#theme: bottom!arthur

[onceandfutureclotpoll]

Title: The Student Prince

Author: FayJay

Rating: Mature

Summary: A Modern day Merlin AU set at the University of St Andrews, featuring teetotal kickboxers, secret wizards, magnificent bodyguards of various genders, irate fairies, imprisoned dragons, crumbling gothic architecture, arrogant princes, adorable engineering students, stolen gold, magical doorways, attempted assassination, drunken students, shaving foam fights, embarrassing mornings after, The Hammer Dance, duty, responsibility, friendship and true love...

This story was inspired by the thought of Prince William of Wales (and indeed the current Max von Hapsburg) studying at the University of St Andrews; it is also, as the title suggests, at least a little inspired by the operetta 'The Student Prince'.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Rye Whiskey

♢ Summary: Celebrating Sean's return to camp includes a drunk Arthur, which allows you to discover this whole new side of him. ♢Words: 2057 ♢Warnings: None except for the whole alcohol/drinking theme, basically it's just a one-shot of a fluff idea I had watching the video of drunk Arthur saying nonsense to Saddie. ♢a/n: I recommend reading it with the mindset that Arthur is in the same state as in "A Quiet Time" and listening to Rye Whiskey to put you in the mood! Wrote a little sequel for this! Read it here. ♢Credits: These gorgeous dividers are from @cafekitsune!

♪ "O Mollie O Mollie, it's for your sake alone,

That I leave my old parents, my house and my home!" ♪

Even if one didn't know Sean had returned to the gang, they could have noticed it right away hearing his cheerful singing, his thick Irish accent rolling the words even more musically. As the main entertainer of the gang, he was absolutely delighted to have a party thrown for him, and honestly, his big toothless smile made your heart feel warmer. Tonight, in the fresh air of New Hanover, it was only laughter, guitar notes, and drunken sounds that were echoing through the camp, everyone finally having a real good time since they had settled at Horseshoe Overlook after such a long period hidden in the ruthless cold of the Grizzlies.

You were sitting around one of the campfires, with Javier, Sean, Uncle, and John. Karen had also joined, gladly sitting on Sean's lap with a bottle in her hand; you were sure there was something between them, and the poor man probably deserved some sweet time after what he had been through. Talking about bottles, the floor was flooded with a large amount of them around your little singing group, almost like a big pond of green shining glass you all fed every few minutes when someone would empty one.

You had your fair share of drinks already, a slight blush burning your cheeks, the alcohol keeping you warm under the night's cold breeze and happy despite the gang's precarious situation. Funny, how whiskey would make everything easier and more entertaining, no matter who or where you were looking at.

Alright, you had to admit it, maybe you were a bit tipsy, but so were John, Javier, Sean, and Karen, their happy faces softly lit by the golden flames. But Arthur, -Oh Lord, Arthur was far beyond drunk, he was wrecked. Looking at him from where you were sitting and singing along, you could see just how much of a mess he was; at least three of his shirt's buttons were undone, said shirt opened messily; his hair scattered under his hat and looking a bit sticky, almost as if he had put his whole head into a barrel of beer; he had a constant smile on his face, and his body was swaying slightly as if he was an unstable bottle being tossed around by the waves of a tormented sea. You chuckled to yourself; he was quite a sight to see, and you wondered if you actually had ever seen him that drunk. A few weeks back, Lenny had told you about the wild night he and Arthur had at Valentine's saloon, but the man in question had slept in jail and came back to camp completely sober, which made you unable to see his incredibly drunken state and made you wonder what the hell he must have done to end up in said jail.

♪ "If the Oceans were whiskey, and I were a duck, -Quack quack !-

I'd dive to the bottom, and get one sweet sup !" ♫

You chuckled at how Arthur had added the quacking part, finding it quite endearing. It was almost as if it was a whole new side of him, and you couldn't stop watching. His deep voice sounded surprisingly good as he was singing with the others, and you caught yourself liking hearing it. After all, you always had a sweet spot for him, so you wouldn't complain about having the opportunity to look at him as much as you wanted without him noticing it (or at least, being too drunk to understand what exactly was happening). His bright blue eyes, sparkling with the orange ashes of the fire, along with his light brown hair and stubble, his black opened shirt, his thin lips curled into this big stupid smile... It was all making your heart melt more and more. You almost lost it when he started drinking again, roughly grabbing a nearby bottle, probably without even knowing what it was containing, and bringing it to his mouth, the golden liquid sliding in his throat, making his Adam's apple bob, some glistening drops of it flowing from the bottle all the way down his scarred chin, then his throat, ending up lost in the dark hairs of his chest.

You're suddenly pulled out of your starring trance by his loud voice cutting through the song's lyrics: "Lenny, mah boy! Come and sing with us."

"Arthur... You had too many drinks again..." Lenny answered with an amused giggle as he was passing behind him, catching his inebriated eldest as he had got up to greet him, but ended up stumbling on the way and almost tripped on him, it only made Arthur laugh at himself.

There was no need to specify that Lenny had trouble holding him upright, Arthur being under normal circumstances quite a weight to carry, and even more so when he was in such a state not making any effort to prevent his face from kissing the ground. Quickly, you got up yourself, and took a few steps towards the men, helping Lenny on his difficult task.

"Look who it is... Miss Y/L/N !" Arthur greeted you with foggy eyes and a wide grin as if you two hadn't seen each other for years when you had talked only a few hours ago. He instantly put one of his arms above your shoulders and the other around Lenny's. "C-come ooon, let's dance !"

Lenny sighed before laughing a bit, letting Arthur bring him into his drunken enthusiasm; you chuckled along with him, not complaining about being so close to the handsome cowboy you had your heart and eye on for a while, even if he was barely able to register what he was actually doing and with whom. As Javier started playing a lively song, Arthur, Lenny and you were throwing your legs up in the air; you laughed some more noticing how your favorite cowboy had a hard time actually following the rhythm. You couldn't believe just how euphoric he was tonight, almost as if the bottles had turned on a switch in his mind, making him go completely wild without any of his usual gruff restraints. Maybe that was what the alcohol did to everyone. Maybe that was what it was doing to you right now but you couldn't be sure if it was, precisely because you were happily drunk and carefree.

The night continued and you blushed realizing Arthur hadn't let you go, his arms always ended up around your shoulders or on it as he was sometimes leaning against you. His manly scent, a sweet mix of smoky tones brought by tobacco and gunpowder, and woody ones, supported by pine and leather traces. Your head was starting to feel dizzy just by smelling it, your mind even more intoxicated by it than the alcohol you had been drinking all night.

"Maybe..."

You brush away your thoughts, he was really drunk, and he could have been like that with anyone. You spent the rest of the night having fun, drinking some more, laughing, singing, the whole gang having more and more fun as everyone had loosened up thanks to the booze. However at some point, the main man of the party, Sean, disappeared with Karen, and people started going to bed. After all, it was almost morning already, the stars of the night not as bright anymore as they were around the middle of the night, subtle sun rays making their presence known behind the outlines of the mountains, but not appearing just yet.

It was now only you, John, and Arthur left around the campfire, the dark-haired man looking down at his brother at heart, an amused grin on his face. Arthur was half asleep at you and John's feet, bottle in one hand, his other arm curled up around your leg. With all the proximity and physical contact he had given you through the whole night, your heart and body had gotten warmer, and you had to make enormous efforts to keep your thoughts in line, not wanting to have any false hope about him and his behavior.

"He's so goddamn drunk... " John sighed.

"Clearly."

"Come on, let's carry him to bed." John said to you, getting up with difficulty from the log you both were sitting on.

"Aah, you guys are no f-fun!" Arthur protested, his voice even hoarser than usual due to his intoxicated self. "Come on, one more drink!"

"Nope, you're going to bed." John's own croaky tone answered his partner. He then looked at you while bending down, expecting you to help him lift Arthur's poor body.

You leaned over, helping John. Arthur was barely able to walk, leaning heavily on you and John, one of his arms above John's shoulder just as earlier with Lenny, but his other one around your waist. Your cheeks burned. Even if it was just drunken attention... You liked it.

The three of you started to walk to Arthur's tent, as fast as you could considering his feet were more brushing the ground than actually stepping on it. You just weren't capable of having any coherent thoughts at this point, your whole being living for the warm sensation of his big palm on your waist, feeling how his fingers were gently rubbing against your clothes.

"You two... Are the b-best..." Arthur slurred out in a rough voice when you had reached his tent. As gently as you both could, John and you were trying to lay him in his cot.

"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Arthur." John answered with an amused chuckle, placing one of his legs in its rightful place on his bed.

"Y/N, you're beautiful..." Arthur added in an almost unintelligible rumble, as you were pulling back from him. "I l-love you."

Your jaw dropped. What did he say? Did you hear that right? You froze, eyes glued to the outlaw, who was already turning around to sleep on his stomach, lips parted, a light snore emerging from his noose; he had instantly fallen asleep as if he had permission to now that he was in his cot.

John looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't take it seriously, Y/N." He advised you. "He already told that to Abigail and Karen before, even Saddie if I reckon right."

"Oh, erm... Alright, I won't." You answered your friend. Honestly, you probably would have slept better not knowing that; a sharp little sliver of disappointment subtly piercing through your heart. "Goodnight then, John."

"Goodnight, Y/N, thanks for the help." The scarred man greeted you before heading to his own tent. It was so late, you were sure Abigail would reprimand him for that tomorrow morning.

But that was John's problem, and you already had one yourself.

You took a last look at your sleepy cowboy before walking off to your own tent. He looked cute like this, hair messy, clothes completely disheveled; even his snoring was pretty endearing to you. You reluctantly turned your back to him, resisting the urge to actually lay with him in his cot. After all, he wouldn't have complained, wouldn't he? He probably wouldn't even have noticed... These thoughts got stuck in your brain as you lay in your own cot, pretty tired yourself after partying all night, your spirit slowly drifting away in the realm of dreams, sleep troubled by blurry visions of what had happened during the night, a beautiful, charming, stupid smile keeping on reappearing from time to time in your slumber.

Arthur opened his eyes. "It hurts"; were the first words that came to his mind. His back, his neck, his goddamn head, everything was hurting him. Getting old was definitely not a piece of cake. He rubbed his eyes, which felt dry and burnt, just like his thorny throat, even if a slight string of saliva had slid from his mouth. Getting that drunk was definitely too frequent for him lately, the other night with Lenny still engraved in his memory and his tired body, fed up with his poor drinking decisions. He slowly got up, rubbing his face, carefully avoiding his gaze from looking at the sun, its light way too powerful for him in this hungover state.

Looking around the camp, he smiled internally seeing Karen emerging from Sean's tent. Little bastard had gotten himself a good time last night. While thinking back about what happened, he had a hard time remembering all of it, as often when he was that drunk. Maybe it was better that way, considering his impressive capacity to get in trouble and make a fool of himself in those kinds of situations. However this time, something was lingering in the back of his mind.

You.

Your delicate smell, how the soft fabric of your clothes felt under his fingers, how your voice sounded into his ears, how smooth and mellow your leg was. How the hell did he knew about all that? He focused, frowning, trying so hard to remember what had happened, but all he had was these sensations, those pleasant, haunting sensations. He couldn't help but feel flustered all by himself, sat on his bed, cheeks getting slightly flushed, just imagining the reasons why he suddenly knew so much about the grain of your skin and the warmth of your body against his;

He prayed deeply he didn't do anything stupid with you; Lord knows how important you were to him. Hell, he had thought about you a lot already, thought about offering you flowers or maybe a nice jewel, something that would be as pretty as you even if to him, no physical object could ever compete with your astonishing beauty and your adorable, sweet, sunny personality.

But before all that, he needed to have a few words about last night with you. Probably would stumble on his words, look like an idiot again, but at least he would be able to be close to you, just like in those sweet lingering memories in his head.

Sequel here.

a/n : Alright so... Here it is! My first one-shot ever. Please, if you notice anything, any mistakes, or a weird-sounding sentence: let me know! English isn't my first language and I'm actually anxious as hell to publish this! Anyway, thanks for reading this until the end and take care <3

[thiscoldheart]

some details that i loved in la chimera (spoiler heavy) :

i posted this on twitter as well but i wanted to include it here too. i love this little moment here where italia rests her head on arthur's shoulder and for a brief moment, he's anchored to the present by that touch, but him being the orpheus that he is, just HAD to turn back and find himself gravitating towards the tombs, the past and his eurydice.

the fact that italia's name is literally italy in italian and by the end of the movie she creates a community of her own where she's looking out for those that are outcasted by society, in an abandoned train station named riparbella which literally means "to start again".

arthur's eye always being blocked by shadow throughout the movie until he sees the light at the very end

according to wiki, the goddess the statue is based on is cybele, goddess of nature, animals, wild places and represents the "creative and destructive force of nature." her phrygian name matar (mother) alludes to the fact that she was a "mediator between the boundaries of the known and unknown, the civilized and the wild, the worlds of the living and the dead." i love that this goddess' presence in the movie symbolizes arthur traversing between the living and the dead worlds and getting closer to beniamina. i love that by the end of the movie, the statue itself becomes unknown to human eyes and returns to the wild, far away from civilization, which is arguably the same fate that arthur meets as he dies.

the red string that's following arthur around is very reminiscent of the red string ariadne gives theseus to find his way through the maze. it's beautiful how this red string seems to appear only in his dreams at first but slowly starts crossing the boundaries of dreams and reality as the movie goes on until he is able to tug at it by the end and cross over into beniamina's world.

arthur, at the beginning of the movie, says "so it's you. my last woman's face." how cool is it that beniamina's face resembles cybele's?

arthur goes back to flora's house after being injured and her daughter finds him in the bathroom. spooked, she says "i thought it was a ghost" which arthur might as well be considering how he's essentially been a walking corpse this entire movie.

also a special shout out from the bottom of my heart to the sped up sequences, didn't even realize how badly i needed them until i saw them. the chaos in these sequences is everything to me. this is REAL cinema!

in general, one of the themes that i've come to love about this movie is how objects can have different meanings to everyone. an object like the bell arthur found was just "a thing that rings" whereas italia interprets it as a gift until she comes to realize it's been excavated from a grave. the statue was part of a shrine back when it was made, but to the tombaroli and the sellers, this is only a means to make more money. the train station started off as a place that symbolizes movement of people from the city to the countryside but has now become a home for the outcasts of society. the apotropaic phallus would've have warded off evil and bad luck back in the day, but is now used as a means of escape from the law. a simple red string is the literal lifeline for arthur as he tries to find his way back to his lover.

also want to give another shout out to the inclusion of the italian troubadours (our greek chorus) who beautifully spell out the tragedy of our protagonist and his gang.

speaking of music, i really liked this particular song italia was singing as she was practicing. the lyrics go "i'd like to explain to you, o god/ where my suffering lies/ but fate condemns me to weep/ to weep" and that's exactly when arthur finds her crying son. at least italia finds a way for her suffering to end by the end of the movie. maybe we can say the same about arthur too?

i'll probably add more as i keep rewatching the movie lol and make a thread of this on twitter too (x) thanks for sticking around and let me know what other cool details y'all noticed!

[midnighvtm4ss]

Rosemary

Summary: Kidnapped in the middle of the night you’re dragged far away from camp by the ruthless Lemoyne Raiders. Your disappearance a painful wound for Arthur who has to, quite literally, fight for your love back.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Content: angst, hurt/comfort (finallyyy !!!) description of gun fight, kidnapping, heavy themes

wc: 5k

a/n: so we’ve finally come to the end of this silly little story. The comfort is finally here woohoo !! I’m actually kinda proud of this chapter because I tried a different approach to writing and idk,, i like it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to every single one of you who liked Rosemary and filled my days with love, I’ll forever be grateful to all of you. A slightly better version of Rosemary will be posted on my ao3 account along with a new series im writing following John Marston and the reader. The plot for it will be revealed in a few days. As always let me know what you think of this chapter <33 (gif from pinterest)

Pain.

The very first thing you noticed was the pain—a sharp, throbbing agony spreading from the back of your head to the front. You winced as you tried to move your hands to support your head but your limbs felt heavy, almost as if you were trying to lift one of Pearson’s flour bags.

Everything was dark. A muffled piercing sound rang through your skull. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, but failing as the pitch darkness of the thick woods clouded your vision. Trying your hardest to get out of your dream-like state you decided to focus your mind on what exactly was happening, the last thing you remembered was your fight with Arthur and taking a walk into the woods outside camp. And then the pain. Oh, the pain was killing you.

You had to go back to camp and ask Reverend Swanson for some medicine.

You once again tried to raise your hands to your head to check for blood but your action, unfortunately, was unsuccessful. And then you felt it. The rough, scratching sensation of rope digging into your wrists. Your arms were bound tightly behind your back, the coarse braided fibers of the rope biting into your skin with every slight movement. Panic flooded your mind, its freezing tide rushing down on you as you realized that you were tied up.

“She’s comin’ to. We better hurry up before she starts and give us trouble,” A low, hoarse voice cut through your panic haze.

From your lying position, what seemed like the figure of a large man could be made out approaching you in the darkness. You felt yourself being hoisted roughly into the air, before you were slung harshly like a sack of potatoes, across something hard. A horse, you judged by the pungent smell of hay that invaded your nostrils. The saddle dug painfully into your side as the animal began to move forward under the command of its rider. The sudden movement made you almost throw up, your head pounding rhythmically with each rapid beat of hooves on the woods ground. You wanted to scream but no sound escaped your throat, the pain in your body too intense. As the horse rode further and further into the woods you could feel your consciousness slowly slip away,

‘Arthur,’ you managed to utter before darkness took over you.

The second time you awoke, it was due to the biting cold of dawn. The sky above was just starting to lighten, the first rays of sunrise penetrating through the dense treetops, coloring everything in pale hues. You were lying on the ground again, your body stiff and muscles aching. You shivered uncontrollably, teeth chattering together, your dress doing a poor job at keeping you warm, as you tried your best to gather your scattered thoughts. The men were still nearby, the sound of their hushed voices mixing with the rustling of leaves blowing in the wind. Despite the overwhelming pain and tiredness you felt washing all over your body you forced yourself to stay awake.

You rolled to the side as best as you could, mud staining the soft colored fabric of your dress and cheeks, trying to find out where they had taken you. You knew you had to think clearly, to find a way out of this nightmare. Your eyes, although blurred, scanned the area in front of you. You were in the Bayou area, the shadow of tall trees and surrounding swamp a dead giveaway of the location and judging by the various bottles of moonshine all over the place, your kidnappers probably took you to an old moonshine distillery camp.

“You sure she’s worth all this trouble?” a high pitched voice asked.

“What, a beauty like her ? Absolutely partner,” another man responded, his tone cruel. “Just keep her quiet until the boss comes back, then we’ll have ourselves a real party,” he added laughing.

Fear gripped your chest like a vise—you could hear footsteps approaching, quick and heavy. Rough hands grabbed you by the shoulders, flipping you over onto your back, your eyes focusing just enough to see the blurred outline of a man’s face looming above you, the bitter smell of liquor and tobacco taking over your senses, the end of his yellow scarf tied around his neck dangling down in front of you. Lemoyne raiders.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” he muttered, his voice dripping with mockery as he smiled down at you. He took out a small pocket knife from his satchel leaning in closer. The blade flashed in front of your eyes as he lowered it down to your cheek, slowly moving it down towards your neck without breaching your skin.

Your breath caught up in your throat, your chest rising and falling rapidly making you lightheaded as the blade touched the sensitive skin of your neck. Your heart pounded so violently in your chest that it made you physically sick. A strained whimper left your lips as tears welled up in your eyes blurring your vision. You were completely frozen in place, terrified under the man’s knife. The man menacingly laughed at the sound you let out, flashing his yellow teeth at you, satisfaction evident in his cold eyes.

He roughly manhandled you up by your arm, his tight grip leaving dark bruises on your skin as your feet dragged in the mud. The man pushed you inside a decaying wooden cabin, its interior surprisingly worse than the exterior, you noted as you were sat down on a small chair positioned in the corner of the entrance room, far away from the door.

Another man, much smaller than the previous one, grabbed you by your hair lifting your face towards his making you wince.

“You’re gonna stay nice ‘nd quiet Miss,” he said before stuffing your mouth with a dirty piece of cloth, the bitter taste of dirt making you gag.

The two men spared you one last glance, a satisfied expression painting their faces, before leaving the cabin to join their other men outside, locking you in.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The usual cheerful chirping of birds coming from the trees surrounding Clemens Point camp acted as a morning alarm for Arthur. The chill morning air biting at his exposed ankles, his blanket messily tangled up his torso as a result of the restless night he spent tossing and turning, waiting for you to come back. He knew that following you was the wrong choice. You wanted some space from him and he respected that, but his heart couldn’t help but ache at the missing warmth of your body in his bed. He waited and waited for you, his eyes growing heavy as he rehearsed in his mind all the ways he could make it up to you, until his body succumbed to its tiredness and fell asleep.

