfort settle over him. He glanced over at Hosea, his trusted father figure, and knew that he could confide in him about anything. The old man had a way of understanding Arthur's thoughts and feelings without needing them spelled out.

Arthur shifted uneasily in his seat, rubbing his palms together nervously, the words weighing heavily on his mind. It wouldn't escape Hosea's notice that Arthur was quite sweet on Kate. After all, it had been Hosea's idea to pair them up for the day, hoping to give Arthur a chance to spend time with her away from the group.

“I kissed her the other night, when she was singin’ a lullaby for Jack,” Arthur began, the words spilling out into the night air like a secret long kept.“She… she wanted to kiss me again today and, I really wanted to, but I had to let her down easy,”  He glanced over at Hosea, seeking some semblance of understanding in the old man's eyes.

Hosea raised an eyebrow in surprise, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You kissed her and ditched her? I thought I raised you better, son,” he teased, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

Arthur chuckled, though there was a tinge of self-deprecation in his amusement. “I know, I’m dumber than a bag of rocks.”

Hosea patted Arthur's shoulder reassuringly, his touch grounding. “You may be good at playing an idiot like Fenton,” he remarked, referencing their recent job, “but you’re a smart boy. What harm could come if you just let it happen and see where it takes you?”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur leaned back in the seat, his gaze drifting up to the blinking stars above, memories of Kate’s confession flooding his thoughts. “I just don’t wanna hurt her. And… I don’t wanna feel that kinda hurt again.”

Nodding in understanding, Hosea's expression softened with a paternal concern for the young cowboy. “I’m not gonna live forever, son. I’d just like to see you be happy with someone before I go.”

“I was happy once. I had a woman who loved me, and she left me because I couldn’t change for her.” Arthur admitted, his voice giving away the deep sorrow he still harbored about his young love. 

“Mary was a good woman, I did like her. You were both so young and naive, still navigating your own lives,” Hosea mused, his voice carrying the weight of hindsight. His gaze softened with memories. “But I don’t think she was the right one for you. She couldn’t tame that wild heart of yours.”

Arthur listened, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, the wagon jostling over uneven terrain. “Sometimes, I feel like I can’t even tame it myself,” he confessed, his tone tinged with resignation.

Hosea's eyes twinkled with a knowing glint. “That's why you need someone strong enough to stand in the ring with you,” he remarked, his voice brimming with wisdom, “and face down the beast with a heart just as wild.”

Arthur nodded slowly, the words sinking in like stones dropped into a still pond. He mulled over Hosea's advice, feeling the weight of his own heart's desires. The night enveloped them in a cocoon of shared understanding, the stars above bearing witness to their quiet contemplation.

Arthur’s confession hung heavy in the air, his words weighed down by the burden of his past. “Once she knows what I’ve done, I don’t think she can forgive me for it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, like a man confessing his sins.

Hosea let out a light scoff, his eyes bright with a hint of amusement. “Son, your bounty has been posted in almost every town in the west,” he remarked wryly. “She knows we’re outlaws, I think she’s probably aware you’ve killed some folk.”

Shaking his head slowly, Arthur gathered his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the horizon ahead. “No, no it ain’t that,” he muttered, his words heavy with hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Kate told me ‘bout her family, how they all passed from accidents or disease. She even had to bury her own daughter. I just…” His voice trailed off, grappling with the weight of his own truth. “I just don’t know how to tell her about my own. About my son, Isaac. Or Eliza.”

Hosea leaned back against the wagon’s seat, his expression thoughtful. “What’s stopping you from telling her? That’s something you two have in common,” he pointed out gently.

“Because I–I can’t tell her I’m the reason they’re dead,” Arthur confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “Family means so much to her, she’d never forgive me for throwing it away.”

The old man regarded Arthur with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Son, if you’re so worried about her turning the other cheek on you, I think you need to tell her the truth,” Hosea advised, his tone earnest. “She’s going to find out eventually, and you know she’s a smart woman. She understands what you are and still chooses to be by your side. And I’d be surprised if she draws the line at something that happened in the past. You're too hard on yourself, Arthur. What happened to Eliza and Isaac was terrible, but it was not your fault.”

Arthur rarely spoke about his son, Isaac, even with Hosea, his closest confidant. The weight of their deaths bore heavily on his heart, like an anchor dragging him into the depths of guilt and regret. Isaac's passing had transformed Arthur into a different man, one hardened by grief and the burden of responsibility.

Hosea had witnessed the change in Arthur firsthand. Before the tragedy that befell Eliza and Isaac, Arthur was more carefree, with a spark of youthful innocence in his eyes. But as time wore on, a darkness crept into his demeanor, a shadow that never quite lifted. He carried their deaths like a scar, a permanent mark etched upon his soul.

In moments of vulnerability, Arthur would let slip glimpses of his sorrow, revealing the cracks in his stoic facade. He blamed himself for their deaths, convinced that if he had been a better man, a different man, things might have turned out differently. It was a burden he carried alone, tucked away behind layers of bravado and hardened resolve.

Hosea understood the depth of Arthur's pain, but he also recognized the resilience that lay beneath. Arthur's reluctance to share his grief spoke volumes about the depth of his sorrow. It was a wound that time could not heal, a wound that had shaped the man Arthur had become.

As the wagon turned down the familiar winding road that led to their camp, the night's chorus surrounded them with the faint hum of a crackling fire and the warm glow as it cast dancing shadows across the clearing.

Arthur broke the moment of silence, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I should’ve been there for them, Pa," he confessed, his eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of the trees passing by.

Hosea sighed, the years etched into the lines of his face. "Yes, son, but life has a way of throwing us off course, even when we try our best," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom earned through hardship. "This world can be cruel, as you well know."

"I can’t be a bad man and expect good things like Kate to happen to me. It just don’t work that way," Arthur continued, his words laced with self-doubt.

Hosea placed a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder, his touch a welcome comfort. "Kate sees something good in you, son," his tone was gentle yet firm. "Maybe it's time you started seeing it too."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate scrubbed diligently, the soap creating frothy suds as she ran the bar along the stretched cotton over the washboard. She sat on a small stool in the shade beneath a sprawling tree, her trousers dotted with darkened spots from the splashing water. The air was heavy with heat, but the coolness of the water in the small washtub offered a brief respite. With each steady motion, her fingers became slightly more pruned from the repeated immersion.

Beside her, Mary-Beth was busy ringing out the soapy cloth and dipping it into a clean bucket, the rhythmic process mirroring Kate's own. The girls found solace in their shared task, engaged in easy conversation to while away the chore.

“So,” Kate began, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I saw you talking to Kieran the other day. Want to spill the beans on what’s really going on there?” She nudged Mary-Beth playfully with her knee.

The young girl looked down, a faint blush tinting her cheeks as she tried to hide her face from Kate's teasing gaze. “He was just curious about the book I was reading, that’s all,” she admitted bashfully, her voice carrying a hint of embarrassment.

Kate knew Mary-Beth's romantic tendencies well. From the moment they met, it was clear that she had a penchant for love affairs and romantic tales—her nose buried in romance novels and dreams of penning her own someday.

“That’s all?” Kate teased, a playful glint in her eye. “I see you watching him groom those horses every day. Somebody's got eyes for the O’Driscoll boy,” she added, splashing a bit of water in jest.

Mary-Beth retaliated with a laugh, “He ain’t an O’Driscoll!” Her grin gave away any attempt at concealing her feelings. She glanced over towards the horses, and Kate followed her gaze to where Kieran Duffy was tending to the animals. “He’s been talkin’ to me a lot recently. I just think he’s sweet.”

Kate's eyes lingered on the scene, noticing Lenny and Javier saddling their horses nearby, while John caught her gaze as he approached them.

Just as Kate was about to respond, John called out to her, “Kate! You busy right now?”

She looked up, eyes squinting as the sun glowed behind his frame. She gestured with open palms towards the wash bin. “You need somethin’?” she asked.

John tipped his hat to Mary-Beth, who waved politely in return. “We’re heading out to the Braithwaite manor to check out some horses. Thought you might wanna come,” he explained, nodding back to where Lenny and Javier were waiting.

Kate chuckled, her tone lighthearted. “You plan on stealing them or something?”

John crossed his arms casually, “well, you know,” he trailed, “if the opportunity presents itself.” Not bothering to hide their dubious intentions. Kate has to remind herself sometimes that she is running with outlaws. For them, a job doesn't mean checking out the goods, it means stealing goods. 

He cleared his throat and explained the situation seriously, “some fella from the Gray family told us he’d pay to have their horses stolen. Also mentioned they go for $1000 a piece.”

Kate raised a brow of suspicion, “and you believe him?” 

John only shrugged, “it's worth looking into.”

She waved him off with a touch of concern, “I don’t want no trouble John, I’m sure you boys will manage fine without me.” 

John persisted, his voice reassuring. “It won’t be no trouble at all. We’ll be in and out, they won’t even know we’re there,” he said, adding an enticing detail, “word is they got some pretty nice gypsy horses. Real purebreds too.”

