#susan wc

[abcwc]

the dreaded susan

[clanslist]

[lemnnshark]

"Jacques is a big, sleek, and lean black-and-white tom with a jagged torn ear, yellow eyes, and a scar over his nose."

"Susan is a small sleek-furred light brown tabby she-cat with a lean frame."

[warriors-pride]

girlfag jacques, sleekwhisker, and russetfur and boydyke susan, needletail, and boulder, w/ the flags by @/transolar? thank you :-)

[blimbo-buddy]

their barbaric unwarranted assault on our clan’s camp/patrol vs our glorious right to defend our lives during peaceful travels

[brackenfur]

my favorite thing to do when i’m going to barnes and nobles is to see if there’s employee recommendations on the warrior cats series

[exocynraku]

susan maybe?

susan ll, XoXo, bb, dd, dmdm, Aa, mcmc, eaea, ww jacques LL, XoY, BB, DD, dmdm, aa, WsWs wanna request a cat? see here: link

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Talonpaw

Aliases / Nicknames: Little One, My Dear, Lazy Furball, Kittypet Food

Gender: tom

Sexuality: pansexual, biromantic

Family: Nightwing (mother), Cedarheart (father), Smokepaw (brother), Brokenstar, Hopekit, Wishkit (cousins), Lavenderkit (aunt), Rowanclaw (uncle), Snowbird (maternal grandmother), Darkflower (paternal grandmother), Boulder (maternal grandfather), Scorchwind (paternal grandfather), Dawncloud, Russetfur (grandaunts), Raggedstar, Volewhisper, Mosspaw (granduncles), Featherstorm (great-grandmother), Hal (great-grandfather) 

Other Relations: Rowanclaw (mentor)

Clan: Shadowclan

Rank: apprentice

Characteristics: short-tempered, grieves for his brother

Murder Motive: avenging his brother

Number of Victims: 0 (failed)

Number of Murders: 0 (failed)

Murder Method: getting kittypets to attack Russetfur (attempted)

Known Victims: Russetfur (attempted)

Victim Profile: his deputy

Cause of Death: wounds, killed by Jaques and Susan

Cautionary Tale: ??

Story:

We will never forget Smokepaw.

Liar.

Talonpaw was glad to be on safe ground once the ledge opened up, he could have bounced for joy if his paws weren’t so tired.

He rested with his father, Cedarheart, while they waited for the rest to catch up, namely his mother and brother. They had gotten separated as the Clans moved in single-file along the towering mountains. He scanned the faces as they came, alarmed when he only saw his mother, and his heart dropped at the distant, glassy look on her face.

She couldn’t even explain what had happened, she didn’t even seem to realize they were trying to talk to her. 

Blackstar explained to them what had happened, how the ground just crumbled beneath Smokepaw’s feet and he fell before anyone could catch him. 

Smokepaw was dead.

Like his mother--both of his parents, in fact, he spent the entire trip in an empty trance while everyone else chattered excitedly about what they thought their new home would look like. Smokepaw wouldn’t see it, so what did it matter?

As the haze slowly dissipated, anger began to fill him. The leader was with him. The deputy was with him! How could they have let Smokepaw just fall? The ground may have crumbled, but it’s not as if it can do that in a single second!

He remembered a moment that occurred before they left the forest, when those giant, awful monsters scared his brother. Blackstar had promised that he wouldn’t let him die. 

One night, he couldn’t sleep, and decided to pace around the camp. He heard voices coming from beside the leader’s den, and, curious, decided to eavesdrop. 

Russetfur was speaking with Oakfur, Smokepaw’s mentor. The first thing he heard was Oakfur hissing that he didn’t want a new apprentice. That truly caught Talonpaw’s attention.

Russetfur was insistent, saying how sorry she was that Smokepaw had passed, but that holding onto their grief feeds no mouths, and how he must move on. She went on to say how he would make an excellent mentor for Tallpoppy’s kits when they’re old enough, but at that point, Talonpaw could only hear the blood pounding in  his ears. 

He ran back to his nest, clawing up his moss as his whole body quivered with rage. They were replacing Smokepaw! Grief feeds no mouths. How could Russetfur be so heartless? She had been the one to let Smokepaw die!

That night, when he could finally sleep, a white warrior with a single, long scar visited him. The tom told him how horrible it is to lose your littermate, to lose the one cat you should have grown old with. 

The tom called himself Snowtuft, and went on to say how he didn’t remember much of his life, but he was sure he had someone to him like Smokepaw was to Talonpaw.

Before Snowtuft could go on, another, brown tom came over and put a stop to their conversation, telling Snowtuft that he already paid for his crimes, and to not drag the young tom down with him. Talonpaw wasn’t sure what that meant, or why this new tom--Creaturefall--was now telling Talonpaw to dream of butterfly fields instead of “this place.”

It was the first time someone actually tried talking to Talonpaw about his brother. 

Nightwing and Cedarheart shared his grief, of course, and for a while, they slept with Talonpaw in the now so empty apprentices’ den, but they would stop Talonpaw from speaking about the death, always saying that they weren’t ready to talk about it yet. 

It felt as though Talonpaw’s own grief didn’t matter, only theirs. 

More and more, Talonpaw felt that was true. Rowanclaw, understanding at first, grew frustrated with him when he wouldn’t put nearly as much effort into his training as he used to. It got to the point that Rowanclaw took him to Russetfur, who threatened to have his apprenticeship delayed if he didn’t get his act together.

She told him that he was the only apprentice in Shadowclan now, and how there wouldn’t be any more apprentices for at least six more moons. Talonpaw was angry enough at that, at having his loss blatantly ignored because training him was ‘so important’. What really set him off was when Russetfur told him to put his grief aside, and how laying in his nest all day won’t bring Smokepaw back.

It was everything in Talonpaw not to jump her then and there. 

Snowtuft visited him again, only once. He was snarling, but not at Talonpaw. No, his anger was on his behalf. He went on about how Russetfur had no right to say such disgusting things, and how if he were Talonpaw, he would claw her apart for that.

Talonpaw found that he liked that thought, but pointed out that he couldn’t exactly win a fight against the deputy. 

Snowtuft suggested that he should find someone that could.

Talonpaw remembered the two kittypets that had attacked Tawnypelt when she and her patrol first investigated the lake territories. She described them as quite muscular for cats that munched on twoleg slop all day. And there were two of them, definitley able to claw up Russetfur.

He would provoke them. Rowanclaw sent Talonpaw to hunt on his own, a punishment of sorts for all the ‘slacking off’ Talonpaw was doing, while his mentor got to rest in the sunlight back at camp.

Talonpaw took the opportunity. He travelled through until he found the right Twoleg den--Tawnypelt had described it so that they stay away. Then, he rolled around in the garden’s grass, spreading his Clan scent. 

The kittypets would get mad. If they were as aggressive as they sounded, they wouldn’t take kindly to a stranger spreading their scent in their home. Surely, they would want to get back at them, and when patrols found kittypet scent crossing the border, Russetfur, as the deputy, would investigate. Then the kittypets would attack her.

He was back in his own territory, trying to catch something so that it seemed like he was always looking for prey, when cat scent hit his nose and he was attacked.

He managed to drag himself back to camp, but darkness was blotting his vision in increasing specks. The last thing he saw were the horrified faces of his mentor and parents.

Additional Information:

--Fungichomp arrived in the Dark Forest around this time. He was already furious that Starclan condemned Fishkit, Molekit, and Frostkit to the Place of No Stars with him, and when he saw Talonpaw arrive as well--without technically actually doing anything--he decided that the kits needed to be protected with more than what he could provide, and created the Daycare (possibly getting the name from Twolegs) (or he got it because ‘Day’ is the opposite of Dark and is what the kits should be expereincing, and they’re being taken care of, so maybe just a coincidence)

--So the Daycare was first created / first began construction during Twilight in the canon book series.

I was curious about the timeline with that (and other things), and when it was said to likely been made when the lake territories were formed, Smokepaw was chosen--then switched to Talonpaw, so that’s why he’s in the Dark Forest now!

I didn’t think he went to the DF before, it was just an idea created for the sake of the Daycare, but now I like it! What do you think?

--Russetfur strikes me as the ‘tough love’ character, so I wouldn’t put it past her to say these things.

--Snowtuft is still a tiny bit evil at this point. Maybe seeing the apprentice join the DF because of him is a start for him to want to change--but not quite yet.

--Cedarheart later dies in the Great Battle, aka the battle with the Dark Forest--the area one of his sons now resides. That’s some great angst!

(highlighted because this is probably the most important, ya know?)

--Would he be Brokenstar’s cousin? I’ve tried looking up what their relationship would be, and that’s the answer I keep getting, but it sounds wrong.

--Creaturefall and Fungichomp, Molekit, Fishkit, and Frostkit all belong to @wills-woodland-warriors​

--Thanks to @starfalcon555​ whose idea it was to have Talonpaw be the DF character due to his grief for his brother as well as the idea to have Snowtuft be a brief mentor.

[laligraves]

morning run

joel miller x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~ 2.8k summary: Joel overhears your argument with the neighbor. masterlist | AO3

warnings: HBO Joel, TLOU AU, dubious consent (i'm so serious, don't read if it makes you uncomfortable), NSFW, pre/no outbreak, some proofreading, Joel is a tall and very strong man, older man/college-aged reader, Joel lives in a wealthy neighborhood with an HOA (homeowners association), no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance, somewhat public setting, breeding kink (kinda), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie

“These HOA people are vultures,” your sister mutters. 

You look up from your laptop and watch out the window as the committee leaves on their golf cart, most likely on their way to torment another house on the block. 

“Is it that big of a deal that my flower garden has the wrong color of roses?” 

“There’s a wrong color of roses?” you ask in confusion. 

“Yes! The president of the HOA, Susan,” you sister spits out in disdain, “only wants light pink roses on this block.” 

She slams the written warning on the entrance table and storms off into the kitchen. “I’m not sure how her husband stands her. I guess that’s why he spends so much time at the golf course.” 

You follow her into the kitchen, partly because you want a break from your assignments and also because you want to hear more gossip about her new neighborhood. 

“You know she made me pay a fine because my car was left on the driveway after hours? It’s my driveway!” 

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Suddenly, I’m not so jealous about your new place.” 

She throws a sponge at your head. 

“Why don’t you just say no?” you ask as you narrowly dodge the sponge. 

“I’ve tried so hard to be nice to everyone here. But all Susan does is turn people against me. Everytime I walk outside to grab the mail or go to work, people give me dirty looks!” 

You don’t like seeing your sister like this. It’s her home. One she worked very hard to buy in this wealthy neighborhood. No one has the right to make her feel like an outsider. So you develop a plan. 

You find out Susan’s schedule fairly easily. Every morning at 8 a.m. she walks her husband to his car and kisses him goodbye before he leaves for work. She then walks back inside for her notebook and pen to then walk around the neighborhood. 

She stops at every house to ensure it fits her standards and if they don’t, she leaves a written warning on the front door. During the weekends, she and her gang of friends drive around on a golf cart to give out even more citations. 

So at exactly 7:55 A.M., you make your way to her house. You’re careful in the outfit you chose this morning: a tight sports bra and running shorts. She, and most importantly her husband, are definitely going to notice you. 

You slow down as you round the corner, already seeing her husband place his briefcase in the backseat of his beamer. She walks right behind him with a lunch pail and kisses his cheek. You shout out a good morning and watch as they both turn to look at you. 

Her right eye immediately begins to twitch and she plasters on a fake smile. His eyes do an appreciative sweep of your body as he walks to the end of the driveway. 

“Good morning! Susan,” he says turning to his wife, “why didn’t you tell me we had a new neighbor?” 

He grasps your hand and gives it a firm shake. His thumb caresses the back of your hand as he slowly lets go. Susan finally reaches the both of you and grabs onto her husband's arm to pull him away. 

You give him a sweet smile, pushing your chest out in a calculated move so he has no choice but to look.   

“I’m just visiting my sister over on Ocean Avenue. The neighborhood is so nice I thought it would be perfect for my morning runs.” 

“I agree, you can run anytime you want–” 

“Sweetie,” Susan interrupts in a high-pitched voice, “you’re going to be late.”

He asks for your name and what you’re studying in college, then shakes your hand again while Susan seethes next to the driver’s side door. He drives off, promising a tour of the country club later that day. You're left standing alone with Susan, just as you wanted.  

“Look here, young lady,” she snarls, “this is a neighborhood full of families. Not some frat house. We do not allow blatant displays of–of–well this ,” she says as she motions to your workout attire. “I am going to write your sister a citation for this disrespectful action.” 

“Well, that does make me sad. I guess I’ll have to ask your husband to cheer me up later when I visit him.” 

Her face turns beet red and you wonder briefly if steam will come out of her ears. “What did you just say?” 

“Your husband was so nice in inviting me to the country club, how can I say no? I really need to work on my swing–” 

“You stay away from my husband,” she whispers, pointing a finger at your face, “or I will find a way to run your sister out of this neighborhood.” 

“Leave my sister alone,” you say as you walk right up to her and push her finger out of the way, “or I’ll fuck your husband.”

Susan gasps, dramatically placing a hand over her mouth. 

“I’ll make sure he finishes inside me, too. Maybe give him a baby.” 

With that, you continue your jog down the sidewalk. You don’t notice Susan’s neighbor, who stands by his gate and watches you run off.  

- 

You continue your jogs for the next few days, waving at Susan and her husband every morning. You and Susan come to an unspoken agreement: she stops bothering your sister and you make sure to stay away from her husband. 

Just as you jog past her house, you notice an envelope on the sidewalk. It’s next to a brick mailbox that has the name Miller written on a plaque. You check the envelope and sure enough you see it's made out to a Joel Miller . 

You walk up to the iron gate that matches the address and call out a hello , but no one answers. There’s red roses that wrap around the expansive gate which look and smell beautiful, but block your view inside. You test the handle of the gate and luckily it opens. 

“They must’ve dropped it when getting the mail this morning,” you mumble to yourself. 

“Mornin’, doll,” a gruff voice calls out to your right. 

You jump slightly and turn to look, finding a man crouched by the gate. He stands to his full height and you have to tilt your head up just so you can keep eye contact. 

“Good morning,” you whisper. 

He’s older and handsome, much more attractive than the college boys you're used to. He places his gardening shears down and takes off his gloves to shake your hand. You do your best to control the shiver that courses through your body at the touch of his warm skin. 

“Joel,” he states, swiping his other hand through his salt and pepper hair. 

You open your mouth to say your name, but he beats you to it. 

“How did you know��” 

“I heard your conversation with Susan the other day,” Joel interrupts with a slight smirk. 

His hand tightens for a moment until he lets go, dragging his fingers over your palm. You feel embarrassment wash over your body and you quickly hand him the envelope. 

“Right–um, how much of the conversation did you hear?” 

He lets out a laugh and drops the envelope into a basket that you’ve now just noticed. It’s full of the same red roses that cover his gate. 

“Just the part where you threatened to fuck her husband if she didn’t leave your sister alone,” he says, placing his hands on his hips. “Effective threat, it seems.” 

His eyes sweep over your body and you become hyper aware of the workout clothes you're wearing. Once again, a sports bra and running shorts. 

“She’s backed down,” you say after a few moments, crossing your arms to cover your pebbling nipples. 

“So,” he continues while walking closer, “you offerin’ to fuck every man on the block or just her’s?” 

His words send a shock wave through your body, landing right between your legs. You ignore the pulsing in your cunt and instead lift your hand to slap him across the face. 

As if he’s able to sense what you’re about to do, he catches your wrist before your hand makes contact with his face. 

“How dare you–”  

“Don’t act so innocent now,” he growls, pushing your body against the gate. “You told Susan you were going to let ‘em fill you up. Put a baby inside of you.” 

