#mac and the tree situation

[maculategiraffe]

a highly esteemed deed is commemorated here

I don't know what exactly this thing is that we got at a yard sale and kept on top of a bookshelf to class the joint up a little but I do know that that dent is where a rafter snapped by the tree's impact hit it and STOPPED

what is this thing so I can tell everyone that my brave and selfless [decorative... metal... casserole dish?] sacrificed its lid to save a major table, probably the actual floor, and quite possibly a nearby glass fronted cabinet

[blunderpuff]

apparently i have a half sister???

what the fuck???

[ellecdc]

part II - Pretty Woman

slow burn poly!wolfstar Pretty Woman (1990) au: established wolfstar, escort!reader, side jegulily, eventual dorlene, political heist-type situation, depictions and descriptions of sex-work

I // II

CW: financial insecurity, Sirius money-is-no-object Black, sugar babe vibes, brief mention of Black family [3.1k words]

link to series masterlist

The words on the page before you began to blur and melt as you watched the way the shadows of the leaves danced across them; the canopy of trees above your fire-escape-turned-balcony swaying in the gentle breeze and providing you with broken bits of shade. 

You almost laughed that out of the two documents Sirius had sent you home with, the legal NDA was rather easy to read through and already signed, sitting safely on your bedside table for your next meeting. 

You were having a harder time with the second document; one that you were supposed to replicate for him.

‘About Me’ it read. And it was - about Sirius, that is. Everything that a long-term girlfriend soon-to-be fiance hopefully one day wife should know.

His favourite colour is black, but there was someone else's font beside it that read “this doesn’t count, Sirius”, to which what you could only assume was Sirius’ scrawl wrote “bloody hell, fine, blue then.�� His birthday is November 3rd. He’s a dog person, but Remus likes cats so he thinks he’ll likely have to cave one day and get him a cat. That note made you smile. He wanted to study art history (someone wrote the word ‘nerd’ beside that) but his parents didn’t approve, so he studied architectural design instead. He listed the Godfather as his favourite movie, but when someone wrote ‘liar’ he wrote ‘FINE. It's the 1999 made for TV version of Annie with Kathy Bates’. He’s afraid of spiders, he drinks both his coffee and tea sickly sweet - his favourite drink being a salted caramel latte, he played rugby with James growing up but quit when he decided he didn’t actually like being beaten about for sport. He left out the ‘when I was already being beaten about at home’, but you read it for what it was anyway. He can play piano but hates it, he can play the guitar less well but loves it. He’s littered in tattoos, most can be hidden under dress shirts and such, but there’s one that trails just a little too high up on his neck and a few on his hands. His favourite meal is Remus’ mum’s shepherd's pie, but the Ritz room service always made a really good baked mac and cheese.

You snorted as you threw your head back against the railing behind you - your bum growing numb from sitting on the wrought-iron bars of the fire escape - at the thought of Sirius Black sitting in a premium suite in one of the world’s poshest hotels and ordering macaroni and cheese to his room from a michelin star restaurant. 

What the fuck have I gotten myself into? You wondered wryly as you stood and forced the jammed window to your bedroom back open and crawled through. 

Sirius had offered to pick you up, but you had insisted you would meet him at the mall. Well, actually, Sirius had first offered to transfer you some money to buy a cocktail dress for dinner at his Uncle Alphard’s tomorrow night, but when you’d gone so quiet on the phone that Sirius actually pulled it away from his face to ensure the two of you were still connected, he’d offered to take you instead. 

The dinner at Alphard’s would be a good segway into the Black family nonsense; Alphard’s house would be neutral territory, his parents and other aunts and uncles would be there, but it wouldn’t be their domain. And there would also be Andromeda, her husband Ted, and of course Uncle Alphard to act as buffers.

But that’s not what had Sirius feeling so uncharacteristically nervous right now. He felt silly, sitting here at the Starbucks with sweaty hands as he considered buying a second latte. 

Yeah, he thought wryly, that’s exactly what you need - more caffeine, as if you aren’t already shaky enough. 

Sirius hadn’t felt this anxious since he’d asked Remus out on an actual date back in school. He supposed in many ways, this was a first date of sorts. A first date with the woman who was going to help him bring down his family and all the hate they stood for, with the woman who was going to be accompanying him to events with some of the worst people he knew, the woman who he was going to propose to, who he’d have to bloody marry at some point; blimey what did he get himself into? 

Thankfully you chose that moment to show up, saving Sirius from any further spiralling as he stood so quickly that he almost knocked the small bistro table clean over. 

“Hullo! Fuckin’ hell. Hi!” He stuttered awkwardly as he caught the table and righted his nearly finished coffee.

“Hi.” You murmured softly with a matching smile.

“Hi.” Sirius said again, wiping his hands on his trousers and smiling back at you. 

“Hi.” You repeated; smile growing into a cheekier smirk as you watched him botch this. 

“Great, awesome.” Sirius said with a smile. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” You laughed.

“Oh, and now you’re lying to me.”

You shook your head and looked down at your feet. Sirius wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he hired an escort, but he found he was surprised by how plain a lot of your wardrobe seemed to be. Granted he had only met you twice, but from those two times it had become clear to him that when you weren’t working, you preferred to be nondescript. Classic tees, shirts, and blouses, and denim or, in today’s case, corduroys; you looked vintage and casual, put together in a way without looking like you tried too hard. Though, once again, you were only as nondescript as any pretty woman could be, and he was sure that anyone even remotely attracted to women would absolutely spare you a second glance - corduroys or otherwise. 

But he couldn’t help but admit - at least to himself -  that he was a little bit excited at the prospect of getting to dress you up. 

“Are you- do you want a drink?” Sirius asked as he gestured towards the Starbucks behind him, nearly taking out an errant shopper with his hand causing him to have to call out a hasty apology. 

“Oh, uhm, no, no. I’m good, thank you though.” You declined quickly as you hiked your purse further up on your shoulder, though you were eyeing the store with intrigue.

Ah, Sirius thought to himself, allergic to spending money - I know a thing or two about your type. 

“Listen, gorgeous, we’re going to be spending a lot of money today, so you’d be better to start with something small to ease yourself into it.” He quipped.

He’d been going for light and breezy - even shooting you a cheeky wink - but you seemed to blanche at that. 

“I’m… I don’t have much on me, Sirius…” You started, and Sirius fought the urge to wince at his faux pas.

“My money, doll; we’re going to be spending a lot of my money.” 

“I-”

“It’s number six.”

You turned away from the coffee shop to look at him in bemusement. “What?”

“Number six, how you take your tea and coffee; your favourite drink.” He explained. “Mine’s a salted caramel latte. What’s yours?” 

You took a deep breath as you searched his eyes for a few moments before turning back towards the drink menu. “Are you getting something?”

“I was considering getting a second.” Sirius allowed as he nodded towards his forgotten cup.

“I’ll get it, then.” You offered, and made your way into the shop before Sirius could even respond, returning a few moments later with a salted caramel latte for Sirius and some kind of sweet looking cold brew for yourself. 

“Thank you.” He offered as he accepted the drink from your grasp; your name scrawled prettily on the side of the cup. 

“Don’t mention it.” You whispered back as you took a sip of your own.

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

“What about this one?” Sirius asked for what had to have been the thirteenth time in this store alone as he held up a garment for you to consider. 

You barely spared the dress a half a glance before you were reaching to the sleeve - not coincidentally where the price tag was.

“Would you stop checking the price?” He hissed as he gently swatted your hand away. “Do you like this dress?” 

You made a helpless sound in the back of your throat as you looked between him and the dress again. “I don’t know, Sirius, I- it’s not something I’d ever buy for myself.”

Sirius sighed as he returned the dress to the rack and gave you a Look™. “I do not mean any offence, doll, but I think that’s sort of the point.” He offered softly.

You groaned miserably and cradled your face in your hands. “I’m sorry - I’m being terribly difficult.” 

“You’re not being terribly difficult.” Sirius appeased, waiting for you to peek at him through your fingers. “Only mildly.”

You groaned again but allowed your hands to fall away from your face to land on your hips as you considered the rack in front of you. Your bottom lip dimpled as if you were chewing on the inside of your lip as you turned to a rack behind you that the two of you (read: Sirius) had been looking through moments ago and sifted through it again.  

“That would be a nice colour on you.” He offered as you paused on a dress. You kept your face pointed towards the dress but looked up at him through your eyelashes before pulling the dress out and holding it up against him.

“Now, I don’t know what you think you know about my family, but generally, I save my dress wearing for when I’m in the privacy of my own home or at a very specific bar.”

Sirius watched as your nose crinkled before you were dropping the garment and lowering your chin to your chest in an attempt to hide your snickering; Sirius momentarily wished you wouldn’t. 

“I didn’t mean for you,” you chided through a giggle as you held the dress back up against him; he didn’t argue this time, “I was checking to see if the colour looks good on you as well.”

Sirius found his cheeks flaming hot as the question ‘and does it?’ settled on the tip of his tongue. But, like the fucking prat he is, all he managed to spit out was “of course it does, I look good in everything.” 

You rolled your eyes good naturedly and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘git’  under your breath before nodding once. “I think I’ll get this one, then.”

“Great job.” He said as he swiped the dress from you and folded it over his arm. “Now pick three more and then we can head to the next store.”

“Thre- next store? Sirius, I-”

“I told you we were spending a lot of money today, Y/N, I meant it.” He said simply as he encouraged you forward by the small of your back. You sounded as though you were going to say something but acquiesced when he patted your hip twice before pulling his hand away from you. 

“You don’t wear a lot of colour, I’ve noticed.” Sirius offered, swinging the bags he was carrying casually in his hands as the two of you slowly made your way through the mall after purchasing shoes ‘to go with the dresses, doll’ and even some sodding bags ‘think of it as an investment, gorgeous; you’re an employee, and working for me comes with a uniform. I’m providing you with a uniform’. 

You looked at him sideways as you continued walking, trying to ignore the feeling of everyone doing double takes to see a girl looking so plain with designer bags in her hands and a certified adonis by her side. If he hadn’t told you his favourite colour was black, you would have guessed as much just from the sheer amount of it he wore. But whereas you wore a fair amount of black in an attempt to disappear - to blend in - he seemed to do it to make his own statement; it stood out in stark contrast against his fair skin, and depending on what he was wearing, complimented his many (visible) tattoos nicely. It also left his eyes - a grey blue - appearing that much more brilliantly bright and striking.

All this to say, he wasn’t one to talk.

“No…” You allowed. “Neither do you, though.”

“Touche.” He offered you with a wink - or, what you were sure was a wink - behind his sunglasses as the window-pane roof let in an unusual amount of sunlight for this time of year in the UK. “Why don’t you, though?”

You sighed as you stepped onto the escalator going down and redistributed your bags in your hands instead of answering right away. “I get looked at more than I’d like to already.” You admitted quietly. “I… I get enough attention, I don’t need to garner any more.”

You weren’t looking at Sirius but you could feel his gaze on you before he nodded his head in your periphery. “I get that, I think. Growing up in a political family came with a lot of attention. Then being the runaway, then playing the poster child again.”

You hummed an acknowledgement. “You seem to lean into it, though?” You hadn’t meant it to be offensive, but when Sirius’ mouth opened in a disbelieving laugh, your stomach dropped. “Not- no, I’m- that’s not what I-”

“Relax, babe. I get it.” He waved you off as the two of you stepped off the escalator. “It’s true; I always sort of figured, they’re looking at me anyways, you know? Might as well give them something to talk about.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, only breaking it to apologise when one of you brushed against the other with one of the many bags adorning your hands.

“Where’d you park?” Sirius asked as the two of you stepped out into the daylight. Fuck, you hadn’t thought this through.

You were expecting to shop for maybe one dress for tomorrow’s dinner, and you were planning to shove the garment into your purse for the train ride back home. There was simply no way you could manage public transport with this many bags, and the chances of you being mugged on your way increased significantly for every designer bag you had. 

You wondered if the clothes would even be safe in your flat at all, knowing the only locks that you trusted were the chain bolted to the front door that you installed yourself, and the piece of wood you jammed in your window at the fire escape so no one could open it from the outside. 

“Y/N?”

“No. Uhm, sorry.” You started, looking towards Sirius but not necessarily at him. “Actually, I’m- well, do you think I could keep them at your place? I…I don’t- I don’t necessarily want my neighbours knowing I have this kind of stuff in my flat.”

Sirius’ eyes softened and you felt a little guilty at the half truth, but soldiered on. “I’d just hate to come home from work one day to find it all missing, you know?” You tried to joke. 

You swore Sirius’ mouth pinched slightly before he schooled his expression and redistributed the bags he was currently holding into one hand and held out his free one to take yours. 

“Oh! I could help-”

“That’s alright, doll, I’ve got it.” He said as he relinquished your bags from you. “Tomorrow, then? I assume you’ll be getting ready at my place? Do you want a ride?”

“No! No, that’s alright, I’ll meet you there if you just want to send me your address.” 

The two of you said goodbye and you watched Sirius walk through the car park until he disappeared behind a row of vehicles, and you stepped back into the mall to wait for the next train that didn’t come for another 45 minutes. 

Sirius let out a breath as he closed the door to his and Remus’ townhouse behind him; the sounds of the London streets melting away to the odd honk or occasional car door closing as he began searching their home.

He needn’t search long, however, finding Remus exactly where he knew he would be.

”Did’ya have a good day?” Remus asked without looking up from the potatoes he was peeling, though he did turn his face slightly to reciprocate the kiss Sirius pressed to his cheek. 

“Yeah, not bad.” Sirius agreed in an exhale as he disposed of the many shopping bags onto the kitchen island.

Remus opened his mouth as he turned - no doubt about to scold Sirius for messing up his clean kitchen - when his face pinched in confusion.

”I thought you were going shopping for Y/N?” 

“We did.”

”Sirius!”

”Remus.” Sirius shot back as he made himself comfortable on one of the high stools.

”You’re going to scare her away.” Remus muttered as he washed and dried his hands before coming over to peek inside of the bags, pulling the documents you had returned to Sirius out of one of them. 

“She was much more tolerable than you were when I first took you shopping.” 

Remus shot him an unimpressed glare though he didn’t bother gracing him with a response as he leaned back against the counter and flipped through the pages in his hands. “Why didn’t she take any of this with her?” He asked as he motioned to the bags now littering his kitchen island.

Sirius felt his own mouth pinch in displeasure as he recounted your reasoning. “She said she was worried her neighbours would see - didn’t want anyone to know she had anything of value in her flat.”

Remus made a sympathetic hum as Sirius pondered what it was exactly about that sentiment that left such a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Sounds like my flat back on 31st.” 

Sirius groaned at the memory of Remus’ flat he had back in university. Sirius had spent the first eight months of his and Remus’ relationship begging him to move in with him and James; he’d already spent most nights there in Sirius’ bed anyways! But Remus was proud and argued with Sirius when he said as much.

”I hated when you lived there.” He grumbled, and Sirius pretended not to notice Remus’ eyebrow lift as he considered him. 

“Yeah?” He asked as he turned back towards his potatoes with a muted grin. “So did I.” 

[wlntrsldler]

MDNI!!!!!!!!! (thoughts about luke castellan)

im listening to practice by drake and i can’t stop thinking about fwb! luke 😀

thinking about how the minute you’re back at camp (from visiting family for the holidays or something stupid like that) luke pulls you away from everyone before you even get to say hi to anyone.

you’re smirking because you already know what’s next. he always got like this when you guys were apart for longer than a few days. ever since you guys started fucking, luke was insatiable.

you weren’t complaining tho because for a guy who didn’t really get much play, he was the only one you’d been with who can actually make you cum.

the second you two were away from everyone, his lips are on your neck and he’s rolling his hips onto yours. you haven’t even touched him yet and he was already hard. he was breathing heavy while he nipped at your skin, his calloused hands gripping your ass, no doubt leaving hand prints on the flesh.

“fuck, i missed this,” luke groaned into your lips, a string of saliva connected your lips. “my fuckin hand isn’t the same.”

you were breathless, “i was gone for like a week, castellan.”

“too long,” he mumbled, his lips connecting with yours again.

you tugged on his curls, making him whine into your mouth. your back was pressed against a tree and you can feel the bark scratching the sliver of skin that was exposed by your top but you didn’t care. luke’s dick was pressed against your thigh and you can feel his pre-cum seeping through his cargo pants.

you hooked one leg on his hip and thrusted up. luke didn’t expect the change in position and he moaned when he felt your warmth brush over the tip of his dick. he pulled away from you, eyes blown wide, and lips puffy from his attack on your lips.

“let me fuck you.” he whispered, “please.”

he wasn’t above begging anymore. he just needed to fucking feel you.

you shook your head. luke ran a hand through his hair, his sexual frustration causing a knot to twist in his stomach. you looked up at him, batting your lashes, “let me take care of you, luke.”

his eyebrows shot up in surprise. luke licked his lips, the tip of his tongue stopping at the corner of his mouth. a cocky smirk grazed his face and he nodded his head slightly to give you the go ahead.

you sank to your knees, undoing his cargo pants on your way down. you pulled put his cock from his boxers, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

“you gonna make me feel good, baby?”

“not your baby,” you said, but your voice said something different. “been practicing.”

luke scoffed in a teasing way at your implications. you always made those comments whenever you came back to camp, like you had other guys to do this with besides him.

luke didn’t feel threatened by the idea. in fact, it only spurred him on because if you were out there fucking other guys, he knew none of them could have you the way he gets to. you were his and he was yours. whatever fucking label you had on this situation was bullshit as far as he’s concerned.

luke placed a hand on the side of your cheek, guiding you toward his dick, “you can talk all the shit you want but it’s my dick that’s gonna be down your throat and it’s my cum you’re about to swallow.”

that shut you up.

part 2 kinda (cinderella by mac miller)

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Hey, i'm not sure if i can ask u this(u can just not answer if u want)but here i was wondering....

What Would happen if Sun and Mac(separate) met a fem Reader that is an incredibly nice and chill(and very beautiful)person, she's really kind and looks out for them, they bond and become friends in the process, but then after one crazy drunk Night, they don't see the Reader nor hear bout' her for a while(which upsets them a lot), until they run into her again, trying to contain their joy(or frustration if u prefer) they suddenly notice a child behind her,one that looks exactly like them, demanding an explanation, turns out the Reader didn't tell them anything BC they were scared of simply Being Seen as a "one Night stand", not having their feeling Being reciprocated and having their child Being rejected(also didn't want push the fatherly into them) so she raised the child herself, and always made sure to give them all her love despite not having it's father(s) by her Side.

a/n: I got a bit carried away and of course Macaque’s is long because this would shatter his trust and it wouldn’t recover as fast as Wukong would.

One night stand reunion //Sun Wukong x fem!reader x Macaque (separately)

Sun Wukong

When he first met you he swore that love at first sight wasn’t a thing but you were incredibly nice and beautiful, maintaining a chill attitude no matter the situation and easily continuing the conversation naturally.

You both first met at a festival on the outskirts of the city where you found him talking with another boy before catching your gaze. Of course, you knew who he was but it didn’t really matter to you since you just wanted to talk to him.

After a couple of minutes, you both warmed up to one another and talked the night away. You both clearly hit it off immediately and slowly became friends which started edging towards more as you both said flirt after flirt.

One night both of you were having drinks and became tipsy, getting closer and closer with hands roaming up both of your bodies. You kissed passionately and slowly stripped down to nothing, ending the night in each other's arms exhausted and panting harshly.

