#morgan used a coffee cup twice to get damning leads

[theearthmagicguy]

Fuck I just remembered this shot while I was thinking about the unholy trinity of York Morgan, Harry Dubois, and Brent Halligan.

It was from reddit years back, here:

For anyone who's wondering why hitlers there, uh, Persona 2. I oughta go through that game properly. It's pretty easy to emulate, you can do it on your phone if you have space.

[oddcoupler222]

Do you have any book recs like yours and w. epic love scenes like yours?

I appreciate anything I’ve written being called epic in any way :) 

I don’t really know if I could accurately compare any books I’ve read to my own but I do have some book recs that I adore! I’ll give you my top ten lesfics for some variety

- Behind the Green Curtain by Riley LaShea (my ultimate fave romance)

When Caton’s sleazy boss offers her a position as his wife’s personal assistant, she accepts the job with reservations, certain Jack Halston has ulterior motives. After meeting Jack’s wife Amelia, though, it’s Caton’s motivations that begin to unravel. As vicious as she is beautiful, Amelia threatens Caton’s position and her sense of decorum. As the attraction between the two women spirals into a torrid affair, Caton is drawn deeper into Jack and Amelia’s world of privilege and prestige, where everything is at stake and nothing is what it seems. 

- All That Matters by Susan X  Meagher

Life is going damned well for Blair Spencer. She's a very successful real estate agent, happily married to a man who encourages her to live the independent life she loves; and they're actively working to have a baby. The wrench in the works is that Blair favors adoption, while her husband David desperately wants to have a biological child. The fates are against them, and they finally seek the help of a group of reproductive specialists. One of the doctors, a surgeon named Kylie Mackenzie, eventually becomes a good friend to Blair. And she needs all of the friends she can get when things start to go horribly wrong at home. As her marriage teeters on the brink of collapse, she relies more and more on Kylie's friendship. Kylie's happily gay; Blair's happily straight. But the way they structure their relationship leads friends and family to privately question whether the pair is setting themselves up for heartache. They eventually come to a crossroads, which could either destroy their friendship or turn it into what each of them has been seeking. The question is whether each woman can change her view of herself and her needs. The answer is all that matters.

- Alone by EJ Noyes 

Half a million dollars will be Celeste Thorne’s reward for spending four years of her life in total isolation. No faces. No voices. No way to leave.

Since Celeste has never really worried about being alone, the generous paycheck she’ll receive for her participation in the solitary psychological experiment seems like easy money.

When she finds an injured hiker in the woods bordering her living compound, her strictly governed world is thrown into disarray. But even as she struggles with the morality of breaking the rules of the experiment, Celeste can’t deny her growing attraction to the kind and enigmatic Olivia Soldano. Still, how much can you really trust a stranger? And how much can you trust yourself when you know all the faces you’ve seen and voices you’ve heard for the past three years have only been your imagination?

But what’s real? Celeste’s reality may lie somewhere between the absolute truth and a carefully constructed deception. (the concept of this is just INcredible. and the execution as well - perfect)

- The Goodmans by Clare Ashton

The lovely doctor Abby Hart lives in her dream cottage in the quintessential English border town of Ludbury, home to the Goodmans. Maggie Goodman, all fire and passion, is like another mother to her, amiable Richard a rock and 60s-child Celia is the grandmother she never had. But Abby has a secret. Best friend Jude Goodman is the love of her life, and very, very straight. Even if Jude had ever given a woman a second glance, there’d also be the small problem of Maggie – she would definitely not approve. But secrets have a habit of sneaking out, and Abby’s not the only one with something to hide. Life is just about to get very interesting for the Goodmans. Things are not what they used to be, but could they be even better? (there are not one but TWO perfectly written romances intertwined in this *chef kiss*)

- Pretending in Paradise by M Ullrich

When travelwisdom.com assigns PR specialist Caroline Beckett and travel blogger Emma Morgan to cover a hot new couples retreat, they're forced to fake a relationship to secure a reservation. Ten days in paradise would be a dream assignment, if only they'd stop arguing long enough to enjoy it. Reputations are Caroline's business. Too bad she was forced out of her previous job when an ex smeared hers all over the office grapevine. She's never getting involved with a coworker again, especially not one as careless and unprofessional as Emma. Emma knows that life is too short to play by the rules. But when she goes too far and a defamation lawsuit puts her job in jeopardy, she has to make nice with Caroline, the image police, and deliver the best story of her career.

Only pretending to be in love sure feels a whole lot like falling in love. When their story goes public, ambition and privacy collide, and their chance at making a fake relationship real might just be collateral damage. (there’s just SOMETHING about this that is super freaking cute)

- The Brutal Truth by Lee Winter

Australian crime reporter Maddie Grey is out of her depth in New York, miserable, and secretly drawn to her powerful, twice-married, media mogul boss, Elena Bartell, who eats failing newspapers for breakfast. As work takes them to Australia, Maddie is goaded into a brief, seemingly harmless bet with her enigmatic boss—where they have to tell the complete truth to each other. It backfires catastrophically.

A lesbian romance about the lies we tell ourselves.

- The Red Files by Lee Winter (kudos to her for being the only author that makes it to this list with two separate books)

Ambitious Daily Sentinel journalist Lauren King is chafing on LA’s vapid social circuit, reporting on glamorous A-list parties while sparring with her rival—the formidable, icy Catherine Ayers. Ayers is an ex-Washington political correspondent who suffered a humiliating fall from grace, and her acerbic, vicious tongue keeps everyone at bay. Everyone, that is, except knockabout Iowa girl King, who is undaunted, unimpressed and gives as good as she gets. One night a curious story unfolds before their eyes: One business launch, 34 prostitutes and a pallet of missing pink champagne. Can the warring pair work together to unravel an incredible story? This is a lesbian fiction with more than a few mysterious twists. (as someone who is usually pretty bored by any plot other than the romance, I actually enjoyed this mystery)

- Tricky Wisdom/Tricky Chances by Camryn Eyde

(for tricky wisdom)  Darcy Wright is a closeted lesbian who has been infatuated with her best friend, Taylor, since junior high. Leaving her small northeast Minnesota town for Harvard in a quest to become a doctor, she moves in with med-student Olivia Boyd, a neurotic, anal, gigantic pain in the backside. The first year of juggling medical school is grueling, but it’s nothing compared to living with Olivia.

Coming out to her friends and family with an anti-climactic flop, Darcy uses her newly publicized sexuality to try and win Taylor’s affections through an ill-hatched scheme that crosses uncomfortable lines. The result is as unexpected to Darcy as Darcy’s affinity for medicine is to Olivia.

The first year of medical school is a nerve-wracking encounter in medicine, learning lessons the hard way, and finding what her heart desires.

Tricky Chances is the sequel to Wisdom, but it’s the only lesfic sequel that i truly felt added to the first one and was just as gripping! Plus, the first book is only 48k words so the followup is perfect to come right after

- Who’d Have Thought by G Benson

Top neurosurgeon Samantha Thomson needs to get married fast and is tightlipped as to why. And with over $200,000 on offer to tie the knot, no questions asked, cash-strapped ER nurse Hayden Pérez isn’t about to demand answers.

The deal is only for a year of marriage, but Hayden’s going into it knowing it will be a nightmare. Sam is complicated, rude, kind of cold, and someone Hayden barely tolerates at work, let alone wants to marry. The hardest part is that Hayden has to convince everyone around them that they’re madly in love and that racing down the aisle together is all they’ve ever wanted. What could possibly go wrong? (this book comes in 9th because i don’t love it QUITE as much as i do all the others, but it was the one that got me into lesfic so! it’s good stuff)

And in a guest pick from the only other voracious lesfic reader i know, @debbie-eagan - 

Beautiful Dreamer by Melissa Brayden - 

Philadelphia real estate broker Devyn Winters is at the peak of her career, closing multimillion-dollar deals and relishing it. She’s pretty much blocked out her formative years in Dreamer’s Bay, where the most exciting thing to happen was the twice a year bake sale. Unfortunately, a distress call hauls her back home and away from the life she’s constructed. Now the question is just how long until she can leave again? And when did boring Elizabeth Draper get so beautiful?

Elizabeth Draper loves people, free time, and a good cup of coffee in the warm sunlight. In the quaint town of Dreamer’s Bay, she’s the only employee of On the Spot, an odd jobs company. She remembers Devyn Winters as shallow in high school, but now everything about Devyn makes her lose focus. Though her brain knows Devyn is only home temporarily, her heart didn’t seem to get the memo (I’m personally not a huge Brayden fan but a lot of other lesfic readers are so I reached out for a second opinion on this matter)

I hope you enjoy!

[patchoulimademoiselle]

Guilty. (Part 8.)

Part Eight.

Steve Rogers (Lawyer AU) x Reader Insert. 

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: NONE. Tony is a bit of an asshole to Steve. Morgan is precious, and not to be dramatic or anything but Y/n would die for her. 

Notes: This series is just about half way done! 

Masterlist.

Part Eight: 

"You sound miserable. Does you're boyfriend know that you're calling me?" Much to your annoyance, Tony's voice is like a breath of fresh air. "What do you want?"

You hate that he can see through you before you can get out more than a greeting. You're leaning over your desk, legs crossed at the ankle, a little notepad in front of you just in case. You have Wanda in the corner sorting files, a bored expression on her face, and you almost feel guilty for keeping her so distant from real work.