Your back makes contact with the gate, luckily in a place where there’s no thorns. You try to push out of his hold, confused at how much you enjoy being manhandled by an older man you just met. 

“Let me go or I’ll scream–”

“Joel?” a familiar high-pitched voice interrupts you. “Are you there?” 

Your body stills at the sound of Susan’s voice. Theoretically, you could use this opportunity to scream for help. Sure, you’d have to face Susan again, but you’d be able to escape. 

Except, Joel manages to pick up your lower body and push his jean-covered cock right against your cunt. You wrap your legs around his waist to not fall and place one hand on the iron gate behind you.

He rocks against you, moving a finger in front of his mouth, motioning you to stay quiet. Your mouth drops open in surprise as he grabs your hips and begins to grind you down on him. 

“Yes, ma’am. What can I help you with?” Joel responds. 

She tries to open the gate and you press your body back so she won’t see you. You’re not quite sure why you’re trying to hide. 

“Joel, honey. Your gate is locked,” she says. “Come unlock it and let me in.”  

Through your daze, you faintly register her tone. Did she just call him honey?  

“Sorry, Susan. It does that sometimes. I’ve got my hands full at the moment,” Joel calls out, giving you another hard thrust. 

You bite your lip to stop the moan that threatens to escape. 

“That’s okay, I just wanted to stop by and warn you about the young lady that’s staying with her sister over on Ocean Avenue.” 

Joel raises his eyebrow and stops his movements, dropping your thighs from his hold. You're shocked again, feeling dejected that he’s stopping.  

He quickly spins you around and bends you over, pushing a hand between your thighs. You grab onto the iron gate once more and slap a hand over your mouth as he begins to rub a big hand over your thin shorts. 

“Warn me?” he calls out. “What’s this young lady been up to?” 

“Well, that–that– tramp ,” Susan spits out, “is acting in ways that she shouldn’t. I know you’re a hardworking man who has done so much for our community and the last thing I want is this girl making you uncomfortable.” 

Joel yanks down your shorts and plunges a thick finger inside of you. You’d roll your eyes at her words but instead they're rolling into the back of your skull. He thrusts his finger a few times and calls out a is that right to Susan. 

Joel adds another finger and you almost fall at the stretch. If those are just his fingers, you wonder how big his cock is. He uses his other hand to keep you steady and continues to fuck you with his thick fingers while talking to her. 

“I just,” Susan continues, “I don’t know what to do. Maybe we can find a way for the sister to leave? If we all band together?” 

Joel removes his hand from between your legs and places it on your back to keep you in place. This time you actually struggle in his hold, wanting to face Susan and give her a piece of your mind. 

“Now, Susan,” Joel admonishes, “don’t go blaming the sister for the younger one’s actions. There’s no need to be spiteful to our new neighbor. There’s more than enough room in this neighborhood for everyone.” 

You stop, surprised that Joel is standing up for your sister. He presses against you and you feel the roughness of his jeans on your bare skin. He brings you in close, gently rubbing his crotch on your slick cunt. 

“Oh, you’re so right, Joel. I just get so caught up in the politics of the HOA. I want this community to be perfect.” 

A wet glob of spit lands on your asshole and you clench in surprise. Joel quietly unzips his jeans and takes out his cock. 

“Fucking perfect little asshole,” he whispers, pushing the tip of his cock right on your hole. “Not today, baby. Today is that juicy, little cunt.” 

You arch your back and barely manage to stifle a whimper when he teases the tip of your entrance. 

“What was that, Joel?” Susan calls out. 

“That the community is already perfect, Susan.” 

His voice sounds annoyed at this point. 

“You think so, Joel? Thank you, I–” 

Joel uses that moment to plunge inside of you, bumping your g-spot and reaching so deep that you choke on your own spit. 

“I’m getting a call, Susan,” Joel says through gritted teeth, “I’ll speak to you later.” 

Susan gives a sad goodbye while you bite on your hand to stop your moans. Joel is big, much bigger than any of the boys in your past. Your pussy spasms and flutters over his length and you breathe in deep to adjust to the size. 

“S’tight,” he mutters, ”keep quiet f’me, doll. Too many people on the sidewalk at this time of mornin’.” 

You hum in response, wanting him to fuck you, to stretch you and make you come on his cock. He starts a rhythm, keeping one hand on your waist so you match his thrusts and the other slips between your thighs. 

Sticky wetness drips down your inner thighs and he swipes two fingers through the mess to bring them up to your clit. Joel pistons faster, rubbing harsh circles on your clit that have you accidently whimpering in pleasure. 

“I know, baby,” he coos, “feels so good, doesn’t it?” 

“ Y–yes ,” you whisper. 

“Showing off that pretty body when runnin’ around the neighborhood,” he groans. “Picking fights and trespassing. Just needed someone to fuck some manners into you.” 

Your fingers curl into the iron gate and your back arches even deeper. He speeds up, becomes harsher in his thrusts once he notices your pussy become softer, wetter, gripping his cock with each plunge. 

“Little cunt can barely take my cock,” Joel groans, “fuck, doll. You’re choking me.”

You wish you could bite his neck, leave red hickeys on his tan skin that you imagine tastes like salt and roses and spearmint. Your head spins from lust and you feel the coil in your belly, ready to burst at any moment. 

You hear voices, people walking past on the sidewalk for some early morning exercise. Joel lands a quick slap, slap to your clit and your cumming, clenching hard on his length while you fall apart. 

Your vision blurs and you faintly hear him say there you go, make a fuckin’ mess on me . Wetness spills from your cunt, only making it easier for Joel. You bite hard on your bottom lip to stop the whimpers and your fingers curl into the iron gate. 

“Gonna cum inside this pussy, put a baby in there,” he whispers. 

“ Please, Joel,” you whine. 

He brings your back to his chest, molds his lips to your neck and bites down, moving you like his personal fleshlight. Joel groans in your shoulder and then you feel it, hot pulses of cum, filling you up. 

You hold onto his arm that's branded across your chest and squeeze down on him, milking every drop from his body, wanting it to mark you deep inside.

Joel's body trembles from the exertion and he stumbles as he finishes, turning his body to lean on the iron gate with you still attached to his cock.

He keeps you pressed to him for a few moments, keeping his nose pressed to your neck as he breathes deep. Your own breathing regulates and you become aware of the sensitivity all over your body.

Joel stands straight and gently pulls out. He reaches into his jeans pocket to reach for a clean handkerchief that he uses to clean up between your thighs.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asks.

You manage a rough fuck off and lightly push at his shoulders. He laughs and helps you fix your clothes. He swipes your phone that fell on the ground the moment he pushed you to the gate, having you unlock it so he can put in his phone number.

You make it back home a few minutes later, sore but for the most part, satiated . Your sister gets home hours later, once you've relaxed in her ginormous bathtub and washed away the evidence of your morning run.

"Are you seeing someone?" she teases as she walks in.

"What? No, why?"

"Someone left a giant bouquet of red roses on the porch." 

Sure enough, you find a bouquet of familiar red roses on the front doorstep. You don’t need a notecard to know who they're from. 

[blahblahblees]

ヽ｀、☁ヽ｀─── fantasize ミ rodrick heffley

✎ ·˚ ༘ ─── after some “fun in the sun” the heffley’s catch a side of rodrick that they rarely see.

wc: 785

movie!rodrick heffley x fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns)

tw: kissing/making out (?) mentioned

a/n: this was a reblog request :)

RODRICK HAD been known by his to be this “rockstar” who didn’t have much care in the world. He cared more so about his band than his schoolwork and his music more than the chore list that had been miles and miles long that he always made Greg do with the help of Rowley.

But somehow, someway, Rodrick had a small soft spot in his heart for his family and his girlfriend. That spot, though small, could hold the weights of the world and they all knew that in their very special way.

And if girlfriend knew that Rodrick loved her in his own special way.

He wrote songs about her, he invited her to his gigs, he sat around while she study, they made out in the back of his van… all love in his own very special way.

Even now.

It was dark and late into the night when Rodrick had invited her over. She didn’t plan on staying long, not because she didn’t want to, it was because she didn’t want to intrude on the Heffley family dinner, but he, along with Susan, insisted that she was no bother.

But she’d been over for hours and had been cooped up in Rodrick’s room the entire time.

They’d listen to music, they listened to his music, they jumped up and down and called it dancing. They were with each other and this was a side that many people didn’t see of Rodrick, not even his family.

After that, the two of flopped down on Rodrick’s bed. She held her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter but Rodrick propped himself on his elbow and took his free hand to remove her hands from her mouth.

She continued to stifle her laughs as Rodrick smiled down at her, drawing closer and closer to her lips and gently placed them on top of hers, which quickly made her laughs disappear and more so focus on him.

It was a gentle, exploratory kiss, with Rodrick's lips moving slowly against hers as they both savored the moment. His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing back and forth along her skin.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. She ran her fingers through his tousled hair, enjoying the feel of it under her fingertips.

As the kiss continued, she felt her heartbeat quicken and her breathing grow shallow. She was completely lost in the moment, her whole being focused on the sensation of his lips on hers.

Rodrick's hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, deepening the kiss even further.

It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, and she never wanted it to end.

THERE WAS a gentle knock on Rodrick’s door and on the other side of it had been his little brother Greg. It wasn’t often that the boy knocked, but he knew that his girlfriend was over and from the previous time… he knew to knock.

But Rodrick nor his girlfriend made any noise on the other side of the door. He continue to knock to let them know that dinner had been ready and they needed to come down to each per Susan’s request.

But again, nothing had been heard on the other side, so he shrugged his shoulders and made his way back downstairs to let his mother know that Rodrick wasn’t answering to his knock.

Susan gently put down her napkin and made her way upstairs into Rodrick’s room. And for Greg? This was gold and was something that could only happen once in his lifetime.

Though he knew that he wouldn’t get into too much trouble by skipping out on dinner, it was enough trouble for Greg to grab his camera and prepare for Rodrick to be completely embarrassed in front of his girlfriend.

So, as soon as Susan knocked on Rodrick’s door, Greg hit record.

“Rodrick, sweetie.” Susan called. “It’s time for dinner.”

But once more, absolutely nothing.

So Susan gently grabbed the doorknob and twisted it open. And inside laid Rodrick and his girlfriend laying in his bed with their eyes shut. Rodrick’s arm draped over her as her hand laid gently interlocked with his.

Her shirt had been swapped with one of Rodrick’s Löded Diper shirt that neither Greg nor Susan commented on.

Greg groaned, cutting his camera off and making their way back downstairs to eat his dinner with his father and little brother, Manny.

Susan held a small smile on her face, her hand over her heart as she gently shut the door behind her, making note to save some of the dinner for the two of them.

— lucy has something to say !!

i feel as if this is short and i’m sad about it sadge

my request are opened! check out my rules and such before request and check out my masterlist to see who i write for!

[diamonddaze01]

ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ♡✧

pairing: hong jisoo x gn!reader genre: fluff, friends to lovers | wc: 2.65K summary: Joshua is drunk. You know this because he keeps smiling at you. a/n: this is entirely inspired by ep.1 of nana tour where shua is drunk and is just smiling at everyone like ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ the entire time // i love this boy with my whole heart // flashbacks are in italics!!!

Joshua Hong is drunk; you can tell. 

As the fire starts to slowly die out but the raucous laughter still rings out around the beach, Joshua keeps catching your eye. And it's because he's drunk. It's not the way his nimble fingers have stopped playing intelligible chords on his trusty guitar ("her name is Susan," he had told you the first night you slept over, too drunk to make it home after a rager), nor is it the way his rap battle with Chan had stopped making sense 4 verses ago. No, you can tell Joshua is drunk because every time he looks at you, he smiles. 

It's not his normal smile, warm and reassuring. No, this smile is reserved only for you, you realize. His eyes scrunch into upside down Us and his mouth scrunches up, and he looks like an emoji, and it's possibly the most endearing thing you've ever seen. And that smile, that adorable emoji smile, is how you know two things for sure: First, Joshua Hong is drunk. And second, you're hopelessly, irrevocably in love with your best friend.

The first time Josh smiles at you like that, he's dragging you home after one of Seungcheol's infamous parties (or you're dragging him - honestly, who knows?).

"Your house is too far," he pants, half from exertion, half from laughing too hard at heaven knows what. "You can sleep over at mine, I have extra sh-" his statement is interrupted by a burp, and the two of you dissolve into giggles all over again.

"Ew," you say, wiping tears from your eyes as you tamper down on a giggle threatening to escape you. "Joshua cooties. Jooties!"

He slips his arms through yours and drops a sloppy, drunken kiss into your hair. "Mmmm," he hums.. "Jooties. Yes." And then he smiles at you, and it feels like the world has dropped from under your feet.

It’s not the typical grin you’ve seen him flash countless times—no, this one is different. His eyes crinkle so deeply at the corners, turning into soft crescents, and his mouth curves upward in a way that makes his whole face light up. It’s the kind of smile that’s so sincere and pure, it seems to melt right into you, warm and gentle. His cheeks lift, and there’s a playfulness in his expression that feels intimate, like you’re the only one who gets to see this side of him.

And for the first time in two years, your heart skips a beat. Joshua Hong has never smiled at you like this before, and it’s the first time you wonder if maybe you love him.

The dying fire pops and Soonyoung jostles against you on accident, shaking you from your reverie. Joshua had already been looking at you, and when you meet his eyes, he smiles again, and it makes your heart do somersaults in your chest.

Needing a break from Mingyu's never-ending ad-libs, you nod your head away from the group, and he stumbles his way over, the corners of his mouth still twitching upwards as you lead him to a quiet stretch of the beach.

"Where are we going?" he asks, tripping over the consonants a little.

“Just wanted some fresh air,” you reply, settling on the cool sand. Joshua flops down next to you, the remnants of laughter still bubbling in the air.

The stars twinkle above, a cosmic array that feels almost too magical to be real. Joshua gazes up, his eyes wide and shining. “Do you think… do you think the stars have feelings?” he muses, his tone dreamy and childlike.

This is the part of Shua you love the most, you realize - the boy who always has so much wonder and curiosity about the world. “Like… what do you mean?”

“I mean, they’re up there all the time, shining away. Maybe they feel lonely?” He turns to you, his expression earnest despite his earlier drunken shenanigans. “What if they just want someone to look at them?”

The second time Joshua smiles at you like that is on a summer night, only a few weeks after Seungcheol’s party. You’re both lying on the grass outside your apartment, too tired from the long day at the beach to make it inside.

His leg is casually brushing against yours as he points out constellations.  His hand grazes yours, and you will yourself to be very, VERY still, your heart racing in your chest as you focus on the warmth radiating from him.

“Look!” he suddenly exclaims, pointing to a star twinkling especially bright in the dying summer light. “It’s the happiest star in the galaxy!”

You glance over at him, catching the way his profile is softly lit by the stars and the dim lights from your yard. He looks like a dream. You tear your gaze away, following his finger up into the sky. “Happiest star, huh?” you ask, trying to play along even though all you can think about is the heat from his skin. “Why’s that?”

Joshua turns his head toward you, and when you look back at him, you see that smile again. His eyes crinkle in the most endearing way, like they’re scrunched shut from happiness. His lips curve into a soft, easy smile that stretches across his face—completely unguarded, completely natural. His whole expression radiates warmth and affection, like it’s the kind of smile that could only exist when he’s with you, in this moment.

It’s so genuine, so full of quiet joy, that for a second, you feel like the whole world stops, and it’s just the two of you, lying under the stars.

“Because it knows how special we are,” he whispers, his voice soft and sincere. And for a brief, dangerous moment, you almost lean in and kiss him.

But you quickly look back up at the sky, heart pounding, only to notice that the star seems to be getting closer and closer. “Shua,” you say, laughing nervously, “that’s a PLANE, you idiot.”