Kate found herself caught in the web of temptation. Stealing horses was not something she relished, but the promise of seeing such a purebred up close was alluring. If they pulled it off successfully, she knew the money would help the gang alot. She figured it wouldn't be so bad to help them in one little heist. 

As if Mary-Beth could sense her conflicting ideas, she interrupted the silence, "I can finish up here, Kate. You should go. They'll have a better chance of pulling it off with you." She winked knowingly, seeming to support Kate's unspoken decision.

She made up her mind, fixing John with a pointed look. "No trouble," she repeated firmly, more as a command than a question.

"No trouble," John assured her with a nod of understanding.

Kate wiped her damp arms across her shirt, bidding Mary-Beth farewell and promising to catch up with her later. As she approached her midnight mare, the horse whinnied in recognition, sensing the upcoming adventure. Javier and Lenny greeted her from their saddles, both looking ready for action.

Javier tipped his hat with a charming smile. "Nice of you to join us, cariño," he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Kate swiftly mounted her horse, adjusting herself in the saddle. "You boys better hope this goes smoothly," she remarked with a playful smirk, her eyes scanning the group with a hint of caution.

Lenny rode his stallion closer to Kate's, "I gotta say, having you with us doubles our luck, don't you think?" he replied, his tone light-hearted but with an underlying sense of confidence.

She smiled fondly. Together the four of them took off down the lush green path and onto the dirt road. Kate was glad for the invitation, it made her feel good that the gang trusted her enough to include her in such tasks, that they were confident in her ability to work alongside them. She felt a new sense of trust among them, and camaraderie. She felt like she was becoming a real member, and not just some lone traveler like she had been nearly a month ago. 

The journey to the Braithwaite manor was uneventful, the cool breeze of the afternoon air was refreshing against their skin as they rode. As they arrived at the manor from the south side, away from the prying gaze of the property guards. The grand estate loomed before them, a testament to the family's wealth and power. They dismounted their horses in a secluded spot, ensuring they wouldn't draw too much attention.

Kate's mind wandered briefly, wondering if Penelope would be out in her gazebo enjoying the afternoon sun. 

John's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone matter-of-fact as he laid out the plan. "Let's keep this nice and easy. No need to rush. We're here on behalf of a buyer, looking to make a significant investment," he explained as they followed him toward the barn.

Outside the stable doors, a worker paused in his tasks, eyeing them with suspicion. "Can I help you fellas?" he asked, his tone wary.

"I hope so," John replied amiably, trying to appear non-threatening. "Heard you got some horses?"

"We always got horses," the man responded gruffly.

"Fine horses, I mean," John clarified.

The worker's expression soured, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the group. "I don't know whatchu’ talkin' 'bout, friend. Why don't you take that hoyden wench, yer greaser buddy, and his darkie friend and get off the property ‘fore I blow your face off," he retorted, spitting at their feet.

Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise at the man's unabashed racism and arrogance toward strangers. Suddenly understanding Tilly’s hesitation about being so far south. Javier quickly raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Whoa, take it easy there, amigo," he interjected, trying to diffuse the tension.

John remained unfazed by the man's hostility. "Come on now, partner. We're just looking to do some business. Inquire about a purchase," he persisted.

The worker let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine, follow me, Scarface," he grumbled, the insults never ceasing.

The ranch hand, ever welcoming, led them into the barn, his voice a steady stream of information about the horses—names, breeds, and abilities. She noticed they were not the purebreds John had heard rumors about. Still beautiful, strong horses nonetheless. 

Kate observed John and Javier exchanging a look as they walked deeper into the dimly lit space. When the man paused to pet a horse, John subtly motioned to Javier, who deftly moved behind the unsuspecting worker. 

Meanwhile, Lenny smoothly interjected with feigned interest. "Wow, look at the balls on that one," he chuckled, pointing in another direction. The ranch hand followed his gaze, oblivious to the danger lurking behind him.

With his back turned, Javier seized the opportunity, drawing his pistol from his belt. "Greaser, huh?" he muttered bitterly before striking the bottom of the iron against the man's head, knocking him out instantly. John and Javier wasted no time, swiftly moving the unconscious body to a hidden spot while Lenny began unlocking the stable gates.

Kate stood in stunned silence for a moment, her voice barely audible as she tried to suppress her surprise. "What happened to nice and easy?" she muttered.

Her comment elicited a chuckle from Lenny, who had already mounted one of the horses. "Can't get any easier than this. Let’s try to get 'em out of here without drawing too much attention," he replied casually.

Despite her swirling thoughts and unease, Kate pushed her concerns aside and mounted one of the horses. Following the three bandits out of the barn, she joined them as they sped off through the sprawling property, the rush of adrenaline mixing with a sense of trepidation.

The thundering hooves of their stolen horses echoed through the property. Behind them, shouts and the pounding of boots indicated that their presence had been discovered. Several ranch hands emerged from the buildings, brandishing rifles and shouting warnings.

John, Kate, Javier, and Lenny spurred their horses into a full gallop, kicking up dust and dirt as they raced across the open fields. The pursuing ranch hands fired off a few rounds in their direction, but the distance and the speed of their mounts made accurate shooting difficult.

As they reached the fence at the edge of the property, they leapt over the barrier. The group plunged into a dense thicket of trees, the branches clawing at their faces and clothes. The sounds of pursuit faded behind them as the guards were forced to slow down and eventually give up the chase. They whistled loudly, and soon their own horses caught up and began to follow in tow. 

Javier led the way as they made their way through the landscape to find the supposed buyers at Clemens Cove. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The encounter with the buyers proved to be an intriguing yet unsettling experience. They were met by a pair of brothers who seemed to operate in uncanny harmony, sometimes speaking in unison and shrouding their business with secrecy. Details about their clientele and operations were kept hidden, with only a vague promise that one of them would be available for future dealings, if they wished to become business partners.

During the negotiation, one of the brothers made a direct offer to purchase Kate’s prized black Hungarian outright, offering her a substantial sum. However, Kate politely declined without hesitation. Her bond with the mare ran deep, and no amount of money could sway her decision to part with her cherished companion.

The brothers’ offer of 50 cents on the dollar for the stolen horses was not quite what John had anticipated, but it still amounted to a respectable deal given the circumstances.

After concluding their business at Clemens Cove, the posse set off back towards the rolling plains. The sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm and serene glow over the lush green hills. Their horses trotted steadily along the trail as the  landscape unfolded around them, painted in hues of amber and gold, as they made their way back to camp.

"Hoyden wench…" Kate echoed with a chuckle, mimicking the ranch hand's harsh drawl. "I've been called a lot of things, but that sure is a first."

Javier, riding alongside her, piped up from the saddle, his expression puzzled. "What the hell does that mean, anyway?"

Lenny let out an exasperated sigh. " 'Wench' was a term used by slavers for black women. And 'hoyden' means she's too much of a 'tomboy’,'' he explained.

"Well, I can understand the 'tomboy' part, but she's not even—"

"Doesn't matter, amigo," John interjected, his tone matter-of-fact. "If ya skin ain't as white as a baby's bottom, it's all the same to them."

Kate nodded in agreement, her thoughts drifting back to the locals she had observed while running letters with Arthur. Witnessing their prejudice up close and personal was a stark reminder of the challenges faced by Lenny and Tilly in this region. As a woman of Italian descent, her skin carried a honey-brown hue, bronzed by the Lemoyne sun. Even this slight difference posed a threat to the narrow-minded locals, a reality that churned her stomach with discomfort.

"I'm ‘bout ready to get the hell out of dodge," Lenny added, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Speakin’ of racist hillbillies, Javier and I are heading out to Shady Belle. Got a tip there's some raiders sittin’ on guns and ammo. You guys want in?" He turned to John and Kate with a casual invitation.

Kate shook her head, "thanks Lenny, but I think I'll pass this time."

John chimed in with a polite refusal. "As much as I love killing racists, I gotta get back to Abigail for dinner."

Javier and Lenny exchanged nods of understanding. "No worries, compadres," Javier replied. "We'll catch up with you later."

As they bid farewell, Kate and John veered onto the familiar dirt path that led back to Clemens Point. 

The gentle melody of song birds and the steady pounding of hooves on the dry soil filled the atmosphere. Before they could approach the camp, John's voice broke the peaceful ambiance. 

"Hey, I know I sound stupid for saying this, but thank you for being a friend to Abigail. All of this has been really hard on her," he explained, his tone earnest and reflective. He glanced ahead, his thoughts drifting to his woman back at camp. "I know it may not look like it, but I'm trying—I'm working on being the kind of father she wants me to be and the husband she needs."

Kate gave him a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “You don't sound stupid, John. This life ain’t easy for nobody, especially when there's a child in the mix.” She was slightly surprised to hear him open up to her. 

John sighed, his expression heavy with regret. “Still, I know you and I ain’t all that close, but, I did somethin�� pretty bad. I worry she might never forgive me for it.”

With a sideways glance, Kate nodded reluctantly. “Yeahhh, Abigail already told me ‘bout all that.”

“Shit, she did?” John's eyes widened in surprise.