You still aren't sure what to do with her, knowing that he brother is actively working against your case, you can't bring yourself to include her in anything that's actually constructive. It's cruel, seeing her in a position that you were in years ago, knowing that you're stunting her development on purpose.

"No one knows, actually." You say. "Can we meet? I can't say this over the phone."

Wanda's eyes float over to you, just for a second, but long enough for you to catch.

She's watching you.

"At noon." He says. "Bringing Natasha? Sorry, Pep will want to prepare something."

"Maybe." You nod, because it works out. You were planning to speak with her anyway. "If I can convince Rogers, will you let him come?"

You hear his heavy sigh, "If you can convince him." He agrees, and the smile that coats your face would have been priceless if he could have seen it.

He hangs up before you can say anything in reply, and you're starting to get used to it. He reminds you of Steve in a way, gruff, to the point, never one to beat around the bush unless there's a reason to.

You send Steve a text, telling him about your meet with Tony at twelve, and while you wait, you text Natasha, asking her to tag along. Her response is immediate, which tells you that she's either bored or missing you, and it lightens your mood to know that you might be able to consider her a friend after all of this is over.

You pack up your files and your notes, as discreetly as possible, but either way, it brings Wanda to the front of your desk, hands clasped in front of her.

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

The question makes your blood run cold, because you don't know what to say to her. You haven't talked to Steve about it any further, and you don't want to give anything away that you shouldn't.

So you do your best to smile, glancing up at her, "Doing what?"

"Being distant." It sucks, because you see yourself in her, young and eager to please, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No," You stop to face her, "This case is just more taxing than I thought it would be." You admit. "I'm sorry that it seems as if I'm neglecting you as my assistant."

You nods, "Let me help. Those files are years old, they'll be up for shredding, I know you're just trying to keep me out of the way." She says, and it burns you that she's too clever for her own good. "Let me help."

"You're not ready." You feel an old sense of yourself shatter at your own words, Steve's stern guidance passed on to you. "Maybe the next one, we're up against something too risky to get you involved."

You hope she understands, you hope that she won't take it personal and will accept your decision. But you recognize the determination in her eyes, the need to prove herself, and you know it will be better to just keep her away.

"Take a couple days off." You say, "Let this blow over."

She says nothing, and so you continue to pack up your work. "Go home."

You know that you may have broken something inside her, or maybe you fed her the right thing, giving her a new sense of drive to work harder for what she wants. Either way, it will come back to bite you in the ass one day soon, you just can't focus on it right now.

Maybe you weren't ready for an assistant yet after all. The timing is wrong, you're working on one of the biggest cases of your career, too busy to teach her anything useful.

She's silent as she packs her bag, leaving your office feeling cold at her abrupt exit. Steve comes in soon after, "What's wrong with her?"

You shake your head, "I'll tell you later. Did you see my text?"

He nods, coming to stop in front of your desk, hands in his pockets. He's cleaned up, hair slicked back and dark with gel, a fresh suit and a crisp tie pressed up to his neck. He still looks tired, he still looks like he's been run over by a car, and you hope that the orgasm you gave him this morning will help him sleep tonight.

Maybe you can give him another before the day is out.

"Yeah, I saw it." He says. "I'm not going."

You suck your teeth, "Why not?"

"I don't need to." He says. "Take your girlfriend instead."

You hum, "I am taking her. I'm going to ask her to testify. But I need you to be on the same page as me. We can cover everything all at once."

He rocks back on his heels, teasing you in a way. "Yeah? Kill two birds with one stone? Is that it?"

Your glare makes him smile. "I'm being serious. If he's going to testify, and you're leading the case, you need to both be on the same page." You say. "Stop using me as your messenger."

He leans over your desk, pressing his palms flat on the surface. "I think someone still has an attitude." He says. "What happened?"

It's beyond annoying that he can see through your moods. It's like you can't have anything that isn't consumed by him. Your thoughts, your emotions, he knows it all. it's suffocating.

"I need a cigarette."

You fish through your bag for one, and a lighter, pushing past him to head for the balcony.

He snorts, following after you. "And a drink."

The rain has stopped, leaving the air feeling crisp and fresh against your face when you step outside, the city below you once again bustling with life. Steve's hands are warm as they find yours, taking the pack of cigarettes from you. He gets one out, places it between your lips, cupping your face to light it for you. Then he takes on for himself.

"I see myself in her, I see you in me." You say, "I'm keeping her at a distance for reasons that she doesn't understand."

He chuckles, leaning against the railing to look at you. "Sounds like you alright." He says. "She'll understand one day, just like you understand now. Most importantly, she might not even realize her brother is working against us. Or what if she does?"

If she does, she has no right to be upset. But you can understand either way. Family over everything, if Steve has asked you to betray someone, you would probably do it in a heart beat, justice be damned. We all have that one person, a weakness, someone you would burn for without a care in the world for the consequences.

"If she does, then she's made her choice and will face the consequences." You say over a cloud of smoke. "I don't blame her, but she can't come anywhere near this case."

He breathes heavily, flicking his cigarette, ash falling between you. "Why do you take it all so personally?"

"Because it is personal." Your words hold a weight that you didn't know they had. "I didn't sign up for this shit. I didn't know that I would constantly be risking everything just to get nothing."

He reaches for your hand, and you take it, enjoying the comfort of his touch.

"Let's go away."

You laugh, breathless and in disbelief.

"I mean it." He says. "After this, let's take a vacation, make good on that promise I made you."

The promise to finally be yours.

"If you're joking, this is cruel, even for you." But you don't pull your hand away, taking a step towards him. "But if you aren't, then I say you let me pick the location."

He smiles at that, cigarette dangling between his lips as he pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head, planning a way to blow the bonus you're probably both going to get for winning this case. If you win the case.

Being able to be together without fear of exposure, without constantly looking over your shoulder or worrying about your credibility. You don't want this to turn into a scandal.

You finish your cigarette, prying yourself free of his grip. You leave him to have a second one, packing up your bag. When he joins you, he dangles his car keys in front of your face, plucking up the old cup of coffee of your desk.

You watch as he sniffs it, taking a testing sip before he takes it to the face.

"No," You push his keys away, pulling out your own. "We're getting Natasha, remember?"

He hums, pocketing his keys, setting down the now empty cup. "Fine. We stopping for food?"

"No." You give him your car keys, heading for the door. "There will be something there for us."

He swears under his breath, trailing behind you as you leave the room, stopping to watch you lock the door behind you.

"Remember to behave." You warn.

He doesn't need to be told twice.

You decide to let him drive, his focus on the wheel and not on the stunning red head who climbs into the back seat of your car. She greets you both with a perfect smile, lips lined in a dark shade of lipstick, chunky sunglasses high on her nose, and you can tell by the way she rubs her temples that she's hung over, and terrible at hiding it.

You offer her you travel sized bottle of Ibuprofen, and she thanks you with a sigh of relief, telling you she had run out and forgotten to grab more.

It makes you wonder if you'll ever have a life like that again, drinking wine at all hours of the day, your biggest worries being forgetting to write something on your grocery list. Natasha was smart to get out, and a part of you feels guilty for dragging her right back into it.

But she doesn't complain, simply observing both you and Steve from the back seat. It's not until you arrive at Tony's home address that she speaks.

"So, you two worked it out?" She asks, attention directed at Steve more so than you. But you answer anyway.

"Something like that."

Steve's eyes narrow, and you don't miss the smile that spreads across her lips. "You took my advice."

You nod, eyes shifting to Steve. "Remember what we talked about. Behave. Pepper is a sweetheart, and Tony is risking a lot to work with us. You do well to keep that in mind when you step inside his home."

Nothing has changed between you, you're still a bit indifferent, this morning changed nothing. You can tell by the way his lip twitches that he wants to retaliate, say something, do something to shift the narrative, to give him even just a little bit of control. But he yields, at your mercy, giving a curt nod and nothing else before parking the car and getting out.

Natasha gives you an impressed look, plucking her shades from her face, passing you your Ibuprofen back. "By the balls indeed." She bites her lip. "You're hot when you take control."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Don't start." You say. "This is serious."

She sighs, preparing herself, face switching to one of unforgiving professionalism. "Yes, it is."

Together, the three of you ascend the step to the front porch, you knock gently, and after a few seconds Pepper opens the door to greet you. She smiles, letting you inside. "Welcome, good to see you both again. I'm glad the weather cleared up a bit." Then her eyes fall on Steve. "Mr. Rogers, a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

"I think Tony is out back, I'm almost done preparing lunch." She says. "You can wait here in the living room if you'd like. Can I get anyone something to drink. Tea? If I remember correctly?"

"Please." Natasha places her hand on the woman's arm. "Thank you."

"I'll have a lemon water, if you don't mind." Steve nods.

"Also tea, please."

You settle in the living room, admiring the decor. It's spotless, and you aren't sure if that's because of Pepper or hired help. Either way, it feels homey, pictures placed on the table beside the couch, a fireplace under the hanging tv, the rug under your feet woven wit neutral tones.

"This isn't what I expected." Steve admits, loosening his tie, settling back on the couch next to you.

"There's a lot about Tony that I didn't expect." You say, glancing at Natasha. "He's not so bad."