Putting on his hat he lazily walked towards the coffee brewer on the campfire near the ladies’ tents, his mind replaying the events of the night. The way you looked at him as if he had just shoved a knife into your chest, your pretty eyes bloodshot and puffy from the constant crying. Your trembling form making its way out of your shared tent hunting his mind like a vengeful ghost. He loathed himself for that. It was his damn fault. He had to make it right and he’d do anything to take all the pain he caused away.

Sure you had slept with the girls since you never made it back to your tent last night, he expected to find you chatting away with Tilly as the both of you usually prefered to start early on your morning chores, his steps carrying him with a determined aura, but once he made it in front of the ladies’ tents you were not there. His face scrunched up in confusion as a small glimmer of concern planted its root in his head. That same glimmer grew rapidly as he darted his eyes around camp seeing no signs of your presence.

“Arthur,” the gentle sound of Abigail’s voice snapped him out of his turmoil.

“Abigail, hi.” he answered absently, eyes still scanning the camp’s grounds in hope of catching a glimpse of you.

“Look, I don’t want to be nosy but is everything alrigh’ between you two ? I heard you two yelling last night, she was pretty shaken up before you arrived”

“Yes, no—I don’t know. We had an argument, and she didn’t sleep in our bed last night. Can't blame her really, but I can’t seem to find her,” he explained, concern radiating out of every fiber in his body “Have you seen her ?”

“No, not since last night. Maybe she just needs some time alone” she reassured, placing her hand on his shoulder. The gesture soothing his worried thoughts.

“Yeah maybe you’re righ—“ Arthur didn’t get to finish his sentence as the cutting voice of Leopold Strauss interrupted him.

“Herr Morgan, Herr Morgan. Busy, my friend ?” The Austrian man approached him, a folded piece of paper in hand.

Arthur's shoulders dropped. He dreaded working for Strauss, but the older man was persistent, always ready with another fella to squeeze dry for some cash. Sure, the money helped keep the gang afloat, put food on the table, and clothes on the backs of the women and children, but the work, well, the work was dirty. It was the kind of work that gnawed at a man’s conscience.

“What is it now,” Arthur turned to face him, Abigail excusing herself, patting his back before leaving to wake Jack up. Strauss handed him the piece of paper, fortunately for Arthur only one name was scribbled down. ‘Gwyn Hughes’

“He’s an undertaker in Rhodes, he shouldn’t be giving you any trouble but he’s a slippery fellow. Just scare him and collect the debt” he explained. Arthur sighed accepting the job, wondering when all this loan sharking business would come to an end. You always hated when he’d go out dealing with Strauss’ business, saying how the gang should steal from the rich to help the poor and not steal from the poor to help the poor. He knew deep down inside of him you were right, but unfortunately money is money and with the gang’s situation looking far from good, every single cent counted.

He put the paper in his satchel before walking towards the hitching post, his gaze falling on your Tennessee Walker before mounting his horse.

“Oi english!” Sean called out from his lookout post “you look like shit this mornin’”

“Yeah well, don’t I always,” Arthur groaned before signaling his horse to move forward.

The collection of the debt turned out stranger than Arthur ever imagined. As it turned out Gwyn Hughes, the debtor, planned to pay back his debt by robbing a woman’s grave and as if that wasn’t enough he tasked Arthur to clear the cemetery and eventually stop the people from coming in. By noon, Arthur left Rhodes with a diamond brooch, a few bruises on his face and a confused conscience.

He returned to camp exhausted, his body and mind heavy, the dirty work weighed heavily on him as he hitched his horse near camp. All he wanted now was to see you, hear the sweet sound of your voice, even if you’d yell at him. He just wanted to see you. But as he ventured inside the camp, the usual hum of chatter was gone, the atmosphere heavy. Something was off. Abigail and Sadie were the first to come up to him, Abigail face pale while Sadie scanned around camp anxiously.

“Arthur,” the brunette called out, her voice rising with an edge of worry as they hurried towards him. “She ain’t been back”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat “Wha—What do you mean she ain’t been back ? Nobody’s seen her ?”

“Last time I saw her was last night, I was on lookout and saw her headin’ out towards the woods, thought she was goin’ for a walk” Sadie explained, her expression filled with worry. “I asked ‘round camp and no one has seen her today”

His stomach dropped as numerous possibilities of what could’ve happened to you flashed through his mind. Without muttering a word to the two women, Arthur stormed over to Dutch’s tent, the latter standing outside talking to Hosea about the recent developments on the Gray-Braithwaite situation. The moment they saw Arthur approaching their conversation dissolved, the look on his face signaling them that something was off.

“What’s the matter Arthur ?” Dutch asked, concern dancing in his eyes.

“It’s about her, she went out last night and no one has seen her since” he explained, his voice strained. Dutch expression hardened

“You think something happened to her ?”

“I do, yeah”

“Alright then better move quickly, Charles! Bill !” Dutch called, his voice reverberating across the camp calling out the two men. “Arthur’s Miss is missing. I want you two to go out with him, see if you can track her down. The others, I want all eyes on the perimeters of camp, if she comes back you holler. Nobody moves from camp.”

Charles, who had been crafting some poisonous arrows near by the campfire, quickly dropped his task as he listened to what happened. He quickly gathered all his gear and began to move towards the horses, Bill just a few paces behind him.

“We’ll find her, Arthur. She’s gonna be okay” Hosea consoled him, but the older man's words did little to calm Arthur’s racing heart.

Within minutes, the three men were mounted on their horses and heading into the woods where Sadie had last seen you. Arthur’s mind was racing, a dangerous storm of fear and anger bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not after everything that happened.

The woods were dense, the tall trees casting deep shadows that made it difficult to see much of anything, but luckily Charles was an expert tracker, the hunter’s keen eyes scanning every inch of the ground for any sign of you.

After what felt like an eternity for Arthur, Charles held up his hand, signaling the other two men to stop. He dismounted Taima and crouched down, examining something on the ground. Arthur quickly joined him, his breath catching in his throat as he saw what his friend had found.

It was her bracelet, the golden one he had gifted you for your first anniversary. The small wristlet laid in the dirt, the delicate chain now broken. Arthur felt the whole world crashing down on him as he picked it up, his hands shaking in a mix of anger and fear.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

As the hours dragged on, you struggled to stay alert. The pain in your head had dulled to a persistent ache, but every muscle in your body screamed in protest with every small movement. Your wrist burned, blood dripping down your hands as you tried to wriggle them out of your ropes, the process slow and agonizing, but you could feel the ropes loosening further and further. You just needed to grit your teeth through the pain. The men had become less concerned about you, talking and drunkenly laughing amongst themselves, making you nauseous at their inhumanity.

Then a man entered the cabin, followed by two others behind him. He was tall and well built, his hairline receding leaving his hair to hang awkwardly on the sides. By the way he dragged himself around you deduced he was their leader. He crouched down beside you, his face dangerously close to yours, his breath fanning in your face making you scrunch your nose at the rancid smell of his breath. He reached out to check your ropes, tightening them furthermore, the action causing bolts of pain to shoot through your body.

“What was a pretty lady like yourself doing all alone in the woods mh?” He took out the now drenched piece of cloth out of your mouth. You swallowed, feeling your dry throat burning at the action.

You couldn’t muster the strength to respond. Your head lolled to the side as the man stepped back, a sinister grin plastered on his face. Then a harsh, stinging sensation hit your cheek.

“I said what were you doing all alone in the woods, slut” Tears welled in your eyes, both from the pain and the hopelessness of your situation. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Arthur. You had to hold on, had to find a way to escape, if not for yourself, then for him. He would come for you—you knew it deep down in your heart, but you needed to survive until then.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

Arthur’s eyes burned with anger and fear. He clenched his fists around the bracelet, his mind racing. “She was here,” Charles said quietly, his voice grim. “And she wasn’t alone. Look at these tracks, it seems like there was a struggle. She was taken.”

“By who?” asked Bill.

Charles pointed his finger to the ground, where the faint outline of various boot prints led away from their spot. “Judging by the tracks, it looks like a group of men. Three, maybe four. Could be Lemoyne Raiders. They must’ve grabbed her and taken her somewhere nearby. At this point the only place near is the old moonshine distillery.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold at the thought of you in the hands of the Raiders. The Lemoyne Raiders were known for their brutality, his encounter a few weeks prior with Sadie confirmed their reputation. The thought of what they could be doing to you filled him with a rage so intense it nearly consumed him.

“We find their hideout, and we get her out,” Arthur said through gritted teeth, already mounting up on his horse “I’m gonna kill all them goddamned bastards. I don’t care what it takes.”

Mounting their horses they followed the tracks, the three men riding fast through the woods. Thankfully it hadn’t rained so the trail was still clearly visible. It led them deeper into the Bayou region, the trees growing thicker and the air heavier with humidity and tension.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they spotted the moonshine distillery through the trees. It was a crumbling mess of buildings, half-hidden by the vegetation in the shadows, but there was no mistaking it. A few horses were tethered outside, and faint light flickered from the windows of an old cabin.

Arthur’s heart pounded as he dismounted. Charles and Bill followed him as they hid behind a crumbled stone wall, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. Their eyes scanned the area, there was a man guarding the horses while a group of five others were sitting near by the campfire, drinking and laughing with each other. He exchanged a quick glance with Bill and Charles. This was it. They’d kill those bastards outside, storm the cabin, take out anyone who stood in their way, and get you out of there.

“Let’s go, I’ll take that guard near the horses out” Bill whispered, his voice steady with resolve. He made quick work of killing the guard, his knife glimmering just a second in the light before settling into the man’s neck. Charles and Arthur joined Bill in action. Arthur was the first to shoot his gun, the bullet piercing clean through one of the men’s chest. Then all hell broke loose.

Bullets went flying as the Lemoyne Raiders spotted them, the air filled with smoke and gunpowder as both sides fought violently. Their position didn’t offer too much cover, the Lemoyne Raiders, although drunk, fought hard, their guns never stopping. A stray bullet scraped Arthur’s arm but that didn’t stop him as he barely registered it. His mind was singularly focused on one thing—getting to you before it was too late. And in just a few minutes Arthur, Charles and Bill managed to take down all five men outside. Moving quickly out of their cover they reached the front of the cabin, and with a nod from Arthur, they burst through the door.

Chaos erupted as they stormed inside. The few Lemoyne Raiders inside the cabin barely had time to react before Bill and Charles opened fire, cutting them down where they stood. Arthur moved with deadly precision, his eyes scanning the room for any sign ofyou. And then he saw you, tied to a chair in the corner of the room, your face bruised, wrist bloody but alive. You were alive

The last of the Raiders fell as Arthur rushed to your side, his hands quickly working to untie the ropes that bound you so tightly. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, you thought this was just your mind playing tricks but tears welled up in your eyes falling rapidly down your face when you realized it wasn’t your mind playing tricks, it was really him. Arthur had found you.

“Arthur,” you barely whispered, your voice hoarse and weak.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Arthur murmured, his voice shaking as he finally freed you from the chair. He quickly checked you for more injuries before pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’d never let go. “I’ve got you sweetheart. You’re safe now.” You were still in shock from the whole ordeal, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—fear from the attack, but also a deep, undeniable relief that Arthur was there with you. In this moment you both forgot your fight, your mixed feelings and both held each other, the intensity of the moment washing over you. You held each other for a few seconds longer before separating. A strange turmoil of emotion took over you as you looked around the room seeing the body of your kidnappers unmoving on the ground. Unable to look at them a second more you diverted your attention back to the group of outlaws in front of you.

The first who broke the silence that fell around you was Bill, awkwardly clearing his throat before adding “We need to get movin’ all this gunfight definitely caught someone’s attention”

Arthur offered his hand to you and you took it, using it as leverage to get yourself up to your feet. Your vision spotting for a second before coming back. You didn’t find in your heart to let go of his hand, his warm skin offering you peace. They escorted you out towards the horses. Arthur helping you up on his before sitting behind you, his strong arms holding you tightly to his chest giving you support. The last thing you felt was Arthur chaste kiss on your temple before you let yourself fall asleep.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the camp as the day slowly faded into night. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding your tent. Inside the tent, the air was still, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.

You were finally out of the cot after three days of recovery. The girls had come to check up on you in the morning, bringing you a mug of coffee and a pack of chocolate biscuits Mary Beth had managed to steal from the general store. The pain had dulled, your wounds were slowly healing, but the ache in your heart was still fresh, raw from everything that had happened. Arthur had barely left your side the entire time, his presence a constant, quiet comfort, but the words exchanged between you could count on your fingers. The silence between you two was loaded, filled with everything unsaid, with everything that had been tearing at you long before the kidnapping.

The both of you were now in your shared tent, you sat on the edge of the bed absently tracing the edge of an empty tin cup of peaches with your fingers. The room felt suffocating, but you knew you couldn’t keep avoiding this conversation any longer. The memory of those letters, the sight of Arthur and Mary together in Rhodes, his lies. it all still stung, a wound that hadn’t yet healed.

Arthur was seated on the small chair at the foot of the bed, his head hung low, hands toying with the rope that wrapped around his worn hat, face brim as if bracing himself for what was to come. He had watched over you, cared for you, over the past three days but there was a palpable distance between you two now that neither of you could ignore. You could see the lines of worry etched into his face, the guilt that had been gnawing at him for days.

Finally, you broke the silence. Your voice barely above a whisper “Arthur, we need to talk.”

He looked up at you, his aqua eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and something else, something that made your heart ache more at his sight. “I know,” he replied quietly, his voice rough and tired from the last couple sleepless nights. “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what happened, before all this mess.”

You took a deep breath, gathering the strength you needed to confront him, to confront the hurt that had been tearing at your heart. “You lied to me, Arthur. About the letters, about Mary. About everything.”

He winced at your words, the truth of them hitting him hard. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I thought—I thought if I didn’t tell you, it would hurt less. That it wouldn’t matter, ‘cause it was supposed to be nothin’. But it was a mistake. I should’ve been honest with you from the start.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, the pain of those memories sharp like the ghost of the tip of the Lemoyne Raider’s knife on your neck. “I saw you two together, Arthur. In Rhodes. You both looked so happy. It felt like, like my worst fears were coming true. Like I was losing you.”

Arthur stood up slowly, taking a tentative step in front of you. His hand reached out, but he stopped mid air, hesitating as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “Mary, she just needed help after the passing of her husband. She didn’t have anyone else to turn to and I didn’t have the guts to shut her down. So I helped her. I didn’t want to drag you into it ‘cause I didn’t want you to worry.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for the truth. “But you lied, Arthur. And that hurt more than anything.”

He nodded, his expression pained. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to make things worse between us. But I can see now that I did that anyway by not bein’ honest.” A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, trying to keep your composure. “I love you, Arthur. But I can’t live like this, I can’t live wondering if there’s something you’re not telling me, if there’s a part of you that’s still with her.”

Arthur’s face scrunched with regret. “There ain’t. I swear to you, there ain’t. She’s from another life, a life I walked away from a long time ago. Jt’s you I love darlin’. It’s always been you.”

You looked down at the tin cup in your hands the juice residue sloshing as you toyed with the cup, your fingers trembling with the heavy weight of your next decision. “I don’t know if I can just forget what happened Arthur, it hurt too much.”

He stepped closer, this time his hand gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “I don’t expect you to forget. All I’m askin’ you is to try. Try give us another chance. I’ll do better, I swear it. I’ll be honest with you, about everything. No more secrets.”

His touch was warm as his thumb stroked your cheek, comforting you and despite the hurt, you couldn’t deny that bright flame of love that still burned inside of you for him. You met his eyes, seeing the sincerity, the sheer desperation in them. He made a stupid mistake of thinking for you, but he was now acknowledging his mistake, he was willing to try and be a better man for you, a man you could see your future into.

You let your tears fall freely now as you nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I want to try, Arthur. I want to believe in you, in us again.”

He kneeled down to your height and held you into his arms, holding you close as you cried against his chest, the tension of the past days finally breaking down. His hand gently stroked your hair, his voice a low murmur of comfort in your ear.

“We’ll make it work, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

[merlingenrecs]

Peace reigns, Arthur is King, magic roams free, and Merlin is finally able to embrace his destiny in the open. Whether it’s stories set in an idyllic Camelot where old prejudices have been overcome, or simply quiet moments of happiness shared between friends, this category is all about the Golden Age being truly golden.

Today's gen fic rec theme: Happy Golden Age

↓ Find the list of fanfic recs under the cut! ↓

⚬ Freedom by reelin_writer, 1k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/35368405 summary: "The first few days after magic was legalized, Merlin passed out four times." The new Court Sorcerer is collapsing right and left. After the initial panic, the populace is unfazed. Even Gaius acts like it's normal. By the third time, Arthur's the only one that doesn't seem to think Merlin's behavior is natural. Well, if no one else will, Arthur's going to get to the bottom of it.

⚬ Other Duties as Assigned by N16, 5k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/33804967 summary: Tess finds many things about Camelot strange, but nothing quite as strange as Merlin, the king’s… Well. That’s the strange thing. Try as she may, Tess can’t figure out quite what Merlin is.

⚬  In the Light of Day by N16, 3k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/48470635 summary: It’s not a big deal. Arthur and Merlin get attacked in the forest and they successfully defend themselves. It has happened a hundred times before. And yet this time, it’s entirely different.

⚬ Magic Wanders Free by N16, 3k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/38988387 summary: Merlin has magic. Arthur knows that now. He can do all kinds of dramatic, extraordinary things. Perhaps even more miraculously, he can also do a million little things. And he doesn’t even realize it.

⚬ The Royal Pet by N16, 1k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/39395520 summary: It’s very convenient having a sorcerer as Arthur’s manservant. Unless, of course, Arthur gets on said sorcerer’s nerves. Then things get… decidedly less convenient.

⚬ When the Inevitable Comes by N16, 3k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/49949851 summary: It was inevitable that one day, one of them would be left behind. Someone had to die first. They both knew that. They did not, however, agree on who that someone would be.

⚬ Coming Home by N16, 7k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/50026903 summary: When a simple errand turns into something dark and violent, Merlin returns to Camelot with wounds both inside and out. And he’s in no condition to take care of himself, whether he realizes it or not.

⚬ Lucky Roll by N16, 1k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/29379705 summary: Months after Arthur learns about Merlin’s magic, he suddenly realizes the truth about all of those games of dice. He is not happy.

⚬ The Great Tavern Conspiracy by N16, 5k, rated T https://archiveofourown.org/works/34503646 summary: Arthur knows that Merlin isn't at the tavern. That's just a lie Merlin used to tell, back before Arthur knew he had magic. So if Merlin isn't at the tavern all those times he disappears, where the hell is he?

⚬ Speak (With) Your Mind by s0mmerspr0ssen, 7k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/43308666 summary: When Merlin sets out to teach mindspeech to Arthur, he couldn't have known just how much it would affect the friendship between King and Court Mage.

⚬ With this I Protect (For this is My Oath) by salted_popcorn, 1k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/52629106 summary: Yule is the time of year to reflect on the past year and look forward to the year ahead. But with the guilt that lingers and the people they lost? How does one look forward? This is a story of love, protection and promises.And fluff, of course of Merlin and his best friend's son.

⚬ Like Father, Like Son by salted_popcorn, 1k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/40868550 summary: "Shut up, idiot. I didn't ask him to break into the vaults. It was his own idea." Merlin chuckled. "Doesn’t surprise me. You both have terrible ideas. Like father, like son." Really, the Prince need to stop following his father's advice on certain things.

⚬ Grumblings of the Head Knight by salted_popcorn, 1k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/40868700 summary: Council sessions were tedious, boring and repetitive. Everyone hated them. But no one had figured out it was Sir Leon's revenge plan. Oh, and Merlin had burned down half of the castle. Leon did not want to deal with things anymore.

⚬ Greet The Dawn by Flight_of_Fantasy, 6k, rated G https://archiveofourown.org/works/43201323 summary: Merlin is terribly nervous about the transition from servant to court sorcerer, and Gwen knows a thing or two about transitioning from a servant to a member of the court. Luckily, she has a remedy. She began it when she became Queen, and she's more than happy to share her secret with Merlin.

[outlaw-apologist]

How The Gang Kisses You (RDR2)

This was requested by @kieropal  ❤️ Warnings: NSFW themes

Gender Neutral reader

Characters: Arthur, Charles, Kieran, John, Sean, and Dutch

AO3 link

Requests are open if anyone ever has any ideas :D

Arthur

- He probably doesn’t seem like it but Arthur LOVES kisses. At first he’s too shy to kiss you in front of the others, but if you’ve been running with the gang for awhile he’ll get used to it

- His kisses are shy and sweet at first.  A kiss to the back of your hand, then your wrist. Slowly that turns to a kiss on the cheek and forehead kisses before he’s finally bold enough to kiss your lips. Arthur has to work his way up to it.