However as days passed he didn’t see you and started to search all over the city, asking MK and the gang if they’d seen you and describing your features only to find nothing. Anybody could tell Wukong was depressed about your sudden disappearance and tried to cheer him up only for every attempt to fail.

A couple of years later suddenly MK calls Wukong to come to the shop since someone was asking to meet him and zoomed over to meet this stranger. You were nervously pacing back and forth with your child holding onto your hand behind you, poking you to get your attention, and looking wide-eyed at Wukong who stares shocked at you both.

His eyes go from you to your child who is almost a carbon copy of him aside from a few details and back to you, ushering your kid to MK and Pigsy while you listen to his frustration and grievances. He was right on some points and you teared up when you yelled that you were scared he didn’t love you back or worse that he didn’t want the baby so you raised them alone.

There were a few minutes of silence before Wukong kneeled down and peered over at his kid, slowly coaxing them out and smiling warmly when he introduced himself and apologized for not being in their life.

The entire night was emotional for everyone and you all spent the night on FFM, sharing stories from the past years and cuddling each other to make up for lost time.

Macaque

Now you were at a full moon harvest festival when you decided to take a break and hang on the edge of the area when you spotted a dark-furred monkey leaning against a tree. He didn’t seem up to chat and mostly ignored you for a bit, respecting his wishes and sitting in pleasant silence. You heard him sigh and speak up, making a joke about how persistent you were to make conversation.

Macaque was surprised by how insistent you were to talk to him but also how nice you were, respecting his wishes and relaxing next to him. You were gorgeous on top of how amazing your personality was it made him want to know you more than just a stranger but his fractured trust issues made it hard to get to know you better.

Unlike Wukong it takes a couple of weeks to become good friends and a couple of months to get to that night where you get drunk, leaning on him and slowly creeping closer. Another drink and you both go for a kiss, climbing onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You bring him back to your apartment and lead him to your bedroom, quickly stripping and feeling him trailing kisses down your neck.

All of a sudden though, in the following days you disappeared, and he at first thought you were busy so he left it at that but it quickly changed when he couldn’t find you anywhere. All he could find was a note taped to your door for him and it read that you were eternally sorry for what you were about to do but you didn’t want to burden him.

This shattered already broken trust issues and caused him to go into a year-long depression where he had so many different emotions bothering him it physically pained him. No one could get him out or break him out of it and he hated that a part of him still held out hope for you.

2 or so years later he seemed to have finally been getting over you or at least seemed as though he got over it to others when he was walking along the marketplace only to see a familiar face pass through the crowd. Without hesitation, he slipped into the shadows to see if it was really you and it was!

Part of him was furious that you had the audacity to show up here like nothing had ever happened but the other part was nearly crying out of joy that you were back. Without question, he dropped you through a shadow portal to a more private area and stepped out of the shadows.

You both stared at one another before he started shouting about how you didn’t even explain why you left or bothered to even tell him in person. He laid into you with shout after shout and screaming how much you hurt him with tears pricking his eyes, looking at your face with tears streaming down your face, and waited patiently for a response.

However, a small voice spoke up, and a nearly identical version of him but a toddler pulled on your hand also crying, asking you if you were okay and to not cry with a hand over one set of their six ears. You continued to sob but kneeled down on the concrete to hug your kid barely sputtering out apologies to them about the noise and that you were just sad.

He watched in shock as the dark-furred cub wrapped their tail around your arm and cupped your face, trying to wipe your tears and getting caught in a staring match with him. The kid looked back and forth between their mom and him before standing protectively in front of you and correctly assuming he was the reason you were upset.

After a couple of minutes, he knelt down as well continuing to look at your kid and having trouble figuring out what to say since he was still hurt but also now understanding the situation. You sniffled and wiped the remaining tears from your eyes, staring at the ground beginning to explain that you panicked.

You told him how after a couple of days you took a pregnancy test and it came up positive but you assumed that he didn’t love you back and would be disgusted or hateful if he found out about your baby. Then explain to your kid that he was their father and profusely apologizing and understanding if he never wanted to see you again.

It was like Macaque was looking into a mirror as he saw the child’s six ears flutter and he took down the glamour around his own ears, seeing the cub light up in astonishment and touch their own ears. They slowly walked toward him and tentatively put his hand out, wanting to touch his dad and slowly allowing them to hug him.

All the while you looked on with a bittersweet smile and heard Macaque respond that it would take a long time for him to fully trust you again but he could understand why you what you did. You started crying when you saw him quietly crying too and crumbled as you were allowed to hug him as well.

[stxrr-strxckk]

Prompt: Astarion seeing the sunrise, or sunset, for the first time in 200 years?

This is such a cute prompt omg

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Astarion x reader- seeing the sunrise for the 1st time!

Any warnings?: Tooth rotting fluff and some implied sexual situations, nothing graphic tho!

Whats on the record player?: Heart to Heart; Mac Demarco, Let The Light In; Lana Del Ray.

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When you found out Astarion hadn't seen the sunrise since he'd been turned, you felt your heart break. You couldn't imagine having to deprive yourself of such a beautiful experience, and for 200 years no less.

"It's no matter, dear," he'd said upon seeing your saddened expression. "I never enjoyed the sunset anyways." This, of course, was a bold faced lie. While Astarion didn't have many memories of his mortal life, the warmth of basking in the sunrise was one he wanted to cling to desperately. The only thing he would ever want more than to see the sunrise again, was to see it with you.

You knew Astarion well enough to be able to tell when he was lying, so of course you decide to start planning your little surprise right then, unbeknownst to the vampire.

When you can't seem to sleep that night, though Astarion just chalks it up to adrenaline from a fight earlier that day. He slings an arm around your waist, holding you close for the night and burying his head in the crook of your neck. Wriggling out of his tight grasp proves difficult hours later as you try to get everything prepared for your favorite elf.

So of course it's a surprise when he's shaken awake and it's still dark out. He thought it was an emergency at first; why else would you disturb his slumber? He's ready to spring into action, until he's looking up to see your gorgeous face just giddy with excitement. False alarm. He would've griped about the early awakening, but he'd hate to spoil your good mood so soon.

He follows obediently as you eagerly pull him through the woods, your fingers laced with his as you take him to this mystery destination through the darkened trees. (Be glad he has night vision to warn you of fallen branches or rocks in your way, even if you have it yourself you're just too focused on making Astarion's day to care about any injuries.)

As the trees finally clear, Astarion swears he can feel his dead heart beat again at the sight. A small clearing, with a picnic setup overlooking the cliffs. The sounds of the ocean only add to the atmosphere as he stares in disbelief.

"You did all this... For me?"

He tries to contain his joy but when he turns to see your face, scrunched up as you try to tell how he's feeling, Astarion can't help but grab you by the waist and spin you around.

You two tumble into the grass, laughing as your foreheads touch. He kisses your temple, softly as if you might break if he isn't gentle.

"No one's ever cared for me like this before, I-" he pauses, at a loss for words. "thank you."

You smile as he stands up, offering you a hand. You two lay on the picnic blanket you'd bought the day before from a small shop, watching as the sun slowly peeks above the horizon line and casts glittering rays across the sea.

You smile as you feel the warmth on your face, glancing over to Astarion to see if he's enjoying himself.

The sight is almost heavenly- his face, usually pale has a sort of warmth to it, a glow that you've never seen before. His curls brush his shoulders as he leans his head back, basking in the glory of morning. You've never seen him smile so wide before- so genuinely. You haven't seen him frown or heard him complain once since you've come up here.

"Darling," Astarion grabs your hands, bringing them up to his lips. His kisses them gently, looking up at you with such a soft expression you feel as though you would've swooned and fallen over if you weren't already sitting.

"This has been the most wonderful morning. And it was made even better because I got to share it with you, my love." he'd be blushing if he had any blood coursing through his veins. "We have a few more minutes, before the rest of our group wakes up. Would you... Like to stay here with me? Just for a little longer?" he almost feels bad asking, you have so much to do and such little time to do it. Why would you make time for him?-

You throw your arms around him, tackling him a hug as you nod your head yes. The group can do without you for a while longer, it's not the end of the world. Today was about Astarion. Nothing could take this moment away from you two.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bonus: "Where are those two?" Karlach groans tapping her foot. The group's been up for what seems like hours- yet you and Astarion are nowhere to be seen.

"Perhaps they've gone to do some... Exploring." Shadowheart says simply. The rest of the group seems to pick up on the inneundo.

"You mean the exploring of each other's bodies?" Gale snorts.

"Yes, that was implied." Shadowheart replies curtly. She didn't have time for this, these two running around like teenagers. Gale's crude remark was only adding to her annoyance.

"Sorry we're late everyone," Astarion announces.

"Finally..." Lae'zel mutters.

"Enjoy your beauty sleep, Astarion?" Gale taunts with a cheeky grin. "Or did you even sleep at all? Seems you and your little friend have some explaining to do." he gestures at the fresh bite marks on your neck, which you cover with your hand. You feel your face flush as Astarion brings his arm around your shoulders.

"Jealous, Gale?" he laughs. You wish you could teleport away; this is enough embarrassment for today. "I understand nobody looks your way but that's no reason you get mad at me for having a little... Fun~"

"Thats enough. We must make haste if we're to get any good work done today." Shadowheart interrupts. You slip out of Astarions grasp while he's distracted. You love the man but gods can he be a bit much.

"Yeah, what she said!" Karlach yells cheerfully. The party seems to move on after that, as everyone slowly leaves camp. You trail back, laughing as you see Astarion cast you an annoyed look of having to walk next to Gale.

"So," Karlach slows her pace to walk next to you. "How's the vampire in bed?"

You should've seen this coming.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: aaaah this is so cute!!! Lmk what you think and PLEASE send more Astarion requests!!! Probably gonna do some modern au stuff with him, love the idea of him trying to figure out how to use a phone for the 1st time. XX, Starr!

Wordcount: 1148

[crybaby-magic]

Our Past

sun wukong x daughter reader

based off of the song:The Horse and the Infant

Traveling with Macaque,Mk,and the Monkeys was not doing you any good.You can feel the raging headache waiting to tear your skull apart while yall travel through the semi fixed scroll to find Wukong.From Wukongs memories to the tears that randomly forming throughout the place.You really just want to hurry this up so they can defeat the overgrown lion and you can get your much needed sleep.

Honestly you kinda curse at Mk for finding the damn stick that soon lead to all this but at the same time you know it destiny.At the same time it could be jealousy that he hangs out with your dad more than you and you been with him for centuries.Signing out once more you travel on with white monkeys hanging off of you. “ What's with all the sighing girly”Macaque asked while slowing down to walk beside you.

“Nothing, just the whole situation sucks.And I might be slightly worried about the old man.”You muttered the last part slightly embarrassed.Macaque gruffly laughed at your antics while shaking his head.

You soon felt Mk jump onto your back making you slightly stumble. “Hey don’t worry we'll find him in no time then we can leave then we can beat up Azure lion then we can…umm we can do something i don't know what but we'll find out later.”He said in a reassuring cheeky voice. “A good side is weeee-” grabbing Macaque,you,and the monkeys in a hug “Get to see how Sun Wukong was through his memories”

Macaque shook his head “I really don’t care for relieving some of the memories” while heading ahead of the group.Mk pouted a bit while still hanging off of you before facing you.”What about you,aren’t you a little interested?” he said in a pouting voice.Smirking you nodded your head that got an ecstatic reaction from him.He hopped off of you and headed ahead.With a slight distant look you looked around in Wukongs memories shaking it off you head towards the two that were near a crack that a tiny monkey kept pointing at.

“Hey look, this little guy is pointing us somewhere i think he knows where Sun Wukong is at” Mk said.Nodding your head you wander through the crack hoping not to fall into another memory.

————————————☆————————

That damn monkey is going to get it when you see it.It didn’t lead you to wukong but to a village at night.From observation nobody was out it looked like a ghost town almost.Through another problem was that nobody could figure out where y'all are.Mk surprisingly had no knowledge seeing as he knew everything about his past and Mac really couldn’t tell you anything.

The group was going to leave till you heard noise standing behind some trees yall peek out at the village.Then it happened chaos ensued In the far distance(the front of the village) fire started to arise.Then the scream,clashing of weapons,crying too where the hell were you guys and what the hell did Wukong do in his past.

Still peeking from the tree yall soon saw Wukong in his battle gear covered in blood.His staff dripping though something seems odd looking closer it seem that he was lead by his golden vision.All the while he holding someone's dead body by their head,from the looks of it the guy looked like the villages leader or something of the sort.He dropped the body and walked over him into the house.

You soon tuned everything out and headed to a window ignoring Macaque’s and Mk’s voice.Something felt familiar or strange you couldn’t- didn’t want to find out but��why.Macaque and Mk with some monkeys came to the opened window too.Observing the situation it seemed to be a plan room with a few hand sewn teddy bears on the floor.In the center of the dark room was a bassinet being lit up by the full moon.You felt your heart dropped a babies room.You had the thought of oh great jade empire he wouldn't,couldn’t it's a literal kid.Then again the other thought of yeah he probably would the amount of times he nearly killed you as a kid is embarrassingly high.

“Hey the door opened.”Mk pointed out snapping you out of your thoughts.Wukong entered the room eyes illuminated by the moon his eyes looked so empty that it actually scared you.Wind brushed past you forcing the door opened wider making it slam into the wall startling the baby making it start crying.

His eyes sharpened at the noise coming from the bassinet.He walked very slowly to it before staring down at the baby.He seemed to be having an eternal battle with himself before he lifted his staff in the motion that he was going to hit the baby.Everyone in the group looked disturbed your eyes widened with tears and let out a squeak that Macaque covered when you saw him swinging down.You closed your eyes hard tears falling at this soon to be gruesome scene.You knew he had a fucked up past at times but this honestly scared you.

Suddling you heard his staff falling then the sound of a child giggling.Looking up you saw Wukong’s gripping the edge of the bassinet.Slowly he reached in picking up the baby.The baby was in a long night dress that fell over there feet.The baby had the shortest hair but on the back of its neck you saw a serpent mark.A snake that was in a circle eating it own tail kinda.Subconsciously you rubbed the back of your neck realizing why this seemed so familiar, you’re the baby.

It’s hard to believe when he told you ‘he found you randomly one day and decided to pity your mortal existence’.(that you did hit him across the head for his ignorant tone in the end)You must have mumbled it out loud cause you heard Mk’s dramatic gasp and if Macaque had any reaction it was well hidden behind a scowl.

Observing the scene before you,you saw how he interacted with you, bouncing you and smiling while you giggled and pressed your tiny hands on his nose.Tears must have been falling from your eyes when you felt Macaque mess up your hair as he walked away gruffly saying “ let's go find your idiot dad.” Mk and the tiny monkeys soon followed after him.Turning around to follow them you heard wukong speak up so you turned your head to listen.

“It's hard to believe that something as cute as you could be dangerous in the future,so why don’t you come with me little on.Wanna go see a pretty mountain with pretty flowers.”A trail of giggling babbles followed.A small smile formed on your mouth though you’ll never reveal that.

[chimchiri]

Poll Adventure: Rarijack Dinner

Index | [prev] - Part 04 - [next] Special thanks to @babydarkstar for putting out the great writing

Previous Poll:

~~~

“What did you have in mind?”

“Orchard’s a bit of a wreck this time of year,” AJ says, glancing out the window at the apple trees lining the hills and hanging heavy with fruit. Not too far off, Big Mac’s standing on a ladder situated under a tree; she can see Apple Bloom yelling up at him from below, barrels full of apples at her feet. She says something with that adorable, sometimes annoying little smug spark in her eye, and Big Mac shakes his head with a laugh before tossing an apple down to her. She lunges for it with her hands clasped behind her back, letting it smack her right in the face as she tries to grab it with the few front teeth she hasn’t lost to the tooth fairy yet.

Yeah. Definitely somewhere else. AJ loves her family more than anything, but—Rarity deserves to go somewhere nice. Across the house and through the open front door, she can hear Granny belting out an old song about pigs in mud—

“I’m thinkin’ we go out. You know the restaurant in town? Haven’t been in a while, and I heard there’s a new menu. How’s Saturday?”

“That sounds simply divine, darling, and I would love to…but I can’t commit to this weekend,” Rarity says regretfully, and AJ nearly drops her phone, “I’m in Manehattan the rest of the week for my new line. It is critical that I’m here to make the finishing touches. Fancy Pants is personally endorsing the reveal and there cannot be a single mishap, not one.”

“Oh—“

“Please don’t think I’m avoiding you, darling. Perhaps we can schedule something for the same time next week?”

“No!” AJ begins rather forcefully, and she clears her throat so she won’t say something else before thinking, “I meant…no big deal. How about I come to you instead? I’m sure I can find somewhere good for you—for…us.” 

There’s a short pause before Rarity responds. 

“Applejack, are you sure, darling? Of course I’d love to have you here…but only if it wouldn’t be too much for you. If you aren’t busy with your duties on the farm, as well. I know that the big city isn’t exactly your cup of…cider.”

“Nothin’s too much for me when it comes to you, sugar.” 

AJ’s heart flutters when she hears the soft, breathy laughter of her crush over the phone.

“If you insist,” Rarity says, the smile evident in her voice, “There are a few places I could call. I’m friends with practically everyone here, you know.” 

AJ shakes her head. “You just rest up and let me do the work. I’ll get everything together.” 

This isn’t up for debate—she’s dead set on being a gentlewoman. If this is going to be a real date then she’ll make sure it’s a damn good one. Which includes making sure that Rarity can just enjoy the evening and not have to worry about anything.

Rarity lets out a sweet laugh, which pitches high at the end, a little too strained. 

“Oh, no, there will be no resting for me. After I finish this job, I need to come up with something spectacular to wear for our date. Now that we’re going out on the town, I need something divine—something fabulous…” she trails off before continuing, “But I’ll be ready. Just let me know. Oh! When will you arrive, dear? I’m not sure I can make it to the train station to greet you…I’ll be so busy…but you know where the boutique is.”

“I’ll find you. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Not to worry, darling. I doubt I could ever work nearly as hard as you do.”

AJ rubs the back of her neck, her face hot. “Psshaw, I’m not sure about that…”

The toe of her boot scuffs the wooden floor and she stares down at it, grinning like an idiot in the silence.

“Well…shall I see you Saturday, then?” Rarity posits. 

“Yeah, Saturday.”

“Alright, darling, I’ll see you then,” Rarity says softly.

“Bye Rarity.” She sounds almost shy when she says her name.

There’s a click and then the call is over. AJ swears her heart skips a beat as she stares down at her phone. This is actually happening.

It still feels like a dream, and she hopes to never wake up.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling. She could run a marathon with all the energy tingling up her spine.

But—

It already looks like she’s been running at full speed—she’s drenched in sweat. Well…no surprise there.

“Ugh…I should shower,” she murmurs upon noticing the stains under her arms.

~~~~

AJ thought she’d have trouble sleeping, but after finishing her chores with a spring in her step, she knocked out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next morning, however, anxiety crawled its way into her chest. 

She couldn’t stop daydreaming at breakfast, racking her brain for a restaurant in Manehattan. There were so many other things she had to do before that, too. 

AJ didn’t really consider what it’d mean to have a date in Manehattan—she was just so sold on the fact that their date couldn’t wait. 

She has some nice clothes in her closet - but do they fit a fancy restaurant in the big city? 