You both burst into laughter, your bodies shaking as the absurdity of it takes over. When you finally calm down, you glance back at him, and he’s still smiling that same sweet, irresistible smile, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. It makes your chest ache, and that’s when you know you love him.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm, Shua?" You keep your eyes fixed on the stars above, afraid that if you look at him again, that smile—the one that makes your heart twist in all the best and worst ways—might undo you completely. One more glance, and you’re not sure if you’ll kiss him, cry, or both.

"Do you think the stars want someone to look at them?" His voice is soft, words slurred just enough to remind you how much he's had to drink. His hand reaches out, fingers lacing with yours. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quicken through the skin of your wrist, but you stay perfectly still, pretending it’s nothing more than another casual touch.

“Maybe,” you whisper, your voice barely loud enough to compete with the sound of the waves. You don’t dare look at him. “Or maybe we just like talking to them because they’re the only ones we can be honest with, you know?”

Joshua hums, a low, thoughtful sound. He tightens his grip on your hand, and for a second, the space between you feels smaller than it ever has before. "Maybe..." His voice trails off, the words slow, like he’s working through the haze of alcohol. "Maybe we should tell the stars a secret."

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s something fragile about this moment, something you’re both teetering on the edge of, but neither of you is willing to leap. His hand stays in yours, warm and steady, grounding you even as the uncertainty lingers in the air between you.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the faintest trace of that smile—the one you can’t quite get out of your head - and you tell the stars your secret. 

It’s quiet for a beat. Two. The waves crash against the shore, and you time your breaths to the sound of the tide. 

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you tell the stars?” he murmurs, voice slower now, soft and pliant. It sounds like love, you think. 

You feel a smile tugging at your lips, heart beating louder in your chest as you speak. “That’s a secret.”

Joshua shifts beside you, sand crunching softly under his weight. He doesn’t respond right away, and you can almost hear him smile. "Wanna bet it’s the same secret?"

The teasing edge in his voice catches you off guard. You turn your head, just enough to see the glint in his eyes, the lazy grin spreading across his face. “What are we betting?” you ask, almost breathless.

He leans in slightly, the smell of salt and campfire clinging to him, his voice dropping as he says, “A kiss.”

(For the record, you should have seen this coming. Sweet and doe-like as he can be, Joshua Hong is Yoon Jeonghan’s best friend)

The third time Shua smiles at you like he loves you, it’s a rainy July afternoon and you’re swaddled in blankets in his living room. Love, Actually is queued and forgotten on the TV as you and Josh throw popcorn into each other’s mouths. 

When you miss for the 12th time in a row, Josh looks over at the movie, and then back at you, eyes sparkling with something you can’t quite place. “You know, if we keep watching these cheesy rom-coms, I might just end up believing in love at first sight,” he teases, his voice light.

You snort, nudging him playfully. “Is that so? Careful, or you might fall in love with me.”

He leans back, a grin spreading across his face, and for a moment, you can’t help but admire how carefree he looks. “Who says I’m not already?” 

You launch a pillow at his head to hide how stunned you are. “Shut up, Shua.” The room suddenly feels too hot - he’s too close to you, to the truth. 

Jeonghan picks the perfect time to walk in the door, and the moment is broken. As he and Joshua engage in yet another fight about Jeonghan’s annoying habit of not taking his wet socks off, you steal a breath and try to calm your fluttering heart. When you finally find the courage to look at Joshua again, he’s already smiling at you - soft, sweet, and full of warmth. It terrifies you and exhilarates you, and the world around you fades away. 

Your breath hitches. For a moment, the world feels like it’s tilting, like the stars have drawn closer, hanging low enough to brush against your skin. You swallow, heart pounding, and manage to keep your voice steady. “You’re drunk.”

Joshua just shrugs, the corners of his lips quirking up like this is the funniest thing in the world. “That is a fact,” he says, still looking at you with those half-lidded, adoring eyes. “Want another?”

You glance away, the stars blurring above you, your mind racing. “Sure. Why not?” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant, even though every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire.

He shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours. His next words fall softly between you, barely above a breath. “I love you. That’s the secret.” His eyes are warm, and for the first time tonight, the drunken haze seems to clear for just a moment. "Now pay up."

For a second, you can’t move. The waves crash softly in the distance, the laughter from the group fading into a low murmur as you process what he just said. The words hang in the air between you, delicate and heavy all at once.

You find your voice, though it comes out more as a whisper. “How did you know?”

He smiles again, softer this time, his thumb brushing your hand gently. “Because you have this one smile… one that you only give me. Like I’m the only person in the world that matters.”

The air feels too thin suddenly, and you blink, your heart racing. “You have the same smile,” you manage to say, your voice breaking just a little, as if the truth has snuck up on you, too.

His grin widens, that familiar warmth spreading across his face like it always does when he’s pleased with himself. "Match made in heaven then," he murmurs. "Now pay up."

For a beat, you just stare at him, your mind blank, the weight of everything settling in slowly. Then, before you can think too much about it, you lean in. Your lips meet his, soft and tentative at first, testing the waters—but the moment he kisses you back, the rest of the world fades away.

Joshua’s hand moves to cradle your cheek, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. He tastes faintly of alcohol, but underneath it, there's something familiar, something that feels like home. The heat from his body mingles with yours, and for a moment, nothing else matters but the way he feels against you.

When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, the world seems to settle back into place. The stars above twinkle faintly, and you’re aware of the soft crash of waves in the distance again. But Joshua’s still smiling—smiling in that way that’s reserved only for you.

“Told you it was the same secret,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Shut up, Shua.”

He laughs softly, his voice a warm rumble in the quiet night. “Can’t help it.”

The two of you fall silent again, the world shrinking down to just the two of you, the sound of the waves, and the stars twinkling above. You find yourself staring up at the sky, your hand still in his, as if nothing needs to be said. It feels like the universe is watching, waiting, holding its breath.

After a moment, you break the silence. “You remember that night… when you told me about the happiest star in the galaxy?”

Joshua chuckles beside you. “How could I forget?” He tilts his head back, eyes scanning the sky as if searching for that same star. “I told you it was smiling for us.”

You smile at the memory. “Yeah, and then you said it knew how special we were.”

His thumb brushes over your hand, the gesture gentle, like a reminder of the words you’ve both left unsaid for so long. “I guess I always knew,” he murmurs.

You glance at him, the soft glow of starlight casting his face in shadows, but there’s a light in his eyes, something quiet and real. “Knew what?”

“That we were special,” he says, his voice soft but certain. “You and me.”

Your heart skips a beat, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. You turn back to the sky, feeling the same sense of wonder from that summer night so long ago. The stars are still shining, still twinkling like they’ve been waiting for this moment.

You let out a breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “Think the happiest star is still watching us?”

Joshua smiles, and though you can’t see it fully, you can feel it—the same smile he’s always reserved just for you. “I think it’s still smiling.”

Neither of you says anything after that. The night stretches on, quiet except for the faint sound of the waves lapping at the shore. You lie there side by side, the cool sand beneath you, his hand still loosely holding yours. The sky above feels endless, full of stars that have seen nights like this before.

Somewhere in the distance, the stars twinkle, and Joshua looks over at you and smiles. 

[bonefall]

I don't know if Bumble would have been outright treasured in modern ThunderClan, but at the very least, there's no way they would have been "just as bad" as The Settlers in kicking her out like that.

Yes there is active xenophobia against outsiders, and yes, the fatphobia is still around. But this is a Clan that sheltered several kittypets in Bramblestar's Storm-- and even Minty, who was completely unwilling to adapt to Clan life, was treated with infinitely more respect than Bumble.

Most likely is that ThunderClan recognizes that Bumble is being hurt, doesn't really want to leave her housefolk, and sends out a patrol to deal with Tom. Like... especially if anyone remembered Jacques and The Dreaded Susan.

Well... assuming the new team managed to stay consistent with the characterization of the old. But even New Team Modern ThunderClan doesn't act nearly as bad as DOTC cats do.

That's a piece that sticks out so much about The Bumble Debaucle. Thunder Rising is the first book the new team did all on their own, just following a plot outline. The style of WC has always been rather mean-spirited-- but some of the grossest, cruellest scenes in the WHOLE series come from Thunder Rising and First Battle specifically.

It's weird that DOTC is such a low point, overall.

[marveladdictjones]

Hi i love ur writing. Sorry this is long but could you do a Caspian x pevensie!reader whose susan’s twin and like he chose her over susan and like they meet in prince caspian and fall in love and he “proposes” but then she can’t come back to narnia.

BUT THEN… she goes back with E Lucy and Eustace(whose kinda her enemy in a funny way) for some reason and she’s with Caspian and it’s just them on the Dawn Treader and Lucy tells caspian how sad she’s been the year they were back.

Can it just be really angsty and fluffy at the same time🤭🤭

Sorry this is long i just love ur writing💋💋

Prove Her Wrong

pairing: Dawn Treader!King Caspian x Pevensie!fem!reader warnings: angst obviously, dw it's also fluffy, mentions of drowning (no one actually does, but it feels like it for a moment), amicable banter, pining, regretting decisions, use of y/n (I'm so sorry) summary: both you and caspian have been miserable a/n: aahh, I love this idea so much! Also, thank you for giving me an excuse to watch the movies again, really needed that. I did kind of twist the plot to make it fit better, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Sorry it took this long to write it, my schedule's been packed for the last couple of weeks, I hope the fic makes up for it. wc: 2.6k

It had all happened too fast to comprehend. One second, you're standing in your cousin's room looking at a painting. The next, you're engulfed in a massive ocean trying to keep your head above the surface.

Too busy looking for the younger children, you hadn't even noticed the change in the atmosphere. Everything had gotten a little brighter, the air more fresh, the sky more clear. But you were preoccupied trying to make it out alive as the currents tried to pull you below the surface.

"Lucy!? Edmund!?" You yell out with what little breath you had left. "Eustace!? Anyone, where are you!?"

Somewhere to your right (or left, seeing as you had no sense of direction anymore), you heard a faint voice you recognised as your younger sister calling out for you.

"Lucy!" You manage to get out as you try to swim towards her. As you come closer, you were able to make out the two boys as well.

"What happened, where are we?" Eustace calls out, arms flailing around him as he tries to keep his head above water.

You share a fleeting look with your younger brother and sister, and something in your gut tells you you know exactly where you are.

"We're back, aren't we?" Edmund asks, confirming your suspiscion. But before you can answer his question, a ship dooms up, and it was approaching you rapidly.

"Swim!" You shouted, trying to put a safe distance between you and the ship while also trying to keep the others closeby.

You heard a few loud plunges into the water, and when you turned around for a moment, you saw some of the crewmembers swimming towards you. A moment later, you felt a pair of strong hands wrap around your waist.

"It's alright, I've got you." An all too familiar voice reassures you. You turned around, only to be met with a slightly older version of the man you had been forced to leave behind the last time you had left Narnia.

"Caspian..." You say breathlessly as you look into his eyes.

"Y/n..." He responds, equally out of breathe and clearly both surprised and confused to see you here.

Together with the other crewmates, he helps you onto the ship, even Eustace who is screaming fire and demanding to back to England. Someone hands you a warm blanket, which you gladly accept and drape around your shoulders. You glance at Caspian, and for a moment your gazes lock, before he is pulled away by Edmund.

"Did you call for us?" He asks, to which Caspian shakes his head.

"No, I didn't. Not this time, at least," Caspian answers, glancing over to you once more as he does.

You're interrupted by a shrieking Eustace, who is swatting away a large mouse sitting on his chest.

"Get this filthy animal off of me!" He screeches as he scrambles backwards.

"Pretty sure that mouse is far cleaner than you are, Eustace," You say as you roll your eyes and shake your head. "It's good to see you again, Reepicheep."

"It is a delight to see you as well, Your Majesties," He responds, bowing down for a moment.

Caspian walks up to the stairs that lead to the quarterdeck and addresses the crew. "Men, behold our castaways: Edmund the Just, Lucy the Valient and Y/n the Righteous; High King and Queens of Narnia."

All the men on the ship went down on their knees and bowed deeply in respect of you. No matter how many times you had been called Queen, it always sent shivers down your spine.

Caspian led the three of you towards the King's quarters, which doubled as his study, leaving Eustace in the care of the crew, who had fainted when he had seen Tavros the minotaur. You had been given some dry clothes that fit you like a glove, although your shirt was a little big and had a vaguely familiar scent to it.

In the middle of the room, a huge map of Narnia was sprawled out across the table. You scanned over it, your finger absently tracing the coastal lines as you lightly smiled to yourself. You wouldn't admit it out loud, but you had missed being here when you were back in England.

With Peter and Susan off to America, you been left to stay at your aunt and uncle's house with your younger siblings. At first, you had thought it wildly unfair to be stuck in England whilst your older brother and twin-sister got to live with your parents across the Atlantic ocean.

Eventually, you had calmed down and accepted your fate. Most of the time, you could be found lightly fidgeting with the one possession you had been able to take back with you from your last adventure in Narnia; a simple silver ring you kept on a piece of string around your neck. It reminded you of a time where you didn't feel like the second option, a feeling that haunted you often when being compared to your twin.

"It has been three years since we won Narnia back from my uncle," Caspian explains as he points towards the map, "There is peace in the entire country now."

"And have you found yourself a Queen in those three years?" Lucy asks, making you look up from the map. She truly didn't mean any harm with the question, but Edmund lightly nudges her side and gives her a stern look.

"No," Caspian says with a light chuckle to alleviate the tension, "not one to compare with your sister..."

"Hang on," Edmund interrupts, "But if there's no wars to fight, and no one's in trouble... then why are we here?"

"That's a good question. I've been asking myself the same thing," Caspian answers. "Before I tried to take the throne back from my uncle, he went after my father's closest advisors, the seven Lords of Telmar. They fled to the Lone Islands, but no one has heard from them since."

"So you think something's happened to them?"

"Well, if it has, it's my duty to find out," Caspian says rather solemnly. He looks over at you, trying to get a read on you, but your eyes are glued to the map in front of you.

"What's east of the Lone Islands?" Lucy asks, pointing towards the map where it just says The Great Eastern Ocean.

"Unchartered waters," Drinian, the captain, answers. "Things you could barely imagine. Tales of sea serpents and worse..."

"Sea serpents?" Edmund asks, his face lighting up at the sound of something dangerous to battle against.

"Alright, Captain, that's enough of your tall tales," Caspian interrupts. "You are free to go wherever you want on this ship, it is as much yours as it is mine."

It's a silent cue for Edmund and Lucy to go with the captain and explore the ship, while you stay in the quarters, leaning against the table, your eyes still locked on the parchment. After the door shuts, Caspian speaks up once again.

"Can you at least look at me?" He asks, his voice much softer and hesitant now. "Please?"

You lightly sigh as you look up at him, your eyes instantly finding his. "I'm sorry I left," You say truthfully, even though you sound rather defeated.

"Don't apologise, I- I shouldn't have asked you to stay." This time, it's Caspian who lets his head fall and gaze upon the map. "I knew you couldn't, yet I asked you anyway. I am sorry, for putting you in that position, that was selfish."

"It's alright," You somewhat reassure him, "Aslan knows I would have been just as selfish had roles been reversed. But we can't change the past, and we mustn't let it stand in the way of our future." You take a deep breath as you take a step closer to him. "You deserve a bright future filled with happiness, Caspian. Don't let me stand in the way of that by holding onto something that can't be."

It's the right thing to say, the logical thing to say. You're from a different world, there's no way of knowing if you'll be able to stay in this one after the adventure is over. It guts you to the core to walk out of the King's quarters, it tears your heart apart, but you try to shake it off as you go out onto the main deck.

Luckily for you, you're able to take your mind off of it when you notice your cousin Eustace talking to a regular seagull.