"No, he's not." She agrees. "Now before he comes in here, care on filling me in?"

You clear your throat, tugging on your skirt. "I'm going to ask you both to testify in court, then Steve is going to present his case to you." You shrug. "Practice makes perfect."

She hums, crossing her legs at her ankles. "I was afraid of this." She says, "But I'm far too bored to say no. With Tony on our side, there's nothing to fear."

She's too smart to get pinned either way, whatever she was afraid of Tony exposing isn't a threat anymore, not with her on his side and helping him. It's Tony that you're worried about. He doesn't want to be apart of it, that's why he gave you everything on Zeke Stane in the first place. He wanted it to be clear that this had nothing to do with him, he wanted his name cleared. Now here you are in his home, about to ask him to do the complete opposite.

That's why you lawyer'd up, so to speak. You brought both Natasha and Steve, two well educated law students, certified lawyers, who won't miss a single perspective on whatever is about to happen here.

A small shriek of laughter, a little girl comes running into the living room. She stops dead when she sees you three sitting there, suddenly nervous.

Tony appears behind her, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Morgan, these are some of my friends." As he speaks, she looks back at him. "Don't be shy, say hello."

She waves, a small smile on her face, and you decide then and there that you're obsessed with her. She looks just like Tony, brown hair framing her chubby cheeks, no doubt too smart for her own good. She's well behaved, you can tell in the way she stands and waits for instruction, looking back at her father.

"Join mom in the kitchen?" He lets out a puff of air, patting the top of her head as she walks by. The smile on his face is sweet, he's proud of her, you imagine she's the reason he wants this lifestyle. A quiet neighborhood, a small home compared to what he could afford, a simple and discrete life where she can grow up happy and unbothered.

You don't blame him.

"Well," He says, plopping on the couch next to Natasha, "The gang's all here. What's up?" His eyes are on Steve specifically.

"You know what I'm about to ask you."

"And you know my answer." He counters, glancing up as Pepper walks in with a tray of your drinks.

She sets them on the coffee table in front of you, and you thank her as you reach for the tea she prepared for you. It almost surprises you that she doesn't leave the room, moving to stand behind Tony on the couch. Morgan trials after her, clinging to her legs.

"In order to win this case, we have to deconstruct the opposing argument." You say. "Our defense won't make sense unless we discredit theirs."

Tony hums, eyes still not on you as he leans forward.

"Isn't he leading the case? A bit problematic if he isn't allowed to speak." Tony says, and finally, he looks at you, a twinkle in his eyes. "What's the punishment? A week with no sex if he mouths off?" Tony Stark truly is too smart for his own good. He lets out a low whistle. "You've got a tight leash on him."

You can feel the anger radiating in Steve, his presence beside you feels hot, his eyes slitting to a glare.

"Tony, with all due respect." You sigh, pausing to take a sip of your tea. "He is the man leading your case, maybe you should ease up on the wise cracks and consider working with us rather than trying to shake the tree."

"I just want to see what else shakes loose." He says, "I already know your dirty little secret."

It's then that Pepper hits him, hand falling to his shoulder. "Anthony, show some decency. They're our guests, and they're trying to help."

He sighs, eyes pinching shut. Natasha smirks, "Perhaps you're on a tight leash too, Stark?" She reaches for her tea. "I'm going to do it, it makes no sense for you not to. If you say your peace in court things will go in your favor. Why not let the words come from your own mouth?"

It's then that Steve speaks up, leaning forward, "We have one of your former employees to back our case, and now your former lawyer." He gestures to Natasha. "All you have to do is ice the cake."

He groans, leaning back against the couch, eyes closed as he shrugs his shoulders.

He has his reasons, you can see the conflict within him, the struggle between being a father and a business man, a family man and a celebrity in the public eye.

"Fine. Just tell me how you're going to lead, and what I need to say."

You watch as Steve shifts into lawyer mode. He unbuttons his suit jacket, stands in the middle of the room, and lays out his entire argument for you all to hear. Brock Rumlow will testify first, then Natasha, then Tony. Of course each person will be cross examined by Zeke's team, which is expected. But as everyone's truth is laid out for the court room to hear, you expect it to be enough to convince the ruling in your favor.

It goes better than you thought, the hostility easily broken as Steve is allowed to express his confidence and ability in the court room. You trust that things will run smoothly when the time comes, you trust that the people around you will rise to the task at hand, and you have a peace of mind when the visit turns more casual, business out of the way. You all sit on the back porch in the shade, a picnic table unfolded in front of you, a variety of cold cut sandwich placed delicately on a spread with fruits and cheeses.

Pepper is a dear, and you wonder what he life must have been like before Tony.

A question for another time, as the sun get a bit lower in the sky, well into the afternoon, Natasha decides it's time to go,  claiming to have plans for the evening. You aren't sure if she actually does or not, but you know that you've overstayed your welcome when Morgan starts to squirm.

"I'll walk you out." Tony offers, standing.

Pepper stands as well. "I'll clean up. Thank you all for stopping by."

You watch as Morgan tugs on her mother's sleeve, Pepper bends to hear her. "Mommy, what's sex?" You watch as Pepper's expression turns to one of horror, turning to glare at Tony.

Time to take your leave.

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

Guilty Masterlist.

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[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x FemOC} Chapter 10

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: None

.....

The next morning was blissfully quiet, everyone going about their business and doing camp chores as per usual. Sitting with Mary-Beth, hand deep in laundry buckets overflowing with soapy water I couldn't help but wonder why there wasn't a sense of urgency after the meeting with those Pinkertons yesterday. With how worried Arthur seemed I was under the impression it was a serious matter that would need to be dealt with in some way. Maybe they were used to this happening, maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal as I perceived it to be.

“Do you read, Miss Bella?” Mary-Beth asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. 

“Sure. Used to always read as a kid.”

“Any of those being romance and love stories? Those are my favourite to read.”

“A few. Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Madame Bovary, although that one is tragic in the end.” I wring out a shirt covered in dirt and even blood from a recent stagecoach job a few of the men went on. I didn't even want to ask whose blood it was. Scrunching my nose in slight disgust and plunging the shirt back into the water to work at it some more.

“I’ve written a few little stories of my own, hoping to write a novel someday.” She smiled sheepishly to me then looking back down to the bucket. Violently scrubbing at something that must also look in the same state as the shirt currently in my hands.

“Haven’t you ever thought of leaving and making a true love story of your own?” I shift my legs from below me to sit more comfortably. The knife I hadn’t yet given back to Arthur after being at the lake slightly stabbing into my ankle from its position in my boot.

“I have once or twice. It’s too dangerous for us ladies being out in the world alone. I don’t know where I would be if Dutch and Hosea didn’t find me a few years ago.”

“What happened?” I look at her now. I had a genuine curiosity when it came to knowing these peoples stories and how they all came together. They all had lives I would only ever hear about in story books or newspapers so being a part of their lives and this merry band of fools was still rather surreal to me. Like one of those dreams that feel so real until you woke up, only I hoped I wouldn’t wake from this due to the fear of waking up back in that house, Frank at my side

“I was getting chased by a few men I had stolen from. I’m a damn good pickpocket but I must have got a bit too confident. Dutch and Hosea saw and helped me get away with them.”

I shot her a smile, both of us continuing with our tasks before Miss Grimshaw made her rounds and scolds us for slacking.

By mid-afternoon when some sense of quiet had fallen within the camp, I made my way to the edge of the camp, sitting upon a rock and looking out over the overlook, coffee in hand. My fingers still shriveled up, resembling raisins from the seeminly never-ending laundry this morning.

“Not thinking of jumping again are you?” Arthur pulls me from my thoughts as he approaches. 

“Not funny. Besides, why would I jump when I have a gun in my possession now?”

He huffs at that, coming over to stand beside me and pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his satchel. Lighting one with a match strike to the rock I was sat on. “You okay after yesterday?”

“Yeah, just,” I bite my lip, thinking of the right words to say “Is nothing going to be done about it? Seems like a serious issue.”

“Dutch says he’s dealing with it.”

I hum at this, trusting his word on the matter.

“Busy today?” I ask, taking a brief sip of my coffee, feeling it flow down my throat and burn slightly.

“Well, had to collect some debt not far from here on behalf of Strauss. Fella was dead already.”

“Have you told Strauss that you didn’t get the money?”

“Nah not yet. Should have forced it from the widow but I couldn’t. Might be legal work but it don’t sit right with me,”

“How so?” 

“Robbing banks and stealing from rich folk is one thing, they have all the money they need while others starve. Strauss picks out those that are starving, those with nothing.”

“Don’t do it then.” I shrug, seemingly pointing out the obvious.

“We need the money.” He shrugs too, taking a drag and blowing out the plume of smoke.

“So do they. Help people as need helping. That’s what you said to me.”

“Ain’t that simple.” he huffs again, this time in frustration.

“I’m still not accustomed to your way of life yet. But, I do have a few questions.”

“Shoot.”

“Five thousand dollars. How on earth did you get a bounty that high?”

“Numerous things. Robberies, killings, hostages.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with that one.” I nod before turning to face him. Arthur swaying slightly with a hand resting on his gun belt before continuing.