Does she even know how to behave so she doesn’t embarrass herself and Rarity during the date? Sure, she’s polite, but she’s not versed on the social mores of Mane—

Granny snapping her fingers and hollering her name pulled AJ from her thoughts, only to find all three family members staring at her curiously.

“Sorry, Granny…what was it you said?”

“Well, it’s been s’darn long since I asked ya, I can’t remember nuthin’ I said!” 

AJ didn’t tell anyone yet. For one, she wanted to pull it through on her own. But she also didn’t want anyone to gossip beforehand and cause her embarrassment. She got enough inquiring questions about her relationship status, especially from Applebloom.

After breakfast, she got to work on the chores around the farm.

Anyways, now that she could think again…

Would she need a present for Rarity? 

Was there anything else she needed to prepare?

What if none of the restaurants she’d thought of end up being a good fit for Rarity?

AJ’s mind spins and spins and now she lays in the shade of an apple tree, staring up at the sky.

Well, she’ll admit it—she’s lost and has no clue where to start.

Yeah, she’ll definitely need some help…

She could ask one of her friends. She’s close enough to any of them, especially Rainbow—but Rainbow can’t keep a secret to save her life, and she’d probably just tell her to “Be awesome, duh” and that Rarity likes AJ enough that she doesn’t need to be fancy. Which…is a great sentiment, but would it help in the long run? Mm…she’s not so sure. AJ feels like it wouldn’t stay a secret for long if she told any of her friends. Would she even mind? They’re all helpful in their own ways. 

Then again…she could also ask her family for support. She hopes they would keep news of her date a secret. Oof…some of those conversations might be a bit more embarrassing, now that she thinks about it...but Granny’s lived and loved, and Big Mac always gives sage advice. Applebloom is her biggest cheerleader when it comes to anything at all.

 

---

Tag List: @mrrrpmeow @babydarkstar @butwerebothmares @chaosdraconequus @chrysaliswife @gaywombat @mulan-but-gay @jubjub05 @dan-chan-rn @sanybaby @horserepository @justletmesnarkandbark

[allzelemonz]

Annoying: John Marston X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 3, Hate Sex Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Hate sex, anal fingering, anal sex, prostate massage, dirty talk, teasing, mentions of John’s situation with Abigail and Jack, Reader is an asshole, pre-Blackwater, violence, punching Summary: You’ve been sent on a scouting excursion with John to find a good spot closer to Blackwater, John is annoying through the whole ride.

It has been two hours. Walking along a barren trail with your tired horse and listening to the endless and constant complaining of John Marston. The man is undoubtedly irritating, wholly annoying. But Dutch picked you for scouting, so you to try to tune out that stupid scratch in his voice and focus on looking for a new spot closer to Blackwater.

“I just don’t get what her deal is.” John continues.

You feel the distinct desire to bash your head against your saddle horn. Maybe that would end this insufferable ride. Why couldn’t Dutch have picked Javier or Charles or someone quiet? At least Micah talks about interesting things on occasion. Bill can crack a joke. None of them have this apparent need to vent whilst riding.

“She just doesn’t-”

“Marston.” You groan. “Shut up, for the love of life itself. Just be quiet for once.”

“Oh, are my problems annoying you?”

“Yes, jeez, just shut it.”

He huffs, looking away to pout like a child.

“No one wants to hear about you and Abigail, the whole camp already has to listen to you go on and on about how the kid isn’t yours. No one cares.”

“Fuck off.” He mutters.

“I wish I could.”

There is a blissful minute of silence before he opens his mouth again. “You think he’s mine?”

“Fuck, Marston.” You sigh. “I have no clue, just shut the hell up.”

“He ain’t.” He mumbles. “Can’t be.”

“You won’t have to worry about it if you keep talking, because I’ll shoot you.”

“Why’re you always so damn irritable?”

“Because you annoy me to no end, Marston.”

You pull on your reins to move towards a clearing that looks promising, only slightly visible from the narrow path between trees. Finally sliding off your horse, you stretch your legs a little and look over the spot.

“How do I annoy you exactly?”

You rub at your eyes, feeling the ache forming behind them from having to listen to his voice. “In every possible way you could ever imagine.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“I’m not the one bothering other people with my problems.”

“At least I find the time to bring money in instead of lounging around camp all damn day!”

That, now that, brings a twinge of much more than annoyance to buzz around in your head. Not only have you been bringing in consistent money since you joined, you just pulled a job with Mac and Davey that scored the camp funds upwards of eight-hundred dollars. So, naturally, you punch John in the face for suggesting otherwise.

“Shit.” He mutters, recoiling and tackling you to the ground.

You roll for a while, exchanging punches and losing your hats along the way until you find yourself atop John. You sit across his thin torso, your fist curled into his shirt as the other stands ready to lay another blow. But, John, he goes still, as if he’s afraid to move. For all the scrapping and talk, you know you’re not scary enough to make him freeze like this so you lower your raised fist and look over your shoulder. You half expect to see lawmen or O’Driscolls or something, but it’s just the forest and the horses grazing by the trees.

“What’s your problem, Marston?” You ask, shifting slightly on him.

Then you feel it, barely brushing against the back of your thigh as you move. John Marston is hard in his pants from being beaten up by a man that hates him. His face flushes and he claws at your arm, but you just push him down harder into the grass. Your mind races for a moment, thinking of the roads you could take. You hate the man quite a bit, but you’d be a fool to deny he’s attractive and something in the back of your mind is begging you to find out what that raspy voice sounds like when it’s full of want.

“We tell no one.” You mutter, giving John a threatening look.

John’s chest moves slow as he processes, then he nods quickly. You lean down and connect your lips, catching the taste of tobacco and the scruff of his stubble. John’s hands find your hips, urging you down to grind against you but you resist.

“You’re not in charge here, Marston.” You murmur against his lips. “You just lay still and let me use you, understand?”

His eyes dart around yours quickly as his face gets redder by the second. “Y-Yeah.”

You move down to unfasten his pants and as he kicks them off, you fish a tube of gun oil from your pocket. It has always been a suspicion of yours that John gets around more than he lets on, and it is all but confirmed by the way he stuffs his pants under his hips and spreads his legs.

“You some kind of whore on the side, Marston?” You ask, fixing yourself between his open legs. “That why you got on with Abigail, a shared profession?”

“Shut up.” He mutters.

He intends to say more but you cut him off easily by inserting your slicked fingers without warning. His back arches, pressing into the feeling as he chokes on a bit of air that turns into a whimper. You’re not going to give him the time to rest or adjust, he doesn’t deserve it after talking all day. So you crook your fingers, running them along until his hips jolt from the contact. Then you focus and focus hard, pressing into that nice sensitive spot inside of him until he can’t even speak to warn you. He releases across his stomach, his softening dick untouched.

His head lulls to the side as he catches his breath and you slip your fingers out. You move as fast as you can, not wanting to hear any of his protests about being sensitive. He’d whine about it, you know he would, so you grip his hips and press inside in the midst of his recovery. John chokes on air again, muttering as he covers his red face with his arm. Only one eye peaks out at you as you start your pace and you ignore it, focusing on the act rather than the who. If you don’t think about it being John, the image of your dick disappearing inside such a nice ass and the feeling of gripping such a slim waist make you groan to yourself. If it were any other man, you’d praise him for feeling so good.

John, however, does not have that control. “God, you’re… fuck you’re good.”

It’s the moan that gets you, raspy just like you imagined, and completely wanton. You double your effort because that sound was so good for something that came from John of all people. And, to your delight, it happens again. As you slam into him, your balls bouncing enough to truly earn the nickname, John begins to pant. Your eyes are drawn to his dick as he reaches for it and stops it from slapping against his stomach. His hand wraps around and pumps in time with you.

You lean down a bit, enough to speak over John’s lewd noises. “You better get yourself off before me, Marston. I’m not helping you otherwise.”

He groans, seemingly all too happy to be treated like nothing but something to fuck in the grass of the gang’s next camp spot. You watch his hand, your eyes flicking down to watch your own fucking on occasion. Both are such a sight. John cums again, spilling a little on his hand this time. The sound he makes, such a shaky and raspy guttural moan, hits the right things for you and sends you right over. You slow your thrusts, milking yourself before burying deep inside of him.

It takes a few minutes before your muscles respond and you can pull out to rest back on your knees. John still has a haze in his eyes, his arms splayed out as his chest heaves. You let yourself relish the sight, forgetting only for a moment that you hate him, then you pick up the tube of gun oil from the grass and pull on your pants. A one time thing, albeit a great one, with such an annoying man.

[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 3 : Lost home

Mac goes to FFM with feral Wukong. Some old feelings surges forward and Wukong is acting like a cub.

I think I'll be updating this two chapters everyday on Tumblr.

The grass was greener than what he remembered, soft strands dancing at the wind's whims, drenched by kind rays of light. He was standing in the sand, frozen still by overflowing emotions. Everything came back to him the second he landed in this place. Waves of memories crashing into him, drowning his tired mind. Standing on the shore was already painful, he didn't know if he could step on the grass. The line separating white and green was more daunting than anything he saw, battling the heaven felt like nothing in the face of this feeling.

There was an ocean of tears hiding in his chest, all devoted to his lost home. Tears never cried, for fear of being weak, for fear of longing something that would never be his again. Those tears suffocated him, rumbling inside his bones, a storm of sorrow drowning him, until his heart felt nothing but sadness and longing.

Memories of a kinder time flashed behind his eyes. A time when he could run on soft soil until his lungs burnt, climb every tree simply because he wanted to, feel the wind dancing through his fur, pushing him to further heights. A youth away from any pain, where the only thing he had to plan for was dinner.

A simple existence, a life in peace.

A time when he was nothing more but a monkey with a best friend.

Macaque sighed, chasing away his thoughts. This wasn't the time for nostalgia, this would never be his home again, not when it was the land of his murderer. The warrior sat on the white sand, heart beating furiously against his skin, almost like it wanted to tear him apart and ran towards the grass. The kid left him hours ago, something about letting Sun Wukong wander in peace. He promised to come back tomorrow, fleeting words Macaque brushed aside, not wanting to believe anything for now.

The sage was at his side, gazing at the sand curiously, pawing the grains with childish wonder. Letting it glide around his claws and mess his already wrecked fur. The King looked at him with round eyes, tail thumping excitedly against the soft soil. Macaque rolled his eyes, appalled by such a childish gaze, and threw a handful of sand at the sage. Sun Wukong sneezed and furiously pawed his nose, perhaps trying to get the sand out of his face.

“Ha, that's funny.” Barked the ebony monkey, the sage huffed and turned around, more interested in common white sand than petty plays. Macaque liked it this way, he felt better when the King wasn't looking at him, when his burning gaze was turning elsewhere.

Sun Wukong dived in the sand, rolling around like an unruly cub, soiling his russet fur with white grains. He looked like he enjoyed his sand bath, and Macaque did nothing to stop it, even if he knew that by doing this the sage would get sand in his wounds, a painful situation to live through. But sometimes people had to learn what to do, and what not to do the hard way, didn't they ?

The sage ran in the sand, diving in dunes, and digging useless holes simply because he could. It was strange to see him be so free, and so childish, unbothered by titles and responsibilities. Macaque felt a sprout of anger flourish in his chest, how could the King be so carefree after what he did ? How could he forget it all and live in peace, as if he didn't doom him to a painful end ?

Macaque shook his head, chasing the anger away. He knew this ugly, overbearing rage was nothing but instinct, a way to protect himself when sorrow seized him. He blamed it all on Wukong because it was easier to live this way, to see himself in the mirror when light came. Rage was easier to process than sorrow, and Macaque never let himself be engulfed by sorrow, too proud but also too scared to crumble.

He wasn't here to fight, he wasn't here for blood, he was here to survive, and he shouldn't forget it.

Sun Wukong trotted towards the grass, he pawed at it a little, cautious, before rolling around in soft, jade-like strands. Macaque gulped, trying to smother the bitterness rising before it could overflow. It looked so easy to step on the other side, but it wasn't, not for him. Sun Wukong ran, giggling as he explored the other side, his silhouette fading away in the wildness.

“He doesn't really need me, seems better already.” Snorted Macaque.

Sun Wukong came back seconds after, cooing like a madmonkey. Frail, scared chirps, chants of “where”, “where”, “alone”, “lost”. He stumbled on the sand and ran towards the warrior at full speed, curling at his side once he reached him, golden tail firmly tied in black-furred hips.

“You know I'm not your mom, right ?” Grumbled the warrior, the sage softly cooed at him, a quiet rumble made to be reassuring, like the warrior was the lost cub in this particular scenario. Disgusting.

Macaque huffed and laid down, facing the sky as hours passed. He felt better, his body wasn't aching anymore, but there was still an underlying weakness preventing him from being as fast, as strong, as keen as before. The warrior looked at his nemesis, the golden fluff ball was still playing with sand, and wondered if he should try to steal his magic. Maybe not now, not until he was sure the other wouldn't attack him.

They spent the rest of the day there, peacefully resting. The sage rose at dusk. and dived in the water, perhaps he got curious about the waves. He immediately shrieked and scrambled back, backing away from the ice-cold water with a pitiful whine on his lips. Macaque couldn't help but snicker, he tried to keep himself from laughing, not wanting to expose so much of himself, but he couldn't restrain the tickles rising within his throat. He erupted in laughter. He calmed down when he caught a glimpse of the sage’s thumping tail. Why was this fool happy when he just dived in the sea like a brainless monkey?

“What are you looking at ?” Snorted Mavzzie, and the sage immediately turned away, cheeks a little flushed. Sun Wukong then tried to dive in the water again, and looked at him with a wild wagging tail, as if he expected something. Macaque raised an eyebrow, not understanding what the King was doing. Sun Wukong's tail dropped, he splashed himself, clearly shivering in disgust at the feeling, and turned towards the warrior with hopeful eyes. But then again, he didn't get what he was hoping for and grumbled a little. The sage crawled on the shore with a defeated face and curled up beside the warrior, visibly annoyed. “You're weird.” Mumbled the ebony monkey.

They slept on the beach, under shimmering stars, the macaque curled on himself, and the sage pressed as close to the other as he could. They were woken up, the next morning, by the kid, which arrived quite loudly.

“Why are you both still on the beach ?” MK got off of his cloud and looked at them with a raised eyebrow. Sun Wukong immediately growled, tail lashing.

“Shut up, too early for growls.” Mumbled the macaque, he turned over and pawed at the sage to shut him up, when it didn't work, Macaque took his nemesis and smothered him in his chest to cease his annoying growls.

Sun Wukong squeaked, face slightly red, and dived happily in his chest, tail lashing excitedly. When he woke up, for the second time this morning, Macaque roughly pushed the sage away, face frowning in disgust.

“Not a word about this.” Warned the warrior as he looked over the cackling kid, ignoring the whining sage at his side. “Why are you here ?”

“I told you I would come by today. But why are you both still on the beach ?”

“We're… taking it slow. Don't wanna overwhelm him, you know.”

“Hm, yeah, it makes sense. Why is he covered in sand though ?”

“He rolled around.”

“And you didn't stop him ? You know he shouldn't move around with his wounds.”

“I didn't want to stop him, he looked like he enjoyed it.”

“But still…”

“Look, I know you're worried, kiddo.” Sighed the macaque. “But the guy is seven times immortal, he's not gonna die.” To prove his point, Macaque threw another handful of sand at the sage. “You see ? He's fine.” Sun Wukong sneezed and glared at the macaque, throwing his own handful of sand at him. “How dare you.” Hissed the warrior, the sage giggled at that.

“You two seem to get along”. Laughed MK.

“Did you not see the part where he threw sand at me ?”

“He's playing. He likes you.” Macaque ignored how those words pierced his heart, and turned away, grumbling about how the kid was blind, and how he didn't get along with his nemesis.

The kid sat a few meters away, not daring to get closer, and peeked at them from time to time, fiddling with his shirt a little, perhaps to ease his nerves. Being so close to your mentor but not being recognized sounded painful, and Macaque cursed himself for feeling so empathic. But what could he even do ? It's not like he had power over the sage fear.

“You like Sun Wukong, right ?” This was very awkward, and he belittled himself for that. Why did he even try ? It's not like he was particularly close to the kid.

“Huh, yeah… I mean it's Monkey King.” Awkwardly chuckled the kid. The way he said it, like it was obvious to like the Monkey King, was irritating, but Macaque, as petty as he was, didn't want to burn the kid with his own bitterness.

“Hm, looks kid, I'm not good at that, but if I know something about Wukong, it is that he doesn't mingle with people he doesn't like. What I'm trying to say is, hm, I'm sure he likes you too. He'll come back for you, or something, surely.” He didn't fully believe that, after all, the King didn't come back for him. But he knew, the second he saw the kid's face lightened up, that what he said was enough.

“Thanks, Macaque. I, hm, needed to hear that.”

“No problem.”

“And… also, hm, thanks for helping us with the LBD fight.”

“I just did whatever I could to survive, kid. She needed to be stopped.”

“But you could have fled, and you didn't.” Protested the kid with an unwavering gaze, how could he trust his own words so much was beyond Macaque.

“For selfish reasons.” Adeed the warrior, but the kid brushed aside his words with an easy laugh, as if he didn't quite believe Macaque's selfishness, which, as rude as it was, did bring the shadow of a smile upon the warrior's face.

Macaque didn't hate MK, quite the contrary, which was the core of his problem. He wasn't supposed to like his nemesis's mentee, he wasn't supposed to see him beyond his purpose : a tool to hurt Wukong. But no matter how much he tried to harden his heart, to pose as the cruel shadow lusting for blood, and no matter how much of a great pretender he was, Macaque couldn't kill what he truly was, and he wasn't cruel, sadly. It would have been easier if he was, it would have lessened the guilt of hurting a soul as innocent as MK, perhaps, he could have even enjoyed it, seeing beauty in shattering trust. But he wasn't cruel, and he had to live with guilt, and the burn of his own actions.

Sometimes, when the boy looked at him with unwavering eyes, Macaque could taste an apology on the tip of his lips. He thought of it, of forgiveness, but every time he indulged those thoughts, he felt acid flowing through his veins. Forgiveness was for the ones that regretted, the ones that felt the need to change who they were and to walk upon a better path. Macaque, as much as gilt filled him, didn't regret what he did. Because he did it to survive, and he would do it again if he had to. Because he did it to quell the anger (the sorrow) eating his soul. Even if the boy didn't deserve to be hurt because of the blood on his mentor's hands, even if doing it was petty and cruel, Macaque did it. He did it and he wouldn't excuse it. His life was full of sad backstories that could explain every twisted step he took, you could see pain in the way he shattered the trust of a bruised kid, you could see despair in his grip upon a girl throat as she was burned by a world-ending flame, you could see, dare he says, love in his need to marks his lost King, for him to be as bruised as he felt. But no matter what you saw, no matter what you thought, what remained was what he did. And he wasn't going to shy away from it, to hide behind tears and cries of “being broken”.

Macaque wasn't cruel, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of cruelty.

There were no excuses. No reasons. He hurts him, fully aware of what he was doing, never once regretting it, and for that he wasn't going to fool him with a “sorry” only truly meant to lessen his guilt. Because Macaque knew, when he gazed upon the kid's face, that if he dared to utter any semblance of apology, the kid would forgive him in a heartbeat.

And Macaque didn't want to be forgiven, as much as he didn't want MK to forgive so easily the one responsible for some of the wounds covering his heart. Mayhaps, he should talk with the kid about boundaries and self-respect, but how can he even explain things he didn't even fully understand ?