"What on Earth are you doing talking to a bird?" You say, a somewhat smug tone laced in your voice. You're called the Righteous, not the Humble, and for good reason.

"I just assumed that-" Eustace begins, his face turning a light shade of pink.

"That just because a mouse can talk, so must a bird?" Maybe it's a coping mechanism for the shattered heart in your chest, but you let out a light chuckle. "Oh cousin, you have a lot to learn about how things work here. Good to know you can't claim to be the smartest person in every realm." You shake your head and hear a few crewmen chuckle along.

The sky gets darker as the evening falls, and the crew celebrates the your arrival with festive spirits. Sea shanties are sung, dancing goes hand in hand with a lot of laughter and a couple of bottles of liquor are brought out.

Despite the gloomy thoughts that have been haunting you for the day (and the days before that), you laugh and leap along with the crewmen. Even Eustace loosens up a little, although keeping it modest. The only one who seems unaffected by the joyious celebrations is the king, who sits on the staircase and watches the others, or rather, watches you.

At some point, he is joined by Lucy, who due to her young age can't participate in the drinking and adult activities. She sits down next to him and keeps quiet for a little while, before speaking up.

"What's bothering you, Caspian?" She asks softly. "Is it the Lords?"

"For the first time in a long time, it actually isn't, my friend," He says truthfully, letting out a sigh. "It feels like even when she is this close, she is still worlds away."

He didn't have to say your name in order for Lucy to understand. It's the same way you didn't need to mention his whenever she would find you staring mindlessly at the wall or out the window back in England. You would always have that same tragic look in your eyes while you fidgeted with the ring around your neck, no matter how hard you would try to mask it whenever Lucy got your attention.

"You know, she feels the same way right now," Lucy responds, feeling incredibly sorry for both your misery.

"She's evidently better at coping with it than I am." The words came out more bitter than intended, but Lucy couldn't really blame him.

"Out here, maybe. But back in England," She refrained from saying 'back at home', never having been able to call it home when she had missed Narnia too much. "Back in England, she was a mess. A beautiful, poised and collected mess, but crumbling down on the inside."

Caspian didn't speak up, but simply looked sorry and felt even more remorseful than he already had.

"She kept the ring, you know," Lucy continues, "Oh, she would never say it out loud, but it was obvious she regretted leaving Narnia, leaving you most of all. I'm pretty sure she would give anything to stay this time around, if you'd ask her again."

"She told me to let go of a future with her, said she didn't want to stand in the way of my happiness," Caspian argues solemnly, "Sounded a lot like she wanted to move on from all of this."

"That's what she thinks is the right thing to do, because it makes more sense," Lucy counters. "Prove to her that it isn't."

With that, she stands up from the stairs and walks out into the crowd. Turning around one last time, she says:

"Oh, and maybe do something about the beard, it might remind her of the man she fell in love with."

Caspian lightly rolls his eyes at her comment, but decides to take her up on it nonetheless when he retired to the barracks below deck. For the sake of privacy, he had given his quarters to you and Lucy to stay in while you were on the ship.

Later that night, when everyone was passed out in their beds, Caspian went onto the deck to get some fresh air, where he soon notices you, leaning on the railing while you looked up at the stars.

"Still having trouble sleeping?" He asks as he stands next to you.

"Insomnia doesn't go away so easily, it seems," You softly chuckle, having to do a double take when you notice he has shaved. "I was almost getting used to that beard, but I'm glad you shaved it off any way."

"What is it with the hostility against my facial hair?" Caspian comments as he raises an eyebrow at you. "I thought it made me look ruggedly handsome."

"Who'd you have to look ruggedly handsome for before we showed up today?" You ask in a mocking way, making you lightly snicker when Caspian takes on a defensive tone. "Oh, stop it, I was merely teasing."

"Teasing, are you now?" He asks, a mischievous glint sparking up in his eyes as he leans in just a little. "That's not very Queen-like behaviour, now is it?"

You lightly sigh, letting your head fall for a moment before you speak up. "Perhaps I've gotten a bit rusty," You note, "I haven't been a Queen for a while now, you know?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's like riding a horse," Caspian assures you, "It's not something you can unlearn, even if you don't practice anymore."

"Well, maybe it's a good thing. Might make the next time I leave more easy..."

"You're still planning on leaving after this adventure?" Caspian asks, his voice growing a little more quiet. "You can stay, you do know that, right? You did the first time, surely you can-"

"Caspian, please," You interrupt him, pushing away from the railing and taking a few steps back, "It's too difficult, you know that. I can't just leave my family behind, and I can't ask them to stay."

"You don't have to do that. I am certain there's a way for you to move freely between realms," Caspian suggests, "And if there isn't, we'll find a way. Somehow, things like this have a way of working out."

He takes a step towards you, reaching out but refraining from touching you just yet. "Besides," He continues, "Time goes by much slower there than it does here right? We can figure this out and they won't even notice you're not there."

He searches for your eyes as he takes another step towards you, a silent longing in his eyes as he does. "You don't have to come with an answer right now. Whether it's tomorrow, next week or at the very last second, I don't care as long as you're certain that whatever you choose is something you actually want, not what you think is right."

You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. "Okay," You say after a while. Your eyes are still closed, but a small creeps up on your lips.

"Okay?" Caspian echoes, his eyes sparking up, even though he's not sure he heard you correctly.

"Yeah," You say, opening your eyes to look into his. "Okay, I'll stay. But I might change my mind if you don't come here and kiss me, because-"

Luckily, he cuts you off mid-sentence by pulling you in and effectively using his lips to shut you up. You can feel him smile against your lips, and you can't help but reciprocate the gesture while your hands run up into his hair.

© This work belongs to @marveladdictjones, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!

Taglist: @unofficialxmarvelfreak

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

The Perfect Paradox - Tenth Doctor X Female Reader

Title: The Perfect Paradox

Tenth Doctor X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother mentioned, neighbors, Susan Johnson (OC), town Elders, TARDIS, Rose (Mentioned),

WC: 8,003

Warnings: Reader wears a dress/skirt, nicknames, marriage, 50s women stereotypes/misogyny mentioned, 50s-themed clothing, italics, yelling, gaslighting, slight mental breakdown?, italics for a flashback, teasing, banter, brainwashing, be prepared to run, protective Doctor, Doctor's trauma mentioned briefly (Rose), slight angst, and fluff

Your melodic humming filled the kitchen as you stood by the stove, stirring scrambled eggs around on the frying pan. The bright morning sun shined through your windows and past your white lace curtains, enveloping the kitchen in a warm golden glow. Sizing the scrambled eggs up - assuming they were done - you reached over to turn off the stove. 

Brushing down the skirt of your blue, fit-and-flare dress, you walked over to the coffee maker, grabbing your two mugs from the cupboard - one Prussian Blue, and the other a simple brown - you poured the steaming coffee into both of them. Leaning over the counter slightly, one foot lifting in the process, you opened the small glass jar of sugar cubs. Dropping two in one of the mugs, you grabbed a small spoon and stirred the sugar into the hot liquid. 

You decided to not take a sip - fearing that you might burn your tongue - so you quickly turned back to the eggs on the stove. Grabbing one of the two plates from beside you on the counter, you began to plate the scrambled eggs, continuing to hum as you heard the toast pop up in the toaster. Grabbing the pair of freshly made toast from the toaster, you began to spread butter upon both of them, before setting them down on the plates beside the eggs. Picking up one of the plates, fork in hand, your husband came in through the kitchen doorway. Right on time.

Dressed in a neatly pressed, dark blue suit with red pinstripes, he straightened his herringboned burgundy tie with a mauve flora design. His white button-up underneath was wrinkle-free from when you ironed it the night before. Your husband looked handsome, as always. You dreamily sighed mentally. You had always considered him a handsome bloke in a tight suit with amazing hair. And speaking of his brown hair - the soft strands usually stuck out everywhere, especially in the early mornings - was gelled to the side. His sideburns were prominent, one of your favorite physically attractive things about your man. All ready for work.

As he spotted the brown coffee mug on the counter, he gave you a glance, his smile growing as he winked in thanks. You mentally sighed once more. You always found yourself staring at his dark chocolate eyes - even when he wasn’t looking. 

As he took a drink from his coffee, his eyes landed on the plate of eggs and toast you were holding for him, and he let out a hum; setting the coffee mug down. "Oh, I'm sorry, darling, but I am really running late." He spoke, grabbing the briefcase from off the dining table. His Estuary English accent sounded beautiful every morning, and night; just all the time really. 

You only smiled, shaking your head lightly, "No, it's alright." You sat the plate down just as he made his way over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek in a farewell; his tall, lean statue towering over you. "Have a good day, honey."

"You too, dear." He replied, grabbing his long, light brown overcoat and tossing it over his arm, he turned halfway out the door, giving you one last grin before leaving for work. You wished your husband wasn't running late, giving him time to eat, but those times weren’t often, seeing how busy he is with being an internationally renowned neurosurgeon and all. Your mother had always wanted you to marry a Doctor.

Letting out a small content sigh, you began to wrap up your husband's breakfast in some saran wrap, before placing it in the fridge. You then ate and got ready for the day. Taking the rollers out of your hair, you made sure you looked presentable enough to go out and about. Looking out the window, you admired how nice it looked outside; you decided that it would be nice to go for a small walk.

Grabbing your purse, you slipped on your short, white gloves, and matching hat. Making sure you had everything you needed, you grabbed your house keys and left. 

There was hardly a cloud in the sky, and the sun shone brightly, warming your skin. Passing house after house in the wonderful suburbs you and your husband lived in, you continued to smile. The streets were clean - as were the sidewalks and people's yards; freshly mowed. Colorful flowers were planted at each home, composed of roses, tulips, and marigolds. Your home also had a lovely little garden in the front yard, where you raised your pretty pink roses. They were your joy. 

Shady Grove was a small town in practically the middle of nowhere. All the houses were very similar and matched in color, size, and shape. Every yard - as said before - had gardens, perfectly planted, near the large front windows of the homes. White picket fences lined each property line, separating each house from the other. The wives made breakfast in the mornings while their husbands got ready for work. And after saying goodbye to their wives, they would leave for work. 

Everything in Shady Grove operated with perfect precision. The same type and brand of cars left their driveways at the same time each day, their engines starting in perfect unison. The children, neatly dressed in their school uniforms, marched to the bus stop, their laughter bright. The air was filled with the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming roses, as if someone had bottled the essence of suburban bliss and sprayed it all over the town.

You loved Shady Grove with its tidy streets and friendly neighbors. The community events organized by the Women's Association were always a highlight, bringing everyone together for picnics and bake sales. The local library, with its rows of perfectly shelved books, was your sanctuary on Saturdays - a place where you felt at peace among the orderly rows of shelves. To you, Shady Grove was simply the epitome of suburban paradise, and you cherished every moment spent within its meticulously maintained borders. 

Spotting a few blue birds, you watched them fly with a smile, hearing their little chirps. Your eyes then landed on the high grassy hills outside the town. Your eyes immediately spotted something in the distance, but before you could even think further, you remembered that you were planning on making a strawberry milk pie. You loved pie, and it was one of your husband’s favorites. Your neighbor, Susan Johnson, was dropping off some of her fresh home-grown strawberries the very next day. The market was just around the corner, so you decided to get some milk and eggs to prepare for the baking.

~~~

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you hummed softly to yourself in the kitchen. You chopped vegetables with practiced ease, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board filling the air. The aroma of roasting chicken wafted through the house, mingling with the comforting scent of herbs and spices. It was your husband's favorite dish, and you took pride in preparing it just the way he liked it.

When you heard the familiar sound of the front door opening, you smiled to yourself; continuing to cook. "Honey, I'm home!" He called, making you giggle.

"Welcome home." You called, before finishing dinner. You were almost done.

"Is dinner almost ready, dear?" You heard your husband's voice, knowing him to be in the dining room. 

Opening the Dutch oven, you smiled as the scent of the delicious food wafted out, the aroma making your mouth water. A large plate full of roasted vegetables sat on the counter before you. Turning the heat off, you began to make both you and your husband a plate. "Yes, honey," You called back to him, "Just one moment." Heading to the dining room, you placed your husband's plate down in front of him, making him look away from his newspaper; setting it down on the table beside his food.

"This looks delicious, darling," He complimented, slipping off his dark brown, acetate frames, before beginning to dig in.

Sitting down at the end of the table, you grabbed the pastel yellow cotton napkin from the table, opened it, and placed it on your lap. Shuffling slightly in your seat, you got ready to eat, cutting into the meat with your fork and knife, "Is it to your liking?" You asked, glancing up at him, and taking a bite of the food.

Nodding, he spoke, "It is perfect, my darling," 

You smiled, watching as he enjoyed his meal, a sense of contentment washed over you. You loved these simple moments of domesticity, where the outside world seemed to fade away. "Well, how was your day, honey?"

Your husband cleared his throat, "It was quite a day, dear. I spent most of my time in the operating room." He began, pausing to sip at his water before continuing, "We had a particularly challenging case involving a brain tumor, but I'm pleased to say it went well." You nodded along, fully engaged in his words, "After the surgeries, I attended a meeting discussing new techniques we're hoping to implement soon. It's exhausting, but fulfilling work." He finished, looking up from his food, "Oh, how was your day today, dear?" He asked, as if remembering, but you hadn't noticed.

Your hand froze holding your fork mid-air at his question before you placed it back on your plate, "Oh, it was great, honey. I got groceries from the market, and I also cleaned up around the house and did some laundry."

Your husband paused, looking up at you slowly, "Nothing... Odd happened today?" His gaze was intense; questioning.

You continued to smile, though confused, you shook your head, "No, I don't recall anything odd happening today." Your smile then dropped as a question popped up in your head, blinking your eyes owlishly, "I didn't miss anything important today, did I?"

"No," Your husband spoke, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

"Oh!" You exclaimed as you remembered something, your husband's head shooting up at your exclamation, "I saw that there was a deal on that type of pork that you like, so I bought it for a future dish."

At your response, his shoulders dropped and he breathed out of his nose. Finishing his dinner, and patting the side of his lips, he grabbed the newspaper once more, "That's nice, dear," He spoke, his voice sounding slightly muffled behind the newspaper. "Some dessert would be nice."

"Dessert, absolutely," You quickly dabbed the corners of your own lips before standing. Grabbing your empty plate and his, you headed to the kitchen to fetch your loving and doting husband some well-deserved ice cream; he had such a long and hard day.

~~~

The next morning, you and your husband woke up bright and early; as you both did every morning. Dressing in a sunflower yellow fit-and-flare dress, you carefully made sure the rollers in your hair were still in place before getting ready for the day. It was the weekend, so your husband was thankfully staying home with you and keeping you company. Though, you did have a few plans for the day. Susan was coming over to drop those strawberries off, and you were planning to go to the library before coming home to make dinner and two strawberry milk pies - along with any house duties that needed to be done. 

Making sure you looked presentable, you began cleaning. As your husband read in his La-Z-Boy recliner, a cup of steaming coffee beside him on the coffee table - made just how he liked it - you were mopping the kitchen floors. The scent of lemon-scented cleaner filled the air, mingling with the aroma of brewing coffee. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the freshly polished countertops.

As you finished in the kitchen, you turned your attention to dusting the shelves in the living room. Everything had to be just right for Susan's visit later. You straightened the neatly arranged books on the shelves, occasionally pausing to glance at your husband, immersed in his book with an unreadable expression.

"Would you like another cup of coffee, honey?" You asked, breaking the quiet concentration that filled the room.

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a faint smile. "No, thank you, dear. I'm fine for now," He replied, returning his attention to his book.

You nodded and continued with your tasks, the rhythmic swish of the feather duster against the bookshelves becoming a comforting background noise. But at the sound of the doorbell, you turned towards the noise, your content smile widening. "That must be Susan with the strawberries." You spoke, before heading to the door. 