“Being Dutchs’ main gun, so they call me, is probably a reason too. I wasn’t involved with the job in Blackwater but my name was mentioned regardless.” He takes another drag before flicking the stub out over the edge.

“What happened in Blackwater?” I ask, my coffee now cooling and long-forgotten, still in the clutches on my hands and perched on my lap. 

And so he told me of what happened. That he had a job with Hosea that seemed like it would work out fine without needing to rob a ferry full of bank money. That the robbery turned into a massacre, swarmed by Pinkertons with no way but to shoot their way out and everyone fleeing for the hills. The hushed words of Dutch killing an innocent woman. Having to escape from Blackwater and the Great Plains and up into the deadly icy mountains, losing most of their possessions, all their money and a few members along the way. Then they ended up here, trying to lay low until they had enough money to leave again. That’s why they planned to rob Frank. Strike up a false business deal and then take what he had at the party all those weeks ago. It was risky but with being so far from Saint Denis they thought it would be worth a shot. They are desperate. “I know plenty of rotten rich folk. If any opportunity comes up for you to rob them. I’m more than happy to give over whatever information I have.”

“Really? You would help us to rob your fancy friends?”

“They ain’t my friends. Like I said, some of them are rotten and deserve it.”

“Sure.”

There were a few moments of silence as he shifted on his feet again. I turned back to the view ahead and then down to the cold cup in my hands, huffing as I flung the liquid out onto the grass at my feet. Might as well get another cup.

“I best go see what John wants in town.”

I nodded with a smile and with that he left and made his way to the horses. Giving his horse a few gentle pats on the neck before mounting up and leaving camp towards Valentine.  

Sitting with Abigail and Tilly at the fire a few hours later, laughing amongst ourselves and sharing a bottle of whiskey, enjoying the easy day it had been. That was until rumbling hoof beats came thundering down the eastern path. Dutch, John and an injured Strauss shouting for everyone to get started on packing up the camp now. Dutch made his way to his tent, Hosea following in quickly behind him. 

With the sudden sense of urgency, everyone stood and started gathering whatever they could around the camp, preparing wagons and disassembling tents. I didn’t really know what to do, so I sought out Grimshaw for orders as she was swiftly moving about the camp, making sure everyone was doing something. She soon presented me with one, helping Pearson pack up the food wagon and to make sure nothing is left behind. I turned on my heels and made a beeline towards the wagon in question wondering what the hell had happened for us to be moving so quickly. Questions for later I told myself as I helped Pearson empty water barrels and pack up all food wares.

It wasn’t long until everything was packed up, evidence that this had been done probably a few times in the past. Dutch had us all follow him in the front wagon, telling us all of a place that has been cleared out for us thanks to Charles and Arthur. I mounted Orion instead of sitting in a wagon with the other girls, staying close behind everyone as we made our way. The new camp sat right by Flat Iron Lake and it didn’t take long to reassemble everything again. Everything back up and running by nightfall.

The next morning everyone seemed to be woken by the brightness dawn brought upon us but the heat that Lemoyne was known for. Everyone was already sweating and agitated, although that agitation could also be down to having to run once again. Getting themselves into more trouble and some worried that it was going to be simply impossible to get themselves out of this hole they are digging for themselves. They believed Dutch would get them all to brighter pastures. A blind loyalty that hasn't failed them before. We were all filled in on the goings-on the day before by word of mouth. A shootout with Cornwalls men, John and Strauss lucky to get out with their lives if it wasn't for Dutchs’ way with words and Arthurs’ way with guns.

A few others planned on heading into the town nearby, Rhodes. To get a feel of the place and scope out any potential jobs or leads. Karen and I sat in the wagon, Arthur and Charles upfront as we made our way to the new town with new possibilities. I had mentioned a previous visit to Rhodes to sell a few horses to the Braithwait family that live nearby. Once at the dusty town of Rhodes, a thankful change from a soiled and shit foul town of Valentine, we all decided to split. Arthur and Charles made their way to the station, Karen towards the parlour house and I made my way to the general store. We were under strict orders not to ask too many questions to prevent bringing any unwanted attention to ourselves. Strangers turning up to this small town asking strange questions would spread quickly here. Three men sat on the stairs of the store, making my way past them without a second thought and entering the small store. A chime above the door alerting the owner as I made my way inside. The place didn't have much but it had the basic necessities. Sauntering around I took in what they had. Coffee, salted meat, tinned fruit, fresh produce, a few tonics and...chocolate bars. The corners of my mouth lifted in a bright smile at the sight of something sweet, oh it had been a good while since I had chocolate and I'm sure $2 for one bar would be worth it. 

I picked up a bar and a box of oatcakes for Orion, swiftly making my way to the counter to ring up my purchases. 

I exchanged pleasantries with the owner, a thin man with sparse hair on his head but an impressively large moustache. He asked if I was staying in town long when the door charm rang out behind me. I paid no mind to the various footsteps I could hear instead y attention was caught when one cleared their throat, prompting me to turn to face them. It was the three men previously sat outside, their attention solely on me.

“You look awfully familiar, Miss” One man said with a slight Irish accent from what I could tell.

“I’m new to town. Just passing through.” I smile slightly 

“A lady shouldn’t be passing through town on her own.” Another man said, stood by the door.

“Oh, I’m not…”

“Why don't you come with us?” The first man drawled, taking slow but confident steps towards me. Instinctively I moved back each time he made a step forwards, quickly being stopped by the serving counter digging into my back. “I...I assure you gentlemen I am... not alone” I stuttered, my eyes swiftly looking towards the windows in the hopes someone, anyone, would make their way over.

“I don't see anyone else here. You're coming with us, missy.” With that, he lurched forward to grab my arms. His grip digging into my flesh as I tried helplessly to push him off. Mentally scolding myself for not bringing my gun with me.

“Get off me!” I squealed, my thrashing no use as one of the other men appeared beside me, tying a cloth around my head and pushing the fabric into my mouth to quell my protests. A black sack following soon after to cover my full head. 

I trashed as hard as I could, kicking the man still gripping my arms so hard I'll for sure be left with bruises. 

“You're making this worse for yourself, missy. And you... say a word of this to anyone and this place will be burned to the ground with you in it!” With that, they began to drag me away through what must have been through the back door, away from the main street. 

My hand got tied together swiftly, the rope burning into my flesh and tears burning down my face. Trying to pull back was useless, digging my heels into the dry dirt a weak attempt to escape their relentless grasps. Hauling me up and onto the back of a horse, the three men laughed as they mounted. Taking me away to god knows where to do god knows what to me.

“Any funny business and I’ll punch seven shades of shit outta you. Give you something to cry about.” The man whose horse I was upon shouted back towards me, thundering hoofbeats ringing out in my ears.

@kashasenpai​

[httpnxtt]

Hold That Thought - III

Author’s Note:

Final Part my lovelies!! I’m sorry for depriving you of a confession twice now…. I had to make Lovie’s man Hotch do it. But, it’s finally here!! Although I’m still totally judgemental of my own work, I am pretty proud of this for being my first fic (: 

Thank you guys for the support on it, I love my discord babies for pushing me to try writing <3

Playlist : My Girl Cover

Previous Parts: Part One , Part Two  

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*** RRIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGGG ***** 

Your phone blasts through the room, cutting Spencer off. You quickly grab the phone to try to silence the call, seeing Aaron Hotchner’s name flash across the screen. 

“I’m so sorry… Hold that thought, Spence?”

“Hotch.. Is everything okay?” you question, answering the phone. Locking eyes with Spence, you see him longing yet annoyed. 

“Of course. We’re on the jet, we just wanted to check in with you, see how you-” your listening is abruptly cut off, seeing Spencer rip your phone from your hand, holding it up to his own ear. 

“HOTCH, GOD DAMN IT I’M TRYING TO TELL Y/N I LOVE HER BUT GET CUT OFF AGAIN BY YOU CALLING!” he yells into the phone, eyes widening as he realizes what he said. He drops the phone onto the bed, staring into your eyes. As you’re looking at each other, you can’t help but hear the team through the phone.

“...... What?” - Hotch

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, my babies, they’re finally getting together. Ahhh! Oh my god!” - Garcia

“YEAAAAAHHHH PRETTY BOY! GET IT!” - Morgan

“Wrap it before you tap it!” - Prentiss

Breaking your trance, you slowly reach down to grab your phone, bringing it back to your ear. 

“Hey guys, I’m gonna have to call you back.” you say just above a whisper. You end the call before you can hear their responses. You and Spencer continue to sit in silence, waiting for the other to speak. 

“I didn’t mean to-” 

“Did you mean-” you both start at the same time. Quietly giggling, you motion for Spencer to speak. 

“I, um, I didn’t mean to yell that out like that. I thought about what I was going to say for a long time, trying to put the right words together to convey exactly how I felt. No combination of words in any language could convey quite how much I care for you. I’ve loved you since you first knocked on my door crying over the storm. I’ve loved you since we sat on my couch until the sun came up laughing and smiling over a bag of jelly beans. I can’t imagine my life without you, jelly bean. I love you.” he looks you in the eye, fumbling with his hands, the only thing signaling his nervousness. You just look at him, pinching yourself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. Quickly, you push yourself onto your knees from your spot, letting your lips touch his as your hands cup his face, the butterflies in your tummy amplifying, feeling as if they’ll burst into the world at any moment. Slowly, Spencer registers the actions, wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you closer so your chests are flush against one another. Your mouths slowly push against each other, treating the other as if they’re fragile glass. Slowly, you both pull away. Opening your eyes, you meet his beautiful doe eyes staring at you like you’re the only thing in the world, and to him… you were. 