MK was a star passing through the sky, and he was only one of the shadows that tried to latch on it, he wasn't in any place to lecture the kid.

“Hey, do you think you could… warn the troops about Wukong situation…” Asked the warrior, he didn't know how the sage would react to the monkeys, and if there was one thing he wanted to avoid at all costs, that was the terror in their faces if the King ever decided to draw their blood. “Warn them to stay far away”

“Oh…yes, I… I can do that.” Replied the kid, he rose and threw a doubtful eye at him, and admittedly the sage curled at his side. Macaque shook him off with an easy smile, and MK's face lightened up slightly.”

You have a good kid.” Mumbled the warrior once he saw the boy disappear behind the forest towering trees. He turned towards the sage, and Sun Wukong straightened up, perhaps sensing his seriousness. “Don't mess it up.” He didn't know if the King understood him, but he felt satisfied by the lingering gaze the sage threw towards the forest.

Macaque rose after a bit, stretching slightly, popping his sleeping bones. Hunger gnacked at him but he didn't want to step on the grass, not now at least. The sage perked up when he heard the rumbling of his stomach, ears erect, looking at him with round eyes. Sun Wukong looked towards the grass, then towards him, going back and forth between the two places.

“I'm not going anywhere.” Huffed the warrior, and that was enough to push the King. Macaque wondered if Sun Wukong could at least partially understand his words, the sage looked like he had some semblance of comprehension, at least enough to understand his intent. Sun Wukong rose and trotted towards the grass, he disappeared behind the trees, cooing now and then, to check on the warrior. As humiliating as it was, and as much as he didn't want to, Macaque replied with his own set of coos. He didn't know how the King would react if he wasn't sure of his presence, and he didn't want to find out. He just hoped the kid couldn't hear him, because this was quite embarrassing.

Sun Wukong returned after a few minutes, hands full of peaches, and Macaque wasn't even surprised, of course this fool brought peaches. He handed some to the warrior, cooing reassuringly, as if Macaque was a small, scared animal that needed help. The ebony monkey scoffed and begrudgingly took the food, firmly ignoring the sage thumping tail. He didn't need help, he could have found his own food, he wasn't that useless. And, least of all, he didn't need Sun Wukong's help.

Even if Macaque didn't show it much, he had a pride of his own. Of course, he wasn't the kind to prioritize his pride over his hide, like some idiots he wouldn't name because the mere thoughts of their faces was irritating. Macaque had common sense, and enough shame to not embarrass himself with petty fights. However, he did have pride, a warrior's pride.

He didn't need anyone, and he wasn't a coward. Macaque was the kind to wait, to retreat when things went dire, and come back keener, stronger, crueler. Tactical retreat wasn't the same as flee, even if some cheap chicken wing with legs didn't share the same thought.

The sage ate without any grace, juice running on his chin and tainting his sun-like fur, sometimes groaning in joy, fangs tearing the soft skin with glee. He ate like a monkey, and while that shouldn't be surprising considering Wukong was a monkey and never truly cared for manners (at least if he was still like what Macaque remembered) it was still uncanny to see him act so beastly. Sun Wukong was unruly and chaotic, idiotic even, free from everything, but he still walked like a man, talked like a man, thought like a man. This… monkeyish Sun Wukong was unfamiliar. Perhaps the sage had been like that at his birth, Macaque wasn't there at the time so he couldn't testify. But even then, it was weird to see sides of a man he thought he knew everything about.

Because it raised the question, did he truly know everything about Sun Wukong ? He knew a lot, certainly, but there were bound to be things hidden from him, sides he never got the chance to discover. Sun Wukong wasn't a good lier, at least that's what Macaque always thought. But what was even the point to ponder that now. It is not like he wanted to discover more sides of the great sage, he was here for survival, nothing else.

Sun Wukong suddenly whined, pulling the warrior out of his thoughts, and scratched his back with narrowed eyes (perhaps narrowed “eye”was better, considering the sage's left eye was still messed up). Macaque snorted at his misery, and he received a handful of sand for that, what a brat.

“You got what you deserve. You shouldn't have rolled around, dry sand and fur doesn't mix.” Snickered the macaque with crossed arms, the sage flopped at his feet, on his back, and looked at him intently.”What ?” The King chirped a small coo, something meaning “help”. “And what do you want me to do ? I can't magically make the sand stuck in your fur disappear.” Sun Wukong whined and pawed at his leg, perhaps trying to sweet-talk him. “I am not grooming you, Sun Wukong.” Retorted the warrior, but the golden fluff ball didn't stop, only whining louder. #Stop acting like that, you're not a kid, that's embarrassing. Get up.” The sage pawed harder, eyes imploring. “Oh my god, don't you have any shame !? Stop looking at me like that, you look ridiculous” The great sage, whined even louder, ear pinned back, paws pulling on his pants. “You know what, fine. You want to be clean, I got an idea.”

Macaque invoked a shadow portal with a flick of wrist and drenched the King, snickering when he caught a glimpse of the sage's flabbergasted face ; he looked like a wet rat.

“Don't worry, it's not salt water.” Sun Wukong looked at the macaque with a pout, pure betrayal etched on his face. He crouched down, tail swaying mischievously in the air, and Macaque quickly recognized this stance. “Wait, no, don't.” The warrior fled before the sage could pounce on him, running away from the wet beast wanting to smother him. “I helped you ! Don't approach me, you wet rat !” Screeched the warrior as he evaded the sage's attack.

Sun Wukong finally pinned the warrior down, smothering him in wet fur, and pawing at his face a little while giggling like a five year old. Macaque tensed when he felt the sage towering over him, but did his damn best to not attack him, even if his heart was beating fast, and his claws were picking at his palms. He knew Sun Wukong wasn't looking for blood, but it was still unselting to have him so close. He pushed the sage away after a bit, glaring at the snickering golden menace.

“Pff..” Macaque immediately looked towards the forest, and groaned when he caught sight of a giggling MK, phone in hand.

“Did you record this ?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Answered the boy with a very annoying smirk.

“This is not what you think it is.” Grumbled the ebony monkey.

“Really ? Because it really looked like you two were playing.”

“We were not !”

Sun Wukong shook himself like the pitiful dog he was, throwing water everywhere, Macaque glared at him for daring to get him more wet.

“You could have done that away from me, don't you think ?” Grumbled the warrior, but Sun Wukong only tilted his head to the side, looking clueless. “Oh yeah, now you pull the “I understand nothing”card, I see what game you're playing, you jerk.”

MK bursted out laughing and the sage snickered, like the little devil he was.

Macaque was surrounded by jerks.

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[bobabisch]

I think it is very interesting that the writers of RDR2 chose to have the Arthur become more involved with the storyline of the Native Americans at the time that they did.

I feel this for many reasons, but mainly because what Colonel Favours' destructive and insecure nature is doing to the native people directly mirrors what Dutch's own insecure and destructive nature is doing to the group. On the first mission Arthur does with Captain Monroe, the Captain tells him many things:

1) That Colonel Favours destructive/insecure/angry nature has corrupted his men, I quote, "There is a culture now in his [Colonel Favours] regiment, the rot has traveled down the trunk". The Captain is stating that the horrific ways the Colonel has been treating the native people has prompted his men to treat them the same. The rotting tree metaphor is easily applied to Arthur's current situation with Dutch and the group (at this specific time especially). After Molly's death the whole vibe of the camp becomes unstable and dreary; nearly everyone has been prone to anger, Arthur included. This attitude in the camp is not unlike the new personality Dutch has begun to show since he returned from Guarma. This corruption can also be seen particularly well in Micah--as he thrives in the chaos in the camp and in Arthur's disintegrating relationship with Dutch--and in Bill's newfound anger/resentment with seemingly everything and everyone.

2) Captain Monroe tells Arthur "He [Colonel Favours] didn't have a very good war so he's trying to start another one." This one seems pretty much obvious, but as Arthur states during a few missions prior to this one (mainly the one with Eagle Flies and the mission where Dutch kills Cornwall) the past few heists/jobs have not gone well. Arthur significantly understates this; rather the last few heists/jobs have gone horribly, terribly wrong. All of Dutch's previous heists/jobs have led to death: I.e. Mac, Jenny, Sean, Hosea, Lenny, and Molly. It's clear Dutch has been feeling lost and inadequate since Blackwater and his recent failures and the recent deaths have only put more pressure on those insecurities, and with Micah in his ear those insecurities have only become more prevalent and dangerous.

3) Captain Monroe also tells Arthur "I think he's taking some of these actions more to protect himself now. If he can incite more retaliation maybe he can prove a stronger defense." Like Colonel Favours has decided to wage his own war with the native people in an attempt to alleviate his insecurities, so has Dutch decided to "wage war" as well, using the conflict with the native people and the army so he may "make noise" (as Dutch calls it) to reassure himself that his insecurities have not become reality. The more "noise" Dutch makes easier it is to claim he is defending the groups honor. Dutch uses people a lot, he used Angelo Bronte, he used the Grays, he used the Braithwaites, but the difference between Dutch using them and Dutch using Eagle Flies and the native people--as well as the army--is that he no longer does it for the reason's that he was doing it beforehand. With the former groups of people, Dutch truly was using them to help the group, to protect those he views as family.

Moreover the former groups of people were not good people in any way shape or form meanwhile the Native Americans are entirely blameless in this situation. "We help those who need helping, feed those who need feeding, and kill those who need killing." It's something Dutch says to Arthur on the very mission they take with Eagle Flies which puts not only the native people in a more precarious position than they were already in, but also makes the situation Dutch's gang are in more dangerous. Dutch has stuck by this motto for what seems like his whole life, but now even it has lost its meaning. He no longer helps those who need helping as he refused to rescue John Marston from being hanged, and he no longer kills those who need killing as he unnecessarily murdered Cornwall and actively urges the native people and the army to kill each other. In this light it is undeniable that just as Colonel Favours is prosecuting the Native Americans to save his reputation, Dutch has taken all of these new measures to save his own reputation and to placate his troubled mind.

4) Captain Monroe's final statement about Colonel Favours hits the hardest however, "A failed man is often the most dangerous." Arthur has come to know this as true, as he watches Dutch slowly descend further into madness, finding new enemies in anyone who is not his "yes man" and actively seeking out his old enemies who have wronged him so horribly in the past, all at the risk of the family which he claims he is trying to protect by doing all of this.

I think it is so clever of the writers this situation with the Native Americans play out as all this is happening with Dutch. Although Arthur probably does not fully understand the parallels, I'm sure being directly involved in such a similar situation helps Arthur to realize at least on some subconscious level just how far gone Dutch truly is.

[maculategiraffe]

update on the entire century old oak tree that fell on my poor sweet little house literally out of a clear blue sky on a day that wasn't even especially windy:

-we are fine and hildegard is fine and actually astonishingly enough almost all of our stuff is fine. not completely sure because the tree is still on / in the house and I'm scared to go near it but all I can tell for sure is destroyed (besides parts of the house) is one china vase. pretty incredible!

-no damage to power lines, gas lines, or water lines. everything is still working

-the kitchen and bathroom and bedroom are all completely intact and usable. we're just going to stay here. since

-it's neither hot nor cold outside and the ten day forecast is for sunshine every day!

-the same little girl who my nephew picked as the mother of his future children because she is kind is apparently the granddaughter of a couple who own a tree removal service here in town so my sister called them and they said they could move their schedule around a bit for an emergency at auntie mac's. so they are coming first thing tomorrow with their crane guy to take the tree off the house. guess she comes by that kindness honest-like

-when all is said and done we're going to have at least two winters' worth of firewood

so! still extremely stressful and much more stress ahead I am sure as we deal with contractors and estimates and insurance claims but it could have been SO much worse. thanks so much for well wishes ❤️❤️❤️

[semisolidmind]

(Twice as Bad AU) I know Reader would be depicted as support rather than a fighter who has to worry about two protective demon hubby(s) who would probably just steal most of her "kills." But imagine reader pinning down a lesser demon with a spear or a sharp pointed tree branch aimed just shy of it's neck, her foot pressed to its chest to hold them still, and a harsh glare on her face.... Then Wukong and Mac popping up in the background, "Ay, my fellow demon, can we switch?"

...i have nothing to add. this situation is funny and perfect to me :)

[kitofawriter]

So I watched the first two episodes since they’re in English now. Live reaction:

LMK Season 5 spoilers under the cut:

Fun training session! Let’s go!

Tired MK is tired. Somebody get this boy the therapy he needs!

Wukong is trying to be responsible about the monkey form at least.

“I’m compartmentalizing!” XD me too MK, me too

MAC MAC MAC!!!! Also “Bud” not in a mocking way!!!!

“This mountain’s been by home just as long as yours” I’m screaming!!!

They’re working together! (Sorta)

Wukong confirming he didn’t know about MK!

Referencing Mac’s death and resurrection!

Ominous stone crack!!

Mei!! My girl!!!

THEY BUILT HIM A NEW HOUSE!!!!

Tang continuing the tradition of shirking the hard labor. Good to see he’s still himself.

THE PICTURES!!!

The origami!!

Even Mo gets a picture!!

HUG HUG HUG!!!

MK please chill, like even 2% calmer would be a major improvement. You need to rest and get therapy.

“Sleeping with the noodles”

Dadsy give him some comfort. Also send him to therapy. Or teach him cooking.

MK backstory! Noodles! Sleepy noodles!!!! That is so cute oh my god!!

MK is a heavy boi. Also sleepy.

“I love you, son” I am not emotionally prepared for the sheer amount of MK and Pigsy fluff in the last two minutes.

Mac sleeping with the little monkeys!!! At the tree!!!

Spooky goings on. References to Monkey King getting kidnapped to the underworld perhaps??

Stop blaming the monkeys for the things they’ve been trying to stop please. That’d be great. MK needs a nap. You could’ve waited for him to sleep.

Wukong throwing shade about the underworld situation. You tell ‘em!

Smug smile. Good monkey.

Mac canonically appears in the Monkey King Ace Attorney TV show? What?

Fillet?? Fillet??? Nezha?!? “Nezhie”?!??!?

Li Jing, hey, can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you. Maybe take some parenting classes and then we’ll talk.

Mac trying to stop the fillet!!!

MK losing it a bit at that, love the concern for Wukong! They is a family!!!

Also Nezha trying to plea for them!

Underworld jail.

Grumpy Wukong and mopey Mac, I can just feel all the angst fics being written.

MK is trying so hard to free his mentor!

“It’s tense in here.” Gee I wonder why.

Secret plan with the fur? Secret plan with the fur? The nods?!

(I think I should interject here to point out, I rarely watch things without also doing something else to distract my hands, and yet my crochet has been forgotten because I’m having so many thoughts!)

Nezha providing exposition

Tang!Wukong, glasses is a must

Painted art style my beloved it’s good to see your return!

“My father is not the enemy” I mean he’s not exactly a pillar of goodness either my dude.

“I’m a clone”

Okay the running animation bit was actually pretty nice, love the movement. I like how they’re really trying to keep close to the original style of animation even though they’re working with a totally different tool set.

Mac, are you…are you Naruto running?

Wukong keeps doing the cutest smiles. I’m gonna have to go back through and grab some many screenshots.

Wukong and Mac just…knowing exactly how to fight together with no communication when they’re actually both on the same side.

Sandy got a new truck…

…And it’s gone, poor guy

MK worried that they’re just the harbingers of chaos when they have directly caused so few of the problems they’ve faced. Like, I get it, but maybe have some perspective. You know what would help with that? Therapy.

Just don’t explain anything. It’s fine. They’ll figure it out.

MK building powers!!

Fillet use!! Mac stepping in!! Mac sacrificing himself?!?!? Oh the angst fics will be legendary!!

“He always gets away, right?” Followed by sad face?!? OH THE ANGST FICS WILL BE LEGENDARY!!!

Monkey in pagoda. This feels familiar.

I’m sensing a later “boiling rock” style episode. Or else they all get trapped in there and have to bust out (Nezha helping them escape possibly?)

That was so good! I can’t wait for the actual proper release for better audio quality and more importantly MORE EPISODES!!

[millie-mar]

the stranger things i hate about you

chapter two: eddie ‘the freak’ munson

| 1,4k words | 10 things i hate about you!steddie |

The canteen ‘whispers’ and sounds of trays smacking the tables were always calming for Eddie. Considering the fact that most of his school life he has been alone and couldn’t even get a spot at a table in Hawkins High, the sound of the school’s canteen was a kind of reminder of how far he’s come. That paired with the excited chatter coming from his comrades at the table was enough for him to feel accomplished. In the past year he’s gained friends for life, thanks to his role-play gaming club and the band he’s put together with ‘the outcasts’ of Hawkins High, Gareth, Jeff and F. Maybe by the end of this year, which happens to be his last, he’ll become school’s new icon. Well, it is just his wishful thinking. He creates those little scenarios where he turns from a ‘nobody’ into someone big in a span of a couple weeks. All the while he’s actually playing with what is presumably mac and cheese.

Eddie’s friends can see that lately, their ‘leader’ has been more in thought than usual. Of course, Eddie Munson is known for constantly being in his own world, but not to the point where he doesn’t even react to Dustin Henderson trying to look into the notes for their DnD campaign. The group suspects that either something bad has happened, or Eddie is dating someone. The latter has caused the group to laugh when discussing the matter, they haven’t seen him with anyone, ever.

‘Eddie, my man, you good?’ Gareth asks.

‘Yeah’ is Eddie’s only reply, he’s clearly not in the mood for casual talk today.

‘It’s just that, you suddenly went all gloomy on us,’ Mike chips in, putting a fry in his mouth. Dustin steals some from Wheeler’s tray, causing the boy to slap him on the arm.

Usually in situations like that, Eddie would be the first to stop the youngest members of the group, but something else has caught his attention.

‘See, you’re even ignoring the Mike-Dustin bitch-slapping. What the hell’s going on Munson?’ Gareth keeps pressing, hoping to get a reaction out of him, but he gets nothing. Eddie is so engrossed in whatever got in his sight, nothing could get his attention off it.

Gareth follows Eddie’s line of sight, catching a glimpse of a tall, dark-blonde, ex-star of the basketball team. He leaned in, whispering to Eddie.

‘We’ve talked about this. Steve Harrington is another one of these jackasses who think they’re better than anyone else’ Gareth tries to be as quiet as possible so that no one from the table could hear him, but Eddie.

‘I know.’ It’s like Eddie has woken up from a dream, back to the dreary reality. He’s fully aware of what Steve Harrington has done to him. Well, he hasn’t hurt Munson physically, but his general snarky comments did leave a dent in his mind.

‘Wow, he’s alive.’ Gareth snarls, his brown curls caught in his eyes as he turns his head away.

‘Real funny, Gary.’ The tension between the two is so thick, it attracts the attention from the rest of the table. ‘Just because that’s the reality doesn’t mean I can’t wonder what could have happened if things were different. You know I have a wild imagination.’ Eddie flashes a fake smile at his best friend. He puts the fork in his still full plate, gets up and starts walking away. ‘See u guys seven.’ He waves, his back to their table, and leaves the canteen.

Trees loom over the school area, separating it from the rest of the world, yet another prison for Eddie. He has been arrested at least twice since reaching his adulthood last year, and thanks to that he can confirm that school is just a prison with more pleasant looking surroundings. Maybe that’s why he cannot escape his bad habits of selling and smoking weed in the woods behind the building. It has been his trading spot since he’s started the business at the beginning of junior year. Being penniless in his late teens has led him to this easy and quick job and he couldn’t stop since.