- However, despite getting used to kissing your lips, Arthur will keep giving the little kisses. He kisses the back of your hand when you return to camp after a quick mission or supply run. Wrist kisses are slowly followed by eye contact to heat you up. Arthur kisses your forehead when he feels overwhelming affection for you. Cheek kisses are a little less common, but occur when John or Sean are being asses, so he doesn’t want to get them riled up in case they tease you.

- Forehead kisses are his go to kiss when he wants to comfort you or casually show you love. You’ve been crying? He’ll wipe your tears with his thumb and kiss your forehead while whispering sweet affirmations. You’re cold? He’ll wrap you into his arms, pull you against his chest then plants a kiss to your forehead. Just wake up with morning breath? Arthur pecks your forehead then breathes in your hair before nuzzling you. - The first time he gives you a proper kiss - his lips are timid and unsure. They ghost over yours, giving you a chance to pull away before he commits and gives a chaste kiss. - Arthur’s kisses are always gentle and filled with passion. He makes sure to pour all of his love into every one. Very rarely are his kisses hard, but when they are it’s usually right before you two have a nice rough (mutually agreed upon) wild fuck. - While in the throes of passion Arthur worships your body, placing hot open mouthed kisses over every inch of skin until his lips are glistening and swollen. - When he’s moving inside of you Arthur will kiss you until neither of you can breathe. He can’t get enough of you. He loves sucking on your bottom lip, exploring your mouth with his tongue. Most of all he feels as though he needs to be as close to you as possible which results in the most dizzying kisses. --- Charles - Charles will not kiss you in front of anyone except Arthur. He trusts no one with the knowledge of how much he loves and values you. (Except Arthur ofc) - You half expected your first kiss with him to be shy but Charles knows what he wants. As soon as he realized you wanted it too he pulled you into a confident kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head, fingers laced in your hair. - He has stunning lips but they could easily eat you up or overpower the kiss so he’s a bit more methodical while kissing you. Charles doesn’t want it to feel gross for you. He very much cares more about your experience with him than anything else. - When cuddling, Charles nuzzles you and kisses at your neck, jaw, or behind your ear. It’s not usually done in a suggestive way. He’s just appreciating you. Appreciating the moment. - Charles comes up behind you, wraps his arms around you, and presses sweet kisses to your neck or shoulder whenever he can. He just wants you to know how beautiful he finds you through actions rather than words. - Before either of you leave on a dangerous mission Charles cradles your face and searches your eyes. He then slowly takes your lips against his in a deep and loving kiss. Time freezes and for a moment the world doesn’t matter, because it’s only you and him in this sphere of time and space. As he pulls away he lets out a sad sigh then presses your foreheads together. “Should get going-.” He murmurs, pulling away reluctantly. -During love making Charles enjoys leaving marks on you from kissing and sucking on your skin. It pleases him to see your skin glisten with proof of his love and passion. He’ll never do it in a way others would notice. However, sometimes your chest and thighs will be covered in these marks if he gets carried away. - If you guys are having a rough fuck Charles will dominate your mouth until your lips are trembling. Both your and his lips will be glistening with spit from hard sloppy kisses. --- Kieran - The most courage Kieran has ever summoned was to give you a quick peck on the cheek. He did it so fast you almost didn’t understand what he did. He practically ran back to the horses and avoided you for three days out of sheer embarrassment (and terror?). - If you want to kiss Kieran properly you’ll have to do it first. He’s not brave enough to initiate even though you constantly catch him staring at your lips longingly. But, if Kieran suspects you’re about to kiss him he shies away. You have to give him a surprise kiss. Once you do he tenses up but quickly melts into it, pulling away with a dreamy sigh followed by a little “wow!”. - After Kieran realizes you like kissing him he’ll want kisses a lot! He never kisses you randomly like other gang members might. He always asks you politely: “Can I please have a kiss?” “Would you like a kiss?” “Is it alright if I kiss you?” In the quietist sweetest voice. - If you two are alone he’ll kiss you without asking. The first kiss will be shy and he’ll immediately study your face as if silently asking if he can continue kissing you. If you respond well then Kieran carries on, each kiss becomes bolder and bolder. - Let’s be real. Kieran can’t go to sleep without having a goodnight kiss. Otherwise he has bad dreams. - The first time you and Kieran make-out he whimpered when your tongue entered his mouth… And the time after that…. AND after that… Okay, every time you two make-out he melts, mewls, whines, and whimpers as you dominate his mouth. When you pull away he has a dazed look, spit dribbling down the corner of his lips. -- Kieran is unsure about kissing your body during sex because he doesn’t know what places are acceptable to kiss and what places aren’t. He’ll learn with some coaxing. He wants to do a good job for you so he eagerly follows any and all directions. - Probably the best time to kiss Kieran is near the end of your love making/fuck session. When Kieran is nearing orgasm his lips tremble cutely against yours. As it hits him his mouth falls open in ecstasy, then you have free reign if you wish to shove your tongue down his throat. --- Dutch - Dutch licks his lips real good before placing a sloppy kiss on your lips - His kisses are selfish -If he’s angry then his kisses can either be harsh or bruising. - If you’re crying or taking too loud Dutch will pull you into a kiss just to silence you. Sometimes he’ll even do this during an argument if he thinks you might not slap him. - He’s def the guy who’s always saying shit like: “Aww c’mon. Where’s my kiss?” “Don’t I get a kiss too?” “Why don’t you kiss me for good luck?” - When he does give genuine kisses it’s usually during times where he feels… emotionally vulnerable. Usually if he’s feeling sad, or during sex when you two have the occasional gentle love making session. Before bed he starts to feel some type of way and the night often ends with a passionate or loving kiss. --- Sean - I just wanted to add that I see Sean kissing 1 of 2 ways. Either his lips are dry and crusty OR he licks his lips until they’re shining with spit to kiss you. - Sean will kiss you 24/7. In the middle of an important job? Kiss. Fighting with a gang member over something? Big smacker right on your lips. You better be careful, if Sean catches you unguarded his lips are gonna touch yours one way or another. - “Wha’dya mean killing a bunch of O’Driscolls isn’t cause for a make-out session?” - He’ll ask you to kiss him in front of other gang members just to make them feel jealous. - When he’s feeling affectionate he gently takes your hand and kisses every one of your knuckles while whispering sweet nothings It’s not always shits and gigs with him. Most of the time it is, but not always. -Okay but real talk, during love making Sean will give the most passionate and personable kisses you’ve ever received. The kind where you kiss over and over again, just breathing each others air and feeling one another. You’ll think about his kisses every time you miss him. --- John -His kisses are dry and kind of awkward. Mostly because he thinks he doesn’t need chapstick. - He’ll try to kiss you when he has food around his mouth. He doesn’t get why you might think that’s gross. -John likes to think he’s great at leading kisses. But secretly he wants you to dominate his mouth like he’s your whore. - He gives casual kisses when you two wake up, before you go to bed, and right before he rides out for any reason. - During sex he loves to trace your collar bone with his lips, leaving hot kisses against your skin. Besides that area your jaw and neck are his favorite places to kiss you. Sometimes he holds it while rolling his hips up into you so you could feel his breath change with pleasure. - If you’re ever sitting down or bending down and John has a strong desire to kiss you he’ll kneel at your level, take your face into his hands, and give you the kiss of a lifetime. - John goes through cycles of either not wanting kisses at all or being needing and nearly begging for kisses. - He fucking loves to kiss you after his cock/cum were in your mouth. Tasting himself on you drives him insane

[banal-lotus-eater]

[Image ID: A digital painting split into three parts. The middle portion is an abstracted scene of Arthur and Oscar at a church-like bar and the side portions are of mirrors with painted scenes showing previous and future events inside. The mirror frames are etched with various small details which make reference to the themes found in the fic and in the podcast. The left mirror’s scene makes reference to scene where Noel and Arthur hug in the chapter “The collapse” and the right mirror’s scene is an exaggerated version of end of the chapter “The ritual”. endID]

I participated in the Malevolent Big Bang (check out more works @malevolentbigbang) this year with a bunch of other artists! Here is my piece for @crowfeatherquill's fic Final Miles, a post season 5 fic that sees the return of my boys Oscar and Noel. Its so good and I've been chomping at the bit to post this. Also!! Check out the other artist's pieces for this fic on their tumblrs, @gazebodj and @stokiss

(also also @aetheremin beta'd the fic and i think they should get some extra recognition)

Zoom ins/ Timelapse / ranting under the cut!

Here's the piece cut up into it's thirds with more in-depth image IDs. It has the Mirror sections first then the middle section. Warning, the second mirror has R'lyehian (Cthulhu conlang) text in it.

[Image ID: The left most portion is of an intricately etched and cast oval bronze mirror. The mirror has a section of music etched on it which are the first few measures of Faroe's theme. The inside of the mirror shows a scene of Noel and Arthur in armor hugging each other on a dark forest's floor. Arthur has a pure yellow cape that wraps around him and behind Noel. endID ]

I really liked this one and it was my first pass at drawing the mirrors. I learned a lot on drawing flur de lis and wasn't as focused on making specific design choices for specific references instead of busying up the design for lack of a better term. The left side was my more experimental/first pass side where I did that one first, learned, and then did the right side using the lessons I learned. Now onto the right mirror (again, this has R'yhlien in it)

[Image ID: The rightmost portion is of the other mirror, an equally intricate etched and cast rectangular mirror. The bottom of the mirror has banners with R'lyehian text on them. The sentences are "Y'ahuaah mg n'ghft'drn (Translated: I wear(lit: use) no mask) and "Mg n'ghft'drn?  Mg n'ghft'drn!" (Translated: No mask? No mask!) The scene inside is of Oscar, Arthur, and Noel crouched in a magic circle. They are all wearing fantasy medieval garb with Oscar in a priestly/cleric outfit, Noel in his armor still, and Arthur in a tunic, pants, and yellow cape. The yellow cape wraps around the scene separating the trio from both Hattie behind them and the viewer. Hattie is in a traditionally witchy outfit and is holding a glowing book while pages fly around her. She has an oversized witch hat that has an eye on the underside and the tail of the hat splitting into a monstrous mouth with a bell hooked on to the mouth’s bottom lip. endID]

woo! Thats a huge ID and I'm sorry. I tried to cut it as much as I did but I am not brief. I may do a seperate post breaking down some smaller details on this haha. Lets move onto the middle.

[Image ID: The middle portion has Oscar sat on a stool at the left of the bar with Arthur across from him. Oscar is glaring at Arthur while Arthur is facing away from him. Behind the bar is replaced with a church window that has a painting of angels amongst the clouds. The angels are mostly all looking towards Oscar and there is a group surrounding him that are fretting over him.  The only exceptions are, an angel hovering over Arthur pointing for him to leave, and an angel on the far right side holding a sword and looking towards the angle in the middle. The angel in the middle is the largest one that stares unreadably down at Oscar while pointing one hand up towards god and the other on their chest with a modified gesture of Benediction. endID]

I did this section last and honestly it was like dessert compared to the other two sections. No hate on those, but I loved painting the angles and clouds :).

And here is the timelapse. Its roughly 2 mins because I had to move canvases in the middle since my computer crashed twice in the middle of painting the right mirror's scene.

ID: A timelapse of the previously described pieces, starting from random sketches of angels to sketches of the scene to finalizing details and rendering. endID]

anyway, more malev stuff probably sometime, i have college to work on tho and midterms are coming up.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Arthur Playing With Your Son In The Bath

Arthur Curry X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Suggestive themes, stress, and an obscene amount of fluff

Word Count: 984

(A/N:) I found this gif and it inspired me so fast! XD I was actually looking for something else for a different imagine when I came across it. I couldn't leave without writing something for it and this is the end result! I wrote for Orm and since Arthur is a freaking aquababe I have to write for him too! Hopefully my fellow fangirls enjoy it as much as I did writing it! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Being married to the King of Atlantis had it's perks, but it also had it's rough patches. Being so called Queen of a world you never even got to visit had it's pressures. Arthur never told you the horrible things the council would say about you, but you had a good idea of the prejudices they held. Tom was a good confidant and helped you talk about things that bothered you. Arthur had enough on his plate and now with you both producing a heir to the throne, the pressure only increased. Tom was out running errands for you while you stayed at home with Arthur Curry Jr who refused to do anything but eat and cry. It didn't matter how many times you tried, he refused to go to sleep. He was due for a much needed nap and so did you, but the baby universe decided that just wasn't in the cards today. Now as night drew nearer and you being soaked in spit up, drool, and various other baby fluids Arthur finally made it home.

"Sorry I saw dad in town and we stopped for a quick beer," Arthur apologized before brushing strands of your hair to kiss your cheek.

He looked around the little home you both shared with his father. Toys littering the floor and dirty dishes piled up in the sink. His eyebrow raised before leaning his trident against the wall. He knelt down to get eye level with you as you rocked back and forth on the couch trying to keep Jr from crying.

"Rough day," he asked gently.

The strong facade that you worked hard to keep up all day crumbled a little, as your bottom lip began to wobble. Arthur cursed taking you into a hug and trying his best not to squish his son against his giant chest. You let yourself have a few moments of just letting your emotions out before you pulled away. Wiping at your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"That's my girl," Arthur grinned. He took Jr from your arms. "Go take a shower a long one. My son and I are going to have some bonding time with a bubble bath and some rubber duckies. I'll call Pops too, have him bring pizza home for us. Then we'll watch that movie you love and makes me gag. Deal?"

You laughed, this time kissing his cheek, "Sounds wonderful!"

Arthur helped you up from the couch, kissing you deeply and giving you a pat on your rear as you walked to the bathroom. Arthur watched you go before turning to the baby in his arms.

"We'll borrow Grandpop's bathroom so your mom has some much needed quiet time."

Jr gurgled in reply. Arthur nodded in agreement, "Totally. Your mom is a hero. And hot."

Jr just stared and Arthur shrugged.

The hot water was washing away all the day's filth and the stress from your body. Though it was rough at times, raising the future king of Atlantis and being human, you wouldn't trade one moment. Your son was precious. Arthur was a wonderful partner in everything. A doting husband and a loving father. Even your father-in-law amazed you as he was such a help. You couldn't fault him for needing a quiet moment in town. He hadn't given one complaint since you and Arthur still lived with him and birthed the next generation of Curry.

Finished with your nice hot shower, you dressed in one of Arthur's oversized shirts and your favorite pair of leggings. Your slippers silenced your steps and it was easy to hear Jr's squealing giggles and Arthur's laughter follow behind. It brought a smile to your face despite the exhaustion. Opening the door you spied Jr in a little floatie designed for his baths and Arthur bare chested covered in an obnoxious amount of suds.

"Are my boys having fun," you asked.

"Bubbles," Arthur roared animatedly causing Jr to squeal. Water sloshed and bubbles flew everywhere and you couldn't bring yourself to worry about the mess.

Carefully sitting yourself close to the tub and avoiding the numerous puddles on the floor, you stroked Arthur's bare chest, tracing the tattoo patterns. He dutifully scrubbed his son's dirty face before leaning back against the cool tub wall.

"Careful where you touch, or we'll grant Pop's wish early," Arthur warned.

"One's enough for right now," you replied still tracing absentmindedly.

"More than enough. You look like you went to war with an army of babies."

"And here I thought baby spit up was the new Gucci," you sighed.

Arthur tugged you a little closer, tickling your ear with his warm breath, "You did look pretty hot."

"Now who's trying to seduce who," you teased.

You helped Arthur finish up cleaning Jr and get him changed into warm pajamas when Tom finally made it back. Hauling in grocery bags and boxes of pizza, all of you were finally able to sit down together as a family. Arthur wouldn't let you get anything for yourself, so you sat on the couch holding Jr while Arthur made your plates. True to his word he started the movie you loved and he abhorred. Halfway through Jr had finally fallen to sleep and despite wanting to stay up and finish it, you found yourself nodding off too. Without a word Arthur put your son to bed before he scooped you up in his arms.

"Night Pops," he whispered and Tom nodded before turning off the movie and switching to the weather.

"Artie," you mumbled into his chest as he carried you to your shared room.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," you yawned.

Arthur kissed your temple before depositing you onto the messy bed, "You're welcome."

He tucked you in before getting in himself and with the warm blankets and Arthur's body pressed against yours. You fell into peaceful slumber and all your worries melted away.

[yelenasdiary]

21 Questions || Attention to Detail

Pairing: FBI! Wanda Maximoff x Mafia Boss! Reader

Summary: Agent Maximoff has always been great at her job and reading people. After solving a rather difficult case with co-worker, Agent Romanoff, Wanda took a vacation to Greece, where she met Y/n, who was also taking a vacation from work. A little fun never hurt anybody, right?

Adult & Dark Themes | Smut | 18 + ONLY! | She/They pronouns | Language Warning | Mentions of Drinking | 4.7K | 

Top! Wanda, Bottom! Reader, Mommy Kink, Reader has a penis, protected sex, oral (both receiving), slight degradation.

Notes: Flashbacks and/or memories are italic & have “~” before and after.

AC: Just want to give a H U G E thank you to @daddynattt for helping me with this chapter, you can all thank her for Wanda giving you mind blowing (literally) head. 

21 Questions Masterlist

"Sorry about that" you smiled as you entered the meeting room and took a seat at the end of the table. You tried to keep your eyes from staring a little too long at the agent you thought was a high school teacher. "A-are you sure it's him?" you asked, looking at agent Romanoff. The red head nodded while she took in your body language, "we understand you were young when he went missing but we'd like to ask you a few questions. Anything you can remember about him can help the investigation" she explained. 

"Investigation?" you frowned, "he was murdered?" 

"Yes, we're sorry. We are still determining cause of death but from the skeletal remains, it was very clear he was murdered" Natasha replied in a soft but caring tone. 

"I'm sorry, skeletal? I haven't seen my father since I was 14, not a single word and now you're telling me he's dead and he's a skeleton" 

"We understand this is a difficult time right now and we're sorry that we don't have a lot of news to tell you. Once we know more, you will be the first to know" Wanda inserted herself. You looked at her for a brief moment and nodded, "well, if there anything I can to help. What can I tell you?" you asked, now looking between the two women. 

"We will try to make this as easy as possible" Natasha replied as she took out her note pad. You felt the burning of Wanda's stare, it was clear to you that she hadn't told her co-worker that she knew you. "Do you remember the last time you saw your father?" Natasha asked, her pen ready to dot down any words that would leave your lips. 

You took a deep breath in as you thought back to the last time you saw your father, not a pleasant memory but it was all that came to mind. "Uhm, I had just gotten home from school and he was arguing with somebody over the phone. I remember going straight to the kitchen to grab a snack. We had a personal chef at the time so I spent some time in kitchen waiting" you explained, your eyes dropped to the glass of water in front of you that Kate had kindly left. 

"Do you know who he was on the phone too or what the argument was about?" Wanda asked, leaning forward slightly. 

"It was always about money. He never really seemed to have time for me, or my mother for that matter. So I guess, growing up I learnt to ignore the arguing that came from his office but I always knew it was about money or business. I don't know if he was talking this person, but he said the name Arthur very aggressively before he hung up" 

"That's great, names are good. Uh, I'm sorry to bring this up but your mother, she passed away in a very short time before your father went missing. How was he dealing with that?" Agent Romanoff questioned as she finished writing a sentence on her note pad. Wanda noticed the way you slowly looked up at Natasha, slightly chewing on your bottom lip from the inside and how you shifted slightly in your seat. 

"I don't know" you replied, looking directly at Natasha. "He never showed any sort of grief from what I can remember" you added. Wanda saw how uncomfortable you seemed on the topic of your mother; you reached for your glass of water and took a sip as agent Romanoff took more notes on your answer. "Before your father went missing, he had some issues with Senator Benjamin Arthur and again, we understand you were young at the time but if there is anything you can remember about anybody hanging around the house or maybe you were approached by a stranger? Anything can help a lot" Natasha asked as she looked up at you. 

Your eyes looked between the agents once more before you shook your head, "I'm sorry, I don't remember anything. My father's business was exactly that, his business. I went to school, I came home, I did my homework and if he was having a good day, we'd go get pancakes or ice cream before dinner. He barely ever treated me like his child and when he did" you paused and let your eyes drop to a spot on the table in front of you. Silence filled the room for a moment as you gathered your thoughts, both agents trained to watch your body language and anything that might seem a little odd to them. "When he did, it was one of the best days I'd have in a while" you finally spoke, slowly looking up at the two women. 

"Thank you for your time, Y/n. We'll let you have some space but please, if there is anything that comes to mind about your father that may be helpful, here are our cards. Call us anytime" Natasha replied with a soft but warm smile as she handed you her card with her details on it, Wanda slid hers across to you before both agents stood them their seats. "I'll be sure to let you know, thank you for coming up. I'm sorry if I wasn't much help" you replied as you also stood from your seat, "Kate will escort you out" you added giving them a light smile before sending Kate a slight nod through the glass window.

You watched as the agents were led to the elevator before you made your way back to your office where Kate shortly ended, closing the door behind her. "Everything okay?" she asked, seeing the troubling look on your face as you downed a mouthful of whisky, almost slamming your glass on your desk. 