“I love you, buttercup. Always have, always will.” you whisper to him, brushing your thumb over his cheek. He presses his cheek further into your hand, moving slightly to press his lips just below your thumb. Gently, he lays you both on the bed, keeping you wrapped in his arms. You continue to look in his eyes, stroking his cheek, a silent conversation flowing between you both. Spencer pulls you closer, your head now resting on his chest hearing his heartbeat again. 

“Go to sleep, jelly bean. I’ll still be here in the morning.” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“Spencer. What does this mean for us?” you ask him in a hushed tone, afraid to look into his eyes. You curl yourself into a ball against his chest. 

“Well, bean. I’m yours, and only yours. At least, if you’d have me. But even then, you’d still own my heart. “ you look up at him, meeting his soft gaze. 

“You’ve owned my heart since I stepped foot in the BAU, Reid. And I don’t think that’ll ever change.” you whisper to him, pressing your lips to his once more. As you let go, you curl back into his chest, letting sleep over take your senses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waking up in the morning, you stretch out, feeling the empty bed next to you. Oh no… was it all a dream? Did you make up the confession, still having to live with the fact that Reid was just your best friend? Before your thoughts can fight their way down the rabbit hole you couldn’t fight your way out of, you hear your hotel room door opening, Reid coming into view a moment later with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Good morning, my little jelly bean. You looked so peaceful sleeping, I figured I would go get some breakfast and coffee for you when you woke up.” He explained, motioning the coffee carrier and bag in his hands. Pulling himself back into the bed, he sat the items down before pulling you into a sweet, gentle kiss. The feeling made every worry you had slowly dissipate. You slowly move into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, keeping him from leaving. He pulls away from your lips, looking at you in awe. When you feel his stubble, a giggle escapes your lips like music to his ears. Quickly, he places little kisses all over your face and neck, erupting the most beautiful laughter that has ever graced his ears. 

“Bean, you should eat before it gets cold.” he whispers against your cheek, leaving a final kiss on the soft skin. He gently pushes you off his lap onto the bed directly next to him, handing you your coffee. He moves slightly to grab the boxes of food, you already missing his touch. He hands you the utensils, already digging into his food. 

“So, what’s your plan for the day, jelly bean?” he asks before shoveling another forkful of food into his mouth. As soon as he asks, he notices the cloud of gloom that seemed to appear over your head. 

“I, uh, I was planning on going to have a picnic with my mom before hitting the road back to Quantico.” you reply, just above a whisper. Spencer reaches his hand out, placing it tenderly on your thigh. He knows this would be difficult for you, but also knew you needed it after the most recent case. 

“It’ll be okay, bean. I’ll go to that coffee shop down the road until yo-”

“Will you come with me?” you burst, interrupting his thought process. You look at him with your sad eyes, your eyes alone practically begging the man you loved. 

“If you want me to, I will. I don’t want to take your time away from her.” he crooned. You push your food aside, climbing back into his lap to wrap your arms around him. 

“I always want you, Spence. But, I could really use the support.” you sniffled, cuddling into the man’s chest. He simply wrapped his arms back around you, swaying side to side to comfort you. 

“Of course, jelly bean. Why don’t you make a list of foods and such for the picnic, I’ll run back to the store while you shower and dress, yeah?” 

“Sounds lovely, buttercup.” you whisper, kissing his cheek, seeing the blush creep across his cheeks lightly. “Can we stay like this for a bit more though? I’m feeling extra cuddly right about now.”

“Whatever your heart desires, my love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You ready?” Spencer questions you, seeing you fiddle with the hem of your sundress. 

“As I’ll ever be.” you murmur, your hand slipping into his, fingers laced together. He leads you out of the room, down to the car as you walk in silence. You’ve never taken your friends to visit your mom, let alone taken your love. The car ride is almost silent, Spencer’s hand gently placed on your thigh as reassurance. Soft music playing through the speakers, you play your song again. The rest of the ride, you listen to the soft melodies, hearing Spencer softly sing along. It filled your heart with so much love to know he remembered all these little things that would make you happy, especially without your mom to do them anymore. As the car pulls into the parking spot, you feel your stomach drop. You felt the desolation you felt so long ago try to resurface, fighting it away to the best of your ability. Spencer jumps out, walking around to grab the basket and open your door for you. As you slide out of the car, Spencer gently places the basket down before encasing your body in his arms in a tight embrace. 

“It’ll be okay, Y/N. You have me, you don’t have to do this alone.” he whispered in your ear as tears threaten to spill. You took a deep breath, nodding into his chest. You look up to him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips before grabbing the basket. With one last deep breath, you tangle your fingers with his, pulling him softly as to follow you across the field. 

Finding the familiar large tree, you stood for a minute, admiring the view. 

“I’ll give you a minute, bean. I’ll be right back.” Spencer says, giving your hand a light squeeze. As he walks away, you sit in the grass next to the large stone slab. 

“Hi Mom.” you whisper, running your hand over the stone. “It’s been awhile. I’m sorry I don’t visit much anymore. Being down in Virginia and always dragged away in cases has my schedule all sorts of crazy. I miss you. Every day. I wish I could say it’s been easier over the years, but it hasn’t really. I made it into the BAU. Just like we worked for. I’ve met some amazing people there. They got me to open up finally. Especially Spencer. That boy is something else. He’s given me butterflies in my tummy since the moment I laid eyes on him. You would love him. He’s quite literally a genius. But, he’s also an awkward nerd at heart which I love about him. He became my best friend when I moved here. He’s taken up and remembered all the things you would do to help me. He even drew my bath for me, just like you did. He sang along to “My Girl”, and read “Rumple Buttercup” to me. Although he questioned the loveable monster throughout the entire story, that's just Spencer. He’s sad that he’ll never properly meet you on this Earth. But, he’s looking out for me, and I love him, momma. He’s my whole world.” you sniffle, letting out a slight giggle at the fact you’re telling a stone about the love of your life. But, you knew somewhere, somehow, your mother was listening. You could feel her. You lifted your hand to wipe at your undereyes, brushing away the forming tears in your eyes. You turn around, looking at Spencer. His curls were blowing every direction in the slight breeze, but he looked relaxed as he looked off at the view. Feeling your gaze, he turns to you flashing a bright smile You giggle, motioning for him to come over. As he draws near, you pull him down to sit with you. “Momma, this is Spencer, my boyfriend.” you said, then turning to look at Spencer. “Spencer, this is my momma.” he smiles at you as he brushes away a lone tear that strayed down your cheek. Taking a deep breath, you pull the basket over, ready to dig into the snacks Spencer brought.

“Wow, Spence, you really went all out.” you giggled, looking into the almost overflowing picnic basket. 

“I had to make sure to grab all your favorites.” he whispered, pressing his lips to your temple. Through the early afternoon, you two munched on snacks, talking back and forth, sharing laughs, maybe shedding a few tears. At one point, you ended up laying your head in Spencer’s lap as he leaned against the tree next to the stone, running his fingers through your hair and scalp. As he felt your breaths begin to deepen, he assumed you were falling asleep. Looking around, he looked at the stone. He knew this woman had meant the world to you growing up, and he could see the pain in your eyes every day that she was gone. Making sure you were asleep, he shifted his focus to the stone in front of him. 

“Hi, Y/M/N. I’m Spencer, although I heard jelly bean here introduce me already. Although I don’t think I was supposed to hear. I’m sorry you aren’t here to see what an amazing woman your daughter has become, but I hope I can be there for her in life. Thank you for pushing her to pursue her dreams. If not, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of falling in love with her since joining us in the BAU. She’s amazing in and out of work. I hope everyday that I am enough for her, and that I can protect her at all means necessary. I hope I have served your memory justice in the time I have known her. I know that “Rumple Buttercup” character and your song mean everything to my jelly bean. But I want you to know that no matter what happens, I will always love your daughter with my entire mind, body and soul. She is the love of my life, and I hope to spend every moment of my life with her.”

As you listen to Spencer’s words, you feel tears slip from your eyes, hitting his leg praying he doesn’t notice. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“I love you, jelly bean.” You couldn’t ask for anyone better. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After waking you up from your nap, Spencer knew you had heard what he said but you both played off as if you had no idea. You both piled into the car around 7, ready for the three hour drive back to Quantico. As Spencer drives, you can’t help but look over at the man who holds your heart. He reaches over with a free hand, grasping your hand. He guides it back to his face, pressing gentle kisses into the back of it. And the rest of the ride continued as such; Sneaky glances, small kisses, and lots of hand holding. 

When you returned around 10:30, Spencer ended up staying the night in your apartment, even as close as his apartment was. You spent the night in a blissful sleep, cuddling your love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you drove to Quantico together as usual, but this time there was more of a pep in your step. As you got ready in the morning, there were plenty of stolen kisses and cuddles, almost making you late for work. On the way, you made sure to stop at the local coffee shop to pick up everyone’s favorite order. Pulling into Quantico, you and Spencer each carried a tray of drinks, your hands intertwined between you. 