The spot in the woods has also become a place where Eddie can be alone. He can overthink and smoke all he wants without being interrupted. So when he arrives at his table, he’s quick to take out the last joint he has, and light it up as quickly as possible. However he hasn’t realised one thing; he’s not alone.

Steve could feel someone watching him in canteen earlier, but he didn’t care to look, too afraid of others’ judgement. He just kept walking, wondering how to get Eddie Munson to as much as talk to him, not even thinking about getting the guy to hang out with him. Steve knows Eddie hasn’t forgotten the damage Tommy’s group, including him, has caused. Wouldn’t what he’s going to do cause even more? Technically Steve wants to apologise and befriend the guy, so misunderstood and anxious. Steve can understand that much, considering himself to be in the same situation Eddie has once been, but he can’t tell him that. It’d only anger him.

Steve anxiously wanders the school corridor, back and forth, constantly passing the doors to the canteen he has gone through not so long ago. He stops abruptly and walks back to them, opening them slightly and peeking in. He scans the heads at the tables, finally catching a glimpse of dark curls, their owner leaving the room, waving his hand to someone. Steve, not sure who the recipient is, adds a mental note for himself to check who Eddie hangs out with, that’d make his objective a lot easier. He considers entering the canteen again to follow him, but the fear of others acknowledging his presence is too overwhelming, so he decides to go the round way, having a slight idea of where Eddie could have gone.

That’s how Steve arrives in the woods behind the school, a place for the druggies of Hawkins High. Usually he’s staying away from this spot, it wouldn’t have been good for his ‘good guy’ reputation. Not that it matters anymore, which is why he walks through the narrow path, covered by the branches and a bit of high grass. A small streak of light almost guiding the way to the spot where students of Hawkins High can buy drugs from no other than Eddie himself.

Taking each step as quietly as he can, Steve arrives at his destination, standing behind a tree and scanning the area to find Eddie sitting on a picnic table. A cloud of smoke surrounding the guy, scent so strong, Steve can smell it from where he is hiding. A delicate wind is causing Eddie’s dark curls to float everywhere uncontrollably, his nose scrunching in annoyance, hands covered in many silver rings trying to calm the mess on his head. Steve pays attention to all the smallest details in this guy's behaviour, all his small mannerisms like constant turning of the ring on his index finger, or how he leans back on the table, arms supporting him behind his back, a joint between his teeth, but no smoke coming out. He’s just taking deep breaths and keeping them in for a bit before breathing out slowly, taking his time. Steve is not sure how long he’s been here, staring at him, but he feels like he can’t approach him now. A weird feeling of embarrassment washing over him. So the blonde takes a step back, a loud crunch echoes against the silence, the sound bouncing off the trees. A quiet ‘fuck’ escapes him before he hears Eddie’s voice calling out to him.

‘Who’s there? If you want to buy shit, you have to tell me in advance. Didn’t bring anything with me.’ Eddie’s quick to assume, considering the only people that would come to a place so clearly regarded as his were druggies in dire need of an escape from this shitty world. His words not mine.

Without a word, Steve steps out from his hiding spot, coming face to face with Eddie Munson for the first time in two years. His palms start to sweat as he looks anywhere but at the guy in front of him.

Eddie is doing quite the opposite, staring at the boy intensely. ‘Fuck me, my eyes must be deceiving me. If this isn’t Steve Fucking Harrington.’

Eddie, so shocked seeing the blonde, doesn’t even realise he dropped the joint. However Steve realises immediately, and he watches the roach die out among leaves and grass, like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen, all the while wondering, what has he gotten himself into?

|also sorry for any mistakes, english isn’t my first language|

<- last | next ->

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part V: horseshoe overlook i

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 15.3k

summary: your leg feels better, and everyone's spirits are higher in the new camp. You set out to explore Valentine, and find yourself in dangerous situations more often than not. So much for lying low. You realize that you have a bad habit of lying to yourself.

a/n: we're back bitches! But seriously, can't thank you guys enough for all the love and support this last week. I've been trying to be open to keep you guys in the loop and we seem to be back on the right track now. So sorry that there was no upload last week, but hopefully reader's badassery and the fluff makes up for it <3 They're fools, but they figure it out soon enough, the slow burn is worth the wait, I swear it. And lastly only half of this was beta read and I'm too sleepy to do the rest myself so lets just both pretend that there's no errors, thank you, love y'all

warnings: gore, violence, fighting, harassment, held up at the bar by a creepy guy, tw, nightmares, trauma

SERIES MASTERPOST

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup

Sweat drips down your forehead despite the chilly temperature as you strain, pulling the final piece of canvas over your A-frame tent. Once it’s secured to the ground properly, you sigh, and wipe the sweat from your brow.

About five minutes after the wagons rolled into Horseshoe Overlook, Miss. Grimshaw had started whipping you and the other girls into work. While Grimshaw harassed you and the others, Dutch had given a big, charismatic speech, urging  everyone to lay low and bring in money. Lenny and Micah still aren’t back from scouting, and the whereabouts of Sean and Mac are still unknown, but the spirits are higher than they’ve been in a long while. The new camp is perfect. The sun is warm, the breeze carried down by the mountains is refreshing and god- the nature. You’d missed this spot. Deer and rabbits run through the woods, passing through wildflowers and bushes of berries, surrounded by swaying trees and soothed by the sound of the Dakota River. It's a perfect spot, thanks to you. It’s only a few minutes' ride to Valentine as well, a small, rough town filled with livestock, working girls and drunkards. You haven’t had a chance to leave camp yet, as you’ve been working round the clock to get everyone’s tents set up. You saved yours for last, making sure that all the other gang members are comfortable before you worry about your own living arrangements. You’re just finishing your tent now, but for the past few days you’ve been sleeping on the ground next to Tilly and Marybeth. You’re grateful to have your  tent back, although it’s a bit sad. Your belongings, what little you had, were all abandoned in Blackwater. 

You step into your tent, massaging the tender skin of your thigh a little before sitting on your cot. The wound is healing just fine, but it still gives you some pain every now and again. As much as you’d like to lay back on your cot and rest your eyes, you know there's too much to be done right now. Everyone needs to be working their hardest if the gang is gonna get back on its feet. With a small sigh, you push yourself off the cot, adjusting your black hat before stepping out of the tent. Scanning the new camp, you see everyone busy. Arthur has gone off with Charles to hunt for some Bison, and the remaining gang members are all working. So when the sound of loud snoring reaches your ears, you scowl deeply. With determination in your stride, you walk past your tent, then Arthur’s, to the wagon sitting empty towards the back of camp. 

As you step around it, you’re completely unsurprised to find Uncle, sitting on the ground, leaning against the wagon. He’s snoring loudly, his big belly rising up and down as alcohol scented slobber drips from his lip, down his white beard and lands on his red shirt. You roll your eyes, pissed off before ramming your boot into his leg. 

“Get up, you old bastard, everyone is workin’. Except you of course.” You scowl, as the man jolts awake and springs up in front of you. His face is colored with shock and disbelief at your aggression. 

“I- I have lumbago! Kickin’ an old man like that… didn’t anyone ever teach you to respect your elders? Damnit, I was thinkin’...” Uncle argues, defending himself. 

You only chuckle, leaning back on your heels before resting your hand on Uncle’s shoulder. 

“Well I’ll be damned, Uncle. I didn’t think you were capable.” You chastise, nose wrinkling at the smell of his union suit. Uncle looks even more offended, as his eyebrows pull together and he looks at you with a slack jaw. 

“Oh, hush up, would ya? You’ve been hangin’ out with old Morgan too much. It’s made ya sour. Which is unbecoming of a woman such as yourself.” Uncle bites, gesturing to your body as he says the last part. 

You squint your eyes, head cocking as you take a step towards Uncle, and he steps back. 

“Sorry, what was that, Uncle? You need a reminder of what happened when Micah or Bill upset me?” You threaten, thinking back to their purple bruised cheeks after you’d knocked them out cold. You are not too ladylike to punch an old feller, not if he has it coming, anyway. Uncle puts his hands up in surrender, placating you as he chuckles. 

“Now you wouldn’t go hittin’ an old man, would you? An old man with terminal lumbago…” He adds and your face draws up into a comical look of confusion and disbelief. Uncle is both the biggest fool, and the biggest dumbass you’ve ever met. 

“I- lumbago ain’t terminal, you fool.” You say, tossing your arms up with a squint. It isn’t even worth talking to the lazy man. Your hands grip onto your gun belt, and you shake your head.

“Hey Star! He botherin’ you?” Arthur calls from across camp. You turn to him, seeing he has just come back from hunting with a decent portion of meat for the stewpot tonight. 

“Yes, Arthur. Yes he is.” You joke, partially. Arthur starts walking over, chortling to himself, and Uncle looks between the two of you. 

“Oh come on now! We was just foolin!” Uncle yells out. 

Arthur stands at your side, a cigarette between his lips. He’s cleaned up since Colter, taken a bath and trimmed his beard to a neater state. Coming down from the mountains has done him good, and he seems to be in better spirits since Blackwater. Arthur talks through the side of his mouth, blowing smoke out from his lips as he does. 

“Why don't you make yourself useful for once, come into town with us?” Arthur asks Uncle, who sighs and stretches his back. 

“Suppose I could, well, if you lot need me.” Uncle says, sounding less than enthusiastic about the whole ordeal. 

“Good! Go get the wagon ready then.” Arthur says charismatically.  He slaps Uncle on the back as the older man walks away, mumbling under his breath. 

Karen, Tilly and Marybeth have all been standing around their bedrolls, watching your conversation with bright eyes. Contrary to Uncle, they would do anything to get out of camp. They’ve been cooped up with Grimshaw for too long, and her bitter attitude has started to wear them down. When Uncle leaves, you notice the girls approaching and turn to them with a smile. 

“You’re going to town, can we go?” Karen asks Arthur, smiling brightly before glancing to you with the same warm expression. Arthur hesitates, looking around camp a few times before sighing. He rests back on his heels, as if contemplating her request, and his tongue darts past his lips before he speaks. 

“Can Grimshaw spare you?” Arthur asks, and all three girls’ smiles fall into sarcastic scowls before Karen breaks out into a chuckle. The blonde woman rolls her eyes dramatically, laughing as she pokes Arthur in the chest. 

“What happened to you?! Three young ladies ask to ride with you, and you’re askin’ if we’re allowed ?! And here I thought you were some ladies man back in the day!” Karen argues, amused. Arthur scans the camp again before giving up, shrugging his shoulders and chuckling. 

“Alright, fine, but don’t start no trouble.” He yells after them as they run to the wagon Uncle is getting ready. Then Arthur looks back to you. He takes the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his fingers as his ocean colored eyes search your face. Coming down from the mountains and into the sun has earned him a few freckles, and you trace the constellation-like patterns with your eyes for a moment before schooling yourself.

“Ladies man, huh, Arthur?” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest to help with the chill of the air. Arthur only chuckles, shaking his head before diverting your question.

“You uh- You comin’ along?” Arthur asks, scratching the back of his neck before taking a long drag from his smoke. You can’t help but smirk at him, looking up to his face. 

“That a formal invitation?” You kid with him. 

“Well yeah, if you ain’t too busy for us low lives that is.” Arthur jokes, and you shove him in the direction of the wagon. Your little push doesn’t even move the rock solid mass of a man, but he walks with you nonetheless.

“Yeah I'll come along.” You say with a sweet smile. When the girls see you approaching they start to hoot and holler, and you smile at their excitement.

“We finally get to go out and about with you!” Marybeth yells, clapping excitedly. The girls are all sitting in the back of the wagon on the bench seats, and Uncle is just starting to climb up into the passenger seat on the wagon bench. 

“Uncle!” Arthur yells, approaching the wagon with you at his side, “Get in the back!” 

Uncle turns towards you both with another dramatic look of shock. He stutters and groans, placing his foot back on the ground before scoffing. 

“Why?!” 

“If I gotta drive this thing I sure as shit ain’t sittin’ by you.” Arthur responds, running his hand along the side of the wagon as he passes it, climbing into the driver's seat. Uncle scoffs again, and mutters something about ‘disrespectful youngsters’ before climbing into the back with the girls. You’re not exactly sure where to sit, and you hesitate for a moment before Arthur pats the bench beside him. With a crooked smile, you climb up and sit on the wooden bench  next to him. 

Arthur picks up the reins, clicking to the horses for them to pick up speed. Uncle had picked out two suffolk punch horses to drive the wagon, and they make a nice strong pair, pulling it out of Horseshoe. Even though he’s not riding, Arthur keeps a soft hand on the reins, giving the horses leeway to do their job. You’re grateful to be getting out of camp, it's the first time you've been out since you’ve come down from Colter however many days ago. You look up to the sun, inhaling the scent of the woods deeply, and cherishing the songs of the birds. You've always loved nature, and you're glad to be out of that damn cabin.

“Why don’t you girls sing us a song?” Uncle suggests, and immediately Arthur whispers ‘oh, brother.’ You’re not sure why, until the girls giggle loudly and begin singing. You turn in your seat, looking back to them with bright pink cheeks. 

“Oooohh, I got a girl in Berryville, she can't be screwed cause she’s too damn ill! So I don’t go down there no more, there's a blue horse laid outside her dooooor!” They all sing out, cackling and giggling in between breaths. You laugh a breathy chuckle, glancing to Arthur with wide eyes as they continue. 

“Ohhh, I got a girl in Valentine! Likes to drink that fancy wine, the plume in her hat was two feet tall, the crack in her pants paid for it all!” They sing out again, and Tilly has to stop because she starts laughing too hard to continue the lyrics. Uncle is entirely pleased with their crass, though hilarious song, and Arthur has a little smile on his face. 

“Don’t care for this song?” Arthur asks, leaning over towards you with a throaty chuckle. Your cheeks are still red as you respond. 

“If I sang this song, I think my daddy’d roll over in his grave, Arthur. Hell, my pa would have killed me if I sang somethin’ so crass.” You laugh, telling the truth. 

Arthur lightly taps the reins down over the horses, urging them to cross the railroad tracks. Marybeth messes up the chorus, and all three girls erupt into chuckles. But you’re no longer focused on them, instead your eyes are fixated on the stagecoach ahead that seems to be swerving all over the road. Your eyebrows pull together, making a familiar little crease in between your eyebrows as your hand darts over to nudge Arthur. 

“Look at that coach…” You whisper, and Arthur looks up. 

The coach swerves off the side of the road, into a patch of grass just as both shire horses break free from the coach. You gasp, watching on as a man jumps down from the driver's seat. He manages to grab the bay shire horse, but the gray one bolts, rearing up before galloping off towards the rocky hills. Arthur taps the reins again, pushing the horses to catch up to the coach. The singing has stopped completely, and Tilly speaks up from behind you. 

“Someones gotta help him get his horse back!” Tilly gasps, looking between you, Arthur and Uncle. Arthur pulls the wagon off the road, and you start to stand up. 

“I’ll help him.” You say, looking after the poor, scared horse. He could be hurt, and you want more than anything to go help. 

Arthur rests two fingers on your knee, pushing you lightly back into your seat. You draw your brows together before he speaks up. 

“You just rest that leg for now, I got this.” Arthur nods to you, and you sigh, but agree. He hops down off the wagon, and jogs up to speak with the stage driver. 

“You just rest that leg for now, I wanna impress you with my horse taming skills.” Karen mocks, chuckling and poking at you. With wide eyes you turn around. 

“Karen!” You chastise, cheeks bright, “It ain’t- it ain’t like that.” You stutter, eyes moving back to Arthur. He’s approaching the horse now, holding his hands out steady and cooing to the scared animal. 

“Oh sure it ain’t.” Karen pokes again, but this time you ignore her jokes, focused on the situation at hand. Arthur takes a few slow steps toward the gray horse, and once he gets close enough, he grabs onto the horse’s headstall. The girls behind you clap and hoot, calling after Arthur for being such a gentleman. He brings the horse back, walking and patting the shire the whole way back until he is safe within the hands of his owner. The man thanks Arthur, and tries to give him some money, but Arthur denies it and walks back towards the wagon. 

“No worries mister, I was just tryin’ to impress the ladies!” Arthur hollers over his shoulder to the stage driver before climbing back up next to you.

“You mean the lady!” Karen pokes again. They all giggle, and Arthur looks back to them, and then to you, as you hold the bridge of your nose, jaw set in annoyance. 

“What? Whatchu goin’ on about?” Arthur asks, confused on the situation. You hold your hand up to Karen, signaling her to cut it out, but of course she doesn’t. 

“We ain’t blind, Star. Seeing a whole lot clearer than you two anyhow.” Karen adds before surrendering, her hands up. 

You turn back towards the road, shaking your head and sighing before crossing your legs. 

“Why don’t you just keep singin’?” You ask, a little annoyed with the constant bugging about you and Arthur’s friendship. 

Arthur drives the wagon past a little auction area, and sheep run around inside of various pens in the auction yard. The town reeks like manure, and you whistle, nose filled with the foul smell. 

“Smell those sheep…” Tilly mumbles, scrunching her nose. 

“Or is that Uncle?” Karen jokes. Uncle looks at her with an open jaw, and a dramatic sense of hurt. 

“Very funny.” Uncle says before pointing to a building up ahead. 

“Sheriff on the right, you could pick up some bounties there Arthur. Or you, Star. You seem the type.” Uncle informs you, and you look to the small sheriff's office, thinking over the idea. 

“Heaven forbid you put your head on the line.” Arthur chastises Uncle, exaggerating his annoyance. 

You’ve spent so much time running from the law, you never thought about working for it. Maybe bounty hunting is something you’ll look into… Arthur slows the horses down to a walk as he drives them down the main road. A few people walk about, shoes all covered in mud as they mill around. Valentine is a nice little town, just as you’d remembered it. Everything looks exactly the same, save for a new building going up at the bottom of the road, next to the general store. You pass Smithfield's saloon, and remember going in there with your parents to get some dinner back, oh so many years ago. A bittersweet smile passes over your lips at the memory, but it fades quickly. 

Arthur pulls the wagon down past the general store, parking the horses near the livery. Everyone starts to climb down out of the wagon, and Karen speaks up. 

“We’ll start at the saloon. Star, you're coming with us!” Karen says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you with her. 

“We’re stealing your woman, Arthur!” Tilly jokes, giggling as Arthur chuckles. 

You’re getting a bit irritated with the constant jokes about you and Arthur. It’s getting a little old, and you’re tired of the persistent blush on your cheeks, but it doesn’t matter how much you try to convince the girls, they won't let up. You still try nonetheless.

Tilly leads you past the few little shops until you come up to the saloon doors, which she kindly holds open for you. You step inside, taking in the few drunkards that meander around the place. 

“Y’know… me and Arthur, really we ain’t like that…” You continue to argue, moving towards and then leaning on the bar. 

“Four whiskeys.” You order, tossing a two dollar bill on the bar. The bartender, a lanky man with a handlebar mustache the size of Texas, brings out the bottle and pours four shots on the counter, sliding them your way before taking the bill. Immediately, you take the shot, tossing your head back and swallowing it. The whiskey burns your throat, drowning your anxieties with it as the burn scorches through your veins. Marybeth, standing at the bar to your side, places her hand on your arm. 

“I’m sorry, I mean- we ain’t meaning to pick on ya, but…” Marybeth starts, before Tilly finishes her shot and Marybeth’s sentence. 