"They found him" you looked up at your best friend. 

"Are you sure?" Kate walked up to the two leather seats in front of your desk, making herself comfortable as you began to pour you both a glass, sliding it to her, nodding. "They're investigating" you muttered before downing your drink once more. 

"Shit" Kate gasps before she sips her drink, "are you okay?" she asked. 

"Can you lock up this evening? There's something I need to do, I need to talk to Pa, I need to tell him" You replied. Kate shook her head, "of course, anything you need I'm here"

With Kate's word, you gathered your things and gave her a hug before leaving. You dreaded telling your grandfather that his only son was finally found after 13 years, although you always suspected he knew that your father was either dead or never returning. As for you, you weren't sure how to feel. Part of you felt relief, closure even but another part of you felt anger, sadness. 

----

Wanda and Natasha returned to their office, both debriefing the crime scene and the notes Natasha took from your answers. New evidence and test results had come back in their absence, fingerprints from the set of keys belonged to the Senator, Benjamin Arthur and forensics were able to find the rest of your father's skull. 

Before going to pay to the now retired Senator, Benjamin, Natasha and Wanda spent most of the afternoon looking over the crime scene photos, evidence and taking a fresh, closer look at the old evidence and case file. 

"We have to question Sergei's father, Pavel. He was the last one to see Sergei alive" Natasha breaks the deep silence between the two. Wanda ran her fingers through her hair as she looked up at her co-worker and nodded. Her mind unable to shake you as she tried to process the shook of seeing you. "Yeah, I agree. Tomorrow we'll go see Benjamin" she replied, closing the case file in front of her. 

--Later That Evening—

Music from your playlist played softly in the background as you checked the roast dinner you were making, tossing the vegetables to ensure they were cooking all the way through. A soft knock at your door made you pause the current song, and placing the roast back in the oven, wiping your hands on your apron before answering the door. 

"Agent Maximoff, this is a surprise" you greeted the woman. 

"We need to talk" she replied, sternly. 

"You're just in time, dinner isn't too far off" you open your door wider for the agent to enter your home. She walked in slowly, the smell of your dinner welcoming her better than you had. "Can I get you a drink?" you asked, walking ahead of her and returning back to the kitchen. 

"I'm not here as friend" Wanda replied, watching you tidy up the island in front of you. "We have to talk about Gr-"

"No" you looked up at her and shook your head, "We'll talk about it over dinner. You owe me that much" you added, not breaking eye contact. A moment of silence was shared between the two of you before Wanda gave you a light nod, "okay. Dinner that is all"

"Just dinner" you turned on your heels, grabbing a clean glass from the cupboard, "A drink?" you asked. 

"Water will be fine, thank you" Wanda's eyes traveled around your kitchen, allowing herself to take in the way your home looked. If the situation were different, she would've complemented your taste in art and the beautiful red oak kitchen island that was littered with the mess of your cooking. She watched as you handed her a glass of water before returning your attention to the vegetables that were on the stove. 

"You can take your coat off if you'd like" you spoke, feeling her eyes watching you. 

"I'm fine" Wanda replied before taking a mouthful of water. You grabbed two plates and some cutlery before turning around to face the agent, you smiled softly. "Another ten minutes and it should be ready, I'll just set the table. Do you want a tour?" you asked. 

Wanda shook her head lightly, "I just came here to talk. The quicker we can do that, the quicker we can move forward"

"What is there to move forward from, tell me" You walked by her, placing the plates on the table. Wanda followed behind you, "you know exactly what I'm talking about" she replied as you pulled a chair out for her. 

"You'll have to refresh my mind, I just had some terrible news today, so things aren't exactly great" 

"So, it was terrible" Wanda raised a brow, pulling out the other chair and taking a seat.

"My father was found, dead and confirmed to have been murdered. I'm not exactly cheerful about it" 

"You had me fooled" Wanda looked up at you, her eyes followed you as you returned to the kitchen, turning off the oven and stove. "My father wasn't the best man so forgive me for not being overly hysterical about it" you looked across the room to her, "besides, your off duty, right? Let's not talk about my father. Would you like gravy?" you added. The woman nodded, brushing your comment off. 

Silence once again filled the room as you dished up the roaster dinner, kindly placing the food in the center of the table for you both to help yourselves before taking a seat across from Wanda. "It looks lovely, thank you" Wanda broke the silence, she was never raised to have bad table manners and not that she wanted to truly let you know but she hadn't eaten all day and the smell of the feed you made only made her more hungry, grateful that you forced her to stay for dinner. 

"You have a fancy role for a high school teacher" 

"How was I supposed to know that I'd come and see you? You were just a stranger in a bar that" she stopped herself some saying anything more.

"That what? Had sex with?" You finished her sentence, her eyes dropped to the plate of food in front of her, tossing a carrot back and forth with her fork. "I didn't mean it like that" she replied, "my co-worker, agent Romanoff, she can't know. Nobody can. I know we slept together before all of this, but they won't see it like that. I should've told my boss the moment I saw you that I shouldn't be working your father's case." 

"Then why didn't you?" you asked. Wanda slowly looked back up at you, unable to answer. "You think it about, don't you? That night, you and I" you lent back in your chair while Wanda sat in silence, "tell me it plays on your mind" you added. 

"I should go. I'm sorry" Wanda stood from her seat, you quickly did the same and followed the woman to the front door. "Don't go" you gently grabbed her arm, "it's okay" you added when she looked at you once more. She shook her head, "it's unprofessional" she replied softly. 

You couldn't help yourself, brushing a lock of her long brown hair gently behind her ear, "I think about it too" you said in an almost whisper, wanting nothing more than to feel your lips on her skin again. "We can't" she stepped back, her back up against your front door. You stepped closer to her, gently placing your hands on her hips, your eyes flickering to her plump lips. "I can't get you off my mind, the things we did, the way you were" you paused, leaning slightly forward until your lips connected with the naked skin of her neck. Without control, Wanda lifted her head up, giving you more access, letting out a soft moan as you kissed up to her jaw.

"Please, I need you" you whispered, kissing her cheek before pausing your movements to look at her lips, "nobody has to know, I promise" you added. Her lips never looked more kissable then right now, running her tongue over them as she brought her hands up to your face, cupping you gently. "Nobody" she repeated, you nodded, "not a soul" you assured her before crashing your lips onto hers. 

Wanda kissed you back with hunger, filling your mouth with her tongue while you lifted her up, allowing her to wrap her legs around your waist, never breaking the deep kiss as you carried her to your bedroom. 

"You're so sweet darling" Wanda smiled against your lips as you laid her gently on your bed before she flipped the two of you over, straddling your waist while looking down at you. "Do you always think you're in control?" she asked, chewing at her bottom lip. Her hands running down your clothed chest, smirking at you before she ripped your shirt open. You shook your head, "use your words, tell me. Do you always think you're in control?" she asked you once more as she began to unbutton her shirt, one by one. 

"No" you replied, watching the way her hands moved quickly from button to button. "Yes, what?" she frowned before pulling her work shirt off and throwing it to the floor then unclasping her bra. "No, mommy" you smirked when she looked at you once more. When she looked into your eyes, she completely forgot how unprofessional and wrong this was, but the memories of how she had you eating out of the palm of her hand in Greece were enough to keep the guilt from flushing in. 

Wanda smiled softly as she crawled off you and completely removed her pants along with her panties, throwing them both on top of her shirt before crawling back on top of you, undoing the belt from your waist. "Hands out" she looked up at you with a light smirk. She didn't need to ask twice; you placed your hands out in front of you ready for Wanda to use your belt to tie your wrists together. "Keep them above your head, can you do that for mommy?" she asked, placing your wrists above your head as you nodded, "yes mommy, just want to be your good girl" you replied while she hoovered above you. 

"Oh, baby, you're such a good girl for me" she kissed your lips softly, "mommy is going to use this pretty mouth of yours and you're going to keep those hands still, no touching. Do you understand?" She leant back, straddling your waist once more, waiting for your answer. 

"Just wanna please you mommy, I'll be good" you replied, completely breaking for her. Not even assumed to show this woman who you barely knew, a whole side of you that nobody else ever saw. 

"That's a good girl" Wanda smiled before moving up your body, her legs resting on either side of your face giving you the perfect view of her glistening pussy. Her warm scent made you crave her even more than before, you watched as she lowered herself on your lips, letting out a moan as you began to twirl your tongue around her clit. "That's right baby, show mommy how good you want to be for her, let mommy cum all over your tongue" her words were muffled as you continued to eat her out. 

Every now and then dipping your tongue into her hole just to hear her moan, to feel her grip on your hair tighten. "Mm, baby, you're going to make mommy cum, keep going!" she moaned before she began to ride your face, her free hand toying with her hardened nipples while her other hand stayed running through your hair for support. With every moan, Wanda moved faster, grinding against your tongue, pinching her nipples harder, gripping your hair tighter as her moans got louder. "F-fuck baby, I'm cumming!" she moaned once more before letting her orgasm take its cause. 

That didn't stop you, you continued to lap at her wet folds until she removed herself from your lips. "Somebody was hungry" she smirked before kissing your cum covered lips, cleaning herself off of them before biting your bottom lip. "Mommy, please, m' so hard" you looked at her. Your cock begging to be released from your boxers as your bulge had grown bigger by the second. 

"Awh, baby, is this all for me?" Wanda bit her bottom lip as she sat beside you, running her hand up your leg and brushing over your bulge. You nodded with need, "only you get me this hard" you admitted as you heard her unzip your flyer. "Since you were so good for mommy, how about I give you a little treat, mm? Mommy will make it all better" Wanda replied before helping herself to remove your pants and pulling your boxers down passed your knees, letting your cock spring free. 

You kept your hands above your head and watched as Wanda grabbed your length with one hand, a soft moan left your lips at her touch. She teasingly stroked you while looking up at you, your eyes closed as you grew harder at her touch. "Do you want mommy to suck you off? Wanna feel my mouth wrapped around your cock?" You couldn't stop the needy whimper from tumbling out of your mouth, nodding your head yes as you opened your eyes to see her making her way onto her knees in front of you. "Please mommy! I want your mouth" Wanda smirks at the neediness of your tone, she's got you right where she wants you. 

"Shh, mommy will take care of you, stay still and look pretty while I make you feel good" 

Your body instantly jerks as you feel her mouth wrap itself around your tip, your pre-cum causing Wanda to moan around you making you let out a moan as well. The feel of her warm mouth feels like heaven, it feels like nothing you have ever felt before, and you're scared that you may not last too long. 

"Fuck.. your mouth feels so good" she takes her time, teasing you as she softly sucks on your tip while looking up at you with hungry eyes. "Mommy please.." She smiles around you and slowly takes you deeper, moving her mouth lower while maintaining eye contact with you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

"Oh God.. I'm not sure how much longer I can last" You are surprised at how well she can take you, you are not small by any means. Being 9 inches long and pretty girthy, you're shocked as she takes you deeper and deeper, desperate and needy moans coming out of your mouth as she takes all of you, her nose hitting your abdomen. The sounds of her gagging around your cock sends chills up your spine, and you're about to cum down her throat. 

"Fuck! Mommy.. I-I'm gonna cum" you feel her hands sliding up and down your bare thighs, encouraging you to let go into her mouth as she stays there with your cock shoved down her throat. You grab onto her head with tied together hands, moaning loudly as you keep her head in place as you release into her mouth, spurts of cum shooting down her throat. She rides out your orgasm, greedily swallowing everything you give her, the taste of your cum causing her to moan.

"Just as sweet as last time" Wanda looked up at you before crawling on top, straddling your waist, "and a little more than I remember, have you been having trouble baby?" she asks, giving you a moment to gather yourself. You nodded softly with embarrassment causing her to chuckle, "it's not funny" you groaned. 

"Since we last, you know" you paused for a moment as Wanda brushed your baby hairs from your face, "go on darling, tell me." She whispered, sending another shiver down your spine. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and it causes problems" you look at her, "problems only you can fix"

"Well, let's stop the chit chat and fix all those problems you've been having" Wanda smirked before pressing her lips against yours. A faint taste of your cum made you moan softly, remembering just moments ago how well the agent took you. Her hands reached to unbuckle your belt from your wrists, "protection?" she asked. You nodded and waited for your wrists to become free before opening your bedside drawer to grab a condom. 

Without hesitation, Wanda grabbed the wrapper from you and ripped it open with her teeth. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip while keeping eye contact with you as she so effortlessly rolled the condom onto your dick. "Why'd you lie?" you asked, out of curiosity, Wanda shook her head and hushed you with a hungry kiss, biting your bottom lip as she pulled away. 

Her lips kept you distracted while her hands worked on guiding you inside her, she moaned as you stretched her out, kissing you once more as she allowed her body to sink onto you until you bottomed out inside her. "I think about you" she whispered against your lips as you moaned softly at the slight moments over her hips. "I knew it" you smirked before you placed your hands on her hips, Wanda moaned once more as she sped up her actions, riding you just like she did in Greece. 

"F-fuck I've craved this!" she moaned, throwing her head back while her hands landed on top of yours, forcing you to make her ride you harder. "Go on baby, show me how you need it" she spoke, "just this once" she added. 

You felt like you were above the clouds, buried deep inside her like you'd been craving since you left her hotel room that afternoon. With a bit of force, you helped her grind harder against you, her moans made you believe you were going something good until she chuckled. "You're weak baby" she removed your hands, "I'll do it myself" she added before she began to bounce up and down on your length, you gasped at the way her pussy clenched around you, making it almost impossible to keep yourself from cumming too soon. 

"M-mommy, slow down! I'm not going to last" you moaned, your fists gripping the bedsheets until your knuckles went white. "Cum for me baby, I'm not done with yet! Cum with me!" Wanda moaned before you felt her pussy milk you for every last drop the condom caught. In the heat of the moment, you didn't care about anything but making sure her pleasure was dragged out, sitting up, you wrapped your arms around her and began to thrust your hips into her while your lips connected with her neck.

"Oh f-fuck!" she moaned, her nails scratching at your back, "keep going baby, don't you dare fucking stop!" she added while digging her nails into you harder. 

----

"You asked me why I lied" Wanda spoke softly as she pulled apart the small bread roll on her plate. You almost too distracted by her wearing one of your oversized tees as the two of you finally got around to the roast dinner you made hours ago. "Would you have still spoken to me that night if I told you I worked for the FBI?" she added, looking at you with her big green eyes that you now were able to really admire.

"Yes" you replied in a soft tone and a light nod. 

"You're lying, again" Wanda's eyes dropped to the roasted pork between the two of you. "Would you have spoken to me if I said that I noticed you days before I came up to you at the bar?" you asked her, your eyes not moving an inch as she slowly looked up at you. "I had a drink at the bar every night, came in two days before and had dinner. I remember the way your eyes looked in the shitty lighting, almost like they were the brightest thing in the room. I wanted to talk to you right then and there, but you looked so peaceful with your book, I didn't want to interrupt you. But when you came in that night and sat at the bar by yourself, I wasn't going to let another moment slide. So, yes, I would've still spoke to you if you had of been honest" you explained. 

A moment of silence was shared between you both, it was awkward or anything as such but you could tell Wanda was trying to keep her guard up and not allow herself to peel a layer of herself back for you. 

"Did you know green diamonds exist?" you asked, breaking the silence. Wanda shook her head, "aren't they like altered to look green?" she questions causing you to chuckle. "No, they are do exist and they are so rare that less than ten get sold a year. I've only ever seen 1. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever see and I don't want to sound cheesy but that diamond doesn't come near as close to you" 

Wanda smiled ever so softly that quickly dropped after a moment, "if things were different, I'd be different, but I can't, I'm sorry. You're really, really sweet and we've had fun, but we really can't do this" you could hear the disappointment in her voice even though she tried her best to hide it. "I need to know that you can act like we're never met. When we find out who killed your father, you'll never see me again, do you understand?" 

You couldn't help but sigh, "never met you, never slept with you. Got it" your eyes dropped slightly. Wanda stood up from her seat, "I get changed and go, t-thank you for –"

"It's fine. Take your time" you replied before watching her wander back to your bedroom. While Wanda changed into her original clothes, you tidied the kitchen and dining room. "We'll be touch. We spoke to your grandfather today, again, I'm sorry" Wanda's voice entered the kitchen as you turned to face her, giving her a nod, letting the room fill with silence again as Wanda let herself out. 

Once your front door closed, you reached for your phone, texting Kate. 

"We need to talk. Come over, now."

Taglist: @maria-403 | @arlana-likes-to-write | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @33-mrvl | @kaiidth-wandika | @wandanatss | @gaywalkersworld | @s1ut4nat | @natasha10273 | @deadlynightshade418 | @clintsbigtoe | @justyourwritter69 | @masterofpuppets-10 | @sunsol-22 | @druggedduck | @ohboiiitsbritneeeeey | @likefirenrain | @aloneodi | @bibliophilicbi | @imflemme | @teenybean | 

[atlitudes]

I'm Cataloging Every Occurrence of the Piano in Malevolent in a Spreadsheet for Leitmotif Analysis. No, I'm Not Kidding.

As the title of this post reads, I've spent the last few weeks listening to every episode of Malevolent and logging every time the piano is heard (both within the story and as background score), to analyze the data for leitmotif/music based theory-crafting. I originally was planning on getting through the entire series before posting anything, but I am very quickly realizing that this is going to take me a while, and I start a new semester in two weeks, so there is a high likelihood I will not finish before I get too busy to chug through as many episodes a day as I am now. I'm on episode 16/44 and I've already logged 137 instances of piano music. I'm not even halfway done. And this is all I've been doing for the past multiple days. For this reason, I've decided to post the link to the spreadsheet before finishing.

If you're familiar with Malevolent, and just how much music is in it, you might be asking, "OP, are you utterly fucking insane?" And well, dear reader, the answer to that is probably yes, but while you might call it madness, I call it love. So, before getting into the meat of things, I wanted to explain why I even decided to do this. Spoilers ahead for Malevolent (obvious, but yeah). If you don't give a single shit about why I did this and want to get straight to the sheet, scroll to the bottom for the link.

So. About 2 weeks ago I finished my first listen-through of Malevolent. One thing about the most recent episodes struck me as very very significant: John and Arthur's "collective force" being titled as the Dies Irae.

Now, a full-bodied explanation of why I find this so important and the possible implications will come at a later date, but long story short, the Dies Irae is a very significant piece of musical literature-- it is, perhaps, the most commonly quoted leitmotif of the past 800 years, and it symbolizes death. So, understandably, the Themes of this kinda sent me down a spiral.

But the Dies Irae being mentioned in such a way also got me thinking: music is a pretty integral part of Malevolent. So, is the Dies Irae quoted anywhere in its soundtrack? I suddenly got very very excited at this prospect, particularly if it might be in Faroe's Song, because well... god that would hurt lol. I scoured the available songs on the bandcamp aaaaand... no luck (as far as I can tell). Regardless, even if the Dies Irae wasn't a part of the soundtrack, I became curious about what kind of leitmotifs were in the podcast, and what they might mean. And so, the spreadsheet was born.

I explain this in the User Guide part of the sheet (please read it before going through the rest btw), but I only track the piano parts of the podcast. The reason for this is two-fold:

First, score wise, piano is very easy for me to pick apart, and I don't see a lot of significance in the suspenseful string music for horror moments (though I don't deny there might be something to it, I simply won't be able to find it.) To me, the piano is also significantly more important than the strings because it's a notable part of the story-- Arthur and his relation to the instrument is a key part of the plot, and multiple of the piano compositions are made by him. For this reason, I found tracking the piano in the podcast worthwhile.

Second, I also don't touch any of the non-original radio tracks in the podcast (i.e. You Call It Madness (I Call It Love)) because this video by The Final Fantasmagorie already does an excellent job of covering them (please check it out!!), and I felt it would be redundant, especially considering the astronomical amount of ground I already have to cover. If these tracks start being featured as leitmotifs in the piano music then... well, I might change my mind, but so far, no dice.

If I noticed a non-piano piece of music (such as the wraith humming in Ep3) that I haven't found any analysis of whatsoever, I also noted it just so there was some record. Other than that, just piano tracks.

Explanations and disclaimers out of the way, here is the link to the spreadsheet. I might open it up to comments and/or editors at some point, but for now, it's just available to viewers. Once again, please read the disclaimer and user guide before the rest of the sheets.

Thanks for reading, I know this was a very long post, and I appreciate it if you've beared with me! Enjoy!

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part XIII: Clemens Point ii

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader word count: 10.1k summary: Arthur patches you up and makes good on his promise *wink wink*. Dutch insists you work with the Gray family, which leads you to a job gone wrong. a/n: long time no see. I'm excited to be back and to get this chapter out. love you guys so much and I'm still astounded by how many follow this series. ignore any typos, margo is sleeping hehe. lastly, i write most of this in may, but as for the rest, its been awhile since i wrote arthur so forgiive me if im a little rickety around the edges. warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, minors dni, graphic violence, sexual themes. series masterpost │ masterlist

The sunlight filters through the cracks of your tent, casting the room in orange shadows. It's a surprisingly peaceful morning, and you awaken on your own instead of by a yelling Miss Grimshaw or some other camp ruckus. Your eyes flutter open slowly, landing on Arthur. You stay still so as not to alert him as you watch his form.