She couldn't help but chuckle, a hint of mischief in her voice. “Oh yeah, she’s told me everything John.” Abigail didn't babble to Kate just for the sake of gossip; she understood that Abigail needed someone to confide in, someone to listen and truly hear her. She needed to feel seen, heard, and understood. Especially in times like these. 

“Well goddamn, now I feel like a proper dumbass.”

“She still loves you, John, and your boy does too. But love doesn’t come for free—it takes a lot of effort. Keep pushin’ to be a better man, she sees your effort. I promise you.” Kate's words were gentle yet firm,

"Thanks, Kate. Say, you’ve been ridin’ with us for a while now. You think you’re stickin’ ‘round for the long haul?” John asked, his tone curious.

Kate shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can’t say for certain. But for now, that’s the plan. Never thought I’d be workin’ with outlaws, but I guess it’s sometimes kinda fun,” she replied, hinting at their recent endeavor. Though petty horse theft was one thing, running from the law for murder was another.

“I noticed you and Arthur get along pretty well. He the reason you're stayin’ put?” John probed further. No doubt trying to get a grasp on his brother's affairs.

“Arthur’s a bit of a mystery to me. But we’re just friends, is all,” Kate answered, her tone casual yet guarded. She knew things between her and Arthur were only just beginning, but it was still undoubtedly complicated. The fact that some of the members had taken notice of their relationship sparked a tinge of worry. 

“You’re a tough woman to read sometimes,” he smirked, the scar on his cheek crinkled slightly. “Well, whatever the case. Take care of yourself, ya hear?” He expressed a genuine smile as he rode ahead back into camp. 

Kate followed behind, the aroma of Pearson’s signature stew filling her lungs with its savory fragrance. She left Lorena to graze peacefully among her own four-legged companions and headed toward the chuck wagon, eager to enjoy a well-earned meal after a day filled with adventure. The camp was alive with the usual sounds—crackling fire, distant chatter, and the occasional whinny of horses—creating a familiar and comforting backdrop to the evening.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Arthur returned to camp under the blanket of stars, the world seemed silent except for the faint rustle of night creatures and the distant crackle of a dying fire. He dismounted his mare with practiced quiet, the shadows of night his ally in avoiding unwanted company.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, his frustration palpable in the tight set of his jaw and the weariness etched in his movements. Tonight, he had no patience for idle chatter or bullshit from the guys. Especially the ones awake at this hour.

Burning the tobacco fields with Sean had proven to be no easy task. Though never any job orchestrated by Dutch ever was. It was nights like these where Arthur questioned when all the shooting and robbing would end. What the point of it all was. 

Behind his tent, the open end of the wagon served as a makeshift wall. Arthur rummaged through crates, finding what he needed—a needle, thread, alcohol, and cloth. Wincing as he prodded the bullet graze just under his armpit.

“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit” he mumbled to himself.

Getting shot had never been part of Arthur's plan on any job. He prided himself on his quick draw and accuracy, always aiming to fire first and hit his mark before danger could strike him. But shooting under cover of night, navigating through a blazing tobacco field while avoiding being burned alive—such challenges could make even the finest gunslinger stumble.

The guards had descended upon them as soon as the smoke rose, but Sean had urged them to press on, insisting they keep pouring the moonshine without hesitation. Arthur couldn't help but worry that the young Irishman's ambition might one day lead him into an early grave.

Surprisingly, the only injury Arthur had sustained was a bullet graze, still needing a few stitches but nothing life-threatening. Meanwhile, Sean had returned unscathed, already regaling their escapade around the campfire with a bottle in hand.

Under the cool night air, Arthur peeled off his sweat-dampened shirt, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the warmth of his body. The lantern's dim glow cast shadows, highlighting the glistening of sweat on his chest and stomach.

He dipped the cloth into the alcohol, its sharp scent biting into his senses. As he attempted to clean the wound tucked under his arm, frustration crept in. The injury was beyond his line of sight, a challenge exacerbated by his own size.

Placing one arm against the side of the wagon for support, Arthur tried again, unaware of Kate's quiet approach behind him amidst the backdrop of the night's stillness.

“Need some help there, big guy?” Kate's voice was endearing, soft, almost motherly. The tone made Arthur's knees weak and his face grow warm.

Startled, Arthur nearly leapt out of his skin, quickly lowering his arm and stepping back, almost out of the lamplight. The nickname, though used innocently, stirred something akin to shame in his belly.

"What're you doin' up?" Arthur asked, attempting to appear unbothered.

Kate shrugged, her demeanor relaxed. "Couldn’t sleep. I was brushing Lorena when I saw you come in. Figured I’d say hi," she explained. "You want some help with that?" She gestured to where small trickles of blood traced down his side, her eyes lingering slowly over his bare torso.

If it weren’t for the cover of night, Kate would have seen the deep blush that crept up to his ears. "I think I’ll be alright," Arthur managed, his mouth suddenly dry.

Kate took a step closer, her gaze shifting to his shirt hanging from the side of the wagon, a round, deep red stain contrasting against its usual pale blue.

"Well, it sure don't look alright," she noted, her eyes returning to his side. "Tough spot to reach too."

Arthur's breath quickened. "I’m fine, don’t worry 'bout me," he replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into his tone.

Kate only brushed him off with a playful wave of her arm, “oh quit it! You stitched me up before, let me return the favor.” Before Arthur could react she placed a gentle hand on his bicep, “here, turn around.” She said quietly.

He complied, turning his back to her. His body froze when her fingers returned with the wet alcohol cloth. Barely noticing the sting, as her hands alone felt like fire against his cold skin. Her warmth is intoxicating. 

A moment's silence embraced them, and Arthur prayed she couldn’t hear the beat of his heart as it raced in his chest.

Her words startled him from his thoughts, “see, ain’t so bad,” her tone soft like she was comforting a child. “Why’d ya hesitate?” A hint of curiosity and concern filled her voice from behind him.  

Arthur lowered his head slightly, “I um, well I know I ain’t much to look at.” He mumbled. 

Kate continued to clean his wound tenderly, “what do you mean by that?” 

He let out a deep sigh, there was no point in being dishonest with her, “I…I just don’t like folk seein’ me without a shirt. I ain’t what I used to be. I’m gettin’ old, gettin’ heavy too.” His hand subconsciously rubbed over his belly. 

Arthur's weight was his biggest insecurity, a constant reminder of his struggles and the pain he carried. Years had passed since Eliza and Isaac's deaths, but part of him had withered away back then. The guilt had gnawed at him, devouring his spirit day by day. He sought solace in alcohol, drowning himself in the numbness it offered. His relationship with food became a twisted dance of indulgence and deprivation.

Some days, he ate to fill the emptiness inside, seeking comfort in the fleeting sensation of fullness. Other days, food seemed an enemy, a symbol of his lack of control. He despised his belly, the way it was soft and curved, a stark contrast to the man he once knew in the mirror. His size served as a relentless reminder of his deepest failure, haunting him with each glance.

Each morning he woke, Arthur grappled with the weight of existence. The world, in its merciless ways, kept him breathing, a living monument to his own remorse. He often wondered if the world would be better off without him, a sentiment that lingered like a dark cloud over his soul.

Kate sensed Arthur's tension, the silent turmoil that echoed beneath the pads of her fingers as she tended to his wound. She felt the subtle movement of his muscles, synchronized with the rise and fall of his breath. "You're a strong man, Arthur. Age and scars don't make you any less handsome," she reassured him with genuine honesty, her voice a soothing balm.

With practiced ease, Kate finished cleaning his wound and reached for the needle and thread. She gently maneuvered his arm to rest on the side of the wagon, adjusting her position for a better angle to begin stitching. Arthur's nerves betrayed him, his hand clenching into a tight fist at his side as he tried to compose himself. His head felt dizzy, as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

"I reckon you're just sayin' that to be kind," Arthur finally admitted, his self-doubt palpable in the air.

Kate chuckled softly, the sound carrying warmth and sincerity. "I've met my fair share of ugly bastards in my lifetime, but believe me, you are certainly not one of them," she assured him, her voice like a gentle flame against his skin. Her words were a rare gift, stirring something deep within him that he had long kept hidden. Arthur closed his eyes briefly, letting her words sink in.

"You're a very handsome cowboy, wrinkles, scars, size and all. I think you're a lovely man," Kate affirmed, her words carrying a sincerity that tugged at Arthur's heart. "Besides, I know I'm not the picturesque woman myself. I'm no stranger to the cruel effects of time and livin' rough. Today, I was even called a ‘hoyden wench’ by some bona fide racist ranch hand," she added with a light laugh, as if brushing off the insult.

Kate had a way of making Arthur feel like they had known each other for a lifetime. Since the day she opened up to him about her life, she had been unapologetically honest with him. It was as if she already knew she could trust him with her personal tragedies.

Hosea's words echoed in Arthur's mind, a comforting reminder of the wisdom his old father figure imparted. Hosea simply wanted happiness for him—not wealth in money, but richness in love. He wanted Arthur to find purpose and meaning in life, to share that journey with another soul.

As Kate's needle deftly worked the thread through his skin, Arthur felt a warmth bloom in his chest. Kate's words eased a heavy burden, if only momentarily. 