Pushing open the doors to the BAU, you were met with stares from your entire team. 

“Pretty Boy finally made a move, huh?” Morgan laughs, clapping a hand onto Reid’s shoulder. The second you sat the tray down on your desk, you were tackled into a bone-crushing hug by none other than Penelope Garcia herself. The entire team was chattering, asking a million and one questions. Quickly hushing their tones as Hotch and Rossi make their way over, they spot Y/N and Reid’s hands still interlocked at your sides, a blush creeping up your neck making its way unto your cheeks. 

“Well it’s about time. You may both be geniuses, but you both are so fucking dumb sometimes.” Hotch says, shooting you both a toothy grin. 

“Looks like a cause for another celebration at my house if you ask me.” Rossi chimes in, resting his hand on your shoulder. And at this moment in time, you felt complete. You had your team, your love, and your mother’s memories. If only you could freeze the moment and hold your thoughts for the rest of eternity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @timey-wimey-lovi @harrys-creature @spencer-reid-in-a-pool @redbullchick @etherealsxnder @samanddeanstolethetardis221b @blushingspencer @palestxrlight

[sweets-fanfics]

Homecoming 23

Title: Oh, give me a break

Wordcount: 2725

Chapter summary: Reader needs a fuckin break

Tags: @rollyjogerjones @bubbles2465

AN: Im sorry its late *bows*

_____________

Arthur had woken me up early a few days later to say he, Bea and Jack were going to go a bit down the river and fish. I had barely nodded and said yes before falling asleep again. Arthur had smirked and kissed my forehead before the three headed out for the day.

When I woke up later in the morning I put my arms up over my head and stretched. I glanced at the entrance feeling someone was standing there. And sure enough. My day was ruined.

“What Micah?” He was leaning on the wagon our tent is connected to and had a smile on his dirty face.

“I just thought I’d come to see how you slept, Princess.” The sincere-ness in his voice made me want to gag.

“It was good till I saw your face just now.”

“So… how are you and Morgan?” I eyed him as I slipped my shoes on over my jeans. 

“We are happily married, Mr. Bell.” I retort in a deadpan tone. “Why?”

“Well, I’ve been speakin’ to your brother and father…”

“Oh god..” I mumble over him.

“We think the Morgan may not be the man for you.”

“And since when do I care about your opinion?” I lean in to look in Arthur's mirror to comb and braid my hair. 

“Well… because you and cowpoke didn’t legally get married.”

“Micah. I have stuff I have to do today so spit it out.”

“Calm down woman, I’m gettin’ to it.” 

I roll my eyes and push past him towards the coffee. To my dismay, he follows.

“Your brother and father and I think it’ll be best you be with someone else.” I throw my head back and let out a loud laugh. 

“Since when do I give a damn about any of y'alls opinion of my love life. You aren’t even my family so I, even more, give no shits about you.” I took a sip of my coffee letting it wake me up.

“Well, your father and brother think you should be with someone like me.” I choked on my coffee and spit at him getting his face and shirt. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Why would anyone curse a poor woman to be with you? God ain’t that cruel.” I finished my cup and started back for my tent.

Micah grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “I already got your daddy’s permission.” He smirked.

Before my mind could even register I socked him in the nose making him fall back into the dirt. “Keep your nasty hands off me.” I turned towards Dutch’s tent where he was hiding. “How about you go to hell with trying to marry me off to this fucking asshole.”

“Daughter…” He started but I cut him off.

“No. I’m married. Not only am I married, but we also have a daughter. I’m not going to ever give Micah the time of day.” I turn towards him still on the floor. “Come near me, Arthur or my daughter again I’ll kill you.” As I turned on my heels back to the tent I saw Arthur with his jaw dropped and Bea in his arms. “Come on, Arthur. Let’s go.”

“Where are you goin’ wifey?” Micah asks getting up. “To look at those properties that rich ass is going to give you?” 

I stop for a moment before pulling out my pistol and aiming it an inch from his head. “You fucking piece of shit.”

“What properties?” Dutch asks walking up. Henry is behind him too. 

Arthur walks up with Bea still in one arm and has his pistol ready just in case. “It’s nothin’ Dutch,” Arthur says.

“You used to trust me, Arthur. You used to be my brother!” Dutch steps forward and I can see Henry has a gun out. Everyone else in camp is frozen not knowing whether to get involved or not. “You have become such a different person.”

“I think it’s best you let us go cool our heads. I don’t want to break a family apart but I insist. It’s the best thing at the moment.”

“You Insist?” Dutch says in disbelief. I feel like at that moment he may shoot Arthur right away, but thankfully, he doesn’t. Instead, he turns towards me. “I don’t want you to leave. I’ve only had you and your brother in my life for a small amount of time. I’m just doing what I think is best.”

“What you think is best? Or what this rat says is best.” I push the barrel closer. Micah just smirks at me, never moving his eyes away. 

“I know you and Arthur just want Bea to have a safe life. Arthur probably wants to protect her more since he already lost a child.”

I stumble a bit and glance at Arthur. “What’s he talkin’ about?” 

Arthur isn’t able to look me in the eye. “I… It’s nothing...” 

“Daughter… let’s not hurt Micah. Especially if you want to keep me happy.”

“Not entirely, right now,” I mumble.

“And let’s forget about those properties. Your place is with us.” I let out a groan and put my gun away before grabbing Bea from Arthur and heading towards Suzie. “Where are you going?”

“Away from this damn camp.” 

Bea looks at me confused as I put her on Suzie and climb up. Arthur hurries up and looks at me. “Y/N, hold on. Let me grab Athena and we can go somewhere” 

“Not right now, Arthur. You usually tell people you have a family with that you are already a father.” 

“Y/N, wait.” I roll my eyes and turn Suzie away. 

“I’m going to go check on Charlotte. Maybe you can come to find us when you decide you wanna tell me everything.” 

____________

It was late afternoon when I rode up to Charlotte’s property. I could hear pops of a gun and when Bea and I stopped I saw Charlotte trying to aim a repeater at some bottles. She fired but nothing shattered. There was a soft breeze that was carrying over mist from the giant waterfall nearby. Every time she tried to fire the gun birds would scare and fly away from the trees that surrounded the small farm.

I hopped off with Bea and walked up to her. “Miss Charlotte?” I say to make myself known so she doesn’t get scared. 

She glances over her shoulder and smiles. “Y/N, how lovely. I was hoping you’d visit.”

“What are you up to?” I glance at the bottles all lined up and smile.

“I’m feeling much better after your help so I decided to try my husband’s gun. However, my prey seems very unscathed.” She sighs and puts the butt of the gun in the dirty with the barrel facing up.

I take the gun and flip it around making her smile. “I could show you if you need help.” 

“Oh, that would be lovely.”

I put Bea down and she wanders to look at flowers nearby. “Well first,” I put her arms up and straighten them out to the correct position to fire her repeater. She looks at herself as I put the repeater in her hands and point at the bottles. “Alright stay just like that. You are going to take a deep breath and fire on the release. Always shoot on empty lungs.” 

She adjusts herself a bit and then takes a deep breath before firing and hitting the wooden crate the bottles were on making them shake a bit. “Wow. That’s the closest it’s been all day.”

“Good. Now try again.” I step back a bit and give her some space as she follows my instructions and fires making a bottle shatter. We both jump in delight as we look at the glass. 

“I did it!” Charlotte cheers.

“Great job.”

“How about you try, Mrs. Morgan? I bet you are a great shot.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Arthur is probably better at it than me.” 

She simply smiles and hands me the gun. “Go on, my pride won’t be hurt if you are a better shot than my weak work.”

I huff a laugh and take the repeater in my hands. I look at the bottles that are left and I finally take a deep breath and fire twice making two bottles shatter. Charlotte jumps up and smiles. As I turn and look at her I see Bea is also cheering and dancing. “Oh my! I’m never able to reload the gun that fast.”

“Practice I guess.”

“You know what? I still have some of that rabbit. How about you both come in and have some.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose…”

Bea pulls on my pants leg and gives a soft, “I’m hungry.”

Charlotte giggles, “I guess that settles it then.” I pick up Bea and follow Charlotte inside the cabin. She motions for us to sit at her table before turning to grab some bowls.

“If I may ask, how did your husband pass?”

She stops for a moment and sighs, “He was attacked by a bear, he survived and then passed from his injuries a few days later.” There’s an awkward silence as she places bowls in front of me and Bea. She puts a tiny bit of stew in Bea’s bowl and a bigger serving in mine. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“He was extremely optimistic. So am I, I guess. I thought I’d be a little wife in the garden and writing the next great novel.” She smiles to herself as if thinking of a fond memory.

“That sounds like a nice life. But I’m not sure this area is the place for that.” I take a small sip of the stew.

“I see that now. My husband and I were raised with a silver spoon in Chicago.”

“Are you going to go back?”

“No, like my husband I’m very hardheaded when it comes to giving up. I believe I’ll get through this. Especially now with your help.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re willing to give it a fair shot.” There was a soft knock on the door. Charlotte looks at the door confused and I sigh. “He was faster than I thought,” I mumble.

Charlotte gets up and opens the door slowly. “Oh. Mr. Morgan come in.” She opens the door wider and he walks in while taking off his hat. His eyes look a little red and puffy but he tries to hide at as his eyes land on both me and Bea. 