Stashing your feather duster away, you brushed your skirt down with both hands before letting out a sigh. Reaching out, you opened the door, though, at the sight of the man outside your door, your smile faltered slightly; though, it didn't vanish.

The man in front of you let out a sigh of what seemed like a sigh of relief, a bright smile appearing on his face, "Finally! I found you! I've probably checked every house on this block looking for you. Are you alright? We have to go." He reached out to grab your arm but you stepped back, now majorly confused.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "Found me? What- Uh," You asked, stuttering, confused, but you recomposed yourself, "May I help you, sir?" 

This man before you went to speak, but ultimately shut his mouth. And then he just stared at you, his own eyebrows furrowed, his dark brown eyes seemingly analyzing you. It was intense. His eyes then broke from yours and glanced around wildly to the side and behind you before looking back at you, "It's me, the Doctor," He gestured to himself, but upon receiving no reply - confusion still in your eyes - his tone dropped, "You have to remember me." His voice is low, and deep, but you remained silent; a shiver ran through you from his intense stare, your cheeks feeling warm. 

You also took this time to observe him. His hair was brown, strands sticking up in odd angles like he had just gotten out of bed. His eyes were brown, like dark chocolate. He was tall, and lanky, wearing the very same attire your husband would wear to work. A thought buzzed in the back of your mind as you eyed his sideburns... 

'He looks a lot like my husband.'

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't recognize you." You began, seeing something flash in his eyes as he ran a frustrated - almost angry - hand through his hair, "Do you work with my husband?"

Before he could speak though, your husband's voice caught your attention, "Who's at the door, dear?"

Turning, your smile widened at his presence, watching him enter the entryway. Your smile faltered slightly upon seeing your husband's frown. "This gentleman said that he was a doctor." You spoke to him, "Is he one of your colleagues?"

Your husband doesn't answer, coming up beside you, his hand coming up to press against your lower back. "Why don't you vacuum the living room, dear? You did mention that you wanted to clean the floor earlier." Your husband spoke, and you gave him a bright smile, nodding.

"Yes, honey." You spoke as your husband went to stand by the stranger at your door, his hand on the doorknob to shut the door behind him, wanting a private conversation with the man outside. Heading to the living room, just as the front door began to shut, it stopped suddenly. 

"Y/N!" You heard the stranger call for you, making you turn, seeing him holding the door open as your husband visibly glared at him. Your husband was trying to close the door, but the stranger was preventing him. The look on the stranger's face was a look of total determined desperation. For some reason, you felt that whatever he was going to say was urgent. Pushing against the strength of your husband, he grunted lightly before speaking; his dark eyes bore into yours, "When did you get married!?"

At those words, he was overpowered and the door slammed shut. The sound reverberated in your mind, echoing as you found yourself frozen to where you stood. You stared at the door, before you moved your hand up, your eyes meeting the glimmering ring on your ring finger. 

'When did you get married!?'

'When did I get married?'

Your mind felt suddenly blank, fuzzy even. You tried to recall the details of your wedding day, but the memories remained elusive, obscured behind a fog. You shut your eyes tight and rubbed your temples, hoping to coax out fragments of recollection, but all you could grasp were fleeting glimpses: the scent of roses in the air, the warmth of sunlight filtering through stained-glass windows, and the faces of smiling guests.

Opening your eyes, you looked around the living room. If you had gotten married, wouldn't there be pictures? Searching the walls, you passed each one, trying to find something - anything - that would confirm your wedding day. Each frame held snapshots of idyllic moments: vacations, family gatherings, and smiling faces captured in time. 

"No wedding photos," You muttered, your voice barely audible as a knot tightened in your stomach. It was as if the most significant day of your life had been erased, replaced by an unsettling void that threatened to swallow you whole. But you kept searching - from the dining room, kitchen, hallways, bathroom, and bedroom - yet, you found nothing. You even searched the closets for your dress, but even that too was missing. Finding yourself back in the living room, you heard the front door open. You could feel your husband's presence behind you, and you let out a shaky breath, "How come we don't have any pictures of our wedding?" You asked, not bothering to turn around.

"You didn't want any," He spoke, and that made you turn, your eyes holding so much confusion. He looked down at you, continuing, "Don't you remember? You didn't want us to waste our money on all that film or to hire someone to take them. That's why we didn't get any." He explained.

"I did that?" You asked, doubting yourself but more questions began popping up in your head, and before you could even stop yourself, you were speaking; "How long have we been married?"

Your husband let out a laugh as if what you had said was stupid, "Seven years," He replied, causing you to blink, "What do you mean how long have we been married?" Your husband shook his head, his hand rising to stroke your back, "It's nothing, darling. Just forget it, alright?"

“What about my dress? My wedding dress, where is it?” You asked, your finger twisting your wedding band around your finger; fidgeting.

“You donated it,” He answered, “Please, dear, this is silly-”

"Why did he look so much like you?" You ignored him, his usually comforting and welcomed touch burning you, you quickly slipped out of his hold, staring up at him with wide eyes as if he had grown a second head. "Who was he?"

He blinked at you before letting out an almost awkward chuckle, shaking his head, "Just a friend from work, really, this is nothing you need to be so worked up about. Isn't Susan coming by soon?" He tried to again divert the conversation, but you weren't having it.

"No! Something's not right here!" You exclaimed, gesturing around you wildly, "How come I can't remember my wedding? Which is supposed to be the happiest day of my life! And why don't we have any evidence of a wedding, except rings? Not even my dress! How come I don't know when we married, when you proposed, or how I even met you?" You then gestured to the front door, "And why the hell does he show up at the door claiming to know me? And why the hell does he look so much like you!? He had the same hair and the same suit! Th-the same eyes!" You paused, your chest heaving with emotion as you awaited his response. Your husband’s expression shifted subtly, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he composed himself.

"Darling, I think you’re overreacting," He said gently, his voice soothing yet tinged with an edge of caution. "You’ve been under a lot of stress lately. It’s understandable that you might feel confused."

You shook your head vehemently, your mind racing with unanswered questions. "I'm not overreacting!" You insisted, your voice rising despite your efforts to remain calm. "There are too many things that don't add up, too many gaps in my memory. Important things missing. What is going on!?” You felt like you were having an anxiety attack, “I feel like I am going crazy.”

Your husband sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he regarded you with a mixture of concern and frustration. "Darling, please," He implored, reaching out as if to touch your arm. "Let's not do this now. Susan will be here soon, and-"

"No!" You interrupted, stepping back to avoid his touch. "I need answers.” He hesitated, his gaze flickering towards the doorway where Susan's impending arrival seemed to be his only lifeline. You began to pace the floor, biting on your thumb nail as you stared down at the floor, concentrating; "I don't remember- There are too many gaps... He looks just like you... The same eyes... Oh, god, his eyes..." You continued to pace until you stopped. "He knew my name. He said my name." You realized, slowly looking up at your supposed husband, "What's my name?"

He scoffed out a laugh - as if what you said again was ridiculous, "I know your name, darling, we're husband and wife."

"Yeah, you say that, but for however long I've been with you, you've only called me 'dear,' or 'darling.'" You took a step towards him, "What's my name?" His laughter grated against your fraying nerves, his dismissive tone fueling the fire under you. Yet, you stood your ground, refusing to back down despite the uncertainty gnawing at your core. "What's my name?" You repeated, your voice steady but laced with desperation. "Tell me my name."

Your husband’s face faltered, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to meet the weight of your gaze. Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken truths and the gravity of the situation unraveling before you both. "I..." He began, his voice wavering, but instead of answering, he looked away, his jaw clenched

"He knew my name," You murmured, a chill running down your spine as the pieces fell into place. "He called me by my name." The realization hit you like a tidal wave, washing away the illusions that had ensnared your mind for too long. You weren't the doting and compliant wife of your husband in Shady Grove. You were Y/N, a companion of the Doctor; a traveler of galaxies. 

~~~

Leaning against the console of the TARDIS, you tried to keep still - rocking on the balls of your feet - but you were excited to see where the Doctor was taking you next. You watched as he whizzed around the circular console, pulling levers and flipping switches. 

"Where are we going today, Doctor?" You asked, unable to stop a small smile from growing on your face as Doctor flipped the final switch, the TARDIS hummed loudly, and the lights flashed for a split second.

"We, my dear companion, are going to Xephus." He exclaimed, looking over at you, "I stumbled upon it a couple of decades ago. Lovely place, nice people."  

The Doctor started talking about the planet and its history. How it was a beautiful planet with lots of trees, animals, water, and so much food it would be impossible to eat it all. He continued talking about the beauty of the place and how it was similar to Earth. You admired him as he ranted, watching as the different expressions crossed his face; passion and excitement sparkled in his eyes at the mere thought of showing you another spectacular planet. 

It was hard not to admire him. The way he spoke, the boundless enthusiasm he had for every discovery, every hidden corner of the universe. You'd been traveling with the Doctor for what felt like a lifetime, each journey only deepening your affection for him. At first, you told yourself it was just admiration, pure and simple - respect for his intelligence, bravery, and endless curiosity - his overall zest for life. But, the admiration had developed into something deeper, something you were hesitant to acknowledge fully in the beginning.

But you accepted that you had feelings for him a long time ago. More specifically when he took you to a planet called 'Blimszarys.' It was a quiet, unspoken truth that had made its way into your heart, a warmth that spread through you whenever he smiled or took your hand as you ran from danger.

You came to terms with it, embracing the reality of your feelings without expecting anything in return. The Doctor was a being of infinite complexity, and you were just one of many companions who had shared in his extraordinary life. The thought of burdening him with your feelings felt selfish and unnecessary. He had enough weight on his shoulders.

Besides, being by his side was enough for you.

"Y/N," His voice broke you out of whatever trance you had been trapped within, seeing his eyebrows furrowed, and dark eyes staring down at you; confused. "Was I boring you?" He asked with a chuckle, and you quickly shook your head, feeling your cheeks flush from embarrassment.

"No! Of course not, Doctor. You could never bore me," You insisted, turning to fully look at him, "I'm sorry, there's just a lot on my mind right now." You gave him a reassuring smile, but the concern on his face still lingered. 

"Are you alright?" He then asked, "If you're not feeling well, we don't have to go. You humans and your human diseases, you never take care of yourselves properly." He huffed with faux indignantly, shaking his finger in your direction as he walked around the console.

"Hey, us humans certainly try," You protested, chuckling softly, following him around the console, meeting him by his side, "I am perfectly fine though. I'm not getting sick or anything. I just have a lot on my mind right now." 'You’re on my mind. You’re always on my mind.' You thought as the Doctor stared down at you, his gaze intense as they were whenever he was deep in thought. You just looked right back at him, a smile on your face, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

With a huff, seemingly accepting your answer, that brilliant smile of his returned and he threw an arm over your shoulders; bringing you to his side. "Alright right then! To Xephus! Allons-y!"

~~~

You remembered appearing on Xephus, feeling pretty excited to see the planet that the Doctor had discovered decades ago, and spoke so fondly of. You remembered leaving with the Doctor - hand-in-hand - as you both traveled through a large field of flowers, towards the town in the distance. You then remembered going off to wander the town on your own. At some point in your wandering, you remembered seeing glimpses of people in dark cloaks. You remember the feeling of their hands on your arms, the fear coursing through you as you tried to call out for the Doctor.

You didn't know what they did to brainwash you, and you weren't going to stay for anyone to try and brainwash you again. Staring at the man before you, he stared right back, but before he could do or say anything, you bolted. Running out of the room and out the front door, you stumbled down the walkway, past the sidewalk, and onto the street. Your breathing was heavy, your chest rising and falling as your eyes frantically searched around you. 

"Stop her!" You heard the man, who paraded around as your husband, your head whipping around to see him rushing towards you. Eyes wide, you continued to run, passing house after house; seeing men leaving their homes to chase you as well. Your labored breathing and your quick-beating heart echoed and pulsed in your ears as you passed the market; housewives, dressed in their fifties-themed attire, looked at you through the large windows oddly before going back to their shopping. Turning down another street, you frantically searched for any sign of the Doctor, weaving past an oncoming car - narrowingly missing it - as you frantically looked around for the Doctor.

Passing through two buildings - a barber shop and a diner - you pressed your back against the wall, trying to control your breathing as you quickly chucked off your heels. "She's over here!" You heard another voice yell, and you booked it. Running in between the two buildings, it spat you back out onto another street. You didn't look back, hearing the pounding of feet behind you. The large group of men - dressed in their suits and ties - were chasing after you; in reality, all of them were manipulating husbands. 

You ran until you reached another street lined with shops; only to then feel someone grab your arm and pull you into an alley. You were whipped around, your back pressing up against the brick wall of the apothecary shop. Regaining your bearings, you quickly recognized the hands that were wrapped around your upper arms. You knew those long and long and slender hands anywhere. His grip was a mix of gentleness and intensity; the warmth of them seeping into your skin soothingly. Looking up, you sighed - tears of relief burning the backs of your eyes. 

"Doctor, I-"

"Are you alright?" He interrupted, his voice gentle but urgent - his words came out quickly, yet clearly - though breathless from running and hiding; searching for you. Your well-being was his top priority. He waited for your response, his wide, dark chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face, before searching your eyes; looking for any signs of injury or distress. His furrowed eyebrows softened as he confirmed to himself that you were unharmed. If anything were to happen you...

"I'm okay," You spoke softly, still trying to calm your racing heart, "I'm okay," You repeated, your hands coming up to grab the edges of his light brown overcoat. “Right when I remembered, I ran for the hills.”

The Doctor let out a breath of relief. His hands fell from your arms, cupping your cheeks. Already looming over you, he bent towards you, shutting his eyes, and pressing his forehead against yours. Your own eyes fluttered shut, your grip on his overcoat tightening. The Doctor, internally, felt a pang of guilt rush over him. If only he stayed by your side. If only he kept an eye on you... This wouldn't have happened. 

His protectiveness was fierce. Every instinct screamed to keep you safe, to ensure that no harm would ever come your way under his watch. The very thought of you being hurt stirred a deep-seated fear within him, a fear that fueled his relentless vigilance.

"Stay close to me," He whispered, his voice a blend of tenderness and steely determination. His hands, warm and reassuring, remained on your cheeks as if anchoring you to him; as if he was reassuring himself that you were truly safe. That you were there with him, next to him, alive and in one piece.

At that moment, with his forehead pressed against yours and his breath mingling with your own, you knew the Doctor would fight against the universe itself just to keep you safe, and as you stood there in his arms, you knew that you were more than just a companion - you were someone he cared for deeply, someone he would protect with every fiber of his being.

"I don't think we can talk or charm our way out of this one." You softly spoke, opening your eyes as he pulled away; his eyes meeting yours. Suddenly, a loud piercing siren began to blare, startling both you and the Doctor; it sounded like an earthquake siren. "They have sirens!?"

"Nifty, huh?" The Doctor spoke, his eyebrows furrowing in curiosity, "It's probably for those who try to escape."

"What are we going to do?" You asked, cupping your hands to your ears

Seemingly going back to his usual self, an idea formed in his mind. "Oh, you know, the usual." He spoke, flashing you a quick, mischievous grin. "Run like mad, avoid getting caught, and come up with a brilliant plan on the fly." You couldn't help but smile at his infectious enthusiasm. 

"Sounds good to me, just as long as we get out of here together," You spoke, and the Doctor grinned, taking one of your hands in his.