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, summoning the courage to speak. “Well, I’ll say this. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lady who can hold her own,” he began, his voice laced with sincerity. “You’ve got a strength and beauty that’s hard to come by. I think it’s pretty admirable.”

Kate giggled softly, the sound sending a warm flutter through Arthur’s chest. “Thanks, Arthur. First time I’ve heard that in a while,” she replied, her eyes meeting his.

Arthur marveled at how he had summoned the courage to kiss her the other night, feeling as if he could barely face her now. Yet, if she leaned in to kiss him at this moment, he knew he would succumb to his desire, despite what he had told her before. She lit a fire in him.

“S’true. You’re the prettiest girl in the whole damn holler,” Arthur said, unable to hide the light chortle that escaped him.

Kate leaned closer, her breath tickling his neck as she whispered, “You have quite a sweet side, Arthur. I adore that about you,” her hand lightly squeezing his arm.

His heart swelled, and Arthur knew this was the moment. He needed to tell her, despite the nerves that threatened to overpower him. Hosea may have been right; she had stayed by his side despite everything. But as he searched for the words, unsure of how to broach the subject, his nerves got the better of him once again. There was never an easy way to say it. Just the memories of them alone felt like acid in his throat. 

Kate took a step back, placing her tools down on the back of the wagon. “I reckon I’m about done stitching this. Try to stay out of the crossfire next time, yeah?” She teased, holding up his bloody shirt with a knowing look as she handed it back to him.

Arthur felt a pang of regret. “Wasn’t my intention to get shot,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. He slipped the shirt over his shoulders, tugging the sleeves down his arms.

“Nobody intends to get shot,” Kate mused, taking a step back to give him space.

Turning to face her, Arthur was struck by the sight of her eyes, a sadness that mirrored his own that evening under the moonlit sky when they kissed. His heart throbbed at the sight. Since the day he met her at Emerald Ranch, she had a welcoming presence that drew him in, along with a deep sorrow that resonated with his own. It was as if she knew him before she even met him.

He looked down, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I appreciate your help, darlin’,” he murmured. Then, letting out a deep breath, he added, “though, I really don’t deserve it.”

Kate brushed off his self-doubt. “Don’t fuss over it, Arthur. I’m here whenever you need a hand,” she assured him. “I think you should get some rest though; from Sean’s stories, it sounds like it’s been a long day.”

Arthur nodded silently, watching as Kate bid him farewell and faded back into the night. His heart silently begged, please don’t go. But she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts under the blanket of stars.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate lay beneath the star-studded sky, her eyes fixed on the milky purple and white swirl above, like celestial clouds in motion. Her heart echoed the rhythm of hooves against her ribs. Thoughts of Arthur filled her mind, his presence vivid in her thoughts.

The image of his body lingered before her, along with the stories he shared about himself. A longing surged within her to reveal how beautiful she found him, to explore him with kisses and her wandering hands.

Patience wavered as a persistent ache in her belly reminded her of the closeness she craved. Intimate moments with Arthur kindled her core, igniting a blaze of desire. Each quiet, vulnerable encounter with him deepened their connection. Funny how his true colors always showed when he was alone with her. 

Kate smiled to herself, feeling a rush of desire she hadn't known for what felt like a century. As good as she was on her own. She felt like life had finally granted her an anecdote to her lonely heart. 

---

AN: Phew, its out there. I know that was pretty dialogue heavy, so I hope I didn't bore you guys. Next chapter is going to be a long one, and may take me awhile. But it will be worth it, I promise!

As always, thanks for all the love!

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 36: Brother

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, death, delivering death notice

* Word count: 1,302ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all.

Author's note: I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! This is shorter than normal, but it made sense to break it up like this because of the heaviness that comes with the next chapter. Y’all are about to hate me lmao.

Jimmy and Stella were up on a flatbed unloading hay while Jamie put it in the barn. Cowboy sat off to the side cleaning his tack.

“Hey if you’re not gonna help, could you at least get outta the way?” Jimmy groaned, picking up another bale. “Explain this day-working thing to me. Because it seems to me like you live here now, but you only work when we move cows, and we already shipped out all the fuckin’ cows. So, what? Now you just get paid to do nothing?”

“That about sums it up.” Cowboy answered.

“Hey Jamie? Tell your dad I’m a day worker now.”

Jamie laughed and picked up another bale. “I think my father just forgot that he’s still here.”

“So now you’re gonna run and remind him?” Cowboy asked.

“Not my place.”

“You know Jamie, of all the dipshits in this outfit, you just might be alright.” Jamie and Stella laughed.

The cops pulled up. Stella frowned and called out to Jamie. “Jame!” He jogged out hearing Stella’s urgency.

He asked her, “what?” He scowled as he followed her pointed finger toward the cops. “Everyone stay here.”

Jamie moved around the flatbed and took his gloves off. “Commander, he’s up at the house.”

“I’m not here to see John. Lookin’ for Jimmy Hurdstrom.” Stella frowned again, trying to figure out what the commander could be looking for Jimmy for. The two of them jumped down from the flatbed.

Commander Ramsay spotted Jimmy and began moving toward him and Stella. Jamie asked, “um, what’s he being charged with?”

“Not being charged with anything.” Ramsay’s tone changed. “Jimmy.”

Jimmy looked at Jamie and he gave him a nod of approval. Ramsay walked Jimmy off to the side, away from everyone.

“It’s bad news. We found your grandfather this morning.”

“Found him? What do you mean?” Jimmy stepped forward. Stella stepped up behind him.

“It seems he’d been assaulted recently. And it appears a blood vessel in his brain ruptured as a result and he had a stroke and… I’m sorry.” Jimmy started hyperventilating. Stella placed her hand on his shoulder trying to keep him grounded. “Were you aware of this assault? Know anyone who would want to hurt him? He have a disagreement with anyone?” Commander Ramsay questioned quickly. Jimmy shook his head numbly. “You think of something, you let me know. We need to go to the coroner’s office and sign some paperwork. I’m sorry for your loss.” Commander Ramsay walked back to his vehicle.

Jamie raced over to Jimmy and Stella. “Jaybird, it’ll be okay. We’ll help you with whatever you need.” He looked at Stella but stared right through her.

“They killed him. I paid and they still killed him.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

“I fucking paid and they still fucking killed him.” Jimmy yelled and pulled free of her grasp running off.

Stella and Jamie followed behind him to make sure he didn’t do anything too irrational. They stood behind him while he beat a tree relentlessly. She looked out to the horizon as the wranglers who were out prepping for the winter came cantering up.

“What the hell is he doing?” Kayce asked, glancing at Rip.

“C’mon.” Rip directed.

The men galloped up to them and Rip slid off his horse. He paced up to Jimmy as he stormed past everyone.

Rip grabbed Jimmy by the jacket. “What’re you doing?”

“I need a truck.”

“Hey, tell me what happened.” They fumbled with each other’s arms as Jimmy tried to fight his way past. “Hey, hey, Jimmy, hey hey. What just happened?”

“They killed him. They killed him and it’s my fault.” Jimmy struggled to get Rip off of him.

“Who did, Jimmy? Talk to me.” Rip glanced at the rest of the men waiting in the wings. “Lloyd, Lloyd, go on.” Lloyd moved everyone by.

Rip forced Jimmy to move away from the remaining group. “C’mere, c’mere.” Rip grabbed Jimmy by the jacket and forced Jimmy to face him. “Hey. Go on and tell me what happened. What happened.”

“I owed money.”

“So they beat your old man to make you pay.”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d you owe money?” Jimmy didn’t answer. “Why’d you owe them money, Jimmy?”

“My past life.”

“You owe anyone else from the past?” Jimmy shook his head. “Okay gimme the rifle.”

“I’m gonna finish this.”

“Hey! You look at me. You finish it like this, you end up in fuckin’ prison for the rest of your life. I’m gonna show you how to get rid of problems so they don’t become new problems. You hear me? Now hand me the rifle.” Jimmy shoved the rifle at Rip. “Hey, c’mere.” Rip hugged Jimmy partially and patted his back. “Go inside. Let me talk to Kayce.”

Stella looked up at Kayce with sad eyes as she answered his unspoken question. “Someone killed his grandfather.”

“Fuck.” Kayce placed his hands on his hips and watch Rip tread over to them.

Rip stepped up to Kayce and Stella. “We need to take care of this tonight.”

Kayce objected. “We got a lot going on right now. May have to wait.”

“Kayce, you know we can’t do that.” Stella pushed back. “We’re literally all he has. He’s our brother now, and we’re our brother’s keeper.”

Rip shrugged. “I’m fine with waitin’, but he ain’t. Then we’re gonna have to clean up that fuckin’ mess too.”

“Yeah. We do it tonight.”

••

“Stella!”

She whipped her head in John’s direction. “Yessir?”

“I’ve got some broodmare paperwork for you to fill out up at the house. A couple contracts for studs for you to take a look at too.”

Stella’s eyes lit up like fire. “Of course I’ll look at them!” That job that was mentioned to her was finally coming back around.

