#i should ask her if she’s watched shameless idk why it never occurred to me until now

[hayscodings]

i wish i had the time to write fanfic because the amount of headcanons that i’ve been able to develop for svetlana based on the stories from eastern european immigrants that have been shared with me in real life are aplenty. mark twain knew what he was talking about when he said write what you know

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 30)

On The Move Again...

Idk what to say about this chapter other than a little bit of fluff? A little bit of angst? A little bit of pissed off reader? Just.. mucho dialogue, as per usual with my stuff lmao. 

Just wanna let y’all know that I go back to uni tomorrow (I start back really late, I’ve realised) and I’m going into my final year, so I will likely be busy. BUT, I hope to keep posting enough that you wont notice much of a difference, but yeah. If updates become a little less frequent, it’s not cause I’m getting bored of writing this :) side note... I’m so fucking ready to be done with university! 

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

Arthur woke me up gently, dusting kisses over my face and petting my hair, whispering my name and rocking me in his arms to rouse me as delicately as birdsong. For about thirty blissful seconds I completely forgot about our circumstances, so enamoured with the feeling of waking up with him. This was something I had only done a handful of times but if this was every morning I would be a very happy woman. 

"Good morning, angel. I'm sorry to wake you, but I gotta get up," he whispered to me, his hand still smoothing over the back of my head. 

"I don't mind waking up if this is the first thing I see," I murmured sleepily, making him laugh. 

"I gotta say, it was real nice for me too," he said, kissing my forehead once before wrapping his arms around me and rolling us over until he was above me, though dangerously close to the edge. He slammed a hand on the table next to us before we ended up on the floor together and we laughed as he shuffled us back into the middle of the bed. 

"I don't want us to get up," I sighed. 

"Me neither, but we gotta figure out what's happening with Jack," he said, and it all came tumbling back to me. 

"Oh God, yeah, you know I was almost at peace for a second," I grunted, dropping my head back against the bed and trailing my hands up Arthur's sides. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, nestling his face against my neck and inhaling deeply. "I can hear Dutch out there. I ought to go out and talk with 'em, hopefully he's figured something out."

"Alright," I whispered, patting his back a couple of times before releasing him. 

With a groan Arthur pushed himself up and off of me, sitting down on the edge of the bed and stretching, rolling his neck and grunting as his joints popped. His jaw stretched open with a yawn, one which I caught and mimicked shortly after. I shifted to join him sitting up, and after taking a moment to straighten out our clothes and tidy our hair, we rose to our feet and emerged from the tent. It struck me how shameless we seemed to suddenly be about what was going on between the two of us. It had gone unspoken, but I believed both of us had frankly stopped caring about who knew and who didn't. 

Regardless, nobody noticed us leaving the tent together, too preoccupied to care, thankfully. Dutch, Hosea and John were sat around the table talking; Arthur joined them and I pottered off, leaving the men to it and instead heading to grab my morning coffee. I caught sight of Abigail sitting on the ground on her bedroll with her knees hugged into her chest, eyes distant. I opted not to disturb her, taking a seat with Tilly and Mary-Beth in front of their wagon. 

"Morning, girls. How're you two holding up?" I greeted them. Tilly was washing a chemise while Mary-Beth was distractedly stitching a white garment that I quickly noticed was dappled with a few specks of blood. Before any of them could even answer I spoke again. 

"Mary-Beth, you're bleeding!" I pointed out, reaching out and taking her hand in mine. 

"Oh! Oh shoot, what a mess. I pricked myself earlier on, didn't realise I'd drawn blood," she plopped her finger in her mouth and sucked on the injured digit. I put my coffee down and took the garment from her; it was a stocking with a tear in it. 

"I'll finish this, don't worry. There ain't too much blood on it, no harm done. 'sides your finger."

"I'm away with the fairies this morning," she shook her head at herself. 

"Ain't we all. How're you, Tilly?" I asked. 

"About as well as you'd expect. The other day I couldn't stop thinkin' about how bored I was, now I'd happily take boredom over all this mess," Tilly sighed, sitting back on her heels and shaking her hands free of water. 

"I'm confident the men'll get Jack back," I assured them both. 

"Me too, it's just all the worrying until then. Has Arthur said anything to you about where he is?" Tilly asked me and looked up at her, momentarily – and frankly unjustifiably – surprised that she'd asked me about Arthur. 

"Oh, no, he hasn't," I said after a pause. 

"How is he doing, anyway? He's been awfully quiet lately," Mary-Beth began, "not that he ain't usually quiet, but you know what I mean."