"Right then," He said, his eyes sparkling with renewed determination. "Allons-y!" He ducked his head out of the alleyway, peering left and right before leading you through an empty street, his pace quick and purposeful. As you ran, despite the chaos, the terrible siren went off. He thrived in these moments, where quick thinking and daring moves were essential. Finally, you reached the TARDIS, the blue box standing tall and resilient on the field outside of the town. The Doctor pulled out his key, the door swinging open just as your pursuers came bounding up the hill of the green field. "In we go!" He urged, practically pushing you inside before slamming the door shut behind him. He immediately began flipping switches and pulling levers, the TARDIS roaring to life. As the familiar wheezing and groaning filled the air, you leaned against the console, catching your breath. The Doctor, now back in his element, looked at you with a triumphant smile. "See? Piece of cake."

You laughed, the tension of the past moments finally melting away. "You're impossible," You said, shaking your head.

"And you love it," He replied with a wink, his hands still busy at the controls.

You felt an immense warmth fill you, engulfing you, and making your heart skip a beat as you smiled. You suddenly closed the distance between you and the Doctor, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. He stiffened for a moment in surprise before relaxing, his arms encircling you in return.

"Thank you," You whispered against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "For getting me out of there."

The Doctor's hold tightened slightly, his head resting gently against yours. "Always," He murmured softly, the single word carrying so much weight behind it. And at the feeling of his soft kiss on the top of your head, you held him tighter, wanting to convey everything that was rushing through your mind at that moment.

Letting go reluctantly, you gave him a small - yet, almost shy - smile. "I'm going to change, and get these rollers out of my hair." You spoke, "I'll be right back." 