Inside John’s office, she sat behind his desk and poured over the stud contracts in front of her. Metallicat, Bet Hesa Cat, Once In A Blu Boon; names that made her mouth salivate. These were studs she’d only ever dreamed of. John observed her closely.

“So what do ya think?”

She blew out a breath and sat back in the chair, crossing her legs at the knee. “I mean, these are some great studs sir. Definitely bred to do what we need. But they’re show horses. Are we going the show route first?”

“Travis thinks it would help get us proven a little bit faster.”

“One thing that would help us is if we bought a couple mares that have been big earners that are strictly broodmares now. But that’s gonna be a pretty penny.”

Kayce spied his dad and Stella putting their heads together. He was amazed at the way they worked together when Stella didn’t want to murder him. He wondered if this was what people saw when he and Stella worked on a problem. He cleared his throat. Both Stella and John looked up at him over their glasses. He smirked at the similarity.

He walked over to Stella and leaned down to kiss her cheek quickly. “Hey. Whatcha workin’ on?”

“Some of this broodmare and stud stuff. My actual job title here.” Stella laughed.

“Finally,” he shot a look at his dad and then focused back on Stella. “Where’s Tate?”

She adjusted her glasses and hummed. “He’s in his room, but grandpa was just about to go spend time with him. Isn’t that right John?”

He took his cue to leave. “Yeah, I need to go talk to him about his horse.”

Kayce and Stella watched him head off for his grandson. Kayce adjusted his black jacket. “I swear he gets more affection in one day than we got in our entire childhood.”

“Speak the truth, Kace.” She huffed out a laugh. “But it probably explains why we are the way we are.” She took in his outfit. “Where you headed?”

“That thing with Jimmy.”

Stella stood to meet him. He ducked his head and kissed her multiple times. She laughed at him and pulled back. “Listen, I know it has to be done. Just be careful, okay? Come home to me.”

“I will. Every time.” He kissed her again.

“Who’s all going with you?”

“Your brother, Rip and Lloyd.”

“Please keep everyone safe too.”

“We got each other’s backs.”

“Since Tate is with your dad, I’m gonna go take Abigail out for a ride. It’s been too long since I’ve been on her.” She picked her jacket off the back of John’s chair.

“Just don’t go too far out, okay sugar?”

“Yessir.” She smiled and kissed him.

[authortobenamedlater]

E5 deep dive! This will be fun because Mr and I have VERY different opinions on certain parts of this episode.

The good:

This might be Pablo Schreiber’s best performance yet, and that’s saying something.

Everyone delivers in this one. Soren and Laera have some great moments, separately and together. Riz’s final lines with John (and that hug!), Halsey’s and John’s speeches at Vannak’s funeral, Kwan’s vision and her shamelessly calling John on his BS. This episode does a great job of showing the fallout from Reach on a small scale. Not what it did to humanity as a whole, but what it did to these individual humans.

The exit from Reach and Riz’s last run for Vannak are epic.

Vannak gets a great send-off, and can we talk about how well-preserved he was after being dead for a week?

Makee continues to be one of the most intriguing characters for many reasons, not the least of which is she’s inexplicably (literally inexplicably; they haven’t explained it) alive. She cries as she watches Reach fall, then says she cares nothing for “the Demon” (who she ordered ‘Gatanai not to kill a few hours ago). She and Cortana appear to be hatching some kind of plan.

Speaking of Cortana…EVERYTHING I thought about that opening scene in the first episode got flipped on its head. Did Cortana sell her soul (operating system?) to Parangosky in exchange for John or something?

Also speaking of Cortana, John is so not OK without her it hurts to watch. “If I’d had my armor, if I’d had her with me” 😭 “There’s a space where there used to be a voice and a feeling someone knew me” 😭😭 Just get these two back together already.

Kai’s little strut when she meets the S-IIIs 😍

The bad:

Reach didn’t quite go out with the bang it deserved, unless there’s a heck of a surprise in store. I’m not sure what would have been the bang it deserved, but this wasn’t it.

Admiral Keyes is not around. Yes, I knew he wasn’t going to be, but I love him darn it.

Vannak was all dead, not only mostly dead as I had hoped and will continue to imagine.

Still no Miranda, not that I expected her. Does she know her dad is dead?

Observations/predictions/wishful thinking:

Riz’s exit. One part where that @mrtobenamedlater and I do not agree. I saw this coming from the start of the season. Riz was already hurting and increasingly disillusioned with Spartan life. Now she’s even more beaten up. She was never really going to be a Spartan again. She can barely even walk when she tells John she’s done. Her departure made a good contrast to John’s response. His way to honor Vannak’s sacrifice is to hunt down his killers; Riz’s way is to live the life his sacrifice spared.

I don’t think this is the last of Riz, however. We’ll run into her again.

Makee seems to be filling the Sesa ‘Refumee role from Halo 2, with her line about the Prophets being liars. She is on no one’s side because no one is on her side.

Given that Makee describes ‘Gatanai to Cortana as the fleet master and calls him “the Arbiter,” I guess he’s the Silver Timeline’s Thel ‘Vadam? And his line to Makee about how she lives only by his grace? Did he personally revive her or something?

Also I’m going to assume Makee never touched the artifact in E2, probably just as well since that would have taken John out, and that she and ‘Gatanai took it off Reach. Why didn’t she touch it though?

Did Kessler get kidnapped for a new Spartan program? I’m all about Uncle Master Chief going to rescue his surrogate nephew by the way.

Where did Perez and that transport go? I was sort of expecting to find them on Aleria.

This episode will get derided as “filler” but it sets up a lot for the rest of the season: The Arbiter, the ring, Kwan’s and Madrigal’s place in all this, the Spartan-IIIs.

[dragon-kazansky]

His Little Dragon

Doc Holliday x OC

Dedicated to @callsignscupcake

[Masterlist]

[Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

Doctor John Holliday hasn't seen his darling Little Dragon for many years. Once as thick as thieves, they were quite the pair, but that long since ended when he left. Now, with opportunity blooming in Tombstone, it would seem they have a second chance at the love they lost. However, a threat looms over the town, and if he wants his Dragon back, he has to win the heart of little Baylie too. Nothing is ever easy.

Word count: 2.4k

Chapter Fifteen - Tales of the past

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Rachael finishes up braiding Baylie's hair before they head out. Baylie wanted to go on the delivery run with her mama today. Mainly so she could try and convince her mama to spend more time with Doc.

"Are you ready to go?"

Baylie nods her head and the they both leave, making their way outside.

However, when they get outside, they both stop at the sight waiting for them. Whiskey is all hooked up to the wagon, and sitting there waiting for them is Holliday. He smiles at them.

"Good morning," he greets.

"John, what are you doing here?" Rachael asks.

"I knew for a fact you were working today. Come on, darlin', these crates won't deliver themselves."

Rachael chuckles as she approached the wagon. Baylie steps up first and Doc offers her his hand. She looks at it for a moment before taking it. Doc helps her up with ease. Baylie sits next to him. Rachael chuckles as she walks around the other side and climbs up, Doc offering his hand to her too. She takes it and sits on the other side of him.

Doc drives the wagon and Rachael makes the deliveries. Baylie just offers moral support.

"Are you going to be playing games again tonight?" Baylie asks, looking up at Doc.

Doc glances at her. "Well, that depended on your mother."

Rachael turns to him. "Me? John, if you want to go play poker with Wyatt, you don't need my permission for that."

"That's not what I meant, darlin'."

Rachael tilts her head to the side curiously. "What did you mean?"

"Are you free tonight?"

"Oh, uh, I suppose... I don't really make plans for the evening."

"Well, tonight, my darlin' little Dragon, you can keep me company."

Rachael smiles softly at him.

"Can I come?" Baylie asks, looking up at him. Doc chuckles as he turns his attention back to her.

"I think, perhaps, you should spend some time with your uncle Morgan and apologise for scaring his last night. The poor man came running in quite the state."

Baylie pouts. "But, I want to spend time with you!"

Doc chuckles. "We can do that tomorrow."

"Really?"

Doc nods.

Rachael laughs softly as she leans over to look at Baylie. "I think Doc is right. You owe Morgan an apology. Poor man was worried about my wrath."

"But I was okay!" Baylie said.

"We knew that, but you have to understand that you were under his care and you ran off without word. You scared the poor man. You can't do that, Baylie. If anything ever happens to you, I don't know what I'd do."

Doc watches Rachael with sorrow.

She doesn't know it, but Doc just swore to himself that he would see to it no harm would ever come to you or Baylie. He would not have you hurting again.

"Okay..."

Doc chuckles softly and wraps am arm around Baylie, pulling her into his side a little to hug her.

"I'll spend time with you tomorrow, little lady. After all, you wanted me to spend time with your dear ma, didn't you?"

She nods her head.

"Then it's settled."

Baylie stays tucked into his side as they arrive at their first destination. Rachael hips off to make the delivery.

"I'm sorry I was mean to you," Baylie says once be mama was out of ear shot.

Doc looks down at the small girl affectionately.

"You're already forgiven, darlin',"

"Do you hate me?" She asks.

Doc looks at the girl with a face full of confusion. He hadn't been too pleased with her tricks, but he hadn't lashed out at her or anything.