He's still dressed in his unbuttoned union suit, sitting in a chair with his ankle crossed over his knee. He faces you, but his face is scrunched up in concentration as he fixates on the journal in his lap. His hand works diligently, wrapped around a piece of charcoal as he details something on the worn pages. You smile, catching his eyes when he glances up to your cuddled up body. 

"Didn't mean to wake ya." Arthur mumbles, folding his journal over his charcoal. It's a rarity that you get to sleep in, and Arthur had wanted to let you rest as long as possible.

"You didn't." You hum, smiling up at him as you prop your head up on your elbow, "Can I see?" You ask. 

Arthur hesitates for only a fraction of a second before standing and sitting down on the bed beside you. It dips under his weight, and you lean into his shoulder as he passes the leather bound journal over to you. 

Your fingers sift through the pages until you find the charcoal, and carefully, you open the little book. A smile tugs at your lips as you run your fingers over the drawing. It takes up two pages, a perfect sketch of you sleeping. Your hair is messy, with little wisps framing your face in an effortlessly beautiful crown. Your lips are plump from sleep as you cling to the thick blankets, you had hoped they were Arthur in your unconscious state. Your eyelashes are thick as your eyes lay closed, your body frozen in time in the little journal. 

"Beautiful." You hum, eyes never leaving the pages. There's a few words written at the bottom of the page, and your eyes flicker to them.

'I reckon I'll be counting my lucky stars until the end of my days.'

"And I'll be countin' mine." You hum, looking up at him. The journal meets your lap as your hand cups his cheek. Arthur's hand covers your own, his warmth encasing you.

"You're too good for me." Arthur says, his. green eyes searching the depths of your own. Even after the time you've spent together, he struggles to comprehend why you've chosen him. 

"I'm not." You counter as Arthur pulls your hand away from his face. He takes your smaller hand in his, looking down at your bruised and bloodied knuckles from when you'd beat the outlaw Anders Anderson. 

"I was supposed to patch these up last night." Arthur raises an eyebrow at you as if it's your fault that you both forgot. You can't help it that you fell asleep, he was just too comfortable.

"They're fine, just a few scratches." You say as Arthur inspects the damage. Bruises blossom along your knuckles in purple and red splotches, and you wince as Arthur gently runs his thumb across them. 

"This'll only take me a minute." He hums, reaching to his satchel to pull out a few items. He brings some cotton balls and a bottle of alcohol out. You watch on as Arthur kneels on the ground before you, pouring some of the alcohol onto the little swab. He puts the alcohol down before taking your hand in his own to examine your knuckles. 

"This is gonna sting like hell." He warns, and you nod, letting him know to continue. 

You groan through clamped teeth when the alcohol soaked cotton reaches the scrapes on your knuckles. It seeps through the cuts, burning you with a stinging blaze as it cleans your wounds. Arthur pulls the cotton away, eyes flickering up to you to make sure it doesn't hurt too bad. 

"I'm okay." You reassure him. Arthur's eyes flicker down to your stomach before he continues cleaning up your hands. He remembers seeing Anders punch you in the gut, and he makes a note to check there too. You get used to the burning sensation when Arthur wipes away the blood from your other hand. He takes his time, working diligently with his eyebrows pulled together in focus. 

When he deems your hands clean, he stands, extending his hand out to you. You take it, standing chest to chest as Arthur's hands silently find the hem of your chemise. You raise your arms as he pulls it over your head and tosses it to the ground. The silence is loud as Arthur runs his fingers between the valley of your breasts until they land on the bruised skin of your stomach. You shudder under his touch, hands sheepishly covering your breasts as he traces the pattern of forming bruises. His touch is so soft that you barely feel it, just a feather light trail along your exposed skin.

"He got you pretty good." Arthur mumbles.

"You got him a lot worse."

Arthur's fingers cause goosebumps to ripple across your skin, and he's not lost on the way your breathing quickens. His hands find purchase on your waist once he's checked you over, and you lean up to whisper in his ear. 

"You broke your promise." You murmur into his ear. Your hands press against his chest, snaking under his union suit. Arthur's lips find your neck as his hands pull you closer to his body. He'd promised to spend the night with you last night, but you were both too tired. It seems like a perfect moment to call the favor in. 

"Did I?" He teases, mumbling against your neck as he lightly nips the skin there. He knows exactly what he owes you. His hand slides up your ribs, thumb teasing your nipple in small circles. The feelings he gives you– god, wiping away your cuts and bruises one moment and sucking on your neck in the next. He fills you with butterflies, he fills you with need. 

"Mhm." You moan as he kisses your pulsepoint. He can feel how your heart quickens under his touch, and he smirks at the realization. 

"My apologies, miss." Arthur grumbles as your hands grip onto his union suit, sliding the cloth down over his shoulders. It hits the floor, wrapped around his ankles before he steps out of the material. 

His hand runs down your hip to your entrance, and he runs his fingers over your folds through your underwear. It's only seconds before his lips meet yours, and his fingers hook under your waistband, pulling the rest of the clothing down. It meets the floor silently as Arthur's lips move against yours, and butterflies rise in your stomach at his touch. You moan into his mouth as he runs his tongue over your bottom lip, gently pulling away with a nip. 

He nudges you back so softly, until the backs of your knees hit the bed with a gentle thud. You glance up to him as he cups your cheek, thumb running over the soft flesh on your cheekbone. 

You love him. Looking up at him, you know it. You choke on emotion as he looks down at you with those sparkling green eyes. There's so much warmth in them, so much softness. You've never been cared for like he cares for you.

You lay back on the bed, extending your hand out for Arthur to take. His warm hand wraps around yours as he meets you on the bed, body lining overtop of you. 

"Do we have a lot of time?" You whisper, hands gripping Arthur's hair as he kisses the trail between your breasts. You arch your back, looking for more of his lips. 

"All the time in the world." He hums against your skin, teasing your nipple with his tongue. It's a new sensation, and you gasp as it sends a ripple of pleasure straight through your core. His hand kneads your other breast before his kisses trail back up to your neck. 

"So perfect," He growls against your skin, gripping your waist tightly between his big hands, "My Star." 

Your heart soars underneath him, and you catch his lips in one last sweet kiss before he pulls back to touch you. A few strands of Arthur's hair fall into his face, his lips are plump from your kisses and his eyes are shining. His muscles tighten beautifully as he adjusts, spreading your knees so gently that your heart skips a beat. You're still new at this, and Arthur plans on talking you through it to make sure you're comfortable. Even without him saying it, you know he will. He always does. 

Arthur's fingers run along your folds, and you buck your hips to speed up his process. You should try to be quick, anyone could come along at any point and find you two, but Arthur can't bring himself to rush. It's been too long since he's had you, and he plans on taking his time. 

You're soaking with need for him as Arthur slips his fingers into you. You moan, and your head tosses back as Arthur curls them slowly, tickling that sweet spot deep in you. Your hand searches for something to grip onto, settling on his less busy hand. You grip it tightly, and he interlocks your fingers together.

"How's this feel?" Arthur asks, glancing up to your face. There's a look of ecstasy there, pure bliss as your features relax and you bite your lip. 

"Good." You hum, keeping your voice quiet to not alert anyone. Arthur chuckles as your hand tightens around his own, and his fingers keep a steady pace as his thumb meets the bud of nerves at your core. 

He leans down to catch your lips, steadying himself on your interlocked hand. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you blind. You’ll never get used to letting yourself have this. His warmth wraps around your body, making you feel safe and loved. His fingers keep their slow pace, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of satisfaction as he holds you tightly underneath him. Your skin blazes with warmth at his touch, muscles tightening as he gives you everything you could have dreamed of. 

“Still okay?” Arthur asks, pulling away from your lips for a second to speak in a low tone. You nod your head, pulling him down to you with your free hand. Your other hand lays interlocked with his beside your head, gripping him tightly in fear that if you let go he’ll disappear. It’s foolish, a bad habit. 

“Yes–!” You gasp, stomach coiling before his hands finally send you over the edge. You squeeze his hand as you moan, coming undone. Arthur quickly kisses you, muffling your moans with his mouth so as not to alert anyone of the display you're making. His lips are gentle against your own, lovingly making yours bruised with kisses. Waves crash over you, stronger than the ocean's as you mewl and moan against Arthur's lips. Your legs tremble, toes curling as you pull away to gasp for breath. Arthur's fingers slip out of you, and his hand finds purchase on the mattress beside your head. With a smile on his lips, Arthur places a kiss to your forehead. 

"I could do this all day." He hums deeply against your hair. There's nothing quite like watching you unfold, and it's a sight Arthur won't ever get enough of. 

"Yes, but we can't." You counter, letting go of his hand to wrap both of yours around the back of his neck, pulling him down to you, "So hurry up. Y’know, it's rude to leave a lady waitin." 

Arthur chuckles, and he leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips. 

"Yes ma'am." He chuckles again, always astounded by your tongue. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down to you. Never in your life have you let yourself be so vulnerable with someone, it's a shocking realization. You're not afraid of it anymore, you don't fight it. You'll happily trust fall into this relationship if he's the one catching you– which he always will be.

Arthur's already hard pressed from just watching and hearing you as he lines up with your entrance. You grip his shoulders in anticipation before he slowly slides in the whole way. You gasp, shuddering at the feeling of being so damn full. 

"Y'okay?" Arthur asks as you wince from the stretch of it all. 

"Yes. Please, move." You beg, digging your heels into him. He starts to move, sliding out just to come back in, slow and hard. Your eyes fall closed and you bite your lip to stop the moans from falling out. Anyone could walk past and hear. Hell, even the bed creaking might alert someone. 

Your eyelashes flutter open, eyes locking onto his for a moment as your heart skips a beat. He's so perfect. His arms flex and strain beautifully as he holds himself above you. His green eyes flicker over your body, making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself, drinking your body in all the while. 

His tanned skin is covered with a thin sheen of sweat. You can't help the way you pull him down to you, pressing your lips to his neck. Arthur groans as you kiss the sensitive spot, and again as your lips part, nibbling on his earlobe. 

"You feel so damn good." You whimper as the bed rocks. Arthur grips the small headboard to silence it, and you watch as his muscles flex above your head. He uses the headboard for leverage, thrusting into you harder. You place your wrist over your mouth to silence your moans as he loves you with reckless abandon. 

A slow fluttering starts in your core, spreading out as Arthur's thrusts get harder. He's losing his composure, and you watch as his eyes occasionally squint shut, or his mouth falls open and closes again before he can make any noise. It's a shame, having to be so quiet. 

"You're–" Arthur purses his lips to stop from groaning, "Such a good girl." 

Good girl? It does something to you, ignites a fire under your skin as you grip onto him. 

"Say that again." You mewl, head tossing back. Arthur recounts what he's just said, putting two and two together as your nails scratch at his back and your hips buck to meet his. 

"That's my good girl."  Arthur smirks, happily uncovering this information. You snap, unfolding beneath him completely once his thumb starts to brush against your clit. You try not to think about Arthur's past partners, but you subconsciously thank them for teaching him what he knows because damn– he knows. 

"Oh, Arthur–" You begin.

Arthur's hand lets go of the head board and clamps over your mouth, muffling your noises. His hand is big, covering your entire mouth and forcing you to breathe through your nose. If anything, it only spurs you on further.

"Darlin', you know I love hearin' you say my name, but you gotta be quiet." Arthur shushes, but it's a moot point. Your eyes roll back, legs clamping around Arthur as stars fill your vision and pleasure rolls over you like the lapping shores of Flat Iron Lake. Arthur's hand muffles all the noises that he wishes he could hear while he thinks about how he'll need to get you both a hotel room soon. 

Contrary to what he's saying about keeping you quiet, he begins pounding into you hard. He's close. Watching you finish proves to be his undoing as he fights back groans, letting go of your mouth to replace his hand with his lips. Your tongues collide as your lips slot together, and both of your moans mix as you muffle each other's noises. You come down just as Arthur slips out, shooting his spend on your spread thighs. 

“Christ.” Arthur pants, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You squeeze his hand lightly before he stands from the bed to get you a towel. 

“What a way to start the morning.” You hum, propping your head on your hand. Your eyes run over his naked form, and you smirk as the planes of his back flex.

"You practically jumped me. Weren't my fault." Arthur chuckles, bringing the towel over to clean you up. 

"I did not!" You defend, smacking him lightly. Arthur chuckles, tossing the towel in his little hamper. 

"Whatever you say." Arthur jokes as your jaw falls playfully. You huff, not minding him as you stand up to get ready.

After getting dressed and cleaned up, you and Arthur head out of his tent together. It’s still early, but mostly everyone else is awake, save for Uncle and Reverend. 

“I’ll get you some coffee.” Arthur mumbles, hand on the small of your back before he leaves you to get the percolator from Pearson’s tent. 

“Thank you.” You smile, eyes scanning over camp to see where everyone is. Charles and John sit at the fire, and you make your way over as you place your black hat atop your head. John and Charles laugh over something as you walk towards them, taking a seat on the other side of the fire. 

“Boys.” You greet, digging your boot into the dirt. John has a cigarette between his lips and a cup of coffee in his hand, and Charles is sharpening his hunting knife by the fire. 

“Where you been all morning? We had to listen to Grimshaw’s nagging for the last half hour.” John asks and you blush, looking down at your hands. 

“Just slept in is all.” You lie, perking up as Arthur walks across camp with two steaming cups of joe. 

“There he is.” Charles hums as Arthur sits down beside you on the log. He hands you the metal cup of coffee, and you wrap your hands around the warm mug, cherishing the way its heat sinks into your bones. 

“What you boys been up to since we got down here?” Arthur asks before his lips meet the rim of his mug and he drinks down some of his coffee. You’re distracted from the conversation when a little hand tugs at the back of your shirt. The conversation continues on as you turn around with a smile on your face. 

“Hey Jack.” You greet as the young boy walks around the log to the front. Without warning, he crawls up into your lap, curling up. You place your coffee on the ground, brushing your fingers through the boy’s hair. 

“How you likin’ the new camp?” You ask, looking down at him. You feel bad for Jack. All he's done his whole life is move from place to place, no home besides a bedroll on the ground. His family, the gaggle of outlaws, is falling apart before him, and he has nothing but the clothes on his back to cling to. 

“It’s okay! I like the water. Momma lets me play in the lake, and she’s even teaching me how to swim!” Jack smiles, beaming with pride as he looks at the lake behind you. 

“Is she?” You smile warmly as Jack nods. 

“Yep! It’s so fun, but I think my Papa is afraid of the water… he never comes in.” Jack’s eyebrows furrow as he thinks about John and his fear of water, and you giggle. John’s attention falls on you both then, and his face scrunches up in something similar to offense mixed with humor. 

“Hey, I ain’t afraid of the water.” John huffs, shaking his head. Arthur laughs out loud, joining the conversation as well.

“Sure Y’ain’t! Remember that time back in New Austin you fell into that–” He looks to Charles, “What was it?” 

“Lake Don Julio.” Charles replies with a smirk. 

“Yeah, that's it. You fell into Lake Don Julio n’ everyone had to gather round to scoop your sorry ass out.” Arthur laughs, and Jack giggles in your lap. 

“I–” John tries to come up with some defense, “My horse bucked me, weren’t my fault, and that water was deep.” 

You all laugh as John’s cheeks burn red as the flames of the campfire, and he shakes his head. 

“It’s alright, John. We can have the boy teach you to swim.” Arthur chuckles, gesturing to Jack. Arthur’s eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the sight of Jack in your arms. It comes so naturally to you, being around children. They love you. It makes his heart warm and ache just the same. 

“I hate to break up all the fun, but there’s work to be done.” A booming voice calls from across camp. Your eyes flicker up to Dutch, stomping forward through camp with some plan sparkling in his eyes. You sigh, placing Jack’s feet on the ground as he jogs off towards his tent. 

“We was just talkin.” John says, standing from his seat and dusting off his knees. Everyone looks to Dutch as he scans around the fire, taking in the four of you. His hands are on his belt as he eyes you and Arthur. 

“You two." Dutch points at you and then Arthur, "I want you poking around the Gray's today. Go down to the jail and pay our dear friend, the Sheriff, a visit. See what you can find." Dutch orders. You nod, grabbing your cup of coffee from the ground to swig down the last of it. 

"Hosea is already at the Braithwaite’s. He mentioned something about moonshine. I'll have you both workin' with him in no time. We're gonna play these folk like fiddles, hit them from both sides and they'll be none the wiser." Dutch says with his chest puffed. He's proud of his plan no doubt, foolish as it is. 

The names Gray and Braithwaite cause so much ruckus around here, and no one messes with those families for a reason. Leave it to Dutch to poke the bear. You're not so sure about playing both families, but Dutch is the leader, after all. You know when to keep your mouth shut, and now is certainly one of those times. You place your coffee cup into your satchel before standing from the log, stretching your knees as you do. 

"Alright, guess it wouldn't hurt to just talk to the feller. Maybe he'll even have some more work. Star, you up for more outlaw chasin'?" Arthur chuckles. 

"Still recoverin' from the last one, but sure!" You smirk, grabbing your satchel and swinging it over your shoulder. 

"Don't make any noise in town, just get on the Sheriff's good side." Dutch says as he backs away, turning to head back to his tent. 

"Sure." You remark quietly, turning to look at John and Charles, "I'll catch you boys later."

They nod as you wait for Arthur to grab his things, and then head off towards the hitching posts. Athena and Balius are there waiting for you, but surprisingly they aren't saddled like you'd expected them to be. Your eyebrows pull together as you look around for Kieran. 

A smile blossoms on your lips, and you grab Arthur's shirt to pull his attention to where you're looking. 

He turns, watching the scene play out with furrowed brows. 

Kieran and Marybeth sit side by side on the blanket under her canopy, smiling and chatting with each other. There's a book in Marybeth's hands, but it's folded closed over her thumb. Her attention is too focused on Kieran to worry about the silly story. Kieran is nervously rambling, shaking his head, and smiling like a schoolboy.

"You think they're sweet on one another?" You ask, looking up at Arthur. He huffs. 

"Marybeth and that damn O'Driscoll. Who woulda thought?" Arthur exclaims, shaking his head. You’re not sure that he approves of the apparent relationship between the two, but he did save Kieran, so that has to count for something. 

“He ain’t an O’Driscoll– at least not anymore. He’s not so bad, actually.” You hum, watching on for a moment longer before walking towards Athena. She’s near the posts, unhitched, munching on a bale of hay with Balius. The scarred shire horse nudges your mare’s nose affectionately as they share the foliage. It brings a sweet smile to your lips. 

“Look, even these two are courtin’ each other. What the hell’s in the water?” Arthur chuckles, placing his hand under Balius’s jaw to lead the horse to the post. He follows with little instruction, and you whistle for Athena to come to you. You grab her bridle from the post, sliding the bit in her mouth before fastening her chin strap. The mare looks good. You run your hand down her body, checking over her for anything out of sorts. She whinnies lightly, shaking her head as you scratch her croup. 

“Is there a stable in Rhodes?” You ask, leaning down to pick up Athena’s hoof. Her shoes have grown out a little further than you’d like, she's definitely due for a new pair.

Arthur runs a brush along Balius’s body, getting rid of any dirt as he coos to the stallion. He turns at your question, seeing the overgrown hooves that you’re looking at. 

“No, the nearest one is up by the stateline. We’ll get up there soon enough, Balius is fixin’ for a new set of shoes too.” Arthur explains, and you nod. 

You grab your saddle pad and saddle together, and carefully swing them over Athena’s back. You tie her saddle with a perfect texas t before checking all the straps. Arthur is still tacking Balius up, and you seize the moment to feed Athena an oatcake from your satchel. 

“Here girl.” You mumble to the mare, petting her nose as she munches on the treat. 

“You comin’?” Arthur asks, swinging himself into the saddle. You climb onto Athena, sticking your boot into your stirrup. 

“I guess.” You chuckle, thinking about going back to Rhodes. You’re not sure how Dutch thinks you’re going to become Sheriff Leigh Gray’s new best friend, but you’ll try nonetheless.

“Ladies first.” Arthur hums, and you roll your eyes as you pass him on the trail out of camp. Sean is on guard duty, and he makes sure to give you some hell as you pass by. Other than him, the ride goes smooth. No Lemoyne Raiders get in your way, which you’re thankful for. Athena is a bit more sensitive than usual on account of her shoes, but other than that the ride to Rhodes is good. 