The Doctor watched you go, a small fond smile slipping onto his face. Watching as you headed towards your room that the TARDIS gave you. 

~~~

Sitting at the open doors of the TARDIS, the Doctor watched the death of a few stars. As he waited for you to return, he thought back to Xephus. The guilt of losing sight of you still gnawed at him. If only... No, he couldn't allow himself to dwell on what-ifs.

When you had both split up, he found himself wandering around town, near the shops. Xephus was completely different than it was when he first visited it decades ago. He remembered the planet to be like Earth, with Earth-like food, plants, animals, and people who lived there. But, instead of cottages, there was a town full of suburban homes, barber shops, and markets. Your words played out in his mind, 'It's like stepping into the nineteen-fifties.' For some reason, the Doctor had a bad feeling in his gut. 

Before he knew it, he couldn't find you, and the 'Elders' of the town of Shady Grove had taken him to their underground facility underneath the suburban houses. The Doctor stood in the dimly lit room, his eyes fixated on the screen displaying you, a shadow of your former self, dutifully fulfilling the role of a perfect housewife. His initial curiosity of why the planet had changed so much had given way to a burning anger, his normally lively features now etched with fury.

"Why would you do such a thing!?" He demanded, his voice echoing through the large room of metal walls and concrete floors. "What possible reason could you have for stripping away her identity, her memories, her life?"

The Elders, a group of stern-faced older men, exchanged glances before one of them stepped forward. His hair was graying, and his eyes were piercing. "We needed to create a harmonious society," The Elder explained, his tone measured and cold. "Individualism breeds chaos, and we have perfected a system where everyone has a role, a purpose. That was why Xephus has changed, Doctor. When you came here, we deemed your companion suitable for progressing our town. She was then chosen to be integrated into our community to maintain order and balance."

The Doctor's fists clenched at his sides, "Order and balance?" He echoed incredulously. "At the cost of her free will? Her autonomy? You have no right!"

The Elders remained unperturbed by the Doctor’s outburst. Another one stepped forward, his expression impassive. "Order and balance are paramount, Doctor," he stated calmly. "Without them, society would descend into chaos. Your companion’s integration was essential for the stability of Shady Grove."

The Doctor's fists tightened further, his knuckles turning white. He glanced back at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he observed the fake husband’s interactions with you. Jealousy tickled the edges of his mind, an unfamiliar and unwelcome emotion. Then, he noticed just how eerily similar the fake husband looked to him - his brown hair, sharp features, and charming demeanor. 

"Why does he look like me?" The Doctor demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The first Elder, the one with the piercing eyes, replied with a faint, knowing smile. "During the brainwashing process, we extracted your companion’s subconscious desires and ideals. We created a husband based on her ideal partner to make her transition smoother and the illusion more believable. It turns out, Doctor, that her ideal partner is you."

If the Doctor was shocked, he didn't show it. He turned back to the screen, watching as the fake husband leaned in to kiss your cheek, a gesture that sent a sharp pang through his hearts. It was a bitter irony; you had been taken from him and given a life that mirrored what you might have desired, but it was a cruel mockery of reality.

The Doctor felt a mix of emotions, though his anger reigned supreme. The intensity of his anger rolled off of him in waves. "You think you've created the perfect society," He seethed, his eyes narrowed slightly. "But you've only created a prison. And I will free it! You won't hurt her, or anyone else, ever again." He stood tall, his jaw tightening, and his eyes darkening, "Enjoy your illusion of control while it lasts," He spat. "Because I’m going to dismantle it, piece by piece."

In short, it took three days for him to escape the cell they tossed him in while at the underground facility. Thankfully, he had his sonic screwdriver. It was also surprisingly easy to destroy their brainwashing machines. He then navigated through the facility’s labyrinthine corridors, his thoughts were solely focused on one goal: reaching you. Emerging from the underground facility - for some reason popping out of the barber's shop - he took a moment to breathe in the cool night air, the stars above a stark contrast to the artificial confines below.

And well, he found you, and he had hoped - deep down - that upon seeing him everything would come back to you, but it hadn't. Then your 'husband' got in the way. But, as he was getting led back to the facility, he escaped and hid in a nearby alleyway. But you were safe, you were in the TARDIS, not brainwashed, or injured. You were safe. 

However, what the Elders had said and showed him was bubbling in his mind. The Elders said that they created your ideal partner to help you believe in your new life. And your ideal partner was him. The Doctor let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He had always known that you admired him, but this revelation was different. It forced him to confront feelings he had buried deep inside. Feelings he had for you.

The fear was still there, gnawing at him. He was scared because of what had happened with Rose. Losing her had been one of the most painful experiences of his long life. The thought of starting a relationship with you only to lose you in the end terrified him. He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself. 

The sound of your footsteps drew him from his troubling thoughts, his gaze shifting from the stars and over his shoulder. You walked out of the hallway, dressed in your sweats. You ran a hand through your hair, free from the rollers; you had taken a shower. Spotting him, you smiled, walking over. The Doctor turned back to the stars as you sat down beside him. Letting your socked feet hang off the edge, you gently kicked them; your hands pressed at your side, palms against the grated floor. 

Turning your head, you observed the Doctor's side profile before speaking, "So, I have some questions," You spoke up, breaking the silence, and the Doctor turned, giving you a grin.

"What would you like to know?" He asked, and you huffed lightly, looking back at the stars.

"How long was I under their control?" You asked, a rough one right out the gate, but you had to know.

"Ah," The Doctor nodded his head, "Three days."

You snapped your head over to him, your eyes wide, "Three days?" You gasped. "It felt like forever. How did they make it seem so real?"

"Ah, well," He breathed out, "They manipulated your memories and created an environment that catered to your subconscious desires. Time felt different because they controlled every aspect of your perception." He spoke nonchalantly, masking his inner turmoil with his usual wit and calm demeanor. "I'm afraid they were quite crafty, those Elders. Manipulating time and memory like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat," He answered with a wry smile, though his eyes betrayed a hint of self-disappointment.

You nodded slowly, absorbing his explanation while sensing the underlying tension in his voice. "It's incredible and terrifying at the same time," You murmured, your own emotions still raw from the ordeal. “Did you stop them? Whatever they were doing or using to brainwash people?”

“Of course,” He whipped out his sonic screwdriver, tossing it in the air and catching it, “They won’t hurt anyone again.”

You nodded, pleased, before you asked the last question on your mind, "What about him..." You began, feeling your face become warm as you glanced over at the Doctor, "Why did he look so eerily like you?"

The Doctor's smile softened, "Ah, that," He sighed, his gaze turning thoughtful. "Your ideal image of a companion, someone you'd trust implicitly, resembled me. I suppose they delved into your subconscious desires and found me lurking in there somewhere," He explained, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and melancholy. "It's unsettling, I know," He continued, "But they used that resemblance to make their charade more convincing. They wanted to create a seamless transition for you, to make you believe in this fabricated reality they'd constructed."

You let out a small chuckle, making the corners of the Doctor's lips twitch, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm laughing," You spoke, calming down to finish, "What a twisted version of reality."

"Yes, but you saw through it," He said, his eyes searching yours with admiration. "You broke free from their grip. That takes immense strength."

A faint flush warmed your cheeks as you met his gaze - his compliment practically turning you into mush. "Thank you." You shuffled, becoming slightly nervous under his gaze, your hand moving slightly, accidentally brushing against his, also pressed against the floor of the TARDIS.

The Doctor smiled warmly, "You're welcome," He glanced at your hands beside his, "And as for him," He added, his tone turning slightly playful, "Well, I suppose I should be flattered that your ideal partner bears such a striking resemblance to me."

"I do have impeccable taste," You teased, a playful glint in your eye as you met his gaze.

The Doctor chuckled softly, the sound like music in the quiet of the TARDIS. "Well, who wouldn't want an adventurer with two hearts?" 

"And that hair," You quipped, reaching up to tousle his hair playfully. "Definitely a plus."

Laughing in unison, you looked back out at the beautiful dying of stars, the bright colorful light reflecting off of your face and hair. The Doctor couldn't look away, captivated by the way the starlight danced across your features, illuminating your face with a soft, ethereal glow. He found himself mesmerized by the way your eyes sparkled with curiosity and intelligence, absorbing the vastness of the cosmos with wonder.

"You know," He murmured, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I've seen countless stars and galaxies, but none of them compare to the way you shine in their light."

Eyes wide in surprise, you stared at him, mouth slightly agape. His words were sweet but unexpected. You were not expecting him to say that, in such a way. You were so used to his charm, wit, and sarcasm, and yes, he complimented you more often than not, but with the way that he was gazing at you... It was different. Again, the intensity. His words left your heart racing, the beat of your blood pounding loudly in your ears. Your fingers twitched, desperate to reach out and touch him but you stopped yourself. You didn't even know what to say. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing pulse, your mind reeling with the weight of his admission. "Doctor," You finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I don't know what to say."

He nodded slowly, his gaze gentle yet filled with an intensity that spoke volumes. "You don't have to say anything," He assured you, his hand reaching out tentatively to brush against yours. "I just needed you to know."

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, your fingers intertwining with his as you met his gaze. At that moment, surrounded by the majesty of the cosmos and bathed in the light of a thousand dying stars, uncertainty melted away. The Doctor's admission had laid bare his hearts, and in his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own feelings mirrored back at you. It reminded you of a song, oddly enough.

Unable to stop a giddy smile from appearing on your face, you let out a small giggle. "That is quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," You spoke softly, squeezing his hand.

The Doctor's cheeks flushed at your statement, unable to fight the smile on his lips. He was thankful that you hadn't let go of his hand; your touch was comforting, and his smile only widened as you shuffled closer to him. A soothing, bubbly warm feeling spread through his body as you then laid your head on his shoulder. His hand left yours before moving behind you, his arm enveloping you in his embrace. 

The sight of the stars dying, bursting into a kaleidoscope of colors, was breathtaking, but both of you knew they were insignificant compared to each other.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Doctor Who Masterlist

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

5. Blood Stains

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: HEY GUYS I AM BACK WITH A DOOSIE. okay so my fashion show was fantastic, let me know if y'all wanna see a video of my collection i think it turned out pretty damn good. anyways, wrote this while crocked off my ass on Benadryl bc allergy season is hitting very very hard right now so if it's not perfect we are all going to collectively blame the Benadryl, okay? okay.

Summary: An accident in the laundry causes chaos in the camp, and secrets are revealed sooner than expected. With everyone else acting like the world is caving in, Arthur steps up as usual.

Warnings: misogyny, major gender role tropes, a little bit of personal violation, but very minor. Susan is a bitch in this chapter (we love Susan). Blood plays a lot into this chapter, and so do menstrual cycles, so if you're uncomfortable with those mentions, this may be a skippable chapter for you. There's also like some sexual implications but nothing inherently sexual happens. I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything.

WC: 7.8k

“Climb up, let’s go to town before closing time,” he walked around to the other side where his horse was hitched from earlier today, still saddled since Bill hadn’t made his rounds yet.  You complied, but were unsure of the motives for such a trip.  “Is Dutch paying you to take me somewhere? He want you to kill me quietly?” 

In the weeks since John’s disappearance, you’ve noticed three things:

One, Dutch hasn’t barely been seen in the camp, and when he makes his presence known, it’s either angry or forlorn. Two, the entire gang has been very quiet, not wanting to set off Dutch, or make anyone else upset with the matter. Three, Arthur has done as he said he would, becoming closer with Abigail, and helping nightly with Jack. 

It shouldn’t break your heart, because you had no right for it to. You shouldn’t be distancing yourself from the both of them, they didn’t do anything to deserve it, but the way your chest tightened by watching them, watching Arthur gently place a hand on her shoulder as he watched Jack squirm in her arms was far too miserable. Abigail won’t speak of it, knowing that everyone has been on edge since her former lover left, but she missed the talks and conversations you held. You understood her, and though she didn’t exactly know the truth as to why, she was still partially in grief over that bond, too. 

Arthur takes immediate notice, but doesn’t say anything. Hosea had mentioned your run in with John the evening he took off. He figured you needed time to cope with the situation, even if you didn’t know John all that well, or even like him for that matter. Everyone in camp was dealing with it differently, so why should he judge the way you handled yourself?

It was only when you stopped talking to him altogether that he became slightly concerned, and he wasn’t the only one. 

When Dutch first brought you into the gang, he knew there was some subtle competition with you and Arthur. The two fastest guns in the west, hell, maybe even the world… but you butted heads often. He didn’t know why it had suddenly stopped, but his concern grew from being in both your presences at the same time, and the icy feeling he got just from standing between you, running over job details in a tent. 

It was like Arthur didn’t exist to you anymore. Everything you said and did was conveyed to the people around him, but never to him. You would even give news to a big group of people to avoid telling Arthur directly. 

Dutch knew there was something wrong, because he could have sworn you both were inches away from getting along, but now it was worse than square one. It was after a successful job that he said something about it. After you had deliberately handed Arthur’s cut to Javier and told him to give it to the next man over. 

You’d ridden back, safe and sound, but Dutch held you back, nodding the others away from the horse troughs.  

“Talk with me for a bit, will ya son?” He tried to approach the situation gently. This couldn’t have been a gradual thing. 

“F’course,” you muttered, hands resting on your gun belt as you followed him into the center of camp. 

“I’ve been noticing some… strange behavior from you towards Arthur. Only lately…” he scratched his head, looking at you expectantly. “You can tell me if he did somethin’ to piss you off, I’ll speak with him about it.”

You furrowed your brow and shook your head. “He didn’t do nothin’ to piss me off… I’ve just always been better off on my own, don’t wanna rely on anyone.”

“I can understand that sentiment, but it doesn’t make any damn sense as to why you’re givin’ him the cold shoulder,” he furthered his point, and you didn’t have any choice but to make something else up. Something that could actually be worth what you were doing to Arthur. Your head told you that the truth of ‘I’m actually a young woman and I’m catching feelings for your gang enforcer’ wouldn’t help you. 

“He’s been tryna hold me back,” you sighed out, as if revealing some huge secret. It was partially true, but you’d grown more relaxed about the protection Arthur had been trying to provide. Still, you kept on the charade, knowing it would get you out of this situation free and clear. “M’tired of him thinkin’ I can’t keep up, tired of feelin’ like a helpless kid next to ‘im.”

Dutch let out a breath and narrowed his eyes. “I see… and so you figured it best to keep him out of arm’s reach, is that it?”

“Guess so,” you shrugged, leaning against the pole of his big tent. 

And then it seemed that Dutch saw this as a teaching moment, because he nodded for you to sit down on one of the cross latch boxes, across from where he stood. He had a whole spiel oncoming, and you were almost sure you knew what it would contain. Something about the camp being a family, everyone sticking together and more nonsense of the like.

“You don’t understand this now, because you’ve never had a time of need in this gang… but that day will come,” he paused, and you perhaps had it all wrong, listening intently now. He pointed in the direction of Arthur’s camp set up, and you glanced over, not for the first time that day. He was tired, hunched over his cot and leaning in exhaustion, running his hand over his face. “And when you are in that time of need, there is no better man to have in your corner than Arthur Morgan.”

You nodded in understanding, a small frown on your face. You wanted to protect yourself, but if what Dutch says is true, you’re only setting yourself up for failure. 

“He’s been here a long time, and no matter your opinion of him, no matter the things you do or the things you say, he’s loyal. It ain’t up to me what you decide to do, but you should know, he’s the best ally you’re ever gonna have.”

And just like that, you regretted the past weeks. Everything you did to avoid him, getting up early to grab some of the coffee before he came by. Going out and hunting without letting anyone know, just so that he didn’t have a chance to come with you. Even going as far as to mend your own clothing and do your own laundry, knowing he might catch you at one of the girl’s stations while picking up your weekly wears. You felt awful. You remembered at least four times he tried to approach you before he just gave up. At the time you were grateful, because you thought it was making things easier for you, but in actuality, the things Dutch said were true. You needed him in your corner. There would be a time of need, and Arthur was the best ally to have when that time would come, whatever it may be. 

“I think I oughta go set things right, then,” you let out, your ego deflating slightly when your eyes met Dutch again. 

“If you think it’s best,” he nodded, switching places with you and watching you walk over to his favored outlaw, the man he called his son. He called you son, too. You wondered if that would hold up if he ever found out about you. 

Arthur was on the verge of sleep, but you were doing this now. You could apologize later. 

“You look like shit,” you tried to be nonchalant, and not bring any emotion into this. 

When he looked up, he was slightly annoyed, but his face softened once he looked at you for a moment. 

“Feel like shit,” he grumbled, trying to understand what you were doing here. You didn’t exactly give him reason to believe he was important to you anymore. “Did you need something?” 

You kicked the dirt beneath your boot, trying to keep yourself composed, but you weren’t too good at these things, and the amount of shear stiffness in your body wasn’t helping you to relax about it. 

“I think I owe you an apology,” you started, and he tilted his head in slight confusion. Sure, he knew what you were apologizing for, but he didn’t know why. “I’ve been avoidin’ you, n’ I shouldn’t have.”

He nodded in thanks, accepting your words. You stood awkwardly, unsure if you should say more or just leave, but when you turned your boot to walk, he stopped you. 

“Did I piss you off or somethin’?”

Why was everyone asking that? 

“No, ain’t nothing you did. Just my own stupid ass and things that don’t matter,” you told him. You felt even worse now, because you’d made both him and Dutch think that it was something he did wrong. He could rarely do any wrong in your eyes, which made this whole ordeal that much worse. 

“Matters enough, you stopped talking to me. Couldn’t even get you to look my way.”

You didn’t want him to know anything else. With him and Abigail rapidly forming a blossoming relationship, it wasn’t for you to stand in their way. Jack needed a father figure, and Arthur was the perfect candidate. 

“I’m sorry about it. I swear it won’t happen again,” you really wanted to leave this time, unsure of how far it may go in the event of a deep conversation… but he caught your wrist and gently tugged it back towards where he sat as soon as you started turning away again. 

“You gotta give me somethin’, Red. I’ve waited weeks just to ask you,” he pleaded, his tired eyes looking through you and trying to enter your mind. You caved just as soon as you saw how badly this affected him. You hurt him. He might be big, burly, and dangerous… but he bleeds, and his heart can be wounded as easily as anyone else’s. 

“I’ve been going through some things, and you’ve had a lot on your plate with Jack and Abigail. It’s not fair of me to make my burdens your burdens… I was tryna keep you out of it,” you admitted, which was only half true. The partial truths of the night were stacking up, but fortunately he couldn’t tell the difference right now, too tired and unfocused to really study your features and what you were hiding. 

“Red,” he sighed, not yet prying for more information, but giving you one last glance. “You can tell me things. Remember that.”

You nodded, smiling at him for the first time since John left. “Alright.” 

-

You stopped avoiding and ignoring Arthur, but things were still distant. You’d been getting close right after Jack was born, but going into his third month in the world, you two were miles apart. Still, it was better than the stone cold facade you’d been turning to him before. 

“Got any laundry?” Susan asked, breaking you out of your trance as you watched the sun setting. You weren’t really paying much attention, but nodded, reaching behind you into your tent for a sheet full of worn out and dirty clothing. You should have looked it over, but you didn’t, too caught up in your own mind. “You can ask the girls about getting it back tomorrow, they’ve been going stir crazy for things to do.”

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded, tipping your hat and leaning back against your small tent’s middle pole. You had half a mind to slide your hat over your eyes for a nap, but that didn’t seem like it would fly, especially if one of the others needed you for something. 

You could definitely use a nap, you were cramping like crazy. You swore if Bill came up to you and asked for any more favors with the damn horses this week you’d kill him, but only because you were feeling grumpy. 

You wanted so badly to confide in Arthur about these things, the troubles of womanhood that you couldn’t share with anyone else but him. You wondered if he would ever tell anyone, since it’s been almost five months of your residence and you have yet to reveal your secrets to everyone else. Maybe you were being paranoid, but the closer he got to Abigail and the further you pushed him away, you thought he might care less about the agreement you both made. After all, spilling your secret to Dutch would gain him loyalty points, and Dutch seemed all too happy to be giving them out since John left. 

It was about an hour later when there was a shriek at the other side of camp, and many ran over to see what the trouble was. 

Tilly had been sitting by her wash bin, but had pulled her hands out on account of one thing. 

“What’s the matter, Tilly?” you heard Sean over your shoulder, and when you finally saw the trouble your eyes widened and you muttered a single word under your breath. 

“Shit.” 

“What’s shit?” Arthur’s voice was also heard beside you now, and you turned to him ever so slightly with a whisper.

“Me, I’m in deep shit.”

Tilly showed everyone the water, with some clothing swirling around, but it was all tinted red. 

“I think someone’s been hurt,” she said, waving over Mrs. Grimshaw to show her the problem. “There’s blood in the water.”

You tried to casually back up slowly, hoping that it wouldn’t get traced back to you, after all, the clothing in the bin was yours, and Mrs. Grimshaw had just picked up the pile from you. You were just stupid enough to leave your monthly attire in with it, and during your monthly time, too. You were only two days into the cycle, meaning there had been a lot of blood.

Grimshaw, being the stern and impatient woman she was, rolled her sleeves up and dug around in the water, looking for clothing with holes to indicate a stab or bullet wound… but she only found:

“A sanitary apron?” She furrowed her brows. She was pretty in tune with the women of the camp, and hadn’t been aware that someone was menstruating right now. 

“You better run, kid,” Arthur caught on, nudging your shoulder. You’d already started getting further away from the scene, but it seemed Grimshaw already came to a conclusion before you could make a break for it. 

“I picked these up from…” she trailed, her brow now seemingly angry and strewn together in a stressful manner. She marched over to you, grabbing your lanky wrist harshly and tugging you away from the scene. “You better not be hidin’ what I think you’re hidin’!”

You held onto your hat as she practically ran you into the nearest tent. It wasn’t hers or yours but that didn’t matter, her urgency was all too apparent. 

“Miss Grimshaw, what’s this all about?” 

“I have had my suspicions about you since you arrived here,” she spoke intensely, pulling you forward by your belt buckle and doing her best to undo it. 

“Hey, hey! What’re ya doin’?!” You tried to protest, but her nimble hands were too persistent, and she finally got your pants loose enough to take a brief peek at what she needed to see. “What the hell, would you stop?!” 

“I knew it!” she yelled, a finger pointed in the air. 

And just like that, you knew you were screwed. 

She quickly ran out of the tent, and you tried to follow her, making a quick attempt at putting your belt back together on the way out. 

Arthur ran a hand over his face when first he saw you, and the state you were in. He knew the jig was up, too. 

“Where is that man when you need him?” Susan was turning every which way, a mess of herself just trying to frantically look for the camp leader. 