"No, of course not! If anything, I'm quote fond of you, Baylie. You're a darin' soul."

Baylie chuckles.

"I think you're kind of neat."

"Neat?" He chuckles.

"Yeah. Morgan told me a little about you. He says you're very good. Best shot in Tombstone, if not everywhere."

"He said that, did he?"

Baylie nods.

"What else does he talk to you about?"

"All kinds of things," she says. "He said you and mama were really impressive together. You traveled a lot and would win a lot of games. Apparently you upset a lot of people too."

Doc resists rolling his eyes.

"He said you gave mama her nickname because of how brave she is."

"Maybe one day you will find out why she's my darlin' Dragon, but for now that's a conversation for another day."

"I still want to earn my own nickname."

Doc grins. "One day, Baylie. I'm sure of it."

"From you?"

"You want me to give you your nickname?"

She nods.

Rachael returns and climbs back onto the wagon. Doc and Baylie don't discuss what they just talked about, but Rachael knows they must have bonded a little bit. They head for the next destination.

A few more deliveries later and they're on their way back. Doc has Baylie laughing with his little tales, and Rachael listens and watches them bond. She's happy they are getting along.

They return the wagon and hand over the crates they brought back. While inside The Oriental, Baylie heads over to the poker table and grabs the cards. Rachael is waiting for her pay, while Doc walks over to where Baylie is.

"You like playin' don't you?" He asks her.

Baylie nods. "It's... fun!"

"It's the people you play with that determine the game. You've only played with us so far."

"Can I come by and watch you play a big game?" Baylie asks.

"I don't think your ma will be too pleased with that. The people I play with ain't as friendly as Wyatt and his brothers."

"Please?"

"Ask your mother. I'm not going to break her trust over this."

Baylie looks at Doc with a strange expression upon her face.

"I understand."

Doc doesn't quite know what she meant by that, but he doesn't ask. He can't quite world out how her mind works, and he really didn't want to test it. Baylie was unlike any child he had ever seen.

"You two ready?" Rachael asks, coming over with her money.

"Ready!" Baylie darts past Doc and make her way outside. Rachael watches her go and then turns to Holliday.

"What was that about?"

Doc just shakes his head and places his hand in her lower back, guiding her out to follow Baylie.

"What do you two usually do when you're done with your job?" Doc asks, turning to Rachael.

"I take Baylie for something to eat."

"Room for one more?"

Rachael grins. "I think we can make room."

Doc winks at her and they head on out to go eat. Baylie is excited to have Doc joining them.

Doc is ever the gentleman. Baylie watches with curiosity and fascination. He pulls out the chair for Rachael, takes her coat, makes sure she is comfortable. Rachael waves him off and laughs often.

Baylie didn't understand before because she had him painted as a bad guy in her mind, but when she watches the way he is with her mama, she almost feels... jealous. She may be very young, but that didn't matter. She wanted some of Doc's attention.

"Doc?"

He turns to Baylie with a smile.

"Yes, little lady?"

"How did you and ma meet?" She swings her legs back and forth as she leans forward. Rachael chuckles softly as she gazes at the table.

"Well, that's a story."

"I want to hear it," Baylie says.

"Well, first things first, you have to understand I wouldn't be the man I am today if I hadn't met your darlin' mother."

Food is brought to the table, but Baylie is more interested in the story than the food.

"Go on!"

"I was most definitely a different man at the time. I liked my whiskey. With that and the gambling, I would find myself into quite a bit of trouble. That's where it started."

Rachael just shakes her head as she listens to him talk to Baylie. The young girl was hooked already.

"Poker is just my game. I could play all night if able. Some folk don't like losing, especially to me. Challenging Doc Holliday is an easy mistake to make. This fool didn't like losing, and I may have been drunk out of my mind, but I am not one to back down. You either put your weapon down, or prepare for me to shoot back."

Rachael looks at Doc as he talks. She remembers that day clearly.

"Now, this fool was armed. He demanded his money back, insisted I was cheating. I don't cheat, I'm just good at the game. I had been drinking all evening, so intoxicated is the best word to describe my situation. I had my gun in my hand faster than this man could blink."

Baylie is invested.

"That's when this beautiful angel, my darlin' Dragon, came into the picture. She had just entered the fine establishment when our weapons came into play. I had made a bit of a name for myself by then, so she knew who I was by reputation. Your ma disarmed that man faster than anything I had ever seen and scared him off."

Baylie laughs.

"Mama? But she's so kind! She doesn't scare people."

"She scared me," Doc grins. "As soon as that pitiful man ran with his tail between his legs, she set her right on me."

Rachael wishes she could hide.

"What did mama do?"

"She told me off for winding up the man. Saying I should know better. She told me off for drinking too. Your ma didn't like me to start with. I was everything she hated in a man. She took me back home and left me there, assuming she'd never see me again."

"Then what happened?"

Doc grins. "I found her. I may have drunk, but I hadn't forgotten. I could never forget someone so beautiful and fierce. She told me to go away. I laughed. I told her I would have been fine taking that man on, but apparently that wasn't the point. I'm a disruptive influence to society, she said."

Doc turns to Rachael. "Still am, if you ask me."

"Oh hush, you!"

He looks back at Baylie. "I would show up constantly for days, annoying the hell out of her. One day she had enough and lashed out at me. I kissed her out of the blue. That was the most flustered I had ever seen someone. She ran off, embarrassed."

"Ma!"

"What? What else was I supposed to do? This man had been following me around for days and then kissed me."

Baylie chuckles.

"I stopped following her after that. Didn't see her for a few days. I had got myself into a bit of trouble and had to take care of it. I heard rumours she had been asking about me during that time."

"Had not..." Rachael mutters. Doc just nods his head at Baylie.

"She found in an alley with a bruised eye and a bleeding lip. I had been drinking again. Got myself carried away. She scolded me again. Your ma took me back home and looked after me. I wanted to repay her for her kindness, but she said no. I insisted."

"What did you do?" Baylie asks.

"I swept her off her feet of course. Took her out for an evening. That night changed everything," he whispers the last part as he turns back to Rachael. "I fell in love there and then with her."

Baylie looks at the two.

"I made arrangements to leave town the following day and she got upset with me. Accused me of using her for the sake of it. I kissed her again to make her stop. Told her she could stay here and probably never see me again, or she could get on my horse and come with me."

Baylie looks at her ma.

"She never looked back. Thick as thieves, as they say. We made a reputation for ourselves."

They grow quiet. Baylie kind of knows what happened after that. She sits back in her chair.

"It sounds like some kind of story book."

Doc turns to Baylie.

"The best kinds of stories do. I had lived my life drinking and gambling. I was a dentist before that, but this was much more interesting of an income. Your ma lived off the highs of it, but I can't blame her for wanting forever. I wouldn't marry her because the idea of settling down frightened me. I hadn't slowed down once. Then when she left, I realised that I wanted that life too. I just wanted it with her. It wasn't until she was gone that I knew just how lonely I was. I had Wyatt, of course, but a part of me was missing. She had taken it with her."

Rachael reaches out and takes his hand.

"And I regretted it. I couldn't have what I wanted alone. When I was with you, I was happier than I ever could have imagined to be. Those years I spent alone, they were some of my darkest days. I didn't know what to without you, Doc. That future I wanted, I could only see it with you. I would say it was lucky of me to find Baylie because she gave me something to hold onto."

Doc admires Rachael.

"We have time to work this out," he says.

"I know. I just... I need time to think."

He nods.

"I understand."

Baylie watches them closely. She likes this. She likes them being together. They have a lot of history that she doesn't understand. Maybe one day, but not today.

"Do you think one day I'll have that?" Baylie asks.

Both Doc and Rachael turn to her.

"Baylie, you make sure you find someone very special. Don't settle for just anyone. You're so very special yourself, and you deserve nothing but the best," Doc tells her. "Any man who wants your hand as to earn it."

Rachael chuckles and gives Doc a light whack on the arm.

Baylie giggles.

"Our food is going cold," Rachael says.

"Then we should eat!"

As Rachael and Doc tuck into their meals, Baylie stares at hers deep in thought. Her ma was pretty cool, she knew that, but it seems Doc knows a whole other side to her.

Baylie can't help but wonder who these two were back in the day.