“But Arthur ain’t never took to someone like he has with you.” Tilly interjects, and you look down, biting your cheek, ordering another drink. 

“He ain’t taken to a woman in so long, Star. Well, not since he was eng-” Marybeth starts, but Karen elbows her to shut up. You don't even want to ask where she was going with that. Really, you don’t care. Arthur’s habits with women have no impact on you. Karen steps forward, growing serious. 

“He hasn’t been sweet on someone in a long while, Star. I seen him reject many of women in my day, and never seen him pay for a working girl neither.” Karen says, no judgment in her eyes as she looks over your features. 

“Wasn’t it you just sayin’ all of ten minutes ago that he used to be some big ladies man?” You ask, confused and annoyed. Karen chuckles under her breath before she responds. 

“Well I was joking, mostly. Arthur don’t talk about his younger years. Tilly was around for most of it, but he hasn't even told her much, just rumor. He don’t talk to anyone about that time.” Karen explains, a sad look on her face. The other two girls nod, and you wonder why Arthur is so closed off about his past. Marybeth gets a glint in her eye, and she moves forward to whisper a juicy piece of gossip. Her dirty blonde curls bounce as she leans in. 

“Y’know I heard that a few years back he got a waitress p-” 

“Marybeth, enough!” Tilly chastises, an angry look on her face as she scowls down at Marybeth. 

Marybeth bites her tongue, keeping quiet with a sheepish look on her face. Her cheeks are pink with embarrassment, and you’re left catching up with the whole situation. Once again, you don’t even want to know.

“So there you have it then,” You down your second shot, slamming the empty glass back down onto the counter, wishing that you could talk about something other than Arthur for once, “You just told me that he’s never sweet on anyone. I sure as shit ain’t changing that.” You counter. Karen rolls her eyes, tugging on your arm. 

“But you are!” Karen pleads, begging you to see the situation as she does. 

“Look, we’re not trying to bug you. We’ll stop. But Star, the way he looks after you.” Tilly says, and you’re just grateful to hear her admit that they’ll stop picking. The girls love a good piece of gossip, and you have fallen victim to their newest obsession. As much as you love the girls, it's frustrating. Seeing that you’ve had enough, and practically abandoned the conversation, Karen walks behind you, scanning the men in the bar. 

“I'm gonna pick one of these fellers up.” Karen whispers with a devious smile on her lips. Marybeth and Tilly both roll their eyes, sighing.

“You’re gonna what?!” You ask, wondering if Karen has totally lost her mind. Arthur has given strict instructions to not get into any trouble here. Not to mention that none of these fellas seem like particularly good ones to spend a night with. 

“I'm gonna pick one up, take him up to the hotel, then I'm gonna rob him blind.” Karen explains, the same devilish smirk on her lips. 

“Karen, be careful.” You warn, knowing that stealing from men like these ones isn’t particularly easy. Karen only dismisses you with her hand before stalking off towards her prey. She pushes her shoulders back and bats her eyelashes, approaching a drunk man sitting down at the poker table. He’s just won the hand, and is collecting money from the dealer. You don’t like the idea, not one bit, but you’re not about to stop her. Karen’s almost as bullheaded as you. Tilly is looking after Karen with the same worry as you, and as the blonde woman leads the man out of the saloon, into the direction of the hotel, Tilly speaks up. 

“I’ll follow her, make sure she’s okay.” 

You nod to Tilly before she heads out of the saloon too, leaving only you and Marybeth at the bar. Marybeth is looking down at her untouched drink, her eyebrows pulled together in thought. She looks upset, and you lean in to ask about it before she explains.  

“I just… well I’m really sorry if I upset you. It wasn’t my intention to.” Marybeth looks up to you, hoping you won’t be mad with her. You know she never meant to get under your skin. Marybeth is so very young, and she’s tangled up in fantasies of feet sweeping love, ideas that you had to give up a long time ago. Your life has been unkind, you’ve not had time to daydream of silly romances. Pitifully, you realize that the stories are all that Marybeth has. She stays in camp, and only has her books and daydreams to distract herself from everyday life. 

“Marybeth, you didn’t upset me. Really. My skin ain’t so thin.” You smile to reassure her. Marybeth bites her lip, fingers trailing over her still-full shot glass. You rest your elbows on the bar, looking to her drawn up face. There’s something else she wants to say.

“It just-” Marybeth laughs breathily, and looks up to you with sparkling eyes. “It's like one of my novels, It seems so perfect.” Marybeth beams, gripping onto your arm, as if it would help to convince you.

You bite your tongue, knowing that Marybeth is naive. She can’t help it, really. What you and Arthur share is not perfect. Hell, it’s far from perfect. You bonded over the pain of losing so much that the only thing left for you to cling to was him. It’s not conventional, you’re outlaws, killers, and after the things you’ve done? You don’t think you deserve a happy ending, or that you’re even capable of finding one. 

“It ain’t that simple.” You grit, eyes boring into the bar. Marybeth’s hand rests on your forearm gently, grabbing your attention as she offers you a sweet smile. 

“I’m sure it ain’t, and I’m sorry for assuming, but… a word of advice?” 

“Go ahead.” You oblige, sighing and turning to her. Her giggles and chastising tone are gone, replaced with a sheepish smile and a whole lot of intensity. 

“When there’s something good in front of you, an opportunity to be loved and looked after, cared for, don't let it go to waste. I can see you have trouble letting people in, and why that is, I’m sorry for, but… I’ve known Arthur most of my life, he’s been a big brother to us, and Star, he’s a good one.” Marybeth whispers, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before she averts her eyes back to her drink. You’re grateful for it because a blush runs over your cheeks. Is your and Arthur’s… situation that obvious to everyone else?

“I- well it ain’t-” You sigh, trying to find your words, “It ain’t like that Marybeth. He’s my best friend.” And it’s true. Arthur is your best friend, and you won’t allow yourself more than that. You’re not looking for a courtship, you don’t have time for such… trivial things, you’re fighting for your life every goddamn day it seems. With a sigh, you turn around, leaning your back against the bar and glancing out the window to the men and women walking down the muddy road.

“Exactly.” Marybeth laughs, as if this is all so obvious, and you’re the one who doesn’t understand. 

“Marybeth-” You start to quiet her, but as you continue to glance out the window, your eyebrows draw together. Marybeth follows your gaze, and her hand comes up to her mouth in shock. Tilly is across the street, in a small alley being held up by some feller, some feller with Arthur’s cattleman pressed against his temple.

“Shit, I'll go see what's goin’ on… so much for lyin’ low.” You mumble, jogging towards the saloon doors before pushing them open. Your eyes have to adjust to the bright sun as you rest your hand on your holster, walking across the muddy street and joining them. 

“You best get gone, partner. Lay a hand on Miss Tilly again, n I’ll put a bullet in ya.” Arthur growls. You’ve never heard his voice sound so… predatory, and it scares you, even. The man, with a deep scowl on his face backs away from Tilly, who is resting her hands on her knees and taking deep breaths. 

The stranger looks like he wants to argue, but he backs away a few steps before turning around and heading towards his horse. Arthur escorts him there, making sure he gets well and gone, while you rush to Tilly’s side. 

“You okay? Who was that?” You ask, helping her to get her bearings by placing a hand on her arm. She stands up, a disgusted look on her face. The stranger gallops away with a mean scowl, and Arthur holsters his gun, walking back down the alley towards you both. 

“Anthony Foreman. Bastard I used to run with, he thinks he owns me.” Tilly hisses, a long, old wound rearing its ugly head again. There’s history here, and it ain’t good. You glance to Arthur for a moment, worried, before wrapping your arms around Tilly. 

“Well he’s gone now. It’s alright, I don't imagine he'll be back around, not after that.” You whisper, squeezing her lightly before letting go. Arthur lightly squeezes your elbow to get your attention, and you turn to him. His tongue darts out over his lips before he speaks. 

“Where’s Karen?” He asks, glancing across the road to see Marybeth standing outside the general store with Uncle. Karen is the only one not accounted for. You share a glance with Tilly, before backing away from them both slowly, thinking. 

“Shit, I’ll go check on her, she’s in the hotel.” You mutter before jogging around the corner towards the hotel entrance.

Arthur calls after you, but it’s the last of your worries right now. The man she took into the hotel didn’t look right when you’d seen him in the saloon. He’s not someone you would have chosen to steal from for sure. You push the hotel door open with more force than necessary, and a very scared looking clerk cowers a little in fear behind the counter. 

“Blonde girl, young, came in here with a feller not too long ago, which room?” You growl, already making your way to the staircase. The man doesn’t wish to get in your way, he knows you’ll be trouble as he mumbles. 

“Uhh, two- two B!” He yells back, and you take the information and go, rushing up the stairs while skipping two at a time. If Karen was successful in robbing this guy she should have been back by now. You hesitate for a moment once reaching the top of the stairs… she would be back by now unless she wanted to actually lay with this man before robbing him.  It would be awkward as all hell if you busted the door down and interrupted something… 

But you can’t leave Karen if something has gone awry, so you go with your gut and bite your tongue. You step down the hallway, searching for room 2b. It's the very last door, and you walk towards it hesitantly. 

“Uh… Sir? Miss? Everything okay in there?” You ask, posing as a working maid in case Karen is just having fun. You’re just about to knock on the door when you hear glass shatter from inside. 

“Damn!” You curse, turning the knob to no avail. It’s been locked from the inside, and though it's futile, you push against the door with all your might. 

Getting an idea, you grab your journal from your satchel, quickly tearing a paper out before shoving the journal back into your satchel. You’d learned this from your Pa, and used it to get into his shop when he accidentally locked the keys inside. You fold the paper over a few times until it's thicker, push it into the crack in the door and then slide it down as hard and fast as you can. The deadlock slides back into the door and you swing it open. 

Karen is against the wall, holding her cheek where a purple bruise is forming, and the man she’d bribed is dressed down into his long johns, yelling in her face with a tight grip on her arm.

“Get off of her!” You yell at the man, rushing forward and grabbing Karen. You shove her behind you, shielding her from this degenerate. Your blood boils as you shove Karen out of the room. 

“I’m just gettin’ what I paid for.” He growls, stepping towards you as if he’s going to grab Karen back. 

“You ain’t paid to hit her.” You hiss, seething, and when his arm extends to grab onto Karen’s, you knee him, as hard as you can, right in the manhood. He doubles over, gripping in between his legs and yelling. His eyes glaze over with drunken rage, something you're familiar with thanks to your pa. 

“You- you fucking bitch!” He screams, groaning loudly before standing back up. You’re not sure what exactly you’d expected to happen, but as he towers over you, fists at the ready, you realize that he’s probably going to win this fight. Nonetheless you stance yourself, ready for it. Some hair falls down in your face, and you curse as the stray blocks some of your vision.

“I'm going to get help!” Karen yells before running from the room. You might not need it, you probably will. The bastard is big, his fists are scarred, signaling he’s been in many fights before, and he’s at least a head taller than you. 

You take a deep breath, centering yourself, and swing first, using the height difference to your advantage by cutting straight up into the bastard's nose. He yelps, and blood starts trickling from his now deformed nose as he wipes the blood away and swings back. He goes for a left hook, which you dodge. The man’s drunkenness helps you a bit, but as you dodge one punch, you catch another, right in the cheek. It knocks you down to the ground, and you groan as your body absorbs the shock of hitting the floor. Your ribs hurt along with your knee, and you stretch your jaw to make sure it’s not broken. It’s alright, and you can fully move it but damn, it hurts. 

You’re filled with rage, and the metallic taste of blood in your mouth only spurs you further. This fella fights dirty. Well, two can play at that game. Quickly recuperating from the punch, and still on the floor you swing your good leg out. Much like you did to Arthur back in Tumbleweed, you undercut the man’s ankles, knocking him to the ground. 

You’re already tired from the fight, and you cling to your cheek, panting.

“Star?!” a familiar voice hollers from the hallway. It’s Arthur, and you trust him to take care of this guy, so you rest back against the floor to take a breather. 

“In here.” You mumble, raising your hand up from the ground sarcastically even though he can’t see you. 

Arthur rushes in the door just as the man tries to stand up, and with a swift kick Arthur boots him right in the head, knocking him fully unconscious. As soon as the guy hits the floor, Arthur skids down on his knees at your side. His hands are warm on your skin, gently pulling you up into a sitting position. 

“How bad did he get you?” Arthur asks, and his eyes are so concentrated on the forming bruise along your cheek, you almost get lost in them. There's a dark undertone to his gaze, a rage, not directed at you. Despite the anger bubbling up at the pathetic excuse of a man currently out cold on the floor, Arthur’s hands are featherlight on your skin. 

“Not bad, I’m fine Arthur.”

“For the record, I got him warmed up, you just finished him off.” You chuckle, stretching your jaw before spitting some blood onto the wood floor. 

Arthur is relieved to see you smiling as he runs his warm hand along your cheekbone, checking it over. There's some purple bruising coming in along your jaw and cheek, but he reckons you’ll be alright. He’ll never understand how a man could hit a woman, and wishes to do a lot worse to this bastard than knock him out.

“Got you pretty good.” Arthur mumbles, gripping your hand to pull you up to your feet. You take it, standing up with a small groan. 

“Yeah well you shoulda seen it, knocked him flat on his ass, kinda like I did to you in Tumbleweed… Y'know I'm still pissed I didn’t get to see you hit the floor.” You chastise as he holds the door open for you to step into the hallway. 

“Ain’t you just a proper lady.” Arthur jokes, leading you down the exterior stairs to avoid running into the hotel clerk. 

“Yeah, and you’re a saint.” You huff.

You rest your hand along the rail as you walk down the staircase with Arthur. Karen is just around the bend, standing near the butcher stand with the others. You’re relieved to see that they’ve regrouped, and no one seems terribly harmed. 

“Karen, you alright?” You ask, jogging down the stairs to meet her. She has a red stinging mark on her face, but it’s fading. She nods, dipping her head to Arthur and you in thanks. 

“I’m okay, don't like being saved, but when I have to be…” Karen leads you towards the others, but her steps are slow and she seems to be in thought. 

“Stupid bastard- Stupid bastard was boasting about the bank.” Karen smiles, proud of the information she’d garnered before it all went downhill. Your eyebrows pull together, and you glance around the town quickly. The bank? Seems like a fool's move to you. Valentine doesn't have much but sheep and shit, you’d probably be better off just robbing a store for your troubles. 

“Karen, unless I’m missing somethin’ this bank ain’t worth riskin’ our necks for. I don’t imagine that a whole lotta money passes through this town, nothin’ amounting to a hill of beans anyway.” You explain, taking note of the fact that most people occupying the town are pretty average, working in small local shops around town or farming. Arthur shakes his head, disagreeing with you. 

“No, Karen’s right. This here’s a livestock town. After the auction?” Arthur whistles lowly, “That bank will be overflowing with cash.” Arthur counters as the three of you make it towards the front of the general store to regroup. You hadn’t even thought of the auctions, but Arthur’s right. In the short time you’ve been here you’ve seen many animals being moved over in the yard. It’ll be full, alright. 

“So we’re gonna work the bank?” You ask, nervously. You’ve never worked a job so big before, and it has your gut sinking. Arthur notices this, and brushes his hand over yours for reassurance. 

“Not for a while yet, and you don’t have to come out if you ain’t comfortable with it.” Arthur whispers to you, stepping up onto the platform where Uncle, Tilly and Marybeth are waiting. Uncle looks as exasperated as ever, arms going up in the air. 

“Well so much for lyin’ low. We’ve been here an hour and half the townsfolk been threatened or knocked out!” Uncle chastises, gesturing towards the hotel. You roll your eyes at his dramatic demeanor. 

“Not like it was our fault, Uncle. And god only knows what you’ve been-” You’re cut short as Marybeth grabs Arthur’s arm and it gets your attention. 

“Hey, who’s that guy over there lookin’ at us?” She asks, and you follow her gaze to a well dressed man sitting on a chestnut morgan. His jaw is slack, he looks… shocked? Or scared? You’re not sure, but he’s piecing something together and it isn’t good. The man's finger comes up, and he points in the direction of you and Arthur. 

“Weren’t you in Blackwater a few weeks back?” The man asks, voice trembling as a cold sweat runs down his forehead. Arthur steps forward, looking around as if oblivious.

“Me? No I wasn’t in-” Arthur begins, and much to his growing annoyance is cut off by the frightened man. You can only stare blankly in a panic as the man points directly to you. 

“No no, you, the lady. I saw you, you were in Blackwater.” The man says, and his worry grows by the second along with Arthur’s irritation. Marybeth and Tilly share a worried glance as you watch on, shocked. 

“No. She ain’t from there.” Arthur grits with no room for argument, his friendly demeanor has disappeared completely at this point. 

“Oh she was! I definitely saw you, with a bunch of fellers!” The man’s voice grows louder, drawing attention to you all. He gets more anxious, and his horse begins to prance and rear up with anxiety as the man breathes heavily. Arthur’s eyes grow downright menacing, and his voice drops an octave. 

“Now that's impossible. She. Weren’t. There.” Arthur bites out every word, emphasizing them.

The man is lost for words, stuttering and pointing. People begin to stop and stare, and Arthur doesn’t like all the wandering eyes. Drawing this much attention to yourselves is bad. In a final attempt to shut this guy up, Arthur attempts to reason with him. 

“Listen buddy, come here for a minute. We can sort this.” Arthur says, voice back to a friendly holler, but it’s too late. The stranger points once more, and his horse rears. 

“She was there! I saw it!” He yells before spurring his horse down the road. 

The eyes on you make you uncomfortable, and you're nervous under the judgmental gazes that question your situation. Arthur turns around with a deep sigh, distaste in his mouth. 

“I don’t like this…” Uncle whispers, shaking his head. You watch Arthur in thought, before moving your gaze to the stranger cantering down the road. 

“Me neither.” Arthur says, biting his cheek before directing his attention to you. 

“Get them home and bring me my horse. Meet me in the saloon,” Arthur nods to you and starts walking towards a hitched horse in front of the store, “I'm gonna go have a word with our friend.” He says, climbing onto the saddle of a buckskin standardbred. 

“Be careful, Arthur!” Tilly yells as Arthur squeezes the horse’s side with his calves. 

“Just a word!” 

You’re still left reeling as Arthur gallops after the stranger. Marybeth takes your arm and starts leading you to where the wagon is parked. You follow along with her, walking at a rushed pace to get out of town before something else goes awry. In just a few moments you reach the wagon, and some of the eyes boring into your back dissipate.

“I can’t believe someone recognized me…” You whisper, feeling nervous and spaced out. You tap the reins against the horses’ backs, urging them into a lope as you get away from the middle of town. 

“I didn’t even think you were supposed to be on the job.” Tilly adds, and the other three nod, agreeing. You drive the horses past the auction yard, almost to the train tracks as you recount that awful day. 

“I was in town with Arthur when I saw the explosion… I had to help and then it- I was right in the middle of it all.” You think back to Charles and Jenny carrying Davey out of the ferry, Dutch’s yelling, Jenny falling from her horse and everyone leaving you and her behind except for Charles. 

Karen notices your glazed over expression, and the way your hands tremble slightly on the reins. 

“It’s okay, you don’t gotta talk about it.”

You nod, pushing it all down as you bring the wagon closer to the camp. The rest of the ride is quiet, save for the birds. You’re all too consumed with worry to talk about it. You’ve just set your tent up this morning and the last thing you want is to be forced into moving because someone recognized you. Dutch would certainly be less than pleased with you then. Arthur’s handling the situation now, hopefully without giving a beating. You’ve not exactly been lying low since arriving and another public battery would do far more harm than good. 