"Arthur? He…" I paused, looking down at my sewing. "I reckon his injury knocked it out of him for a bit, he didn't much like being cooped up. Then of course, first thing he does after getting back out there is watch Sean– it's understandable. I jus' think he's going through it a bit."

"Well I hope he knows he can come talk to any of us if he needs it. Though, I suppose he has you for that, now," Mary-Beth commented. I looked at her, a light frown on my face. 

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, we ain't idiots," Tilly laughed "it's extremely obvious that you and him are somethin' more than friends."

"No, that ain't what I meant. You don't think I'm… stealing him, hogging him away from all of you, do you?" 

The two girls looked at me, two sets of eyes going wide for a few long seconds before they both laughed. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," Mary-Beth patted my knee, "I just meant he has you to open up to now, I ain't surprised if he don't talk to us about that stuff all that much anymore. I don't mind it, it makes sense."

"Before you came along, if Arthur was going through a rough patch, he'd come speak to one of us women. That ain't happened in a while so we figured he was talking to you instead, is that not the case?" Tilly added, picking the chemise out of the bucket and squeezing the water out.

"Oh, no, he does," I nodded, thinking back to the previous night, all his talk of getting out of here, no matter how idealised the thoughts were. Mary-Beth leaned forwards a bit, inspecting my expression. 

"Everything okay between you two?" She asked. 

"Between us, yes, everything is wonderful," I told her, a small sigh escaping me. "I just wish everything else was the same. I don't like seeing him worried. I'm worried too, but I know it ain't a scratch on how he must be feeling."

"Well, I'm just glad he has you. That man deserves a bit of love, that's for sure," Mary-Beth said, "after Mary, and everything that's happened to him."

"Mary-Beth," Tilly said, her tone a warning. 

"What?"

"You don't bring up a man's past relationships to his new lady," she chuckled, shaking her head. I smiled in amusement.

"It's alright. I know about Mary, even met her once. Well, not really met, saw her from a distance."

"Really? Oh, well I admit I was a little worried when I heard she was around. She practically carved the poor feller's heart out and spat on it. He was real excited when she agreed to marry him, I don't know how she could do that to him," Mary-Beth sighed. 

My heart thumped uncomfortably and I stared blankly at her. She noticed my silence and looked at me, the colour draining from her face soon after. 

"They were engaged?" I asked, my voice small. 

"Oh, Mary-Beth," Tilly said tightly, shaking her head. 

"I thought you knew," Mary-Beth covered her mouth. "Oh, goodness. I'm a fool."

"No, no it's fine. I've no right to be upset," I shook my head, snapping myself out of it. "I guess it just surprised me, I didn't know it'd gone that far."

I understood better why Arthur had been so deeply hurt by her. Why he'd held onto her for years, why he'd kept her photo, why he'd acknowledged her letter and gone to meet her despite the pain he knew it'd cause him. She was the woman he'd loved so much he'd wanted to share the rest of his life with her.

"No, you're upset. Oh gosh, forget this I'll do it later," Mary-Beth snatched the sewing from me and tossed it aside, clasping my hands in hers. "This was years ago, he's clearly moved on and he has you, he's completely taken by you, it's so easy to see."

"I don't need reassurance, like I said, I have no right to be upset over something that happened before he even knew me. He has his own life, how awful would I be to turn sour over him living his own life?" I forced a laugh, shaking my head. 

It was true, I had no reason to be upset. And I wasn't upset, not with Arthur, he'd done nothing wrong. But I did feel something cold and sickly and gross in my tummy and it was startlingly close to inadequacy.

"Mary-Beth is right, he's crazy about you. I watched him drawing you the other day when you weren't looking. Never seen the man look so peaceful," Tilly added, moving closer to join us. She put a hand on my shoulder as she sat beside me. 

"You did?" I sputtered, eyes going wide and my face going hot.

"Yeah. You were brushing your horse and he was at that table over there just watching you, sketching away in that journal of his. I'd love to see what's inside that thing," Tilly giggled. 

"I bet it's real romantic," Mary-Beth remarked, her voice low and tender.

"It never occurred to me that he might write about me in there," I thought aloud. 

"You should sneak a peek while he's sleeping," Tilly whispered and I flashed her a disapproving frown. 

"Oh, I couldn't. That'd be a violation of his privacy," I said. 

"I guess," Tilly sighed glumly. "You should at least ask him."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I reckon I might prefer the mystery."

"Might be full of things he's too scared to say, could show a soft, vulnerable, tender side to him that his tough, manly lifestyle forces him to hide," Mary-Beth stared off into the distance, her expression nothing short of dreamy.