♡♡♡

@bayisdying - @callsignscupcake - @mrsjaderogers - @cycbaby - @mtnofgrace @kiichirose - @askmarinaandothers - @themusingofagothicsoul - @gizmodear - @beaner-life-23 - @luckyladycreator2 -

[youareinlove]

i have thoughts about speak now (taylor's version)

this is not even all of them lmao but i can't think rn so here

mine: my perfect sweet angel beautiful perfect baby. nothing can ever compete sorry. i will fight for mine i will kill for mine i will die for mine and the re-recording did not disappoint

sparks fly: remember when i thought "lead me up the staircase" was the horniest thing 19 year old taylor wrote

back to december: the little twinkling instrumentals 🥹 i love the tiny little instrumental changes that come with the re-recordings. sometimes they miss but sometimes they hit and this HIT

speak now: "you wish it was me, dont you (HAHA)" was what sold me on this album re-recording ngl. it was just the moment i knew that this would be a good one

dear john: my jaw physically dropped when i heard her vocals. she just brought the energy with this one and it is very hurtful. but also i'm very proud of her

mean: and a LIAR 😏 and pathetic 👏 and alone in life 😤 and mean 😡 and mean 😡 and mean 😡 and mean😡 and-

the story of us: this was the first song on this album that i thought was BETTER than the original. like the others were just as good, but the story of us ate and left no crumbs

never grow up: we could unpack all of that OR- or, we could choose not to. and i think ik what im going to do :D (it was better than the original)

enchanted: i hope that wherever adam young is, the sun shines and it's a beautiful day

better than revenge: ok so the lyric change is what i know everyone's on about but like its a really good lyric. i'll miss the original but come on "he was a moth to the flame she was holding the matches" that's so funny. better than revenge already paints the guy as like, a trophy that gets passed around. now he's literally a hapless bug this is so unserious in the best way

haunted: once again better than the og. she just really delivered with the vocals and the emotional performance, and i almost feel like this moves haunted up in my ranking (almost)

last kiss: i hear the shaky breath idk what you guys are on about. maybe i'm the one who's wrong and i just hear it from force of habit but its really good anyway??? like it's probably her most emotionally delivered song in the original, so i was nervous about this one. but i really like it and i actually had to check while listening to it for the first time to make sure i wasn't streaming the stolen version.

long live: this song still makes me so emotional and its just like. we did point to the pictures. and we do tell them her name. and she's still here and shining! fate did not force us into a goodbye! ughhhhhhhh (also its heartbreaking with the added context of castles crumbling but that's for another day)

ours: i always loved ours so i hope you guys give it the love it deserves this time sry

superman: i also really liked superman and like haunted, this was a song she just EMOTED on like crazy. ate and left no crumbs AGAIN and it was a great finishing point for the non-vault songs

thoughts on vault tracks are in a seperate post bc i have too many

[chorusfm]

Keane – Hopes & Fears

There was something in the water in 2004. Not every year delivers even one classic debut album; 2004 was serving them up like it was going out of style. Hot Fuss; Franz Ferdinand; Funeral; Bows + Arrows; The College Dropout. Not all of those albums have aged well, but they all left an indelible mark on music, and most of them delivered at least one iconic hit – the kind of deathless single that will live on forever and ever on wedding dancefloor playlists or supermarket sound systems. I have, at one time or another, loved all of those albums. But in 2004 proper, if you’d have asked me which brand-new artist I was most excited to follow over the course of their career, I would have answered Keane, and I’d have done it without hesitation. Keane were never going to be cool. They were pitched as the heirs apparent to Coldplay, which is probably a pretty big “strike one” for most tastemakers. They also made big, grandiose soft rock that wore its heart on its sleeve; there was no wit or irony here, just uber-emotional songs about unrequited love and the pains of growing up. Probably fair to call that strike two. And perhaps least cool of all, Keane were a rock band with no guitars. Even Coldplay, as wussy as their reputation would suggest they were, still had songs with Big Ass Guitars. Keane were a three-piece with a singer, a drummer, and a keyboardist, and the pianos were front and center in every single song. Do I even need to say it? Strike three; get outta here! While those three things may have caused a lot of people to turn their noses up at Keane, though, they were all extremely attractive to 14-year-old me – especially the piano thing. Growing up, I wanted to play the guitar. I was the classic “raised on rock music” kid, who thought there was absolutely nothing cooler than a person standing on a stage and playing a guitar extremely well. In an alternate universe, maybe someone gives me a guitar for my 14th birthday and I devote my entire life to mastering it. In this universe, though, I spent my childhood suffering a form of eczema that caused my hands – and especially my fingertips – to dry out, crack, and bleed. My fingers were such a problem that I couldn’t hold a pencil the normal way growing up, much less try to play an instrument notorious for tearing up your fingers. And so, I learned to play piano instead. That sometimes hurt, too, and I definitely bled on the keys once or twice (the things we do for our art!) but it was a hell of a lot easier than trying to push down metal strings. Needless to say, I didn’t get a guitar for my 14th birthday. What I did get was a copy of Keane’s Hopes & Fears. Seeing Keane emerge and turn into a big fucking deal was, for Craig the piano player, a formative moment. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of piano’s status as a rock ‘n’ roll instrument; I’d obviously heard my parents listening to Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel and Elton John over the years, or my brother listening to Ben Folds Five, or the likes of Five for Fighting or (again) Coldplay playing on the radio. But Keane coming up just as I was starting to take ownership of my own musical journey was different somehow. Maybe it’s because it felt like I was discovering them for myself; maybe I just liked the songs better. Whatever the reason, when “Somewhere Only We Know” started cropping up on radio playlists and in TV commercials, it sent a message I’d never really heeded from any other music before: You could play piano and still become a rock star. I’d been taking piano lessons for five or six years at that point, but I’d never invested my heart into it. I dutifully practiced every day, and I took on the classical pieces that my teachers assigned me, but there wasn’t much passion there. Hearing Keane got me thinking about piano in a different way. Soon, I was bringing my own ideas into piano lessons, taking pop and rock songs in and telling my teachers that this was what I wanted to learn. And before long, I was learning how to play and sing at the same time.… https://chorus.fm/reviews/keane-hopes-fears/

[yhwhrulz]

Today's Daily Encounter Tuesday, January 16, 2024

Leaving the past behind for grace in the present

"The third time he said to him, 'Simon son of John, do you love me?' Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, 'Do you love me?' He said, 'Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.' Jesus said, 'Feed my sheep".1

This year, it could be that God is asking you not to go back to something He has previously taken you out of. When life gets tough, or circumstances seem dark, when we have disappointed others and feel discouraged in our walk, the natural tendency is to return to the familiar and what used to be comfortable for us.

Even though that's not the best thing God has for us, we long for certainty in difficulty and security in confusion, so we go back to find something we thought we had lost. However, we will rarely find joy and blessing in returning to what God has called us to come out of. To welcome something new, sometimes we must say goodbye to something old.

In John 21, we see that Peter has gone back to fishing. Three years earlier, he had completely abandoned his nets to follow Jesus' call. However, feeling the weight of his failures, he returned to what he did best, seeking solace in his old way of life.

Peter spends the night fishing and doesn't catch anything. He tries his best, but achieves nothing. He fails at the one thing he's supposed to do well. Why? Because Jesus had called Peter to leave his nets and never told him to return to them.

God's call is always greater than our fall. We will never find success or satisfaction when we return to the areas from which God took us. There is no peace or contentment when we give in to something that God has already delivered us from. When God closes a door, He wants it to stay closed. Going back is no longer an option.

Once Peter is faced with his own inability (to even do what he is supposed to be good at), only then does Jesus show him where the fish are. When we follow what Jesus says, even if it makes little sense, there is abundance, provision, and blessing. Jesus then reaffirms Peter's original vocation. It reminds him of who he really is… not a fisher of fish, but a fisher of men.

If you spend all your time taking inventory of what you've lost, or going back to where you failed, you'll never invest in what's still left in the present. There's nothing behind you that's worth looking back on. Keep moving in the direction God has called you to.

Suggested Prayer: Dear Lord Jesus, thank you that you invite me to let go of everything that hinders me and cling to you. Even when things seem unknown and life looks uncertain, you promise me that you will never leave me or abandon me. This is my hope and confidence. In Jesus' name, Amen.

John 21:17 (NIV).

Today's Encounter was written by: Rosina N.

NOTE: If you would like to accept God's forgiveness for all your sins and His invitation for a full pardon Click on: http://www.actsweb.org/invitation.php. Or if you would like to re-commit your life to Jesus Christ, please click on http://www.actsweb.org/decision.php to note this.

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When copying or forwarding include the following: "Daily Encounter by Richard (Dick) Innes (c) 2005-2023 ACTS International

[peakyltd]

K, this was perfect! I think John forgot to drop by my house yesterday because I’m missing out big time after reading this. It was so in person for John and it was overall such a sweet story! The moodboard fits so well and I love the pictures you have chosen, even details like her carpet were represented. You used the prompts in such an amazing way as well! 

The way he acted like nothing happened and wished her happy birthday when she opened the door for him, made me giggle. It was such an adorable thing that he so desperately wanted to tell her what had actually happened. Unless (Y/N) I think I couldn’t resist it but I do understand she had heard so many of his reasons before 😂

“She had to bite her bottom lip to stop from smiling as she saw the soft grin that was present on his face.” This was so cute, K. You can feel trough the little expressions and actions that they have so much love for each other. Same goes to her taking care of him, she has done it 150 times before but would still do it the 151st time. 

The actual reason why he looked so battered was honestly so endearing. He wanted to be the first, not caring to get hurt in such a clumsy way. Their kiss that followed was so sweet as well and the addition of (Y/N) teasing him about hearing everything now was such fun way to redirect to their conversation in the beginning.