You pull your mare up to the hitching post outside of the jail and hop down with a slight wince. You’ve barely recovered from your last wild goose chase, and here you are, back at the jail to pick up more work. Rhodes isn’t too busy on account of the time, which you’re thankful for. Arthur gives Balius a pat for his work before stepping towards you with a smile. 

“Ready?” He asks, hand settling on the small of your back as he leads you up the steps. 

“Sure am.” You chuckle. Arthur grabs the old brass door handle and pulls it open, holding it open for you. You walk through the threshold, squinting as your eyes adjust to the change in light. Leigh Gray, the sheriff, sits in his chair with his boots up on his desk. His hands are occupied with the day’s paper as he glances up to you two. 

“You’re back! Y’know I never did catch your names yesterday.” The sheriff points out, slapping his paper down on the desk. He swings his feet down to the ground, standing up to shake Arthur’s hand. 

Arthur quickly scans the room, finding a collection of posters on the wall. They’re all advertisements, and Arthur hones in on one for ‘Callahan’s Confectionery’. 

“Arthur Callahan,” Arthur introduces his newfound alias all the while shaking the hand of the sheriff, “and the missus.” Arthur introduces you as his wife, and a blush forms across your cheeks. Sheriff Gray tips his hat to you as you hide your hands behind your back to avoid any questions about the lack of a ring. 

“Well, Mr. Callahan, how can I help you on this fine morning?” The Sheriff asks. He seems nervous. Sweat clings to his brow and dark circles line under his eyes. You assume the Anderson boy has been giving him trouble, and there’s also the apparent problem with the Gray’s son and that Braithwaite girl. 

“That's actually what we came to ask you. We’re lookin’ to help out.” Arthur explains, taking a few steps forward. Arthur doesn’t mean to intimidate the man, but the sheriff takes a few steps back anyway. You wonder how he’s managed to remain in office for so long without getting killed or worse. He seems pretty yellow-bellied for the job. 

“You need work? Well I’m glad you came to me. It’s always better to work for a Gray than a stinkin’, degenerate Braithwaite.” 

Arthur’s tongue lines his cheek as he fights the urge to roll his eyes at the goddamn feud tearing these people apart.

“Of course.” Arthur replies. 

“Y’know… there’s this bastard I’ve been meaning to grab. He’s gone out of state, but I want him. He killed my second cousin Gertrude, you see.” The Sheriff begins. His eyes almost glaze over as he gets lost in his story, “She was lookin’ for medicine, but this man– he is a no good fellow. He sells poison as medicine. Y’know, my great grandfather was a doctor? When we was kids he used to–” Sheriff Gray rambles on before Arthur rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and interrupting the annoying man. 

“Listen, mister, no disrespect, but just tell me who he is and where to find him.” Arthur grumbles, irritated with the fool. The Sheriff doesn’t look too hurt by Arthur’s interruption, and you assume his ramblings are frequently cut short. 

“His name is Benedict Allbright. He’s a peculiar looking fella, came from the city after pitching his miracle cure. He's been seen near Valentine, you know of it?” The Sheriff asks, to which you nod your head dejectedly. 

“Yeah, we know it.” You sigh, glancing up at Arthur.

“He’s near the Dakota River, camping out on the cliffs. I need him alive.” Sheriff Gray gives you the details before slumping back into his chair and picking the newspaper back up. You nod, turning to head out the door, but Sheriff Gray turns your attention back to him. 

"Oh! Almost forgot– there's a festival bein' held. Rhodes' 75th anniversary. Here. You're welcome to join, it's supposed to be a good time." The Sheriff says, grabbing a pamphlet from his desk drawer. Your eyebrows pull together as you accept the paper, running your eyes over the festivities. Games, food, candy, and shows, it seems like a good time, so long as the feud settles down enough for the town to get along. 

"Well, thank you. You can count on us bein' there." Arthur hums before tipping his hat. "And Allbright? Well, I reckon we'll have him back to you in no time." 

The Sheriff holds up a hand in a half attempt at a wave as you and Arthur exit the jail. As soon as you're out of earshot, you grip Arthur's arm, forcing him to turn around. 

"'You can count on us bein' there'?  Are you sure goin' to this festival is a good idea?" You ask, holding the pamphlet out to Arthur. He takes the paper, running his tongue over his thumb before flipping the page. 

"It'll get us more information, and hell, it might be fun." Arthur replies, eyes running over the list of vendors. Your eyebrows pull together, and a hand on his bicep pulls his attention back to you. 

"We got an alias to keep up now. The Callahans? We gotta be careful with that, Arthur. And with Hosea playin' the other side like he is? I don't know if havin' a good time in the middle of town is the attention we need right now." You point out, tone hushed to avoid eavesdroppers. Arthur nods his head, eyes flickering up to yours. He sees the worry clouding your eyes, and his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb running over your cheekbone. 

"C'mon, where's that fire?" Arthur asks and your face falls, "We got this, it's just a festival. We get a little information, and we have a good time. An evenin' away from camp, havin' fun like decent folk do. It'll be good for us."

You lean into his touch, letting out a breath at his reassurance. 

"I'm just so afraid they're gonna find us again…" You admit, and Arthur's smile falters at the sight of your worries. You're talking about the Pinkertons of course. After Valentine, any noise is bad noise. 

"They won't. I won't let 'em hurt you, Star." Arthur mumbles, eyes searching the pain on your face and wishing that they could reassure you. He means every word of his promise. He will not let the Pinkertons lay a damned finger on you.

But it does sound like a good time. A day away, enjoying yourselves like a normal couple might, sharing fine treats and walking down the main street hand in hand. It's a simple pleasure, something an average couple might do, but you and Arthur are certainly not an average couple. 

"Fine, when is it?" You ask, peeking towards the pamphlet in his hands. He unfolds the paper flaps, locating the date in red, bold letters. 

"Next week." He states, tapping his finger against the paper. 

"It's a date. But c'mon, let's go get this bastard first." You say, nudging Arthur towards the horses. They’re waiting patiently, tails swatting away unwanted flies as they take turns drinking from the trough. You walk side by side with Arthur, chuckling at a pair of foxhounds playing in the rust colored dirt. 

“You ever bounty hunted before?” Arthur asks, taking his reins from the hitching post and swinging them over Balius’s neck. 

“No.” You huff. You’ve been on the wrong side of the law for a while now.  It never occurred to you to hunt down other outlaws. It’s also a two or more man job, you’d neve tackle a bounty alone. 

“We can make it there in a day. We misewell stop at the stables on the way too, get everyone new shoes.” Arthur hums. He slips his boot into his stirrup in time with you as you both swing up into the saddle. Athena paws at the ground impatiently until you squeeze her sides to walk down the main road. 

“Do we have everything we need?” You ask. Surely you’ll need something to tie Allbright up with, a lasso or bolas. You’re not sure what else bounty hunting entails, but you feel underprepared. 

“Yeah, I got everythin’ on me. We’ll spend the night up there, ride back in the mornin.” Arthur calls to you, his drawl thick. Being back in the south has made his accent a little stronger, and you smile for it. 

“How exactly does this help us with the Grays?” You ask. Going on a wild goose chase seems odd, especially considering that you’re supposed to be gathering intel on the Grays. Instead,  you’re heading back to Valentine, the town that almost got you all killed a handful of weeks ago.  

“Well, Dutch wants us on their good side, so we’ll do what the sheriff says n’ hope he gives us somethin.”

You bite your tongue. It seems above Arthur’s station to go out running around for Dutch. You’d think that after being his right hand man for twenty years, Dutch could send someone else out on these jobs. 

“You his errand boy now?” You bite. The words slip out, and your eyes fall shut as you cringe, awaiting his snap.  

“Excuse me?” Arthur’s eyes squint as he turns around in his saddle to look at you sternly. 

“Listen, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, but couldn’t he have sent one of the other boys? I mean, shouldn’t you be in camp plannin’ with Dutch?” 

The words cut Arthur deep. He’s not upset with you, he’s upset because you’re right. Micah is probably back from Downes’ Ranch by now, whispering lies into Dutch’s ear. It should be Arthur by Dutch’s side. Arthur locks his jaw,  pushing the thoughts away.

“It ain’t like that, Star. We all gotta do our part.” He counters, still in denial about the whole thing. 

“Hey.” You call softly, trotting Athena up to Balius’s side. You reach over and grab Arthur’s hand, squeezing it encouragingly, “You’re right, we all gotta do our part… I’m sorry.” 

Arthur stops his horse and squeezes your hand back.  

“I’m just glad to be with ya, darlin’. Now c’mon, stable ain’t far.” Arthur whispers, nodding Northwest.  

— — — —

Balius and Athena each get new shoes, a proper grooming, and plenty of provisions for the road. They look incredible, and you tip the stable hand nicely for his work. After their pampering, you hit the road towards Valentine, though you'd rather be headed anywhere else. Arthur takes care to avoid the town, riding on the outskirts to evade any lingering law. 

He leads you in the direction of the cliffs, and the paths get more and more narrow the higher you descend. 

"I don't like this, Arthur. We should leave the horses here." You point out, heart pounding as you look at the water below the cliff's edge. Athena prances nervously, tossing her head and pawing at the ground. 

"Alright, we'll walk the rest. Shouldn't be far." Arthur agrees, dismounting before walking further up the slope.

A little fire comes into view, you can see the smoke rising above the cliff that you’re climbing up. You try not to look down and see the Dakota River below. It splashes and rages forward, waves crashing against rocks and splashing up in crystal-like pebbles of water. You swallow thickly, stomach churning as you follow Arthur. 

“Try not to look down.” Arthur grunts, and you nod. 

“Easier said than done.” You huff, keeping your footsteps calculated. Arthur uses two fingers to signal that Allbright is ahead, and you hunch down. 

You and Arthur see the bounty before he sees you. He's hunched over a small campfire on the rocks, poking at the flames with a stick. His movements cause embers and smoke to waft up to the dark sky in flecks. You focus on the embers to distract yourself from the turmoil below. 

He is an oddly dressed man, clearly from the city. Allbright is adorned in a blue suit with a matching top hat. A small pair of spectacles sit on the bridge of his large nose, giving sight to beady, dark eyes. You step closer to him, looking up at Arthur for instruction.

"Follow my lead." He whispers back to you and you nod. 

Arthur stands up tall then, pushing his shoulders back and you see as a new persona falls over him. You can understand why Hosea is always pushing Arthur to act more, he's a natural. Arthur strides forward until he's just near the edge of Allbright's camp. 

"You Benedict Allbright?" Arthur asks loudly, stepping forward. You follow, staying a step behind and to the side of Arthur.

Allbright's head snaps up in shock and he immediately stands from the fire, backing away from the two of you. He drops his poking stick to the ground, and it catches on fire, burning up against the rock trail. 

"N-no!" Allbright shakes his head. You can see the panic in his eyes, you can hear the tremble in his voice. 

"You look a lot like him." You say plainly, eyeing up and down his suit. The bright colors nearly give you a headache, and you wonder why anyone would spend such an amount of money on such odd clothes, "And we were told he'd be up here." You add. 

Benedict Allbright takes a step back, almost plastering himself against the rock wall. He shakes his head nervously. When you look up at Arthur for a game plan, your eyebrows draw together. He looks… sad, crestfallen even. 

"You see, we were hopin' to buy some medicine from him." Arthur sighs, dejected. His head falls lightly and he grips your hand. 

"My mother in law, she's real sick." Arthur says. 

Damn he's good. 

You copy his downtrodden look, teary eyes flickering up to Allbright in one final plea. 

"We'll pay in gold if you help us, mister." You beg, a faux tear slipping down your cheek. 

Allbright lights up like a damn Christmas tree. A smile forms across his lips as he points his index fingers to the sky.

"If it's for a sick woman, I'd be happy to help!" He chimes. You watch on as he shuffles towards his bedroll, rummaging through a bag there. He pulls out a shimmering, dark green bottle, looking like any other tonic. 

"This is the finest medicine in the state, ma'am. I'm a healer, you know, a medical man!" He smiles, sick and twisted as he hands you the poison. 

You take the glass from him with a smile, but it promptly falls as you drop the bottle and let it shatter all over the ground. A scowl etches onto your face as you nod for Arthur to grab the bastard. 

"It's over, mister." Arthur grumbles, leaning forward and grabbing Albright's revolver from its holster. He tosses the weapon over the cliff ledge, and it falls down into the violent waters. Arthur unholsters his own gun, pointing it at Allbright. The fear of God enters Albright's eyes as he realizes he's been duped. 

"What?!" Allbright hisses, backing away from Arthur. His back is almost on the rock wall, and he glances around for a way to escape. 

"Apparently that stuff you're sellin' is killin' folk. I don't know, ain't my business." Arthur grumbles. He leans forward to grab Allbright's wrist, but the older man jumps away. He skips around the fire until his back is at the cliff's edge. You take a step closer to him. 

"I'm a healer! I've got an aura, I speak to spirits!" Allbright yells, looking around for any escape route or a weapon, "I'm a–"

"a lunatic." You huff, rolling your eyes, "Give it up." 

He backs away, heel dangerously close to the edge. One wrong move and he'll be down in the dangerous waters. Your heart rate picks up as you take another step forward. 

"Careful, Star." Arthur warns, deeply. 

"I'm a scientist, this is a mistake!" Allbright yells just as you reach out to grab onto his coat. It backfires, and he grips tightly onto your hair. You yelp as he pulls you against him. Your back is pulled tightly against Allbright's chest and something cold and sharp presses against your neck. You gasp as it knicks you, realizing he pulled a knife.

"I'll– I'll go over the edge and take her with me!" Allbright stutters and yells. 

"Allbright!!" Arthur roars, stepping forward. the bounty steps back, and you whimper as rocks and gravel fall off the cliff's edge from his boots. Arthur steps back, hands up as his heart races. His eyes are locked onto yours. 

"Let me go!" You hiss, but he presses the knife tighter against your throat. You have to strain your neck back against his chest to avoid the sharp blade. 

"Goddammit, let her go, or I swear to god–" Arthur begins, panic thick in his voice. Allbright chuckles, realizing that he's in the position of power now. 

"We can deal with this like men, leave the lady out of it." Arthur pleads, turning the barrel of his gun up towards the sky. Your nails dig into Albright's arm as you attempt to pull it away from your throat. You gasp, terrified. The thought of going down over the cliff sends your body into a panicked state, and your eyes beg Arthur to find a way out of this. 

"I'm not going with you, bounty hunter!" Allbright hollers. His neck cranes around, looking down at the violent crash of waves below him. Arthur's eyes are wide as he extends a hand out to you. You try to grab it, but Allbright steps back, dragging you with him. 

"I'll take my chances jumping." Allbright states. 

"Arthur!" You yelp, right before Allbright drags you back once more. 

Suddenly the ground is gone from below your feet. You feel yourself falling, and you scream for Arthur once more. You're not sure if you're going to die, you don't have much time to think about it, but you hope it won't be too painful if you do. The rocks below you are almost as threatening as the dark water. Your hands extend toward the sky, gripping and searching for anything to hang onto. Of course, there is nothing. 

"Star!!" You hear Arthur roar from above, and your eyes slip shut in pain. You should've told him, should've said that you love him. 

You hear Allbright splash into the water, and you know that it'll only be seconds until you crash. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the impact. 

An unimaginable pain courses through your body when you make contact with the water. It's like ice, causing your muscles to seize and contract painfully. The water's intensity causes you to flip and spin. You fight to swim to the top, but the river is carrying you downstream quickly and you're not sure which way is up. Your lungs burn in search of air, and you choke on water as you fight to breach the top. 

It's a fight, but just as your vision begins to fill with white stars from lack of oxygen, you breach the surface. Your arms work to keep you afloat as you gasp and choke on air. There's too much water in your lungs and you can't breathe. Your movements are sluggish and exhausted, but you fight nonetheless. 

The shore passes by quickly as the river carries you downstream. You try to scream for Arthur, but it comes out weak. The ice cold water makes your body rigid, and you struggle to keep yourself afloat. 

"Stay up, keep fightin'!" 

At the sound of Arthur's voice, you perk up. Your eyes scan the shore and lock onto Balius galloping down the rocky trail. 

"I'm comin!" He yells. You try to take his instruction, really you do, but the water is so cold and you feel it pulling you down. You can barely hang on, arms burning from keeping yourself afloat. 

"Grab on!" Arthur yells over the crashing water. Your wet eyelashes flutter open, and you see Arthur's lasso in the water ahead of you. 

"Star, c'mon! You gotta grab on, please!" Arthur pleads. You stick your hand through the loop, and it tightens around your wrist.  Water burns in your lungs as stars fill your vision and everything slowly fades to black. 

— — — — 

A rhythmic thumping pounds in your chest, wracking your entire body. Your eyes flutter open as you wake up, and you turn onto your side, retching up cold, salty water. You gasp for breath, coughing as Arthur's hands pull away from your chest to rub up and down your back. 

"Shit, Star. I thought I lost you." Arthur's voice radiates from beside you, and your wet eyelashes flutter as you look up at him. You're splayed uncomfortably in the grass, and you pull your knees up to your chin as you shiver, gasping for air. 

"Goddammit, I'm so sorry I brought ya up here." Arthur whispers, heart racing. 

"I'm s-so c-cold." You whisper, teeth chattering loudly. Arthur's thumb runs over your cheek as he worriedly looks over your too pale face. Your lips are nearly blue, and wet strands of hair stick to your freezing skin. 

"I know. I'll get you into town, but you gotta get out of these wet clothes lest you freeze on the way." 

Arthur takes your hands, helping you to your feet. Your bones ache from being so cold and overworked, and when you look down you notice the rope burn searing on your left wrist from Arthur pulling you in. It all comes back to you then, and you glance at the crashing waters while Arthur rummages in Balius's saddle bags. 

"Where's Allbright?" You whisper, and Arthur shakes his head. 

"I don't know, n' I don't give a damn. I gotta get you fixed up." Arthur says, bringing you over a pile of clothes. They’re his, but they're all he has to work with. 

"I'll take you into town n' get you a bath. If we stay out here, you'll freeze." Arthur grumbles, placing the clothes on the ground before coming up in front of you. His hands quickly work on the buttons of your shirt, and you lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands against your frozen skin. You whimper, leaning against him to chase after his warmth. 

"Christ, Star. You're freezin'." 

He sounds worried. He is worried. You shake like a leaf as he pulls your shirt over your arms. The wet clothing hits the ground in a sop as he kneels on one knee to unbutton your jeans. He's not worried about modesty right now, Arthur is too panicked about your health. 

You wiggle your toes in your boots and shudder, realizing that you can barely feel the movements. Teeth clack together loudly as Arthur strips you of your jeans, eyebrows pulled together in concern. 

"I c-can't feel my t-toes." You whimper, worrying that you'll lose them or worse.

"You just hang on, just– I'll get you there. I will." It's a promise more to himself than to you. He pulls his oversized clothes over your trembling body, adding his thick blue coat to your shoulders before scooping you up wedding style. You yelp at the action as he helps you onto Balius's saddle. 

"Be good for me, boy. We gotta ride quick now." Arthur coos to his stallion before mounting up behind you. Your head lulls back against Arthur's chest as his arms wrap around you to grab the reins. At the mention of Balius, your eyes pop open wider and you search around for your mare. 

"Athena…" You whisper, just barely a breath. Arthur whistles sharply, and a whinny rings out alongside the sound of hooves. You relax at her call, knowing she'll follow Balius.

You can barely keep your eyes open as Arthur pushes Balius into a gallop. Arthur doesn't like it one bit, knowing that your best chance is to keep your eyes open. 

"Don't go fallin' asleep on me now. We'll be there soon." Arthur attempts a smile for your sake, but the worry in his voice is thick. 

You fight against every instinct to keep your eyes open. It would be so much easier to give in and let them fall shut. For Arthur's sake, you keep trying. 

"Look for Allbright…" You exhale quietly, "He c-could be on the shore." 

Arthur isn't surprised by your suggestion. Of course you haven't given up on the bounty. For you, he scans the shore, but it's your eyes that eventually lock on to the blue suited man. He's washed up on the shore, coughing and sputtering. 

"Goddamn you, bounty hunters!" Allbright yells at the sight of Arthur and you riding forward. Arthur's attention peaks to Allbright then, and a growl rumbles in his chest. 

"Get the bastard." You whisper, too weak to let out the hiss you want to. Arthur makes sure you're good and steady in the saddle before he dismounts. His hands rest on your thigh as he looks up to you. 

"Y'okay to sit without me? We can leave him here and get you to a–" Arthur begins before you interject. 

"I'm okay, just get him n' put him on Athena."

At your words, Arthur obliges, though he thinks it to be a damn stupid idea. He flips his gun out of his holster and swings it down over Allbright's head. The bastard is knocked out cold. His many layers and heavier stature seemed to have protected him mostly from the freezing water. Arthur doesn't give a damn about the man, only you. He whistles for Athena to step a little closer and hoists the bounty over her back behind the saddle. 

"Is Allbright gonna be okay?" You whisper, gripping onto Arthur tightly as he quickly climbs into Balius's saddle. 