“Daddy!” Bea jumps from her chair and runs to Arthur with her arms wide.

“Hi, little Bea. Let me talk to your Mama and then we’ll play, okay?” 

Charlotte takes Bea’s hand and leads her to the table. “How about we finish our food while the talk, yes?” Bea smiles and follows her willingly while I step out on to the porch. 

Arthur follows and shuts the door behind him. He takes my hand and we sit on the bench that sits on the porch. There is a long silence before he clears his throat. “After Mary left me I met a waitress named Eliza. I don’t believe we ever had any feelings between us, it was more of a one night stand. She was a young girl I never thought it would mean nothin’. But I found out later she was pregnant. His name was Issac. I tried to step up and be a father. I would visit every month and stay for a few days. Leave them some money... Then one day I arrived and there were two crosses outside the house… And I knew they were gone.” Arthur gets quiet. I squeeze his hand.

“Arthur, I…” I can feel tears starting to build up.

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I should have told you.” His arms wrap around me as he pulls me into a hug. I hug him back and kiss his shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you two like I lost them.”

“You won’t lose us, Arthur…”

The door cracks open and Bea’s little face peeks out, “My food is done.” She mumbles.

“Good girl,” I smile as she runs and sits between me and Arthur.

“Is your talk done?” She asks him.

“Yeah, I just had to say sorry to Mama, I was bad earlier.” She looks at him a bit shocked. “I love you, Y/N.”

I smile and lean over to give him a quick kiss, “I love you too.”

_______________

I refused to go to the camp when Arthur asked. I didn’t want Bea around my father or Micah. Arthur sighed and looked out over the lake we were sitting at. Bea was passed out in Arthur’s lap snoring softly. Her soft dark hair felt like silk as I combed her hair from her face.

“Well, where you gonna go?”

“Maybe Luka’s home… I don’t feel safe around my father and I really don’t think you should go back either.”

Arthur scratches the scar on his chin and sighs, “I have to do that damn job with Micah and Bill.”

“Do you what Dutch is planning?” 

“No… and I’m really worried about it.” We look at each other quietly. “If the time comes you take Bea and run.”

“What about you?” I could see the sadness in his eyes.

“I’ll join you when I can safely get away.”

“Arthur no, if we run we are doing it together. I won’t leave you.” 

He leans in and kisses me softly before pulling back and smiling. “I love you so damn much. But if it comes down to me or you…. It’s always going to be you.”

“Arthur…”

“Don’t Arthur me… Do you understand me? This thing,” He points in the direction camp would be, “it’s all over. We gotta think about how to give Bea her best chance at life, even if that means she’s going to have only one parent.” 

He reaches forward and wipes a tear I didn’t know I had. “Well… let’s just try to get away together, okay?” He smiles and nods before standing and shifting Bea so she was laying on his shoulder. 

I take her and give her a soft squeeze before turning towards Suzie. “Promise you’ll be safe on that job?” I ask once more.

“I will,” He waves towards me as he climbs Athena. “So you’ll be in Saint Denise?” I nod as I get comfortable on Suzie. “Be safe please.”

“I will.” 

___________

I spent four days at Luka’s home. And in those four days, I didn’t hear from Arthur once. I started to get extremely worried until I heard steps on the front porch making me run and swing the door open. 

Arthur smiled as his shoulder relaxed and he pulled me into a tight hug and a long kiss. I instantly melted from his warmth. His rough lips smiled under mine. I wanted to take in his familiar scent but all I could smell was… Smoke? 

I pull back and scrunch my nose. “Why do you smell like smoke?”

Arthur looks away guilty and scratches his chin, “Well…”

“Arthur Morgan what did you do?”

“Well, quite a bit happened over the past few days. I did that job with Micah, I helped Rainsfall again actually twice… and,”

“And?” 

“John and I blew up a bridge…”

“You what?”

“Dutch wants to rob a train.”

“Y’all are too old to be trying to pull that kind of shit Arthur!” He chuckles a bit as he tries to calm me down.

“When are you gonna rob this supposed train?”

“In a few days. Dutch is trying to help the Wapiti tribe.” 

“Why?”

“He says he feels for them, but I think he’s just gonna get those boys killed.”

I sigh, “Where is he?”

“He went to help them mess with some soldiers.”

I groan and turn in to the house. “Luka.” 

Luka peeks out from his study. “Can you watch Bea? I have to get my father out of trouble.”

“Of course.” Before he even finishes I shut the door and hurry for Suzie with Arthur close behind.

“Y/N, these are US Army, I don’t think you should be getting involved.”

“I shouldn’t. But lets at least try to lengthen my father’s inevitable doom.”

Arthur smiles and joins me as we ride off.

[varietydisco]

Putting the Dog to Sleep

Characters: Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews, Dutch van der Linde Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Trans Male Characters, Dutch is literally the only cis person here, References to Dead-names/Dead-naming, but we don’t find out the actual names, Mentions of dysphoria, Trans Love/Acceptance Word count: 2600

Description: Hosea and Dutch pick up a nameless scamp and decide to help give him a proper name. (Namesake: Putting the Dog to Sleep by The Antlers)

Part 4 of the Coming of Age Series

1878

Only Dutch would be foolish enough to take one look at the boy who tried to rob him and then decide to buy him a meal. Any other man might have shot or at least beaten the kid— but no, not Dutch.

Dutch laughed, slapped the kid’s shoulder, and declared that they were going to eat together and talk.

Frankly, Hosea didn’t have much to say to the scamp, nor did Hosea intend to listen to anything he had to say likewise. The kid was filthy— he had hair that might’ve been blond if it weren’t so greasy, and a face pocked with dried mud, blood, dirt, and acne. He looked like he hadn’t seen a bath in days, and smelled like it, too. And by the way he ate, shovelling food into his mouth almost without the care to use a fork, Hosea guessed he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in twice as long.

Dutch didn’t seem to notice any of this. Or if he did, he didn’t care; he watched the kid devour his plate with an almost intrigued and intense look in his eyes. Whatever Dutch was planning, Hosea thought, he wasn’t going to like it.

“So, you’re quite the thief.” Dutch pointed out. His plate of potatoes and meat had gone mostly untouched. He sat forward with his elbows on the table and his fork paused between his hands. “You steal a lot?”

The boy tossed glances between his food and Dutch’s face. He lacked the manners to finish chewing before speaking.

“When I’ve gotta.”

“Of course. Every man has to feed himself.”

Dutch seemed more invested in the boy than his food. Hosea worked his own meal slowly, his gaze lingering on Dutch’s star-struck interest, before moving over to the boy again.

The boy shrugged.

“I guess so.”

“How often do you get caught?”

“Only sometimes.” The boy said. He stabbed a generous piece of meat onto his fork and shoved it into his mouth. “But barely.”

Hosea’s eyes shifted back to Dutch and as he stared at the younger man, he secretly wished he could read minds. Hosea focused hard, dissecting every nod and movement from Dutch, but he couldn’t pull anything out. All Hosea could do was hope that this was another one of Dutch’s fleeting, odd acts of kindness, or maybe he had an ulterior motive to befriending the boy.

Dutch remained oblivious to Hosea’s intense stare. He focused entirely on the boy.

“What’s your name, son?”

The kid’s jaw jumped and then he ground it shut. Hosea practically watched the gears turn in his head before he spat out, “Morgan.”

“Morgan,” Dutch repeated, as though he were testing the word on his tongue. “Do you have a last name?”

“That’s it.” The kid—Morgan, apparently—replied, flat.

Hosea had only been half-listening to this point, mostly focused on Dutch, but he tuned in at that. He paused pushing his potatoes around long enough to cock his brow.

“So, you don’t have a first name?” Hosea pried. “That’s what you’re telling us?”

Morgan turned his head toward Hosea and gave him a mean, dirty look. His lip curled, and his brows furrowed, he straightened out his shoulders and set them back. Considering how underfed and awkward he was, Hosea wasn’t particularly intimidated.

“Got a problem?” Morgan demanded.

“No, I suppose not.” Hosea eventually said. He relinquished his interrogation to Dutch and put his attention back to his meal. It was tasteless as an old boot, just like his company for the evening, but since Dutch was buying, Hosea didn’t have much room to complain.

Dutch spent the next little while grilling the Morgan kid, in a desperate attempt to draw any kind of information out of him, though there was little avail.

At one point, Morgan belched at the table and Dutch laughed, and Hosea knew then that he wouldn’t like how this dinner-date was going to end.

                                                    —30—

They ended up keeping the boy, and as a result staying in that little town a lot longer than they intended. Since Morgan was so worse for wear, ultimately Hosea and Dutch decided that they would stay until Morgan was fit for travel, then they would keep pushing west-ward, find a new town to terrorize, and chase new leads.

The only downside to this, at least to Hosea, was that he was prone to becoming restless. Teaching Morgan to read in their downtime was well enough, but the kid was such a pain in the ass and still so on edge that it was hard to commit to the lessons for any extended period. Usually Morgan was good for an hour or so before he got frustrated at the words or at Hosea or at whatever cruel God decided to cross him that day.

“He’s just a boy,” Dutch explained to Hosea over coffee one morning. “At that age, boys are mean and stupid. It’s all the body change goin’ on.”