K, you delivered something amazing once again! You always write the characters their feelings so well that the reader is always able to embrace them in some way. This was such a feel good fic and I loved every single word you wrote. Thank you so much for participating in my celebration. And if you want to use some of the prompts from the list for any future fic, please feel free to do so! 💓🥰

Happy Birthday/Congrats on 850 followers Daisy @peakyltd !! — to say I got inspired by the prompt list you shared is an understatement haha … I chose to use two different prompts, which I’ve italicized in the story. I also decided to go with John as an ode to the first moodboard/blurb that you shared with us. Enjoy! 💕

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Blood On the Carpet

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, blood, injuries

Summary: (Y/N) gets a rather pleasant surprise on the morning of her birthday, one that she can’t quite say she’s surprised by…or maybe she is.

A knocking on the door of her home roused (Y/N) from the comfortable position she was sitting in on the couch. It was still rather early; too early for anyone to come knocking. Unless…

“Happy birthday, love.”

“John Shelby, what’s happened to you? You’re bleeding,” she disregarded her boyfriend’s festive greeting, her eyes on his nose, which was bleeding and already bruised.

“Well I was on my way here to come and see you, but then…”

“You know what…I don’t even want to know what happened,” she cut him off before he could explain his injuries further, “just come inside.”

She stepped aside as she finished speaking, allowing him to walk inside. We waited for her as she shut the door behind them, standing in the middle of her entryway like he had not a clue of what to do next.

“You really don’t want to hear what happened? I promise it’s nothing too bad,” he tried again to get her to listen to the story behind his injuries.

“No, John, I feel like I’ve heard them all at this point,” she waved him off again, “besides, your too bad and my too bad are two different too bads,” she added, spinning around to face him after she locked the door.

“But it’s actually nothing bad this time,” he persisted.

(Y/N) found it quite odd that he really wanted to tell her the story, but she just couldn’t budge from her stance. Like she’d said, she’d heard, and been through, one too many at this point, and honestly felt like she could go into the hospital and work as a nurse from all of the bandaging up she’d done in the three years that she’s known John and the Shelby brothers.

“Maybe some other time,” she decided to slightly concede, hoping that it’ll get him past his desire for story time. “Right now I need to get you bandaged up,” she then said, giving him a once over only to find that his hands were scraped up and bleeding as well.

“But I promise it’ll have you laughing,” he wasn’t giving it up so easily.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet, John,” she insisted, a bit more strictness seeping into her tone as she noticed the splotches of blood that were now covering her ornate, green carpet…one that she loved dearly.

“Shit…sorry, love,” he apologized sheepishly, finally dropping the persistence he previously held so that he could follow her into the kitchen area. He sat down on one of the dining chairs and waited for her to grab everything she needed to clean up his wounds.

(Y/N) got right to work with cleaning up his nose and making sure that the scrapes on it were only superficial. The same could be said about those on his hands, but she bandaged them just to make sure. “That should do it,” she announced, setting the remainder of the gause down on the table before she looked up at him. She had to bite her bottom lip to stop from smiling as she saw the soft grin that was present on his face.

“Always takin’ care of me, darlin’,” he mumbled, his eyes feeling heavy as he looked at her with adoration. It was still early in the morning after all, and he was about ready to go back to sleep.

“Who else would if not me?” she jokingly questioned then, allowing the smile to break onto her face as she heard him laugh.

“Was I the first person to tell you happy birthday?” he asked her after a few moments passed, his eyebrows raising in intrigue.

“You were,” she answered with a nod of her head, “I don’t think anyone else was itching to come wish me a happy birthday at…” she pause, checking the clock on the far wall, “six in the morning.”

“I was itchin’ to from the moment I woke up,” John told her, glancing down at his bandaged up hands then. “I even fell on the pavement while walkin’ over…nothin’ could’ve stopped me,” he worked in the story of how he got his injuries.

“You fell?” (Y/N) gasped, her eyes widening at his admission.

“Yeah,” he let out a breath of a chuckle, “right onto the bloody curb…got me pretty fuckin’ good if you ask me,” he added, shaking his head as heat creeped up his neck. He couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed as he told her the truth behind the brusies.

“Well if you ask me…I still think you look pretty handsome,” she told him, a smile full on her face.

“Pretty handsome?” he questioned her word choice in an incredulous manner, his ego now brusied along with his body.

“You know what I mean, John,” she rolled her eyes, laughing at his exaggerated expression. “You know…you’ve been here for a while now and you’ve yet to give me a birthday kiss,” she switched topics then, her eyebrows raising slightly as she hoped he caught onto what she was saying.

“I was slightly preoccupied before, dear,” he pointed out, chuckling at her suggestion.

“Well you’re not preoccupied now…” she trailed off, watching him intently.

“C’mere then,” he grinned at her, his words making her lean in closer to him. Her quickness made him grin as he happily closed the rest of the distance to match his lips to hers. A sweet kiss was shared before he pulled away just enough to whisper: “happy birthday, love.”

“Thank you, John,” she mumbled back, leaning in for another kiss before pulling away completely. They were both grinning like fools as they sat properly in their chairs once more. (Y/N) took that time to give him a once over. She couldn’t help but laugh as a thought came to mind.

“What?” John asked, wanting to know the reason behind it.

“I said that I’ve heard it all before when it came to your injury stories…now I’ve really heard it all,” she told him, making him roll his eyes this time before laughter left both of their lips.

What a memorable way to start off a birthday.

———

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @papichulo120627 @brummiereader @valentinabloom @wildheartsalwaysburn @dragons-are-my-favorite @jessimay89

MASTERLIST

[hell-ama-official]

Is there life after death?

What happens after death?

Is there an afterlife?

Where do you go when you die?

How can I not go to hell?

What is eternal life?

What does the Bible say about hell?

Is hell real? Is hell eternal?

Does hell exist?

Does heaven exist?

Can people in heaven look down and see those of us who are still on the earth?

How can Heaven be perfect if all of our loved ones are not there?

How is eternity in Hell a fair punishment for sin?

How is an eternity in hell a just punishment for only a human lifetime of sin?

What does the Bible say about reincarnation?

What does the Bible say about death?

Do we have an appointed time of death?

What does the Bible say about near death experiences?

What is the first resurrection? What is the second resurrection?

Will we remember our earthly lives when we are in Heaven?

What are the New Heavens and the New Earth?

Will it be possible for us to sin in Heaven?

Will there be such a thing as gender in Heaven?

Why do so many people have to experience terrible suffering before death?

What is the New Jerusalem?

Is Luke 16:19-31 a parable or an account of events that actually occurred?

Where is Heaven? What is the location of Heaven?

Where is hell? What is the location of hell?

What is the intermediate state?

What is the difference between Sheol, Hades, Hell, the lake of fire, Paradise, and Abraham’s bosom?

Is hell literally a place of fire and brimstone?

What are the five heavenly crowns that believers can receive in Heaven?

Does John 3:13 mean that no one went to Heaven before Jesus?

Do we receive mansions in heaven?

Will more people go to heaven or to hell?

What are the gates of hell?

What is the river of life?

What does it mean to be absent from the body?

What is Abraham’s bosom?

What is eternal death?

If reincarnation is not true, why do some people remember their past lives?

Is there a heavenly language? What language will we speak in heaven?

How will our resurrection body be different from our current body?

Why is the idea of eternal damnation so repulsive to many people?

What is the second death?

What is the eternal state of the believer?

If God is omnipresent, does that mean God is in hell?

Is it biblical to say "˜rest in peace' (RIP) in regards to someone who has died?

What does it mean that hell is eternal separation from God?

Is Satan the master of hell? Do Satan and his demons punish people in hell?

Did God create hell?

What is the worm that will not die in Mark 9:48?

Is the idea of seven heavens / the seventh heaven biblical?

What are the heavenly places/realms?

How can we store up treasures in heaven?

What does hell look like? How hot is hell?

What is Gehenna?

What is the verse about casting our crowns before the feet of Jesus?

Will there be tears in heaven?

What kind of bodies will people have in hell?

What is hadephobia?

What is conditional immortality?

What sort of condolences should a Christian give someone who is hurting after the death of a loved one?

What does it mean that the dead know nothing (Ecclesiastes 9:5)?

How big is heaven?

Are there pearly gates in heaven?

What is Tartarus?

What do I need to do to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant" when I arrive in heaven?

What does it mean that hell is referred to as a lake of fire?

How can a loving God send someone to hell?

What is the second heaven?

What is the Abyss?

Can I ask God to deliver a message to a loved one who has died?

When was hell created?

What is Judgment Day?

What is the biblical view of mortality?

What is the moment of death according to the Bible?

You formulate your thoughts like a hyperactive five year old after they had a slice of birthday cake, two cups of tea with three sugars while sneaking in some candy. It is a truth of the universe that nobody can treat you seriously. If these are legitimate concerns you're having, go ask a preacher. They'll tell you about this way better than I can. Alternatively, if you can access Tumblr, you can probably access some sort of search engine. I haven't read through all of these questions, but there is no doubt in my mind that most of them (eg. "What is hadephobia?") will have responses on the web. This is borderline spam, but I'm going to publish this anyway as a way of displaying the current state of my inbox.

Next time you send in a question, not just to me, but to anyone, make sure there's a point in asking the question to them in particular, and phrase it in a more digestible way.