"I ain't worried 'bout him." Arthur replies as he smacks the reins down over Balius's neck. He rides fast, galloping over the hills as fast as Balius can carry you both in the night. Your hands grow colder, stiffening around Arthur's jacket and making it harder to grip onto to. He notices this, of course, and his heart beats quicker. Your eyelids are heavy, the overwhelming, hardening cold creeping up your spine and down your bones. Everything stiffens and hurts, making the ride to Valentine a painful one. You yelp, wincing, and Arthur's arm tightens around you 

"Oh, baby, just hang on. We're almost there." Arthur whispers, despair thick in his voice. 

Arthur gets you there as quickly as he can manage, apologizing to you and Balius the whole way. You're both glad it's after dark once you arrive in town, as you still have a mighty price on your heads after the fiasco with Cornwall. Arthur ducks his head, keeping his eyes under his hat as he trots towards the hotel. Athena is right behind you both, still carrying Allbright. 

"How you feelin', darlin'?" Arthur whispers, pulling Balius up to the hitching post in front of the All Saints Hotel. You groan in response. The cold has seeped into your bones, tightening your muscles uncomfortably. Your muscles twitch and cramp under your frozen skin, and your toes and fingers are numb. 

"Tired." You admit, just over a whisper. Your eyes have fallen shut and you're leaning fully against Arthur's back at this point. You can hear his heart beating a few paces too fast with worry. He turns in the saddle and places a hand on your thigh to steady you before sliding down from his stallion. He hitches both horses, and turns to you. 

"C'mere." He calls up to you, hands up stretched to grab your waist. Arthur pulls you into his arms wedding style. You wince at every jolt as he carries you up the few stairs towards the hotel. You get a glance over Arthur's shoulder and see Allbright, still heaved over Athena's rump. Your eyebrows furrow as you look up at Arthur. 

"What about…" You take a deep breath, struggling to keep yourself awake, "Allbright?" 

Arthur readjusts you in his arms, turning around to push the door open with his back. 

"He ain't wakin' up anytime soon. I'll deal with him once I get you taken care of." Arthur replies, stepping backwards through the threshold before turning to the usual clerk. The man's eyes go wide as he takes in your state. 

"You got a bath drawn up?" Arthur asks, walking towards the hallway where the bathhouse is. He doesn't stop, carrying you down the hall as the clerk worriedly hollers 'Yes!' from behind you. 

Arthur pushes the door open with his back again, carrying you into the bathhouse. The bath is filled with steaming water, and you practically whimper at the sight of warmth. Arthur carefully places you on your feet, steadying you for a second with his hands on your shoulders. He eyes you up and down, making sure you're steady. 

"Y'okay to stand?" He asks as you sway slightly. You nod, and he steps away for a moment to grab a washcloth and a bar of soap from the little wooden table by the door. He places both on the small wooden slat overtop the bath as you attempt to pull Arthur's oversized clothes off of your body. Your numb fingers pull at the buttons, but they're too frozen to properly grasp the little articles. 

Arthur turns back to you, and in two long strides, he's in front of you again, brushing your hands away.  

"Let me." He murmurs, eyes downcast as he focuses on each button. He rids you of the shirt quickly, noticing the way your skin feels like ice. It only encourages his worry, and he works faster to unclothe you. 

Once you're bare before him, Arthur's hands find purchase on the small of your back and your arm, helping to steady you as you step into the tub. You grimace when your toe hits the water. The cold state of your skin makes the hot water feel boiling, it's downright painful. 

"I know, darlin', but it's the fastest way to warm you up." Arthur says, noticing your hesitation. You nod, stepping one leg into the hot water. It's painful, but bearable. Arthur lets you grip onto him as you lower yourself into the bath, groaning at the fiery sensation that ripples across your skin. 

"There you go." He whispers as you finally sit down fully. Your teeth chatter, and you pull your knees up to your chest in the sudsy water. Now it's just a waiting game. 

Arthur sits on the ground by your side, hand resting over yours on the lip of the tub. He watches you closely, taking note of your breathing and shivering. His thumb runs over your knuckles and you smile for it, but it's brief. You're still shivering, and goosebumps prick your skin all over. It's nothing short of miserable, and while the warm water has helped, you're too far gone for it to fully bring your temperature back to normal. 

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and when you glance over,Arthur is pulling his jeans down over his legs.

"Arthur…?" You ask, brow furrowing lightly. 

"I can't just sit and do nothin' no more. It's killin' me seein' you like this." Arthur explains, "Scooch forward for me, sweetheart."

You grip the sides of the metal tub, pulling yourself forward, just enough for Arthur to slide into the bath behind you. The mass of his body entering the tub causes water to spill out over the edges, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll slip the working ladies a few extra bucks for the mess. A large forearm wraps around your middle, and Arthur pulls your back flush against his chest in the water. His legs line yours, bodies fitting together like perfect pieces of a puzzle. 

“Better?” Arthur whispers, eyes worried as he splashes water over your shoulders with your hands. Guilt is eating him alive– Should he have let you come along? Did he get you here fast enough? 

You nod, easing his worries some. After a few moments, his body heat begins to work, melting the ice that clings to your frozen skin.  Your shivers reduce to slight chills,  and your lips turn from a sickening shade of blue back to that familiar pink.

“Y’know,  if you wanted to see me naked again, you coulda just asked,” You shiver, “Didn’t need to have Allbright throw me in the river.” You smirk, wit never leaving you, not even in dire situations.

“I’ll keep that in mind, darlin.” Arthur whispers, resting his chin atop your head, “You just warm up now, you hear?” His hands run up and down your arms as you nod, leaning fully back against him. His chest radiates a warmth that the water never could, and you groan as your body temperature begins to raise. 

“You think Allbright’s okay out there?” You whisper,  remembering that he’s currently strapped to Balius’s croup. Arthur chuckles from behind you. 

“Hope not– the bastard can rot for all I care.” Arthur huffs. 

“Arthur.” You chastise lightly, hand intertwining with his under the murky water. The chuckle in his throat dies down, allowing the air to become thick with unsaid words. 

“Almost lost ya…”  Arthur whispers. His eyes are far away, there's a lump in his throat.  

You almost died.  

“I’m okay, Arthur.” You reassure, squeezing his hand for good measure. He brings your intertwined hands up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. He holds the kiss for a moment longer than he needs to. 

“Stay that way.” 

It’s a small plea, a few words, but a big admission. You’ve snuck your way into his heart, and he’ll be damned if the universe tries to pull you away now. He’ll do anything to keep you safe– a facet of information that’s beginning to haunt him. 

What will it take–?

What does that entail? 

It's something he’s been meaning to bring up for awhile. You’ve both had more near death experiences than any two people ever should.

Arthur presses a kiss to your wet hair,  humming lightly as he thinks over what the future may hold. He’ll bring it up. But first, you just need to rest.

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

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop @how-the-heck-would-i-know @rratman @eyelovie @mykneeshurt @myhomethesea @onedaymyhappinesswillcome

[stashandtell]

Nobody Asked For This: My Rankings of the Hermione x Weasley Ships with REASONS

I drafted this weeks ago and had set it aside with no clear plan to publish it. Then, after a stroke of 2 AM genius this morning, I wrote a piece called Ranking the Weasleys, (to be posted on 19 Sept 2024 in honor of Hermione's birthday) and it seemed like a great time to finalize this post and share it. Feel free to tell me your rankings in the comments, be it your list of the fittest Weasley as you find them or your ranked-list of pairings with Weasleys, whatever you fancy to share. Enjoy! - - - - I made a loooong post with recs for each of my top Hermione/Weasley ships that you can check out here. Read Ranking the Weasleys or see the related post where I talk about writing Ranking the Weasleys and I share just a few initial thoughts on the fetishization of war wounds in the fandom here. - - - - I've recently dove into the world of Hermione x Any-Of-The-Weasley-Brothers pairings, which is what happens when you're burnt out on the regular ships you read and looking for something more. Personally, I'm surprised I gravitate towards so many Hermione-focused pairings, especially het pairings, but that's just what I've been into lately. I hadn't considered pairings with her and any of the Weasleys until someone recommended Charmione fics in a thread for Theomione. Once I dug into the fandom's characterizations of the Weasley brood and had a better sense of who each of them were on their own, I found I really like many of these ships, some more than others. The rankings of my top-three rotate pretty regularly depending on the last great fic I've devoured. This is a snapshot of where things stand today but it could move around. Before we dive in, I've preview my rankings and the major themes of the pairings in the most popular fics shipping Hermione with a Weasley. 1. Bill: Wolf-ish Daddy 2. Fred: Uplifting, Fun, and Romantic 3. Charlie: Sexy and Rugged 4. George: Growing Through Grief 5. Percy: Acceptance of Self, Also Rules Daddy 6. Ginny: A Firecracker and a Friend 7. Ron: Angsty Best Friends-to-Lovers 8. Gideon or Fabian: Time Travel AU or Ghost Lover(s) 9. Arthur or Molly: I haven't read these ships so they're going in the bottom of the list. I'm not opposed to reading these pairings but there's already such a trove with all the brothers in my tbr list that I'm not sure I'll ever dive in. 10. Weasley Progeny: I haven't read any of these ships. I have not read many pairings that include anyone dating their friends' kid in the next generation. (Though I have read a small number of fics pairing characters like Hermione or Ginny with older characters like Kingsley or Sirius...shoutout to the older/younger Nottcissa ship.) 11. Aunt Murial: Technically she's a Prewett but I think I would be into a Murmione ship if we got there. So far nothing comes up on AO3. - - - - 1. Billmione: What I love about a Hermione x Bill dynamic is his position as oldest-sibling and caretaker. If the author has resolved the relationship with Fleur as one that has ended in divorce or death, that extra element of emotional tenderness really can push the story to complex depths. I also find it interesting to see how writers engage with Bill's hybrid/half-werewolf affliction. I'm hard-pressed to really fall in love with any Billmione fic where their relationship starts pre-Battle of Hogwarts, though I do get it. I personally enjoy stories that can be canon compliant so I want to see how the Fleur issue is handled. I also find that with such a significant age-gap for that developmental stage of teenager-dom, (not like Fleur was THAT much older than Hermione but still...), it's incredibly rewarding to see an older Hermione that brings some kind of life experience to the relationship so she can be more equal with Bill.

In some of the fics, especially a few of the multi-Weasley, reverse-harem style pieces I've finally started reading, Bill's older-brother position and wolfy streak create the core dynamic of the group.

I'm not the biggest fan of the multi-Weasley pairings with Hermione but what I loved most in the standout fics are the group dynamics and individual roles that come out. Hermione can be incredibly stubborn and independent on her own and it's always interesting when she's in opposition to Bill to see how the others in their relationship choose sides.

- - - - 2. Fremione: On it's face, I don't even know if I like this ship all that much but I keep finding myself suckered in. I suspect a big part of it is that it hits me in the sentimental feels. My inner-teen just loves a Hermione x Fred story that traces their young love to whatever conclusion the author brings it to. Even if they get together when they're older and Fred lives through the final battle, they both usually end up with a friends-to-lovers scenario that's full of light sweetness and sometimes romance.

There are some truly fantastic works in this ship and I go 50/50 on whether I prefer ones where Fred lives or not. Depends on my mood and the tone of the story I suppose. There are very few stories in this pairing that I haven't enjoyed and the element of pranking really can make shorter fics fun.

I REALLY enjoy past Hermione/Fred relationships being included in fics where she looks back on their love fondly while she navigates new relationships, sometimes with one of his brothers. Fred is often portrayed as a goof, which seems to encourage authors to consistently write a more engaging and dynamic version of Hermione instead of following some of the fanon's (beloved by me as well) personality tropes/traps of her being insecure, slow-to-assert-herself, angry-broken-or-both and etc. His character brings out some of her best qualities consistently across fics, imo.

- - - - 3. Charmione: I quickly realized when I started reading Charmione fanfics that I do not give a shit about dragons but deeply wish I did. It's a cool plot device and part of the world to hang out with but it's not for me. Tons of appreciation for writers who have thoughtful plot lines and research interesting medical maladies-- but it's hard to hold my interest. (A million kudos when a dragon-centered fic does though!) The Reserve is usually full of original characters, which is fine, but I find myself less invested in the story if we don't know much about these OCs to build out that world.

I often find in the dragon-reserve heavy pieces that I was getting part-way through were objectively GOOD multi-chapters but I kept stalling out in favor of reading something else. Usually whenever there's a Hermione that ends up at the dragon Reserve, she's characterized by her unyielding passions for creatures' rights, spurred on by house elf and werewolf activism. Those are interesting characterizations for her but they just don't keep my attention. That said, I have yet, to date DNF'd any Charmione work so clearly it's not a huge imposition. That said, Charmione is in the top third because there's so much that can be done with this character. I've read a number of fics where Charlie is ace (asexual, demisexual, etc.); where's he's inexperienced because he's married to his job; where he's "too free-spirited" and very experienced; where he's enthusiastically bisexual; where he's not interested in marriage; where he's pining over Tonks; and so much more. His sporadic attendance at family holidays and the ability for Hermione or others to visit him on the Reserve lends to great plot opportunities.

- - - - 4. Geormione: I haven't been around long enough to fully understand why Fremione is a more popular ship than Geormione, but here are some observations: - Fred is portrayed in the fandom as the more loveable, airy goof while George tends to be painted as the more serious and quiet of the two - Generally, in the canon, Fred speaks more than George, from what I've been seeing, as I notate up my secondhand copies of the books - Fred's death or, depending on the fic, brush-with-death, is ripe for the reimagining of his relationships and personality - According to internet gossip, Hermione with Fred were considered for pairing in the canon originally but it didn't suit the overall plans for the series. Source for this can not be verified but it's come up in multiple places. I believe this contributes to the numbers: Fremione has 2182 works and Geormione has 548 works on AO3, as I draft this. All that said, George is usually characterized as the quieter and possibly more serious twin. He might be more shy than the outgoing Fred. Post-war, he often mourns the loss of his twin brother, his best friend, and his sense of himself as part of the pair which can, frankly, be kind of a drag if a writer is looking for a pairing to write a hot romance about. (Not that people can't be sexy or have healthy sexual relationships while grieving!) However, when works take the journey to establish Hermione and George, it's often incredibly rewarding. It tends to feel like Fremione with the temperature turned down on the lightness and has the ability to go deeper into any darkness that needs to be explored. I do love a Geormione but there are statistically fewer works out there than some of the other pairings, thus it's earned it's spot mid-tier. - - - - 5. Permione: There's not much to say because there aren't that many longer fics with this pairing written and most times it's tied to a Hermione x Multi-Weasley scenario. This gets the 5th and some days I would rank it higher because there are worlds in which this is the actual correct pairing of all of the brothers, based on what we can surmise from the canon.

A swotty, uptight prefect-turned-Ministry drone with a regretful heart of gold, Percy's guilt over abandoning his family and Fred dying before him is well-matched for how many writers imagine Hermione's coping with the aftermath of the war. Hermione would have known him during some prime formative years and knows he'll date muggle-born or half-blood witches, a la Penelope Clearwater. It's easy to dismiss Percy as being "not fanciable" if you don't read this ship but some of the writers out there make a compelling case for him, particularly when they make a logical transition from his personal fastidiousness to him seeking to play with control and BDSM elements in his private affairs. I love a good Permione piece. He's often positioned as the conservative punching bag of the family and it's a thing of art when a writer makes us root hard for him.

- - - - 6. Herminny: I haven't much of anything in this pairing yet. Truthfully, I've been holding off on it because I'm sure I'll do a deep dive once I start. It shouldn't come as a surprise that I've read almost no Harmony works either. I love a F/F fic but tend to read in waves and I've been working my way through the Weasley brothers pairings (when I'm not refreshing for Nevmione and Theomione works.) If you have any excellent recs for Herminny or other pairings name, please drop me a line! The reason Herminny is above Romione is because I love many of the fanon characterizations of Ginny in all the other fics I've read, especially when she's mischievous, cheeky, in tune with her sexuality, and ready to take on her own adventures in the world. The ones I have read where she and Hermione have been together were lovely but most were very short fics in collections. - - - - 7. Romione: I read A LOT of Hermione-centered works and authors very often find a need to resolve the young romance with Ron or use him and their relationship as a catalyst that propels our heroine down a path into the arms of another man. I can honestly say that I have read ZERO Romione endgame fics to date, and that includes one shots AND drabbles (~100k words or less.) WILD, right?

I really enjoy angst and Ron is one of the punching bags most often leaned on by writers. One of these days, I'm going to go on a Romione bender as an offering of penance to his character for all of the times I rooted against him in every other fic.

- - - - 8. Lowest Tier: I have never read a Hermione x Molly nor an Hermione x Arthur fic, and while I'm not fundamentally opposed, I'd be flabbergasted to find either pairing beating Romione. I'd much sooner read an Arthur/Molly fic than one that ships either with Hermione because that's just where I'm at right now. I'm happy reading works that aren't smutty in any way but damn if some smut doesn't help along a work that really isn't capturing my interest. While I love when I see versions of Arthur and Molly who are loving friends and/or parental figures to Hermione, the angst-lover in me doesn't mind a solid bashing of either of them and it's hard to get that out of my head. As for the other possible pairs with Hermione and Gideon, Fabian, Murial, or the children of the other Weasleys, I'm just not well-read enough in any of those pairings to have an opinion. I literally only started reading Marauders-era works two weeks ago (and really ONLY well-known Wolfstar fics so far.) A Note About Fleur: One character who's excluded from this list is Fleur Weasley nee' Delacour. I've only read triad- or multi-Weasley fics that put Hermione with her and Bill. While I do love a Bill/Fleur/Hermione work, it seemed disingenuous to rank Fleurmione against the others with what little I've read. That and I'm so clearly jazzed about a Billmione where Bill's free-and-clear to be with whoever, that my ranking of Fleurmione would be heavily biased.

[romanarose]

About a Girl: Chapter 5

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: For week 3 of my pride event: Sex. Joel and Blue make everything official. Kayla ruins everything.

ADDITIONAL WARNING: Sorry ya'll this just happened with the story and it felt right for what was happening and the characters.. Warning for brief DV nothing extreme or detailed.

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

A/N: Not to sound like a 2012 wattpad writer but I cried writing this.

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

Things had been going well for weeks. Kayla had been taking Sarah on weekends consistently, which meant she didn’t have a man to distract her. This, however, meant she didn’t have a man to distract her away from Joel’s love life. Still, a little bit of boundary setting had done well for him, and Kayla had mostly been minding her business. Joel was able to see Blue every weekend, and was even able to spend more time with Tommy and Tess which was rare. 

Tonight, he had just got done having dinner at your house and was cuddling on the couch with you in his arms, all wrapped up. He liked moments like this a lot. Don’t get him wrong, he’d gone to another show with you and had a good time, but he was definitely happy to just sit at home with you.

You’d seemed an unlikely pair, you and him. You liked leather and black and grunge. He liked country and jeans and… well he wasn’t really sure what he really ”liked”, honestly. He loved Sarah. He liked All That, he liked Arthur, he didn't like Barney, he liked Franklin… what did he watch when Sarah was in bed? Sleep. He mostly slept. Sometimes he watched King of the Hill… he listened to Clinton Black, Garth Brooks… Sarah liked Reba, which was nice. Things to do for fun? He liked to play the guitar for Sarah. He liked to go to the park with Sarah. He liked to go with Sarah and Tommy to the roller rink… 

“I’d like yuh to meet Sarah.” Joel said against your ear, arms wrapped around your waste as he lay propped up against the arm rest. “Really meet her this time”

You paused, then sat up to turn and face him. You were smiling softly, eyes wide. “Really? I don’t want you to feel like you have to… but I’d love too…” Something hit you, making you bite your lip. “Introduce me as… what, exactly.” When you saw his eyes widen, you told him he didn’t have to pick a label right now, but he cut you off.

“My girlfriend. If you wanna.”

You squeal, returning to his arms for a hug and a kiss. “Yes!!!”

Joel returns the kiss, pulling you close, sliding a hand to the small of your back as you deepened the kiss, straddling his body. You and him had been making out, and of course the blow job outside the concert, but no sex. Not yet…

“Stay the night.” You whispered between kisses. “We don’t gotta do nothing you’re not ready for, but I’d love if you wanted to stay over”

Joel looked up at you, heart swelling faster than his cock in his pants. He reached up to touch your face. “I’m ready… only if you wanna”

You responded by grinding your cunt over his jeans, kissing him once more. You slide your tongue into his mouth, dominating the kiss and him. When you make it to the bedroom, Joel follows your lead, letting you press him up against the door as you fiddle with his belt. “Got any- mphhh- got any questions?”

His brow furrowed, looking a little confused and flushed. “With what? I don’t know if you know this, but I ain’t a virgin. Kid and all.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” You chuckle. “I meant with the whole ‘not born with a vagina’ thing.”