You don’t even realize that you’ve pulled into the woods until you hear John yelling. 

“Who’s there?” He hollers, picking his rifle up against his shoulder, ready to aim.

“Ease off Marston, it’s us.” You reply as he lowers his weapon. You take note of his face, the scar that's beginning to heal now. He still has a hell of a lot of stitches and it’ll leave a nasty scar, but you’re just glad he’s alive. It wasn’t looking so good for John Marson when you and Javier found him up in Colter, but here he stands. 

You pull the horses off to the side near the hitching posts before jumping down from the driver’s seat. Giving the horse nearest to you a pat, you look to the girls and Uncle. 

“Well, thanks for the fun.” You joke, a chuckle escaping your lips. Karen smiles, her cheek has returned back to a cool ivory you notice, faring better than yours, which you’re glad for. 

“And thanks for the drinks!” Karen says, helping Marybeth to climb down from the wagon. Uncle starts heading off towards his bedroll, and you tip your hat to them all before turning and going towards the hitching posts. 

Arthur’s saddle is hung over the post, and you grab it along with his saddle pad. His walker is hitched to the post, and you coo to the stallion as you swing the saddle over his back, making sure to tent the pad to prevent any pinching. Just as you lean down to the ground to grab the cinch and girth, a throat clears behind you. 

“Miss?” 

You startle, turning around to meet the deep voice that you’ve talked to only on a few occasions. Standing before you, tall, dark with a presence is Dutch van der Linde. You’ve only talked to him in Colter, and even then you were barely capable of speaking. 

“Oh-  mornin’ Dutch.” You stutter, nervous, Dutch has given you no reason to fear him, and yet his posture, which demands respect, intimidates you. You’ve read the clips from the newspapers, you know what he’s done, good and bad. But after Blackwater you noticed an edge to him, one that easily loses control, and you make an effort not to get on his bad side. 

“You’ve been running us for some time now. What’s it been, a month?” Dutch asks, bringing a thick expensive cigar up to his lips and inhaling the smoke. 

“Y-yeah, almost… I think, haven't been keeping track of time too well.” You admit, nervously. You’re disappointed that your fearless, tough demeanor has faltered, but something about Dutch does that to you. You don’t know him well enough to trust him, and the last thing you want to do is irritate or disrespect him. You’re feisty, but you’re not dumb, you pick your battles. 

Dutch hums, squinting his eyes while running them over your face, taking note of your black and blue cheek. He doesn’t ask about it, which you’re thankful for. 

“You, my dear, have potential.” Dutch says, nodding his head lightly as if agreeing with himself. Your eyebrows draw together as you wait for him to explain. But he doesn’t. 

“We’ll talk more later. I like to know who I’m running with, on a more… personal level.” Dutch chuckles deeply, the smoke on his breath reaching your face as you nod, feeling so uncomfortable and nervous. Dutch is going to… interview you? Or something of the sort… 

“You have a good day, miss.” Dutch says, tipping his hat to you before backing away a few steps and finally turning around. You release a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding before grabbing the cinch and tightening it in a Texas T. 

You waste no time, going over to your buckskin and repeating the process with a sigh. You really need to get to the stables soon. These two unnamed horses are good but… not what you need for this new life. You don't have enough money for a horse right now, but maybe after a job. You climb into the saddle, whistling for Arthur's walker to follow you. Luckily, he does and you start into a gallop back towards Valentine. You waste no time, as Dutch has already wasted enough, spurring your stallion. If everything has gone according to plan, then Arthur should already be back in town at the saloon. You slip your foot out of your stirrup on the side that’s still healing from Blackwater, letting it hang down to create some relief. It’s a quiet ride, and you take some time to observe around you as you gallop on, occasionally whistling to make sure Arthur’s walker is still with you. 

The sun has dipped behind the shelter of clouds, providing some relief for your eyes. You hum your favorite little song, the same one you sang back in the woods by Tall Trees all that time ago. The birds are chirping, the breeze is nice, and you focus the pleasant senses to quell your nerves. 

Before long you’re trotting over the railroad, tipping your hat to a man in a blue union uniform. Your brows draw together for a moment, realizing that he’s far too young to have served in the war. He’s missing an arm, and the long sleeve of his uniform has been sewed up to his shoulder. You eye him with curiosity as he begs for money on the street. What a peculiar fella. Hell, he may be a better thief than you, posing as a veteran. Seems morally questionable, but you also doubt he’s completely right in the head. You turn back to him with a small smile, wondering of his circumstances. 

You continue trotting forward, almost running over a few hens that scurry across the mud caked road. And with one more whistle you turn the bend up the main drag. It’s only about noon, so not many people are milling about. You scan for Arthur, and pinpoint the standardbred he had borrowed to chase after that man. It’s hitched in front of the new building that's being put up, and eventually you spot him. He’s leaning against a beam in front of the general store, ankles crossed as he focuses intently on the little book in his hands. You can’t help but smile at the sight of his face drawn up in concentration. He’s sketching in his journal, eyes glancing up and down from the leather bound pages to the Valentine Bank. Surely he’s drawing it, and you would do anything for a peek into those pages. 

There's a cigarette poking out from his lips and he pulls from it before blowing the smoke out of his nose, hands too busy to properly pull it away from his mouth. You can't help but stare at the precision of his right hand, expertly drawing the bank. Again, your mouth cracks with a smile, and you pull your gaze down to your reins. 

“C’mon lady, I got places to be!” A man yells from behind you, trying to drive a wagon up the road. Amidst your staring, you had failed to realize that you’re blocking the road. Instead of apologizing, you turn and shoot him a nasty glare. 

“Why don’t you shut your mouth, mister, before I shut it for you.” You hiss, glaring daggers at the middle aged man for interrupting your observations. 

He scowls at you, but doesn’t push any further. When you turn back, riding towards the hitching post in front of Arthur, he looks up at you with an amused smirk. Apparently the bickering had caught his attention, and he’s finally noticed you.

“Who pissed in your coffee this mornin’?” Arthur jokes, tucking his journal back into his satchel, much to your displeasure. You crack a smile, dismounting from your buckskin before hitching it and then Arthur’s walker. 

“How did it go… with that guy?” You keep your voice hushed, not wanting to draw anymore attention to yourselves. Arthur walks you towards the saloon slowly, giving himself time to explain. You glance down to his knuckles and notice they are clean, not bloodied or bruised. 

“Oh I don’t think Jimmy Brooks is gonna be a problem anymore.” Arthur says, resting his hands on his belt, spurs clicking as he walks. Your eyebrows pull together, and your gut flips. 

“Did you…? I mean you didn’t-” You start, trailing off while trying to ask if Arthur killed the guy. You don’t want that. The poor guy, Jimmy Brooks, was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it ain’t his fault, really. You and the people you now run with make poor decisions sometimes, you realize that. Blackwater was one of them. 

“No, nah he’s okay, we came to an agreement. You see, Brooks weren’t even in Blackwater! Just a complete misunderstandin’ on his part, but it's settled now.” Arthur sarcastically explains, that switch flipping once again that makes him charismatic and threatening. You chuckle at Jimmy Brook's sudden compliance as Arthur reaches into his jeans’ pocket.

“And would ya look at this. He even gave me a pen for all the trouble.” Arthur smirks, pulling out a nice fountain pen from his pocket. He hands it over to you, and with piqued interest, you take it. 

“Fancy.” You mumble, looking the nice pen over while stepping over a ledge in the sidewalk. 

“Why don’t you keep it. I’m more of a charcoal and lead type anyways.” Arthur says, pulling a can of dip from his satchel and stuffing a wad in his cheek. With a hum, you stick the pen into your satchel. 

“Thanks.” You smile, pushing the saloon doors open, a hand on each. 

You whistle upon entry, seeing Javier and Charles doting over some working women. With a raised eyebrow, you subtly gesture towards them. 

“Charles? He doesn’t seem the type.” You chuckle as Arthur walks up beside you. 

“You’d be surprised what a drink can do to some of these fellers.” Arthur sighs, heading towards the bar. Javier has his arm wrapped around a blonde woman, her bust barely concealed by her dress, and Charles is eyeing up a brunette at his side. 

You lean on your good leg, shaking yor head with a chuckle. 

“Estrella! Arthur! Come meet our new friends.” Javier’s words are slurred just enough for you to notice. You roll your eyes, unable to shake the shocked smile from your lips. The boys you run with are unbelievable. When you look over to Arthur he is not smiling. Instead he is looking the working girls over, not fondly, but rather as if inspecting them, curiously and angrily? It makes you chuckle even more. The dark haired girl is staring at you, and you meet her gaze head on. 

“He yours? Ain’t so often we come across a tough as teak mountain man.” She says, nodding her head towards Arthur, and your eyes widen, a laugh bubbling up in your throat. Oh, they’re trying to pick up Arthur- this should be good. The blonde girl lightly smacks the other, stepping towards Arthur. 

“Oh you be quiet Anatasia, anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat!”

 Arthur squints his eyes, looking at the girls like they have three heads. Javier steps in between his chosen lady and Arthur. 

“Exactly, yes. He's a pussy…   cat.” Javier jabs, but Arthur doesn’t seem to care or even notice. He leans his hands on his knees, looking at the girls from a different angle as if inspecting a goddamn horse. You bite your tongue, suppressing a laugh. You guess Karen was right, famous ladies man…

“How much you cost anyway?” Arthur asks, stepping back and leaning back on his heels. Javier rolls his eyes, pissed off at this point, while the girls scowl at him like the devil himself. 

“Well ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady…” Anastasia says, mouth thick with distaste as she looks over Arthur, demeanor completely shifted from thirty seconds ago.

Arthur leans forward, a downright comical expression on his face as he hisses, 

“Shit, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize I was talkin’ to a lady.” 

Your jaw drops and your cheeks turn pink even though you have nothing to do with what he’s just said. Both of the girls stomp off, having had enough. Javier only rolls his eyes, and Charles extends his arm after the women, watching as they file away. 

“Arthur!” You chastise, never seeing him act so… crass. He shrugs, stepping forward to where the girls were just standing before leaning on the bar. He raises a hand towards the bartender, who starts walking over. 

“What?” Arthur says, exasperated. “I’ll be the one at the damn general store gettin’ these dumbasses an ointment after they pay for those ‘women’.” Arthur sighs, and you deduce that he definitely has been in that situation before. Javiers’ a bit less mad, and he sighs, leaning onto the bar on the other side of Arthur. 

“You got a fine way with the women, amigo…” Javier mumbles, rubbing his temples. 

“A regular dandy and charmer.” Arthur says, just as the bartender approaches, “Two beers.” Arthur orders for you, tossing a bill on the table. You turn to him, an eyebrow raised disapprovingly. 

“What-?” Arthur asks at your expression before sighing and calling the bartender back over. 

“Sorry partner, make that one beer and a whiskey for the lady.” Arthur corrects himself, and earns a smile for it. 

You glance around the bar as the same tender from earlier grabs your drinks. It's more packed now, closer to the evening and some men have gotten off from work, while some women have just started. A pianist plays Maple Leaf Rag on the piano, probably the only song he knows to be honest, but you don’t mind. It creates a nice ambience anyway. Arthur starts chatting with the boys, and you glance around curiously. You thought Bill would be here too…?

“Hey-” You nudge Arthur’s shoulder, but he’s too caught up in his own conversation to notice yours. Your brows are pulled together tightly as you feel something’s… off.

Ah, your gut is always right. Bill kicks the saloon doors open, stepping in and going straight up to a guy. He’s face to face with him, and you can’t tell if he’s mad or not. 

“He about to kiss that guy or punch him?” Arthur asks, and you glance over your shoulder, noticing that behind you, Arthur has also caught wind of the situation. The bartender sets down a beer bottle and a neat glass of whiskey on the table, and Arthur grabs his bottle by the neck, taking a long swig before setting it down in front of you. 

“Keep the tab goin’ Star.” Arthur says with a wink, rolling up his sleeves just as Bill rams his fist into the other man's gut with a drunken yell. 

“Oh! And we have our answer!” Javier calls out. Arthur squeezes your arm lightly before stepping past you, in three strides he walks out into the center of the bar and all hell breaks loose. Maple Leaf Rag continues playing as if all is well while every man in the center of the saloon starts throwing punches. Arthur walks straight up to a guy, punching him square in the nose with a sickening crack. You lean against the bar, shaking your head as he knocks out two men within a few minutes. 

You watch on for a while, mesmerized at Arthur’s skill in fighting. He's a damn good fighter, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive to watch. His muscles flex as he expertly dodges, landing punches that shatter bones. It’s awful and incredible at the same time. A bunch of degenerates thriving in chaos, adrenaline rushing from the men who are tearing each other apart, civilly, with some good old fashioned fist fighting. It’s so them, you chuckle. Of course this is how they unwind. 

Running your tongue over your bottom lip, you turn back to the bar. As asked, you keep the tab open, watching Arthur’s beer while sipping from your drink. The piano is loud compared to the sound of men beating the hell out of each other, but not as loud as Bill.

“Let's just shoot em!” He yells, right before getting his head slammed against the wall. Javier dodges a punch by jumping backwards, right before knocking a guy out. 

“Oh, come on! We can handle these fools!” Javier replies over the commotion. 

Their voices are farther away, out in the center of the saloon. Everyone is distracted, including you, as you take a swig from your drink. So it surprises you, in fact it scares the hell out of you, when two hands place themselves down onto the bar on either side of you. You gasp, whipping around. A man, a fucking beast of a man is standing over you. He’s way over six feet, and so broad that just by the proximity you can’t see around him. You don’t have much time to think, already buzzed from your drink and it’s throwing your senses off. Typically you would already have a knife in this guy, but your vision is a little fuzzy and things are just a bit slower. 

“What’s a pretty little girl like you doin’ with these people, hmm?” He says, breath reeking of cheap alcohol. The scent is all too familiar, and you nearly choke on it. He presses against your torso, completely trapping you against the bar, so tightly that the wood digs into your back painfully.

“Get off me.” You growl, glaring daggers up at the man. He doesn’t acknowledge your words, instead he brushes a hair away from your face and you rip your head away from his large, grubby hands. 

“Could show you a real fun time. Got some cash on me.” He says, smiling at you like he’s just won some prize. You fume, rage taking over as he pins your wrists down at your sides so you can’t grab any weapons.

“I ain’t for sale.”

The man's eyebrows raise, and he chuckles. Your back aches from the way he's shoving you into the bar, and you glance over to the boys at the center of the room. You can handle this guy.

“So youse free then? Even better, sugar.” He chuckles, deep in his throat and his breath reeks. If he would just release one of your arms you could have him dead on the floor in seconds. 

Just as you form a plan, he lets go of your arm and grabs your chin, harshly. 

“Looks like you got a bruise comin’ in here on this pretty little face. Real shame, it from your cowboy? You got a mister at home? Does he like sharin?”

You slip your hand down to your knife sheath, gripping onto the handle. Just as you reach it, Arthur spots you from across the room. Your small frame is being crushed between this giant bastard and the bar, his hand squeezes your jaw. A boiling rage takes over Arthur as he drops the man he was holding up, straight to the floor. The room spins and he sees nothing but red. Wasting no time, he runs towards you in a few long strides. You pull your knife out, and just as you move to plunge it into the man’s gut, Arthur tears him off of you. 

“You leave her the hell alone!” Arthur roars. Your eyes widen as you take in what’s just happened, your knife is still in your hand as the man grabs Arthur by the collar and throws him over one of the dining tables. 

“Tommy! Tommy, stop it!” The bartender screams, and you gasp as Tommy picks up Arthur again and shoves him through the front window. 

Glass shatters, spilling all over the floor and the street as Arthur rolls onto the muddy road outside. Your jaw is practically on the ground, eyebrows raised in concern as you run out the front doors alongside everyone else in the bar.. 

“Come on, pretty boy!” Tommy grunts, meeting Arthur outside in the street. Anger flashes across Arthur’s face. 

“Pretty boy? Really, Pretty boy?” Arthur growls, standing up and steadying himself to get back into the fight. Your heart pumps loudly in your ears as you stand on the saloon’s deck. Tommy steps forward, punching Arthur in the face and knocking him right back down into the mud. You want, more than anything, to just shoot the bastard and be done but you can’t, not here in the center of town. 

“You need help with this fool?” Javier asks, but Arthur springs back up into action, decking Tommy in the gut, while protecting his face with his other arm.

“Nah I got this one.”

Arthur is covered in mud, barely recognizable as he slips around in the slop, trying to get good footing. Tommy’s fists are downright brutal. He relentlessly swings, shoves and drags Arthur, shoving his head into the mud as Arthur struggles. He’s so much bigger than Arthur, you don’t like the odds. You start down the stairs, needing to help, though you’re not sure what you can even do besides shoot him. As soon as you lift your foot to step down the stairs, Charles grabs your arm, shaking his head. 

“Let it go, he’s got this.” Charles mumbles, voice calm as ever. Your eyebrows draw together as you look between the two men. It doesn’t appear that Arthur can beat this guy. Arthur is pinned to the ground on his side, throwing his elbows up to get Tommy off of him. 

“Charles- please,” You beg, trying to pull away from his large hand. Charles steps in front of you, a voice of reason. His eyes show understanding. 

“I know. But I’ve seen Arthur fight many times. He’ll get the bastard, and if he can’t he’ll ask for help.” Charles explains, and you nod, biting your lip.

Arthur kicks Tommy in the groin, right where it hurts, getting enough time to slip out from underneath him. Arthur shoves Tommy onto the ground, and he splashes in the mud. Immediately Arthur straddles Tommy, beating him senseless. Your jaw drops as he delivers hit after hit. He’s lost in a sort of… frenzy, blood boiling as he thinks about Tommy pushing you against the bar and talking to you like that. He beats, and beats and beats, until the crowd of people watching slowly file away, stomachs turning as Tommy becomes unrecognizable. 

“Arthur, stop!” You holler from the stairs, shaking free from Charles’ grip and jogging down the steps. Arthur doesn’t even hear you, and you recoil at the wet sound of bones cracking against Arthurs fists. Tommy has stopped fighting, his hands were once shielding his face but now they lie at his sides. You’re almost certain he’s dead. 

“Arthur, stop!!” You scream, stepping behind him and pulling on his leather suspenders. Eventually, Arthur is drawn back to the present by your voice. He looks down to his aching fists, torn up and soaked in blood. When he turns to you, the look of fear and unrecognition on your face causes his heart to sink. 

You back away, fear turning to fury as you see what he’s done. Arthur stands up, looking like a monster, caked in mud and blood with purple splotches where bruises are beginning to form along his knuckles. 

“What in the hell, Arthur?!” You yell, louder than intended, and you’re grateful that the townsfolk have gone back indoors. Arthur feels bad that you had to see that, but he doesn’t regret it. Tommy’s breath rasps behind Arthur as he approaches you, and you let out a breath of relief that he’s alive. 

“He was hurtin’ you.” Arthur growls, pointing a finger to you, “Sides, he threw the first punch. Tossed me out the goddamn window.” Arthur hisses, rage still unquelled as he turns back to Tommy. A small, sick looking man with a kind voice helps the beat man to his feet. 

“I had it Arthur!” You yell, shocked that of all the people he was treating you like you needed saving. He knows better, knows you can handle your own. Arthur steps forward with a threatening stance, and an anger not directed at you. 