There was a certain condescending edge to Dutch’s voice that Hosea didn’t particularly care for— as if he hadn’t grown up with himself and five brothers and wouldn’t know how “boys that age” act. As if his own experiences were somehow different. But Hosea knew that wasn’t true. Dutch just had that tone about him sometimes when he wanted to sound smart.

“Girls go through that, too,” Hosea remarked. “Sometimes worse than the boys.”

Dutch sipped his coffee and arched his brow high. He kind of laughed as he lowered his mug.

“Oh, I’m sure. But what does that have to do with anything? You think Morgan’s a girl?”

“No, not like that at all.” Hosea tapped his finger against his own cup. He quirked his brow. “Not exactly.”

“What are you...” Dutch flicked his eyes over Hosea across him from. He made a motion to Hosea with his finger. “You don’t mean... Like you...?”

Hosea nodded slowly. “Mm-hm.”

Dutch’s voice dropped as if they were discussing a closely guarded secret, and as if Morgan wouldn’t be awake until past daybreak, anyhow.

“How do you figure?”

“It’s just a hunch,” Hosea admitted. He drank another mouthful of coffee, then poured out the remains into the dirt. He set the mug down by the fire as he rose up. “I’m going into town to see what I can find. Maybe it isn’t our business, but if he’s going to be staying with us, it wouldn’t hurt to know his background, at least.”

Hosea didn’t expect to find much; he doubted that a little street urchin and pickpocket would have much of a file, beyond maybe a record of some of the petty crimes he had committed. A quick browse through the town’s archives and a flip through a few yellowing newspapers, however, and Hosea found obituaries for a Beatrice and Lyle Morgan, a couple who was succeeded by only one child.

Hosea didn’t recognize the child’s name but based on the worn-out Wanted photo of the Lyle Morgan, in whom he saw nothing but their Morgan, Hosea could only assume he found exactly what he had come looking for.

Then there was the matter of how to approach it. No matter how much Hosea mulled over it, he couldn’t think of a casual way to bring up the subject to Morgan, not without the boy either going ballistic or being annoyed and confused at the accusation that he was “ever a girl”. Eventually Hosea settled on an approach that maybe wasn’t the kindest, but it was subtle, and it would work.

Dutch, ever nosey and intent on getting in other people’s drama, wanted to know everything that Hosea found as soon as he got back. Hosea still had one foot in his stirrup when Dutch asked in a whisper, “What did you find?” Along with some obvious eye movements and gestures towards Morgan, who was brushing the horses a little ways away.

“Well, I met a woman in town today,” Hosea announced. He continued despite the confusion on Dutch’s face. “I believe her name was...”

And then as he said the name, Hosea watched Morgan’s back jump and tense out of the corner of his eye. Out of instinct, Morgan jerked his head to look over his shoulder.

The expression on his face almost made Hosea feel bad; it was a pathetic sort of look, wrought with a thousand intense emotions of distress and anger. Maybe even with a hint of betrayal.

Hosea didn’t regret a lot, but he almost regretted finding out Morgan’s given name, just because of the look on his face. Later that night, in a hushed conversation amongst themselves, Dutch and Hosea agreed that it was a name best forgotten.

                                                     —30—

“So... Why do you call yourself ‘Morgan’?” Hosea asked one day. He leaned his elbow on their makeshift table, cheek propped up in-palm, as Morgan struggled his way through a children’s novel about a sword in a stone.

Morgan paused and frowned.

“It’s my name, old man.”

“But not your first name.”

Morgan bristled a little. He pinched his brows together and said, accusingly, “You know I don’t use my first name. And you know damn well why. What are you gettin’ at?”

“Oh, calm down,” Hosea said dismissively. “I don’t expect you to use that name. But why don’t you pick something new? Something that’s your own?”

Morgan faltered. Hosea cocked his head as he waited for an answer that likely wasn’t going to come right away.

After a few beats, Morgan dropped his eyes to the book in front of him and admitted, “I never... Thought of it. I don’t know what I’d call myself.”

“Give it some thought. There has to be something.”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. He stared down at the book as if it held the answers for him.

“I dunno...” Morgan pursed his lips together and pushed his hand through his hair. “How did you... Pick your name?”

“It was my father’s name,” Hosea said. “He wasn’t using it very often anyhow, and I figured that I could give it a better reputation.”

“That sure worked out,” Morgan snorted.

“You’d be surprised. He was a sinner far worse than I am, or so I’ve heard. I only met him a couple times.” Hosea shook his head. “That’s beside the point. You can have any name in the world that you want. A real one, and not just ‘Morgan’. Although if you’d like to be called Morgan Morgan, I suppose I can’t stop you...”

“I dunno where to start. In general.” Morgan said again.

“No ideas at all rattling around that empty head of yours?”

Morgan frowned, and looked like he wanted to say something smart, but ended up just sinking in on himself.

Hosea hummed a second as he pondered, then nodded.

“I’ve an idea. Stay here.”

Morgan watched Hosea get up and leave their workstation. Instead, he crossed their temporary camp to Dutch, who was reading the newspaper in the shade of their tent. Dutch paid Hosea no mind, up until Hosea plucked the paper from his hand and then went back to Morgan without an explanation. Obviously annoyed, based on his cried, “Excuse me,” Dutch jumped up and followed Hosea’s suit.

Morgan watched the whole thing and looked down at the newspaper as it was slapped on the table, covering their novel. Hosea stood by Morgan’s side as he pointed down to the pages.

“Find me the obituary.” Hosea said. “O-b-i-t-u-a-r-y.”

Morgan cocked his brow at Hosea in question, though ultimately, he did as asked. Dutch came up alongside Hosea as Morgan flipped through the pages.

“Tired of fairy tales?” Dutch asked, annoyed still.

“I figured he needed something with a little less substance and a little more bias,” Hosea replied.

Morgan took his time to scan the pages, following headlines with his finger as he read, even softly mumbling to himself. He felt weird and embarrassed having both Hosea and Dutch stare him down so intently while he tried to read, though Morgan refused to have them think less of him. He bumbled through the paper until he found a page on the back with the same title Hosea spelled out. Morgan looked up at the two other men.

“Now what?”

Hosea tapped his finger to the columns. Some of the names had short blurbs under them, though most—the poor people, Hosea assumed—had names and dates only.

“Start reading and find a name you like.”

Morgan stared at Hosea for a moment, his brows furrowed. “I’m no good at readin’ names yet.”

“Well, take your time and sound them out. You’ll recognize most of them from speaking once you get into it.”

Morgan looked between Hosea and Dutch both as if he were going to say something, then dropped his head and started reading under his breath.

Dutch swatted Hosea on the forearm, then crossed his arms over his chest.

“This is a pretty good idea,” Dutch commented.

“Thank you. Sometimes I’m more than just a pretty face.”

The two shared a smile as Morgan kept reading. He read through the James’ and Joseph’s without problem, but stumbled at Sylvester, at which point Hosea helped him out.

“That’s a stupid name,” Morgan mumbled.

“At least he had a first name.” Hosea replied. He tapped the page to encourage Morgan to keep going.

Dutch slid into Hosea’s chair across from Morgan and pursed his lips. He scanned over the names, as well, offering, “You ought to have something that stands out. Why, if you can choose any name you like, it may as well be an interesting one.”

“Such as?” Hosea asked in Morgan’s stead.

Dutch pondered a second, then said decisively, “Something like... Tacitus. Tacitus Morgan.”

Morgan made a face. “Ew.”

“Or Alistar,” Hosea added.

Morgan rolled his eyes. He kept reading under his breath.

Dutch and Hosea grinned at each other as they kept going back and forth.

“Maximus.”

“Quentin.”

“Michelangelo!” For emphasis, Dutch waved his hand.

“I like Arthur,” Morgan finally cut in. Both older men glanced down at the boy. “You know. Like King Arthur. From the book we was readin’.”

Dutch chuckled first.

“King Arthur... Well, you’ll get no awards for modesty, son.”

Morgan’s cheeks flushed as Hosea scoffed.

“Oh, as if Michelangelo was the humblest name you could have thought of.” Hosea clasped his hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “Can you spell ‘Arthur’ off the top of your head?”

Morgan did so flawlessly. Hosea nodded his head, smiling with pride, and clapped Morgan on the shoulder again.

“There you go. We shall dub thee Arthur Morgan,” Hosea said. “With or without the prefix of ‘king’, depending.”

“Arthur’s not bad,” Dutch commented with a drawl. “I think Tacitus would have been more... Interesting. But Arthur’s alright.”

“There’s still time to change your own name if you like it so much,” Morgan—Arthur—tossed back. “Tacitus van der Linde.”

Dutch briefly contemplated it, before shaking his head.

“No, I couldn’t. I’ve got an image to maintain.”

“That’s one way to look at it.” Hosea replied. He squeezed Arthur’s shoulder. “Now, I’d say you ought to finish your lessons... But this is something to be celebrated, I think, this... Leaving the past behind and letting sleeping dogs lie, and whatnot.”

Arthur broke out with a small, genuine grin, which made Hosea smile back. He could feel the pride and happiness inside Arthur at this new development, which was something he hadn’t seen at all since coming to know the boy.

So, Hosea promised himself he would do everything in his power to keep those feelings coming.