"Good lord, Mary-Beth. You really have to stop reading those novels," Tilly laughed and Mary-Beth playfully swatted her arm. I couldn't help but smile, eyes wandering over to Arthur across the camp. That smile quickly faded though, when I noticed Lenny approaching the group with two men I did not recognise. 

"Hey, Dutch! We got a problem," he called out, pointing his gun at the back of the men, keeping a close eye on them as they walked towards Dutch. 

The men were well dressed in suits and ties and bowler hats, the second of the men had a gun slung over his shoulder. Something told me they weren't friends of the Van Der Linde gang. I stayed put as the men exchanged a few words. 

"Crap, that's the Pinkertons, I reckon," Mary-Beth hissed under her breath when she noticed. The gang slowly surrounded the group, forming a crowd that couldn't not be at least a little intimidating. I rose to my feet, crossing the camp towards them to listen in on what was happening, aware of the fact that Tilly and Mary-Beth were hanging back. 

"I don't know if you're aware but this is a civilised land, now. We didn't kill all those savages to allow the likes of you to act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded or not yet invented. This thing, it's done," the first gentleman was announcing when I got close enough to hear. The atmosphere was so dark and thick, it was like I could taste it or smell it, it was foul like the contents of a spittoon.

"This place ain't no such thing as civilised. It's man so in love with greed he has forgotten himself and found only appetites," Dutch responded, his words so well articulated, spoken almost like poetry right from a book. 

"And as a consequence, that lets you take what you please, kill whom you please and hang the rest of us? Who made you the Messiah to these lost souls you've led so horribly astray?" The agent questioned, eyes scanning the crowd around him. His eyes found me. "Oh, and who is this? You must be new, haven't heard anything about you."

Dutch and Arthur looked my way, Dutch's expression stony and serious, Arthur's immediately turning to painful worry. 

"Leave her–" Arthur started, abruptly cut off by Dutch. 

"You'd single out a lady whom to your knowledge has done nothing wrong? That doesn't make you a man any more than threatening the likes of me does," he said. Hosea, who happened to be closest to me, pushed me behind him and obscured their view of me.

"Whether or not any of you lowlifes consider me a man is of no importance to me. I am here to offer you all a deal. You, Dutch, come with me and I'll give the rest of you three days to run off, disappear and go live like human beings someplace else," he bargained, and I stared at the back of Dutch's head, my heart in my throat as I awaited his response.

Dutch chuckled.

"You came for me? Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers so that they might live and love? Ain't that fine?"

"I don't wanna kill all these folk Dutch. Just you," the agent stared at Dutch with such disdain I could practically feel the second hand effects of it, creeping hotly up my arms like vines.

"In that case, it'd be my honour to join you," Dutch's words were low, pleasant, "excuse me friends, I have an appointment to keep, with…"

The metallic clicks sounding out across the crowd rose hairs on my neck, weapons being readied, the threat loud and clear. 

"I think your new friend should leave now, Dutch," Miss Grimshaw warned. It was clear that nobody here was prepared to let the men take Dutch away. And Dutch… he was well aware of this.

"You're making a big mistake, all of you," the Pinkerton glowered, unsettled and frustrated, losing his grip on the situation he was so evidently being overpowered in.

"Yeah, dreadful. We have got something. Something to live and die for, how awful for us. Mr? Milton, stop following us, we'll be gone soon," more cool, velvety words from Dutch.

"I'm afraid I can't, and when I return I'll be with fifty men. All of you will die. Run away from this place you fools. Run!" 

"Come on," Lenny grabbed his arm, got him moving only to be shaken off.

"Get your damn hands off of me, boy," and with that, the gentleman returned from the direction they came. As they disappeared through the trees, the air seemed to clear just a bit. It left behind an unpleasant sludge but at least I felt I could breathe. 

The crowd dispersed as Dutch turned to Arthur, the men spoke quietly and I backed away, shaken by the experience. I knew that the Van Der Linde gang were wanted, chased by a dozen different groups of enemies, but actually seeing the evidence standing in the middle of the place we were all meant to feel the safest was difficult to wrap my head around. 

-

I found myself with Javier again, I'd sought him out when Dutch made the announcement that we were moving again, so I could help to take some tents down like last time. We worked together well enough. We were taking down Arthur's first, deconstructing the canvas and posts, loading everything up on the ammunition wagon it all attached to. I was tasked with carefully unpinning his photographs from the side of it so that they wouldn't be lost in transit. Javier and I weren't as talkative this time around, but his choice to start this particular conversation vexed me.