“Did you have it, Star? Cause how I see it, he was about to bend your wrist to his will.” Arthur huffs, as if you’re being completely unreasonable. Javier whistles lowly, stepping back into the saloon with Charles and Bill.. 

“I didn’t ask for your help, I ain’t a damsel in distress.” You bite, grabbing Arthur by his mud caked shirt and pulling him away from the road to the sidewalk. You lead him down the wooden walkway, leading him away from everyone's eyes. You’re forced to stop, turning around when he stops  in his tracks. 

“What is your problem? I helped you.” 

You sigh, a humorless laugh coming from your lips. 

“No Arthur, you damn near killed a guy in the center of town and for what? Cause he was bothering me?”

Arthur purses his lips, looking into your eyes with an intense amount of emotion. 

“Star, I heard what he said to you. Talkin’ to you like- like you were a goddamn object, somethin’ to pick up from the store.” Arthur says, low.

Something pangs in your heart, realizing that for him it's instinctual, the need to protect the ones he cares about. The little anger you were holding onto melts away, and you nod lightly, reaching out to offer Arthur’s hand a gentle squeeze. When you do, he takes your hand in his, not letting it go. 

“I'm sorry. I know you can handle your own, I do. It’s just, seeing him on you like that it just- I wanted to kill him Star. I wouldn’t have stopped if you didnt pull me away.” Arthur says, voice harboring a threatening edge. You swallow thickly at the implications of his words, trying not to overthink his protectiveness over you.

“We’ll work on it. I think we both have a pretty strong disposition to anger.” You chuckle, thankful for the shift in mood. You don’t like arguing with Arthur, it feels… wrong. 

“Now go on, get. You smell like sheep and mud, go take a bath. I'll bring you some clothes over.” You shoo the smelly man away, chuckling as he smiles back at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Always impressed with your manners, woman.” He chastises. 

“Oh hush up, you love it.” You joke, and he doesn’t deny it. 

You feel a weight lifted off your shoulders as you walk across the road to the general store. Even when you’re upset with each other, Arthur is easy to talk to. You understand his battle, part of him wants to do good, and the other part is overcome with anger and aggression. It’s an inner turmoil that is hard to quiet. You know the feeling.

You’re about to push the general store door open when an unfamiliar accent calls out a familiar name. 

“Where's Arthur?” A man says, with a heavy transatlantic accent, and you turn around to spot the source. A pale man with dark hair and a dark suit is chatting with Javier and Charles on the walkway. With your eyebrows drawn together, you approach them.

“Charles…?” You question, wondering who this too well dressed man is. He seems like a businessman, and him asking for Arthur could certainly be bad news. 

The man turns his attention to you then. 

“Oh and we have a new stray I see! Pleased to meet you. Josiah Trelawny.” He introduces himself, “Might I have your name, dear girl?” 

You squint your eyes, not trusting Josiah. He looks like a snake oil salesman, a fraud. It’s probably why he’s invested in the Van der Linde’s. You don’t trust him enough to tell him your real name, so you go with your newest alias. 

“Star…” You whisper as Josiah takes your hand away from your side, bringing it up to his prickly lips to plant a kiss over your knuckles. You were never one for fancy manners, and pull your hand back quickly once he’s finished. 

“What a peculiar title for a lady such as yourself.” 

You’re not exactly sure what he means by that, but you need to get to the general store lest Arthur come out of the hotel naked as the day he was born or back in those ruined clothes. You’re just about to tip your hat when Trewlny grabs your attention.

“I'm afraid this isn’t just a social call. It would appear that I found young Sean.” He says, exaggerating his words and talking with his hands. Your movements still. 

“Sean?” You breathe out, you thought he was dead. 

“Where is he? Anything on Mac?” Charles crosses his arms over his chest, just as shocked as you are. 

“No, just the Irishman I’m afraid. He’s with Ike Skelding’s boys. They’re bringing him up the Upper Montana River in a few days time. Get Mr. Morgan, and I’ll meet you all there in a few days. In the meantime I have some business to attend to in Strawberry.” 

You look to Charles, shocked. Ike Skelding runs a nasty, big group of bounty hunters. You’re surprised they haven't handed Sean in yet, unless they’re using him as leverage, but whatever the reason, some weight lifts off your shoulders. 

“I’ll tell Arthur.” You nod to the men, heading into the general store. 

“Do give him my best!” Trelawny yells after you. 

You don't spend much time in the general store, picking a few basic items from the catalog. You buy him a jade green shirt and a black pair of jeans along with some new socks. It's a decent outfit that’ll keep him warm and dry, which to your growing embarrassment is something you care about now. With the neat little pile of clothes and your handwritten receipt, you thank the shop owner kindly and go to the hotel. 

This time you creak the door open instead of slamming it, but the hotel clerk still looks a little afraid of you. You can’t help but smirk, reassuring him. 

“Just here to bring these to my friend. He should have come in a bit ago for a bath…?” You ask, not sure where the bathroom is. The clerk loses some of the tension in his shoulders as he points down the hall to his right. 

“Just down the hall, miss, second door. But don’t go causing any trouble now!” He hollers after you as you follow his directions, and you wave him off.

You come up to the wooden door labeled with a little bathtub icon, and from inside you can hear some water sloshing around, alongside some humming. You can’t help the smile that blossoms across your face, and you lean on the door for just a few moments to listen to his low singing. 

“My love for you- hmm hmm hmm,” Arthur seemingly forgets some words, “Im a rabble rouser n’ Dixie’s my home…” Arthur sings and hums along, and for a moment everything seems at peace. You chuckle, not wanting to stand outside the door like a creep for too long, before knocking on the door lightly. 

“You decent?” You ask, interjecting Arthur’s song. He coughs awkwardly, attempting to cover up his little tune. 

“Uh, yeah. Come on in.” Arthur responds from the other side of the oak door and you push it open.

The bath house is nice. There's a fireplace in the corner with a little fire going inside it, casting the room in a low orange light. There’s also some candles sitting around, flickering with the draft you’ve let in from the door. It’s warm in the room, and you notice Arthur in the bath. You almost stop, breath hitching in your throat when you see him. His skin is wet, and the reflection of the candlelight causes it to glisten. The bath bubbles and water cover any indecent bits, but his chest and torso stick out from the water, an arm draped over either side of the bath. You’ve never realized how strong he is. His muscles are toned to perfection, signaling a life of hard work. Wet, glistening, sandy blonde chest hair trickles down his torso, trailing under the bubbles to where you cannot see. He looks… beautiful. He would die of embarrassment if he ever knew you correlated him and the word beautiful together but its true.

“...Cat got your tongue?” Arthur chuckles as you stand in the doorway. There's some bubbles in his hair that have proven to be quite distracting as you pull yourself from your thoughts. 

“Yeah, sorry. Was lost in my head.” You whisper, walking towards a little wooden bath stand beside Arthur and placing his clothes down. 

“Nothin’ fancy but they’ll be comfortable.” You offer Arthur a sweet smile before heading back towards the door. As silly as it sounds, you don’t want to leave. You want to stay in this warm room in the company of Arthur. A bittersweet feeling pulling on your heart as you grab the door handle. 

“Wait.” Arthur breaks the silence, and you crane your neck around to look at him. The look in his eyes, it scares you. Not because you’re frightened, but because his green irises look after you with an emotion so deep that you fear if you gaze into them for too long you may never come back up. 

“Hmm?” You hum, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. 

“Will you c’mere? Just for a minute.” Arthur whispers, and with your eyebrows pulled together, you oblige. You sit on your knees on the wooden floor beside the bathtub, leaning onto the metal tub with your elbow. From the proximity you can smell the soap that Arthur uses, and you find the scent to be intoxicating. 

“What is it Arthur?” You say on a breath, your heart beating quickly. The room is so quiet, all you can hear is his breathing, and the quiet slosh of water as his hand grips onto the side of the tub, merely inches from your own. 

Your eyes flutter down to the juxtaposition of his hand and yours. 

“I’m sorry.” Arthur says, and you can tell by the fall of his shoulders, by the look in his eyes that he’s sincere. 

“I shouldn’t have doubted you. I just-” Arthur’s hand curls into a fist, as a distaste rolls over his tongue, “I saw you there, pressed up against that bar, and after what just happened with Tilly and Karen, with that guy hittin’ you,”' Arthur's wet hand comes up to your face, and he runs his thumb across the purple bruise, leaving a wet trail.

“He deserved what he got, Star.” Arthur growls, his hand resting back down on the lip of the bath. 

He’s right. Those men all deserved punching, but Arthur shouldn’t be making that decision, especially not now. The gang is hardly back on its feet. 

“I know, but you can make excuses for why each action is worth it, just… Please don’t hurt people, not for me. I ain’t worth it.” You whisper. Arthur’s eyebrows furrow, and his heart aches in his chest. 

“Don’t say that, Star…” Arthur’s hand snakes to rest on top of yours, the other is still pressed against your cheek so gently.

“I know how you feel. I feel it too, that rage, where all you can do is fight.” Your gaze draws downwards, and you focus on your and Arthur’s connected hands, “I felt that with my Pa. And I felt it just about every day till you saved me.” You play with Arthur’s hand to distract yourself from the rough topic. Arthur doesn’t mind, letting you trace stars over his palm as you talk. The words ‘you saved me’ reverberate in his head and he wants nothing more than to laugh, to tell you that you saved him. He curses the tub, wanting nothing more than to envelop you in his arms right now. To hell with his rules, his codes. You’ve broken every wall around his heart. 

“That anger… you gotta control it. Cause you’ll be a different man if you don’t, a bad man, and I don’t think you want that.” You finish, finally looking up into Arthur’s ocean colored eyes. 

“Don’t you think it’s too late for that? I ain’t a good man, Star.” Arthur self deprecates, a habit that he’s all too familiar with. 

“You ain’t a bad man neither, Arthur. Now's the time to start changing the way you do things. I need to, too.”

Arthur sighs, as if thinking over your question. You won’t force him, you can’t, it’s his decision who he wants to be. But you’ve been offered kindness, by him, the girls, by John and Abigail and your heart is beginning to melt, its icy layer of defense begins to slip, and as much as your brain begs you to come to your senses and bottle up, your heart seeks more. 

Arthur’s large, warm hand cups your good cheek, and he leans towards you, resting his forehead on yours, your eyes slip closed as butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“I don’t know if I-” Arthur starts, but you cover his hand with your own on your cheek, leaning into his touch. 

“For me? Please.”

Arthur nods lightly against your forehead. 

“For you.” 

A tear slips down your cheek, as Arthur’s breath swirls around your face, causing your heart to thud loudly. He’s so close, and you watch as his flicker to each of your irises before trailing down to your lips. You gasp quietly, a little breathy noise as you realize what’s about to happen. His hand is still warm against your cheek, anchoring you. Leaning into him, your noses brush against each other, and you tilt your head, lips parted,  just a breath away from his. 

Two loud knocks come against the door, breaking the moment, and you gasp, pulling away from Arthur as clarity bleeds into you. You almost kissed him. You chastise yourself for breaking all your rules, a panic setting over you as you swallow thickly. 

“You want some help in there? A Deluxe bath is only fifty cents.” A bath maid calls from the other side of the door. Arthur clears his throat, eyeing you with worry before responding. 

“No thanks.” He says, curtly. His eyes are wide in shock as he reaches out to you. You wipe at your eyes, standing up from the floor. You hear her footsteps dissipate, and you turn back to Arthur, riddled with anxiety at your loss of self control. 

“I uh- here I’ll just leave your clothes.” You say, patting the pile with blushed cheeks before moving towards the door. Arthur’s head is hung, and he feels like a damn fool. 

“Star– just wait.” He asks, but you only smile, as if nothing has happened. 

“It’s fine Arthur just uh, meet me back at camp, yeah?” You utter, pushing the door open and slipping out. After the door has been pulled back shut, Arthur rests his head in his hands, cursing himself. 

— — — —

The ride back was a quick one. You wasted no time, spurring your horse, using the ride as a distraction from your plaguing thoughts.

 Now, you pace back and forth in front of the campfire, contemplating every decision you’ve ever made. It’s later in the night, and Arthur hasn’t come back yet. The only one awake besides you is Hosea. He’s sitting at the log near the campfire, nose deep in a book, although for the past ten minutes he’s been watching you pace.

All this time, all this damn time you’ve spent building up these walls and he’s gone and crumbled them. You don’t want to hurt him, and you don’t want to get hurt either. You can’t allow yourself relationships like this. Relationships are used against you, love is a weakness. You try to convince yourself, failing miserably. 

“Dear girl, what is it? You’re halfway to a marathon with all that pacing.” Hosea watches you walk back and forth, dropping his book to the ground. Exasperated, you toss your hands up into the air. 

“Boys! Men! Ugh, Hosea, they’re just- UGh!” You groan, rolling the pen from Jimmy Brooks between your fingers to keep them busy.

“Oh don’t I know it. We’re nothing but fools,” Hosea pats the open seat beside him on the log, “What happened? Come sit, let an old man lend an ear.”

You sit down on the log next to Hosea, resting your head in your hands. 

“Arthur got into a fight at the saloon because there was a guy badgerin’ me. He almost killed the guy, but me n Arthur talked about it and- and I almost kissed him, Hosea.” 

Hosea’s eyebrow pops up in surprise, with a question. 

“Almost?” He asks, and you nod. The embers from the fire pop and glow, and you fixate on them with glazed over eyes. 

“I left, I ran away.” You almost cry, but hold in the emotion. 

“Why? You afraid?” Hosea asks, but there is no judgment to his question, he is only curious. You nod, biting your lip so hard that it almost draws blood. 

“Terrified.” You admit, feeling a release of tension from admitting your fear. 

“I understand, kid, I do… Say, Arthur ever told you about my Bessie?” Hosea asks, a little smile cracking onto his lips as he holds his hands over the fire to warm them. You shake your head, never having heard Bessie mentioned before. Hosea smiles, and chuckles at a memory. 

“Bessie was my wife. A lot like you, y’know.” Hosea cracks his knuckles over the fire, warming his bones, “Smart as a whip, a damn good thief, and lovely company. I loved that woman so much.” Hosea smiles, a glint of a tear in his eye that disappears when he blinks.

You wonder what happened to her, what tragedy befell her. 

“What happened…?” You ask, quietly, not wanting to upset the man. 

“She got sick, I’m afraid, real sick.” Hosea thinks over memories of Bessie, cracking a smile again. 

“She was like you, hesitant to love.” Hosea adds, and you roll your eyes. 

“Who said anything about love?” You sigh, standing up from the log. 

“Dear girl, lying to yourself just makes it harder, trust me.” Hosea says as you dip your hat. 

“I’ll keep that in mind…Night Hosea, thanks for the chat.” You say a bit curt, ready to end the conversation and go to bed. 

— — —

Thunder roars, shaking the ground as you toss and turn in your sleep. Lightning strikes in the valley, illuminating the sky in bright light for a portion of a second before a loud boom sounds out. Cold sweat clings to your skin as you tangle and untangle your legs from the sheets, mind far away, caught up in awful nightmares. You’re back in Blackwater, standing in the street. The town is empty, cold and quiet. On one side of the road is a doe, she's beautiful, a fawn colored coat, with some white dapples still, she's young. You call to the doe with a smile, whistling to her. Suddenly, a growl sounds out, and you turn to meet a coyote. The coyote is stalking the doe, creeping up on her in a predatory position. She's oblivious. The coyote is dark and shifty, and the more you call for the doe, the less she seems to hear you. The coyote pounces, and you gasp, turning around to shield your eyes from what has befallen the poor deer. After a moment of quiet, you turn back around to see.

The setting is the same, the atmosphere is different. You’re in Blackwater, but now you’re right back in the middle of the ferry robbery. In your dream you’re not robbing it, you're a passenger. You sit in a seat with the other oblivious passengers, trembling as men board the ferry: Dutch, Javier, Micah. They enter loudly, scaring and confusing people, creating chaos. Dutch comes straight up to you, bandana over his face as he aims his gun right at your temple. You hear it click once, the damning sound of the hammer being pulled back. 

“Do it Dutch.” Micah growls, right in Dutch’s ear, and you hyperventilate. 

BANG! 

You scream, sitting straight up in your cot, waking up. Immediately, you want light, want to be able to see, so you strike a match, lighting a candle on your bedside table before swinging your legs off the bed and heading towards the tent flap, you could use a walk. 

Just as you pull the canvas back, you run smack into Arthur’s chest and you gasp. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” You gasp. Arthur’s hands lightly grip your arms as he runs his eyes over you, checking. 

“You scared the shit out of me, I heard you scream. What’s wrong? You hurt?” Arthur whispers, looking over you before flickering his eyes to your own. You shake your head, avoiding his eyes that seem to be begging for your gaze.

“Why don't you come sit, I kept the fire goin.” He adds, gesturing to the main campfire. You look to the fire, then back to your bed and realize you don't feel like being on your own right now. So with a sheepish nod you follow him. 

Arthur sits down on the ground, his back against one of the large logs around the fire. He’s sitting on a large cattle pelt, and there's plenty of room, so you sit beside him, leaning back against the log. Neither of you mention the almost kiss, you want to apologize, to explain yourself, but now's not the time. Now, you want to distract yourself from your nightmares. Your eyelids are heavy from the poor sleep you’ve gotten, and you sniffle, watching the fire.

“You okay?” Arthur asks, worried about you. 

You only nod, looking up to the cloudy night sky. Arthur’s never seen you so quiet. He wants to mention the bath, wants to apologize for overstepping, but first he wants to make sure you’re alright.

“You can talk to me, y’know.” Arthur whispers, eyes meeting yours. You nod, knowing he’s right. Your fingers prod at a little hole in your jeans as you think over your words.

“I guess I just- well I’ve been havin’ nightmares.” You respond, a little embarrassed to admit, and immediately you try to toughen your resolve, “But I ain’t- I don’t need coddled or nothin.”

Arthur shakes his head, sliding closer to you. 

“I ain’t judgin’ Star. You don’t gotta defend yourself, it’s just me.” Arthur calms you, and you nod. 

“Mostly Blackwater… Everyone else seemed to move on from it so quickly but I just- I can’t shake it.” You admit, squinting your eyes shut for a moment. A pang of guilt strikes Arthur in the chest. 

“I'm sorry I wasn’t there for you, I shouldn’t have left you there.” Arthur curses himself, and you rush to reassure him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“It was my fault. I was supposed to go get Hosea but I saw… I saw the boat go up and I had to help, I couldn’t just leave them.” You mutter, tears welling in your eyes. Arthur places his arm around your shoulders so you’re more comfortable, and your eyes slip shut. 

“I'm sorry you had to see all that..” Arthur whispers, running his thumb up and down your arm. 

“I can handle it.” 

“I know you can, I know- but you shouldn’t have to.” He sighs. 

You’re all too content, nuzzled into the side of Arthur Morgan, his arm draped over you. And even with all this you can’t define what you want, or what the two of you have. It’s all too confusing, but for now this is nice, just allowing yourself to be comforted. 

It isn’t long before Arthur hears your light snores, and he glances down to see you sleeping comfortably, tucked into his side. The fire still burns in front of you both, but even if it weren’t, you would be toasty warm, heated by Arthur. Labels are difficult, relationships are difficult. But whatever you two have right now… this companionship, it’s good. 

“Oh, what am I gonna do with you, Star?” Arthur sighs, running his hand up and down your arm, pulling you tighter into him.