“Dutch? He’s in town with Hosea, what’s the problem?” Bill sauntered up, dusting his hands from the work he’d paused. 

Pearson and Javier all of a sudden made an appearance, and when you thought nothing could make this worse, the rest of the camp zoned in on the chaos, having had nothing better to do this whole day. It was slow, and there were no jobs to be done, so the boredom consumed minds jumped on the first sign of entertainment they could find, and boy was it something.

“We have an imposter in our midst!” She yelled, her arms waving around wildly. 

“Hold on, now…” You tried to interject, but Arthur shot you a look, shaking his head. Don’t do it, kid. Just shut up.

“What do you mean an imposter?” Pearson crossed his arms. He was never one to give bad news of any kind to, because he had a tendency to blow it out of proportion. “Who?” 

“That,” she pointed at you, her voice raised to the highest decibel count you knew was humanly possible. “Is not an eighteen year old boy! She has been fooling us all. Who even knows where she comes from, what her real name is!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” 

“The kid?” 

“Ain’t no way…”

The rapid responses coming forward almost eased your mind, except for the fact that Susan did in fact have up close and personal proof from what she saw. 

Arthur stepped forward, and as the murmurs grew louder, and Miss Grimshaw was prepared to go on another rant, he did all he could to calm the situation. 

“Let’s not make any rash judgements right now,” he gave you a look, trying to let you see he was attempting to help, but that you needed to leave. “We’ll just wait until Dutch and Hosea get back.”

You took that as a cue to leave, awkwardly making way for your tent. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Susan tried to chase after you, but Arthur held her back. 

“Wait for Dutch,” he said, his arm blocking her path. Who knows what she’d do in this state? She’d been known to whip some of the boys into compliance before, who knows what she’d do to someone she viewed as an imposter. 

Sitting with the flaps closed, you could still hear everything that was occurring outside, and it nerved you far more than being in the middle of it all. 

“It doesn’t make any sense…” and “Do you think it’s true?” could be heard from separate conversations, and you wished more than anything that you’d just done your own damn laundry. 

Your face fell in your hands, and you started going over all the things that could happen. Dutch could hate you for lying to him, and kick you out, banishing you as far as you could go. Or, since you were a newbie, and didn’t have the trust factor built yet, maybe they would just shoot you dead. That may have been an extreme idea, but with your rapidly beating heart and increasing worry, things like that were bound to spill in. Not like you’d been in a gang before, you didn’t exactly get an etiquette and rule book when you arrived. Who knew what would happen to you. Nothing good, that you knew.

When Arthur finally opened the flap and leaned down inside the small dwelling, you knew it was time to face the music. 

“Dutch is back, Susan’s tellin’ him everything,” he sighed, looking over your face and feeling a sense of guilt that he didn’t do anything to stop all of this. When you first arrived he thought maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal, but having experienced this much drama in just the past hour has most definitely led him to believe he was wrong. 

When you stayed silent, and didn’t really give him a reaction of any kind, he could tell you were hit hard with the anxiety and shock of it all. He couldn’t ever get you to shut up, and he often didn’t want to, most of all now when you looked like a scared animal. 

“I ain’t gonna let ‘em hurt ya, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You shook your head, and against your hardest efforts, tears were backing your eyes, looking for ways to escape. He hadn’t ever seen you like this, and it wasn’t pleasant. 

“I don’t wanna leave,” you admitted. You liked it here. You weren’t lonely here, and you had a family… or at least you did an hour ago. You didn’t know where you stood with half of these people. 

He couldn’t speak for Dutch or Hosea, or anyone else really, but he could speak for himself. 

“I don’t want you to, either…”

When Arthur heard his name called, he leaned back, looking in the direction of his father figure, looking angrier than a pack of hungry wolves. 

“Yeah?” 

“Tell Brooks to see me, now.”

You didn’t even need the message relayed. You stood up, and followed Arthur out of the tent, your head down as you made the distance to the center tent, the big one you’d been at only a bit ago with council from your leader. You only hoped he’d be so forgiving when he found out you lied to him. 

Arthur got into the tent first, mumbling a few things you were a little distracted to hear. You did catch the small ‘don’t be too hard on her’ fall from his mouth, though. 

You sat down on the box chest, close to the exit of the tent, just in case things went south and you had to run. Not that you were thinking about running, but again, a million scenarios crossed your mind. 

“Arthur, wait outside.”

You grew more tense as soon as those words were uttered, and so did Arthur it would seem. 

“Dutch, I think I should-”

“Wait. Outside.” 

He reluctantly did as he was told, walking far enough away that he wouldn’t be reprimanded, but still in your eye-line so he could keep an eye on you. He trusted Dutch with the gang members, but if he was considering kicking you out, that made you fair game. 

“I’m gonna cut to the chase,” he took a long drag of the cigar he held between his fingers, blowing the smoke out when he turned his head to the side. “You know why you’re here.”

“I reckon I do,” you answered quietly, trying to keep an ounce of confidence though your entire body felt like it would start shaking in fear. 

“I could have you stripped for the whole camp to see, but for propriety’s sake I’m only going to ask you this once… is it true?” He asked, his tone less stern but still eager. 

“Yes.”

He sighed, having heard the softness in your voice since you came in, he already knew. You’d never shown this side of yourself to the camp before. You were always confident, sure of yourself, cocky even. To think it was an act boiled his skin… but he wanted to take his time with this. You still had capabilities the likes he’s never seen, and if he wasn’t careful they could one day be used against him. You didn’t know about the O’Driscolls yet, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have you running off and joining them. It would be the death of the Van Der Linde gang, of that he was certain. 

“I’m gonna decide what to do with you, but until then, you stay out of my sight.”

He pointed outside of the tent, and you were honestly surprised that this was the extent of his questioning. Nothing about the lies? About the history? About anything at all?

You gave him a double glance, but scurried away in fears he might change his mind and tear you to shreds on the spot. You walked hastily towards Arthur, your face gaining more color to it once you were out of the line of danger. 

“You alright?” He asked, his furrowed brows reflecting his concern. 

“No,” you let out with a dramatic scoff. Your flare for over exaggeration was sometimes quite amusing to him. He just dropped his head and chuckled. 

“You’re fine,” he patted your shoulder before stepping past you and going to talk to Dutch. What he knows is that Susan Grimshaw spilled every nasty detail of this afternoon to the camp leader, but he also knows that he hasn’t had his say yet, and when it comes down to it, Dutch will side with his loyal enforcer over a disgruntled Miss Grimshaw. 

Dutch was stretching out his arms, sore from the ride in and out of town. It was a scouting trip, really, but it was enough to make him ache when all the stress was added. 

“First John leaving, now this. I can’t seem to catch a break, can I?” Dutch sighed out after his words, the toll they took on his mind caused him to shake his head of so many thoughts. 

“This ain’t so bad,” Arthur began, tilting his head from side to side. 

“How could you possibly think that?”

Arthur shrugged, reasoning with himself a few options before saying them out loud. 

“S’not like she did any harm. Only thing that’s come of it is a bit of surprise to everyone…” he trailed, sitting across from the man he called his father figure and his friend. The tension seemed to ease up the second he neared the man, but there was more to be done to diffuse the situation, and he was all too happy to insert himself as the cause of said diffusion. 

“She lied about who she is, for all we know she could be working with local law, or worse, the pinkertons.” 

Dutch’s raised concerns nearly made Arthur chuckle. When you first got here, facade or not, you were still just lost and looking for somewhere to call home. There were never any motives behind your gang participation other than needing a family.

“We haven’t had them on our trail in ages. Coming here, we finally put a stop to their sniffin’ around. Besides, she’s been the reason for our successful jobs lately… she’s been loyal enough to save my life despite our differences.”

“But she lied to us,” Dutch kept driving his point. A liar’s a liar, and they lie about other things. 

“She’s a scared kid, Dutch. She just wants a place to be,” Arthur defended, his arguments becoming more close and personal, which led Dutch to connect some other dots. 

He sighed, looking at Arthur and coming to an understanding of what he knew were past events. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” 

Arthur dropped his head into a subtle nod, not yet meeting Dutch’s eyes for his fear of a bad reaction. 

“Since the week she got here.”

Dutch had to laugh, because of course he did. Arthur was more in tune with the members of camp than he could ever be, and more than they could be with each other. He was like Hosea that way, his ability to connect and grow relationships with others was just a natural gift. He often thought it stemmed from Arthur’s great love of the unknown, and his endless curiosity. 

“How’d you figure it out?” 

“I didn’t, until I found some uh… rather feminine items in her saddle bag. She fessed up pretty quickly to me,” Arthur scratched the back of his neck, his nerves settling when he knew he wouldn’t be in any trouble. 

“Well,” Dutch started, coming to the edge of his open tent, looking for the troubled recruit among the busy movement of the camp. “We’ve taken in much worse, and it’s always been in our favor. And you’re right… She's just a scared kid. A scared kid with the quickest hands I’ve ever seen.”

There was a moment, and then Arthur smiled.

“So… She’s free n’ clear?” He asked, his tone hopeful, which Dutch noticed. Perhaps Red had made amends after all, and just as Dutch promised, Arthur was in her corner. This wasn’t her time of need, per se, but he knew she would have him when it arrived.

“I suppose so, although… I’m not going to be responsible for the court of public opinion,” he gestured to everyone in the camp, frantically working around just to keep themselves busy. With all the chaos going on, it’s the only thing they can do not to sit and gossip, which they do anyway. 

“I reckon I better keep her away from Susan?” 

“With a ten foot pole, preferably,” Dutch rolled his eyes. That woman was full of determination, and it could be both a great strength, as well as her worst weakness. 

Arthur smiled, ready to go make good on a promise he’d been waiting on for some time. “I’ll catch you later then.”

“Alright, Arthur.”

-

You didn’t know if Arthur’s conversation with Dutch would benefit you or condemn you, but you didn’t stick around to find out. He’d found you saddling your horse, just in case a hasty escape needed to be made. Yes, perhaps your delusions were getting a bit out of hand. 

“Where you goin’?”

“Depends,” you started, “How mad is he?”

Arthur huffed and grabbed your wrist, stilling your movements. “He ain’t mad.”

“No?” You could hardly believe it. “He seemed riled up to me.”

“I talked to him,” he explained, but gave no further intel. 

“You got magic words or somethin’?” You chuckled, slightly more relaxed since the news came better than you hoped, and Arthur wasn’t dragging you back to be punished or anything. “What’d you tell him?” 

“That you were gonna be loyal… and that you’d been scared.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying to play off his last words like they weren’t true. “I ain’t scared.”

“Really? You were about to run, weren’t you?” He pointed to your full saddle bag and stocked up horse, ready to disappear at a moment’s notice. 

You caved. 

“He gave me a little fright is all,” you toed your boot into the dirt as you spoke, looking back up to find him nodding at your horse. 

“Climb up, let’s go to town before closing time,” he walked around to the other side where his horse was hitched from earlier today, still saddled since Bill hadn’t made his rounds yet. 

You complied, but were unsure of the motives for such a trip. 

“Is Dutch paying you to take me somewhere? He want you to kill me quietly?” 

It was just a joke, but he was getting tired of the overly dramatic interactions. He wasn’t sure what all transpired in your past, albeit knowing more than everyone else… even still, he figured there had to be something that gave you your theatrical touch. 

“Knock it off, would ya?”

“Sorry.”

The ride wasn’t long, but the sun was down when you both tied your horses to the poll in front of the general store. You’d been in here a few times, and the man behind the counter always cowered in fear of Texas Red the unkillable. No matter your manners or gentility, that’s just how it was. 

“What’re we doin’ here?” You adjusted your hat, wiping some sweat off your forehead and following him up the front steps. 

“I remember sayin’ I’d get you a dress a while back, we’re here to make good on it.”

You stopped in your tracks, a wide smile blossoming on your face when you heard him say it. He’d remembered, and been waiting for it since the night he uttered the words. 

He noticed you weren’t close behind him, and turned, catching the sweet expression you wore, but brushing it off with a sideways smile. 

“C’mon now, gotta pick it out.” 

You followed after him, and once inside, the man behind the counter seemed to be nervous, as usual. He didn’t seem to be weary of having you both in, just a bit anxious. Arthur knew his presence held power, but he figured with your reputation in this town, and others around… your presence was bound to hold more. 

“What can I do for you? Need more socks?” The man asked you kindly, and you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you. 

“No, we’re uh… we’re here to get a dress for my wife,” Arthur spoke evenly, his confidence showing through when he had to put on a show. 

Your head snapped to him, and though you knew he was intending to buy the dress for you, a thought sprang into your mind. Abigail. She was going to be his wife. 

This sweet little moment, with Arthur keeping his promise, and making a big to-do over your acceptance into camp, was all part of your own little fantasy. It wouldn’t last, and when you returned to camp, he’d be with her again, helping with Jack. You tried to shake the thought from your mind, wanting to enjoy this sliver of time with him. 

“Of course! I’ve got a new selection,” he pulled out the catalog, and opened the pages to a section with different types of skirts, petticoats, chemises, and corsets. All were beautiful, but your eye was drawn to a more simple style. It was a work dress, which would be far more practical for you than any of the other ones. 

“I’m not too good with all this. What do you think, Red? Which one would she like best?” He tossed you a smirk, leaning his elbow on the counter while he let you browse over the pages a bit longer, turning them over with a furrowed brow of focus. 

“What color does this one come in?” You asked the man over the counter, keeping your act up, but letting your hints of excitement show through. 

“That one is a nice pale blue, perfect for spring and summer time,” he spoke firmly, becoming more relaxed the longer you both were in the store. Yes, he’d heard the whispers, and for you, he’d actually seen your acts of a quick trigger. But here, you didn’t seem like a threat, so he stopped acting like you were.

“Blue, huh… Might bring out her eyes a bit, hey Arthur?” Now it was your turn to smirk, and he chuckled, nodding back to you and tapping the page twice with a heavy finger. 

“You’re right it would, make em’ look like crystal,” he played along, making you blush under the brim of your hat, unbeknownst to the man behind the counter. 

“It’s gotta be that one, then.”

Arthur chuckled, counting out the cash that the dress price was listed under, tossing it down on the counter and nodding to the man. 

“You heard the kid, we’ll take that one,” he spoke in a playful tone, ignoring the movements of the man as he scurried to the back rooms, getting your dress pieces together. 

Arthur lifted the brim of your hat, and smiled genuinely at the look on your face. It was excited, sweet, and grateful. He wanted to buy you the entire stock of the store just to ensure that look stayed on your face, no matter the irrationality of it. He’d become quite accustomed to giving you his time and his efforts, and this was no different. The only difference is that now he wanted to, wholeheartedly. The deal you’d struck with him, the one where you were going to teach him your methods of shooting faster, were now null and void. He didn’t want to take anything from you, he just wanted to give.

When the store worker returned with a large box in hand, Arthur thanked him for his time, carrying the thing over his shoulder and heading for the door, which you opened for him. 

Getting outside, you went for the horses, but he stopped you with a swat of your hand away from the reins. 

“Can’t go back yet, gotta see how this looks on ya,” he insisted, nodding for you to follow him yet again. He walked for a bit before coming up on the shed with a small lantern inside. It looked like it only housed tools and ropes and things of the like, but there was space enough to change in. “Came across this when I was out one day. Took a whole nap before someone realized I was in here.” 

“How convenient,” you teased, taking the box from his hands and eagerly walking into the confined space. 

“I’ll be out here,” he mumbled as you shut the door, putting a shovel against it since it didn’t really even close all the way. 

You knew he wasn’t the peeping type, so you began tearing away at your clothes, the ones that had been worn completely through by now and needed replacing anyway. You had more back at camp, but you had always missed dresses. This would be the first of many you would probably buy for yourself, but it was going to remain your favorite, because of who it came from. 

It was just like clock work, muscle memory helping you to remember all the little ties and snaps that needed to be in place, the corset laces that needed to be pulled enough to fit the outer fabrics. You knew you probably needed a good hair brushing and face washing to actually look like a young woman again, but for now, the dress was doing wonders on your self esteem… or at least it did until you realized you couldn’t finish putting it on by yourself. The buttons on the back went up higher than your shoulder blades, and sat in a near impossible spot to reach. If there was a mirror, you could probably just contort yourself enough to get it together, but in a dark, barely lit tool shed, your options were limited. 

You sighed, pulling the shovel away from the door and peaking your head outside. Arthur had nearly gone through an entire cigarette in the time you took to change. 

“Arthur?” You asked timidly. 

“M’here, you alright?” 

“I can’t reach the back,” you admitted, just slightly embarrassed. “Can you give me a hand?” 

He was all too happy to comply, stomping out the cigarette on the ground and taking quick steps to reach you. “Turn around.”

You did as he told you, turning so he had access to the open back of the dress. He couldn’t see you all too well in this light, but even from what he could see, a few words entered his mind from a past conversation you had with him. 

I used to be quite the stunner… and he surely believed it. 

His fingers caressed the exposed skin of your back before buttoning the fabric closed, smoothing it down over your shoulders and watching the way it fit you perfectly. 

“Don’t mention this to Abigail,” you joked, turning back around and trying to keep the mood light. It was beginning to feel too intimate, and you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to feel that way with Arthur anymore. 

“Why?” 

“Well, I might be a bit old fashioned, but isn’t it frowned upon for a taken man to be helping another woman with her dress?” 

It was just another joke, but he seemed to be completely thrown off by the implications. 

“I ain’t a taken man,” he confessed, looking at you with a stare that was all too deep, and all too consuming. He needed to stop that, but you didn’t have the heart to make him. 

“Not yet,” you corrected, but again it was you in the wrong. 

“No,” he shook his head, trying to bring a serious tone to the conversation. “I’m not gonna marry Abigail.”

Your face screwed up in confusion, thinking about all the times when he collapsed in her tent with Jack, just to get up and help him in the night. He was Jack’s new father, wasn’t he? That was the deal he made. 

“Why not? I thought that you were- well since you were helping with Jack and… what about your deal?”

“I said I was gonna do right by this boy, and I am… But Abigail won’t have me,” he shrugged, admitting to the rejection she gave of his offer. “She’s still in love with John, n’ I can understand it.”

It should have made you feel a bit of sadness, to know that even with all that Arthur was, someone would turn him away like that. ‘Abigial won’t have me’ sounded like perhaps he thought himself not good enough, just as he always does. Despite all of this, you didn’t feel sorrow, you felt an abundance of joy. A wide smile spread across your cheeks, and he furrowed his brow. 

“What’re you smilin’ about?”

“Nothing,” you dropped the smile and shook it off, running a hand up his arm and giving it a sincere squeeze. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know you’ve meant well.”

“S’alright. Hosea’s been tellin’ me since Jack was born that I shouldn’t have offered. He doesn’t think we’re right for one another, somethin’ like that.” 

“I agree, you’re not right for each other,” you spoke out loud, though that thought was meant only for your head. 

Arthur seemed to be catching on slightly to your behavior, stepping a bit closer and staring downwards at you. 

“Yeah? And who am I right for?” He teased, watching the redness of your cheeks spread down your neck and shoulders with every breath you took. 

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out,” you did your best to counter his taunts, stepping away from him and going to collect your old clothes from the shed. Once they were in hand you turned back to the opening of the alley, making way for the horses. “You coming?” 

And of course, he followed, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. 

-

The next day fared better than you thought it would, if you’re being honest. 

You didn’t really know why, if Dutch had said anything, or if Hosea did, but after you returned to camp the previous night, everyone seemed to be acting just fine. They treated you differently for sure, but not badly. In fact, you noticed the men had a certain kind of reverence to you that they never held before. The same they did with the other women. 

Maybe it was just the beautiful dress that Arthur bought for you, the light and pure color of it giving you a sense of being ethereal, having finally exposed the raw feminine beauty that was hiding for so long. You reckon you’d even start growing out your hair again, as the short style coming to your chin was not how you preferred to have it in the first place.

You still went to work doing the same tasks you normally did, but were careful not to rip your dress or over-exert yourself, given you were still in the same physical condition as the day before. 

“Charl- I mean, Miss Brooks?” 

You heard a voice chirp softly from beside you, and you dropped the wagon supplies for now to walk over to the owner of said voice, Tilly.

“Yes, Miss Tilly?” You extended a smile, and she smiled back, albeit a tight and awkward one from where she was sitting. You took a step or two closer, and she had to shake her head after getting a better look at you. 

“I just-” she cut herself short on account of the words already jumbling in her head. “I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us.”

You furrowed your brow to her, unsure of what she could have possibly meant. 

“Why would there be?” 

“Well, if you can recall,” she started, a nervous chuckle in her speech. “I tried to make some… advances towards you. Back when I thought you were uh… a young man.”

You smiled again and ducked your head, a scoff of laughter and a nod of your head brought about less tension. It was no big deal. 

“Don’t worry yourself, Miss Tilly. I was the one who tricked ya, I oughta be apologizing. Probably should to Abigail, too.”

“Abigail?”

You tilted your head, recalling the scene. About two weeks before Jack was born. You’d done the same thing Arthur did, with not a care of revealing yourself in the future. 

“Before John even left, I offered her to be Jack’s ‘father’ when he was born. I guess I was pretty certain at the time no one was gonna find out,” you explained, leaning against the wagon she sat by, mending a shirt that looked like Arthur’s. You could tell by the wear and tear around the shoulders, where his broadness likely just caused the fabric to break down faster. 

“Could you really have gone on like that?” 

“I don’t know,” you pondered, another small laugh escaping you. “Maybe not, since I had to tell everyone I was eighteen just for them to believe it.”

“You aren’t eighteen?” She seemed surprised. Maybe you just had a young face. 

“No, ma’am. Twenty two nearing twenty three as a matter of fact.”

“I’ll say,” she tutted, throwing down the shirt she was finished with, and picking up a new one. “You had us all convinced. Makes me wonder where you really came from.”

You thought about telling her, but the story was long and today was a busier day than before. There was actual work to be done in preparing for the next job, a few days ahead. 

“Some place I didn’t wanna be,” you chided, stepping away from the wagon, nodding to her in thanks for the small chat. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Alright. I’ll catch you around,” she spoke sweetly, a kind look of relaxation on her face, now that she knew where she stood. 

You went back to work, making sure that neither Dutch nor Hosea saw you with idle hands today. You wanted to make sure that no matter what happened now, you wouldn’t be cast aside. You still had the abilities they needed, but with a skirt on your hips, they saw you differently, and it was up to you to show them you were not going to be ignored when it came to jobs in the future. 

You hated that the rest of the women in camp were just seen as stationary helpers, only capable of mending clothes or cleaning up the camp, or even just laying the groundwork in town for the men to actually pull jobs. You’ve seen Abigail in action, she was smart and cunning and had a great way with words, she could be the difference in things staying civil or having a shoot out during a quiet robbery, but the men overlook her gifts. You know the women in this camp have great potential, and perhaps if they let you continue as you have been, they will open the opportunities for the others as well.

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo @hollyskjlap

[blimbo-buddy]

oooh!!!! ohh!!>!! can you drawwww Henry and jacques for me :3 I think jacques is the name of the cat who beat up an apprentice one time. PH also Susan. the dreaded Susan please

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