"This piss you off?" He asked, holding up the photograph of Mary. I frowned at him. 

"No," I simply said. 

"Alright," he said innocently. "I just thought, since you and him…" he trailed off. 

"Whatever he and I are, he's allowed to keep a photo of a person he once held dear," I said, packing away the keepsakes in Arthur's chest. I took the photo from Javier and it joined the rest.

"So, are you guys serious?" He asked. When I didn't answer him, he walked around to stand in front of me, folding up Arthur's bedding. "Micah's been sayin' some stuff."

"Micah," I repeated, looking up at Javier. "Micah doesn't know anything about Arthur and I so take it with a pinch of salt."

"No, not about Arthur, 'bout you and him, at the Parlour House," he told me. 

I stared for a moment, mind failing to conjure up a response. 

He smirked, though he seemed surprised. "So something did happen?"

"What's he been saying?"

"Nothing, really. It's all vague suggestion, was saying it 'round the fire the other night when you were in here with Arthur," he explained. "I know you and Micah have had some tension, with that kiss that day."

"What the fuck did he say?" I reiterated, getting irritated. 

"Said stuff like you and him make a good team, the usual crap. But then he talked about you two going out drinking at the Parlour House, you two had fun together, got along real well. Said it with this smirk on his face," Javier told me, wearing a salacious smirk of his own. "Didn't make it hard to read between the lines."

"Right, so basically, he's tryin'a start a rumour about me and him? What, that we kissed? Slept together?" I scoffed, and Javier shrugged. "Well, here's a rumour, spread it all you like. That bristly faced creep asked me to sleep with him at the Parlour House that night, an' he's clearly feeling hard done by considering I rejected him. And don't worry, Arthur already knows about the whole damn embarrassment and I talked him down from beating him, but I'm sure he'd reconsider if I jus' said the word." 

With every word I stepped closer to Javier, poison in my tone that wasn't really directed at him. The corner of his mouth curled up and he leaned away, holding his hands up in surrender. When I was finished, he let loose a chuckle. 

"Alright, I got you, loud and clear."

"I've been trying my damnedest to find the best in him, I know there's some decency in the man, but, by God. He's making it real difficult for me not to join the rest of 'em in hating the bastard," I huffed, feeling my face flush with embarrassment mixed with anger.

"Ay, it's okay. I never really believed him. Don't think anyone else did, either, we all saw how you were when Arthur got fucked up by the O'Driscolls," he reassured me, putting a hand on my shoulder and gingerly pushing me backwards, out of his personal space.

"Yeah well, even so, I don't take kindly to someone making me out to be somethin' I ain't. Say if someone did believe him, then watched me hanging around in Arthur's tent all these weeks, they'd think I was a real piece of work," I muttered, snatching the pillow from Arthur's bed and putting it in the wagon, then moving to roll up the thin padding that served as a mattress.

Javier laughed. "I think you're overestimating people's ability to give a damn. Even if it was true; you wanna get it on with half the gang, that's up to you. Wouldn't be the first girl," he snickered. 

I cocked a brow at him. 

"Could'a been any one of us in John's position," he shrugged. My head whipped around towards where Abigail was, helping pack with Sadie and Karen. 

"Oh, I ain't gossiping. Stop it," I muttered, shaking my head.  

"Alright, muñequita," he chuckled, "no more gossip."

"What does that mean?" I asked. 

"What does what mean?"

"Mune– mune– that word you said," I shook my head, the unfamiliar word dissolving in my mind before I could repeat it.

"Muñequita?" He smirked at me, looking a little surprised that I'd asked. A little embarrassed, even. "Oh, nothing. It's a… just a name. A term of endearment."

"Oh, alright. It's a pretty word," I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at him. 

"Means little doll. People don't tend to ask me what I'm saying, so I'm a little caught off guard," he laughed, shaking his head and turning away from me to lift up the bed frame. "The name seemed to suit you. Those jobs you do, putting on all these roles, playing pretend. Like a little kid's doll." 

He leaned the bed up against the wagon and turned to me, appraising my reaction.

"Well, playing pretend…" I started, pursing my lips in thought. "I guess I can pretend it ain't me robbing people blind. It's Jemima Jones." 

Javier laughed through his nose, tilting his head down. 

"Jemima Jones. She's a clever girl, but don't let her take all the credit–"

"I'm glad you two are gettin' along so nicely but if you remember, we all have the threat of death hangin' over us until we get packed up and gone. Get moving!" Miss Grimshaw hissed as she marched passed us. 

Javier and I shared a glance before getting back to work.