The look on his face told you he forgot about that. “Oh. Um… I guess… can you… um…”

“Orgasm?!?!” You bawked, in disbelief that at the prospect of having sex with a transwomen, something he barely knew existed before you, and he’s concerned if you’re going to have a good time. “Yes, I can orgasm Joel. I got a fucked ton of lube by my drawer too, so we’re covered there, baby. Just.” you sigh, guiding him to the bed as you pull down his pants. “Sweetie,” You coo, his big brown eyes gazing adoringly as you return to your rightful place above him. “Just let me take care of you tonight, ‘kay? I got you.”

Awestruck, you nodded. “Yes ma’am.” In his dark boxer briefs, his cock is straining, heavy.

You slowly pull his briefs down, Joel humps his hips up to help and you stare in aw as his cock strings free. He’s hung, absolutely packing and you can see why Tess came back for a few more rounds. Getting a chance to look at him, really look at him this time… Big dick, big eyes, big man… bigger heart. He’s soft, kind. He’s gentle in a way you’d never seen from a southern farmer, a body capable of total destruction if he wanted to, but no room in his heart for it. You couldn’t imagine your sweet, precious man hurting anyone.

When you took him in your mouth, you couldn’t make it all the way down. You’d practice on tat, vowing to be able to deep throat him, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was a mess already. When was the last time he fucked someone? It’d been a few years since Tess and she never mentioned Joel having a girl since Kayla… You wanted to make him feel good. But Joel had other plans. 

“Wanna taste you.” He begs, tugging at your hair. “Really wanna taste you, Blue, please?” Joel is practically whimpering at you like a puppy and god, who are you to deny him? 

“You ever had someone sit on your face, Joel?”

He nods. Good, you didn’t wanna freak him out. He’s not a virgin, but you didn’t think he was the most experienced either. “Stay there.”

You spread your legs over his face, carefully lowering yourself on him when he surprises you by grabbing your thighs and yanking you down. “Hungry boy” You chuckle, delighted with his excitement. He shows no interest in the slight scarring, if he was even paying enough attention to notice; he seemed preoccupied.

Joel devoured you whole, moving and working with your body as you ground yourself on his face. He felt good, he knew what he was doing, that was for sure. Even if he didn’t get out much, he certainly had the enthusiasm. “Fuck Joel, just like that… Just like that…” You’re sure to make sure he knows he’s doing good, you weren’t going to get wet on your own. His nose nudges along your fold as he sucks on your clit when you bend over, jacking him off. You’d love to 69 him -he deserved it- but you didn’t want him orgasming too soon, and the poor guy was already looking like he was just barely hanging on as it was. You cum in his mouth, shouting out his name as you grip his perfect cock tightly, so tight you can’t believe he didn’t spurt all over your hand but you would have forgiven him if he had with the feeling he gave you. Riding his nose and putty lower lip until you’re done taking all your pleasure. 

When you flop over on the bed, Joel is on you in a second, lips sucking in yours desperately. He needs you, you can tell, but won’t ask for it. Joel isn’t the kind to take. He’s a giver. If you asked him to eat you out again he would, and would, and would until you’re ran dry and he’d just lay there, cock hard, cleaning you up. Because that was Joel. 

But you weren’t going to do that to him. Because he deserved to know he was worthy of love, pleasure, happiness.

When you drop on top of him, encasing him in your lubed up, warm cunt. He opens you in a way you’ve never felt before, making you moan onto the stubbled jaw you were kissing, making you whimper in such a way he asked if you were okay. No one on this earth was a better man than Joel Miller.

You rode him, hands pressed against his firm pecs and stomach rubbing against his softness. All the lifting in the world wasn’t going to work his abs, and the man was living off junk and the real food Frank made for lunch. He’s soft around the edges. Joel is a whiny, moaning mess and you savor every single second of it. Breathing in his shuttered exhales, letting it be your breath of life no matter how your legs burned as you bounced. Thumbs to soft inner thighs, you gave until your heart burst.

“I love you.” You blurt out, voice shaking as you admit your feelings, perhaps too soon. You hold your breath, closing your eyes tight as your brace for rejection, or even more scary; his devotion. Upright and spearing yourself on his sweet dick, you continue your movements blindly.

Until you feel him rise up.

Joel surged towards you, wrapping your body up in one arm and gripping the back of your neck with the other hand. Chest to chest, lips to lips, body to warm, adoring body.

“I love you,” He fucks his hips up into your body, muttering against your lips and cheek. “I love you so much, Blue.” And you believe him. 

Joel comes inside after you beg him for it. One orgasm is enough for you, you generally can’t twice but Joel does have you doubting that. He fills you up, clutching your ass and shoulders to him with fingers in your skin and face buried in your neck.

*

You wake up to your landline ringing. 

“Hello?” You answer quietly, but Joel stirs anyway.

On the other side, you hear Tommy. “Hey Blue, Joel with you?”

“Yeah, everything okay?”

Joel is up, eyes wide recognizing his brother's voice. He likes the phone from you. “Tommy? You alright?”

“Jesus Joel, had me worried. Kayla called damn near every bar in town trying to get a hold of me.”

“Shit.” Joel mutters, sitting on the side of the bed. “Sarah okay?”

Tommy said he didn’t know, but Kayla had been trying to call him. Joel hung up, searching for his phone. After calling Sarah good night, it fell under the bed.

You watch him frantically call Kayla, being sure to keep quiet. You know his ex can get jealous and he doesn’t need more stress. He’s so clearly worried, and you are too. It’s 1:30 am, if Kayla is calling then something is wrong with Sarah. “Whats wrong? Where’s Sarah?”

“She won’t stop crying, Joel.” Kayla snaps at him. Is she just calling because Sarah’s crying?

Joel scrubs his face. “Kayla, did you try comforting her?”

“Of course I did, you fucking asshole” You didn’t like how she speak to Joel, and you seethed in your anger, mouth still shut. “She won’t stop screaming. You need to pick her up, I can’t fucking do this.”

Joel sighs, standing up. You begin gathering his things for him. He’s butt naked, dick swinging. “Jesus, okay, I’ll come get her. Just go hold her, okay? She gets scared at night.”

Kayla snapped at him, saying she’s aware. 

He turns to you, apologetic. “I’m so-”

“Don’t you dare fucking apoligise, cowboy.” You toss him his briefs. “Sarah comes first, always. I’d do the same if I had a kid.”

He mumbles, redressing. “She always does this. Begs and cries about never seeing her, but sends her back early. Breaks Sarah’s little heart, you know? The uncertainty. She always dressed up so cute to see her mom, always brings her best art she makes at kindergarten, picture books she can read… even pretends to like Mariah Carey when she used to make me change the station. I can’t fucking take it.”

Your heart hurts for Sarah and Joel. Your own mom and dad never got you, even before coming out as trans or gay. You just were never right in their eyes. Years later, you start to think it was more about them than it was you. Who you are now is who you were always meant to be. You are happy. They are still miserable.

“Go get your daughter, Joel.” You kiss his cheek after he pulls his boots on. “Call me in the morning, or whenever you have time.”

He pauses, stopping to wrap his arms around you, strong and safe. “I meant every single word I said, Blue. I love you.”

“I know.” And you did.

*

After speeding on the empty roads, Joel makes it in record time, parking in front of some jacked up truck and  knocking on the door. He didn’t want to ring in case Sarah fell back asleep. The door flung open to reveal and frazzled Kayla. “About time, she’s been screaming non stop!” She opened the door and Joel looked inside, not seeing her but hearing her scream frantically. Kayla was dressed in a flownsy night top and panties, makeup lightly on like she kept when she first started sleeping over at Joel’s parents.

“Where is she?” He follows the sound of her cries. She sounds absolutely batshit terrified, calling mommy, mommy, mommy. He’s unfamiliar with Kayla place. “Sarah? Where are you baby girl?”

The mommy’s switched to daddy’s with renewed vigor and Joel quickly found the room, running to it but finding the bedroom door locked. He jiggled it, hearing Sarah’s voice on the other end of sobbing for him. Something was wrong. “It’s okay, baby girl. I’m here. Daddy’s here.” He tried to sound calm but turned to Kayla, furious. “Why is the door locked.”

“Don’t raise your voice at-”

“KAYLA UNLOCK IT!”

Kayla grabbed the key from a table nearby, explaining as she unlocked it, Joel’s voice reassuring Sarah she was safe it was okay. 

“She had a nightmare, said she saw you and Tommy die on that stupid fucking farm. Wouldn’t shut the fuck up when I tried to tell her you’re-”

As soon as it was unlocked Joel burst in, dropping to his knees to scoop up his baby and soothe her. Sarah continued to cry, but relief to it.

“I’m okay, my baby. I’m okay, so is uncle Tommy. I promise.” His hands felt her shampoo or conditioner soupy residue in there. Joel told her not to wash Sarah’s hair, that it was washed the night before but she didn’t listen. Kayla never took time with washing it, rinsing it properly.

After getting the number of the last bar that Kayla found Tommy at, he got a hold of his brother when Sarah was yet to be reassured her beloved uncle was alive.

“See Sare-Bear! I’m right as rain! I even promise to make you chocolate chip pancakes in the morning, even if your dad says no, okay?”

Sarah niffles, still clearly shook up and visible shaking in her barbie nightie, but better. “O-okay. You promise you’re not hurt?”

“Not one bit, never been better. Want me to come home?”

“No… no…” But she didn’t sound certain.

Once Sarah was reassured, Joel scooped her up. She clung to her dad, clutching his shirt in her little hands. Joel turned to Kayla with a glare. “You locked my daughter in her room when she thought her dad and uncle were D-E-A-D?” He spelled out, making Kayla roll her eyes. 

“You cuddle her too much, you and Tommy both. She needs to learn to cry it out.”

“One, she’s 5 and had a horrible nightmare. Two, you literally called me!” Then, Joel heard a thump coming from another room and it made sense now. The truck, Kayla underwear and makeup. “Kayla. Do you have a man in the house right now?”

She looked like she was about to lie, then thought better of it. “What I do with my home is none of your business.”

He tried to keep calm, chest rising and falling in anger against Sarah, still gently sniffing. They had an agreement on this. “How long have you known this man.”

She crossed her arms defensively, “A few weeks.”

His jaw ticked. “You brought a man you barely know to sleep over while my daughter is here?” In anger, he turned around, walking to the door but Kayla shouted after him.

“Relax Joel! This ain’t even the first time! Sarah likes him, he’s nice, he-”

Whipping around, Joel took long footsteps towards Kayla, clutching Sarah who had begun crying again. Sarah knew when a fight was happening. “How long as this been going on? Do you leave her alone with him?” Then he realized… if Sarah met him, and never mentioned him… he took a deep breath. “Kayla. Did you tell my child not to tell her father about a man? Did you seriously tell her to keep a secret from me?”

Joel never ever said. “don’t tell mom.” Ever. His heart raced in fear about the potition she was put in. If Sarah didn’t think she could tell him about the man, if anything happened, she’d keep that a secret too.

“Joel, it’s not a -”

“Don’t! No more sleepovers Kayla! No more of this until you can stop doing stupid-”

Seeing the slap coming and bracing for it was the only thing keeping his face from rolling into Sarah’s head. His eyes remained closed, blurring with tears. Not of pain, but humiliation. Knowing Sarah just heard her mom hit her dad. He’d always managed to keep that shit away from her… 

“What, are you gonna cry now?” She mocked, but Joel wouldn’t have it.

“Sarah, sweetie, say goodbye to mommy. We’re going home.”

Sarah waved goodbye, but didn’t speak. Joel took her into the car and buckled her safely in, pulling a blanket over her legs in her nightie. He’d send Tommy to get the rest of her things tomorrow. Right now, he needed to get Sarah home.

Joel laid in bed with her, holding Sarah close to him on the twin bed. He tried to lull her back to sleep, but she hadn’t stopped sniffling and gently crying the whole ride back, even as Joel tried to distract her. 

“Why doesn’t mommy like me?” Sarah mumbled against Joel’s arm, her back to his chest.

“Oh baby…” He kissed her hair. “Your mommy loves you so, so much. She and I think you’re just the coolest kid ever.”

She thought on this for a while. “You know the bird I made in kindergarten? Where I glued the feathers?”

“Yes baby, I remember.”

“And the sheet where I wrote my name 5 times?”

“I remember, it looked so good.”

“I brought them… and last night I saw them in the trash.”

Joel’s eyes welled up with tear, tucking his face into her hair to hide it. “It must be an accident, Sarah. We get so many bills, it probably just got lost in the piles.”

“I put it on the fridge for her.”

“It must have fallen…” Joel hated lying to her, but… “You know, just the other day your mom called me to tell me how she’s so proud of you. How she thinks you’re the prettiest girl in the whole world and so, so smart.”

Sarah’s bedroom door cracked open, Tommy appearing.

“Hey Sare-bear” He spoke gently. “Got room for me?”

Joel scooched over and saw Sarah smiling for the first time. Daddy was comfort, but Uncle was joy. “Yes!!”

As Tommy took off his boots and jacket, Joel enlisted him to his lie. “Tommy, remember how her mom was telling us how proud she is of Sarah?” 

Tommy got the jist. “Oh yeah, she’s always talk’n ‘bout you. Can’t get her to stop, really. Says you know more about dinosaurs than anyone else on the planet.”

“Yeah! Because I saw Jurassic Park!”

Joel shot Tommy a look but let it slide. At least Tommy doesn’t tell Sarah to keep secrets. “Yup. See baby? She loves you so much.”

“Good” Sarah yawned. “Because I love mommy. I wanna be just like her when I grow up.”

The three of them fell asleep like that on the twin bed. Sarah snuggled right up in her daddy’s arms, uncle Tommy on the other end holding her little hand. 

In the morning, Tommy made them all chocolate chip pancakes.

Lets get on the fight Kayla club!!!!!

Tommy loves his neice....

Sarah is perfectly safe, I promise.

please lmk your thoughts!!!! Thanks for all the cool works with this pride event!!!

How to keep up with the series:

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Ask to be tagged!

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[tumb1rprincess]

Okay, we’ve got a little more about Arthur’s background. He used to be a composer and Faroe’s mom died in childbirth. Then who was Tess? He called out that name first before Faroe’s in his nightmare in the last episode. I know Arthur said he didn’t want to talk about it, but we’re still getting the story piece by piece. And jeez, it’s just so sad. He lost Faroe’s mother, then Faroe was all he had, and then he lost her too.

Is there some analysis about music and how it’s one of the major themes of this series? Like, Faroe’s Song being played in key moments, Arthur being a composer before a private investigator, one of the first things John asks Arthur to do when they first meet is play the piano, there’s that other song that I can’t remember, but John’s triggered it a few times, like when Arthur was stealing the keys in the hospital after he woke up from his coma. I feel like it all means something. Maybe once I’m caught up, I’ll have a better idea.

John and Arthur laughing makes me smile, love when my boys get along for once instead of butting heads all the time.

Can we have Arthur recite poetry more often please? I could listen to it for hours

“You want to shave this thing?” Oh my god, I laughed so hard. John can be fucking hilarious when he wants to be.

Okay, the chirping squeaks of that bright glowing salamander thing made it sound really cute, y’all better have some good fanart of this thing.

Does Arthur’s mind jump to Faroe any time he has a near death experience? Seems like a couple of times now, his mind jumps to when she died or we hear her song. And this time around, we hear when Arthur was writing it. I feel like that means something, I just can’t put it into words.

And we end this episode at the bottom of a cave with no way out surrounded by dead bodies and a monster that’s very hungry. Sounds like the next episode is going to be fun.

[queer-ragnelle]

to make changes to a story or to criticize it you have to first understand and respect it. arthurian legend exists on a wide spectrum the scope of which cannot be overstated. that’s not an excuse. try to interpret the deeper themes behind the layers of sometimes uncomfortable medieval subject matter anyway.

insofar as retellings go, merlin characterization varies wildly and i like many of them—from mary stewart’s asexual sweet thoughtful dad type to t. h. white’s silly weirdo old man to phyllis ann karr’s creepy inhuman predator type. i just need to be narratively convinced of it.

the movie sword of lancelot (1963) had a dagonet that told fun rhymes and offered worldly advice. king arthur (2004) dagonet was a stoic warrior with two lines of dialogue in the entire film and didn’t smile once. guess which film understood the material it drew from better and utilized the character in a meaningful way.

comprehension and respect is what sets john boorman’s excalibur (1981) at the top and leaves cursed (2020) wallowing at the bottom of the barrel. i’m not watching bc i heard the legendary sword excalibur was going to be on screen—i’m watching bc i want to become emotionally invested in a cleverly written character with lofty goals and interesting flaws wielding it. i want to root for them, imperfect though they be. but their faults have to be an intentional and thoughtful writing choice, not a result of poor planning on the creator’s part, and not an attempt to “fix” the medieval material and market to as broad an audience as possible. great king bad husband arthur succeeds where girlboss nimue fails.

i don’t want arthurian legend to suffer as greek mythology has suffered. i don’t want any of it watered down for modern sensibilities but neither do i want game of thrones 2. i don’t claim to be the final judge of what a “good” or “bad” arthurian adaptation is by any means. i like all of them! but i have read enough medieval literature and modern retellings and watched every film and show and documentary on the subject i can find, so i’m coming from that angle when i say a successful adaptation of medieval stories should act as a continuation of tradition. that can only be achieved when one considers the merit of the story above all else. capitalism will try to strangle it but we can’t let that happen. palatability or edginess for the sake of being palatable or edgy has no place in mythology and literary tradition.

all good stories are balanced, and the only way to be balanced is to admire the original stories and appreciate them for what they are, products of their time though they may be, and determine what the most compelling story you can tell with that material is. then write it down without any agenda in mind. it’s an art, not a science. so in the wake of booktok trends and weaksauce fantasy adaptations the likes of witcher (2019) and rings of power (2022) created by people who don’t like or understand the source material besieging our feeds, let’s create something beautiful. go forth and make stuff. gay knights and gay rights.

[outlawelly]

Through Time's Embrace

Hey everyone! I’m working on an upcoming story that I can’t wait to share with you all on AO3 under the username outyllelaw.

Stay tuned for the release, and thanks for your support! You can check out my AO3 profile here.

Content Details (for now.):

Pairing: Top Arthur Morgan, Bottom John Marston (no switching)

Themes: Gore, violence, fluff, smut (please be patient with the smut as I’m still learning!)

Warnings: Period-typical racism, homophobia, and sexism. Future warnings will be added in the tags once the fanfic is posted.

Chapters: Multiple chapters; I’m not sure how long it will be yet!

Through Time's Embrace

Time Travel Fanfiction

It’s over.. or is it?

His body felt like it was on fire, each heartbeat a painful reminder of the gunfight that had just torn through his world. John’s gaze remained locked on Edgar Ross, the man who had orchestrated his demise, standing smugly among the lawmen. Their twisted smiles gleamed in the harsh light, reflecting a sadistic satisfaction as they waited for him to collapse, to finally succumb to the inevitable.

A violent cough erupted from his chest, sending a spray of crimson blood spilling onto the parched earth. The metallic taste lingered bitterly against his tongue, mingling with the dry dust swirling in the air, choking him further. He had fought fiercely, every ounce of strength pouring into resisting their grip, but now his legs betrayed him, trembling beneath the weight of exhaustion and desperation.

Slowly, he sank to his knees, the ground seeming to rise up to meet him as the world around him blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors and shadows. The laughter of the lawmen became a distant echo, fading into the background of his mind, replaced by the haunting memories of his loved ones. With a final, shuddering gasp, John fell backward, surrendering to the dark embrace of the earth. Darkness encroached upon his vision, and in those fading moments, the faces of Abigail and Jack flashed before his eyes, illuminated by a warmth that felt worlds away. 

It is over.

Or is it?

A sudden surge of pain jolted through him, sharp and electric, igniting every nerve ending like a thunderclap. John gasped, the air rushing into his lungs as if he had been holding his breath for an eternity. It felt as though he were being pulled from the depths of a chilling void, icy fingers weaving through his veins, grasping at him with desperate intensity.

The world around him blurred momentarily before clarity struck. The biting cold morphed into a harsh wind that howled like a wounded beast, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of pine and snow. Just as the pain crescendoed, everything shifted violently. John's surroundings twisted and contorted as if the very fabric of reality was unraveling. One moment he was kneeling in the dirt, gasping for breath, and the next he was thrust into an endless void—an expansive emptiness where the laws of time and space seemed to warp and bend. The air, thick and suffocating, hung heavy with an otherworldly silence, punctuated only by the echo of his own heartbeat.

“You tread upon the precipice of your own oblivion.” a voice whispered, soft yet resonant, floating through the darkness like a feather caught in a tempest. John squinted into the void, searching for the source of the sound. “You do not yet comprehend the depths of your journey, nor the fragments scattered across the tapestry of your existence.”

The voice was feminine, ethereal, layered with a complexity that made John's head spin. Images flickered to life in the darkness—fragments of his past, memories that surged and receded like the tide. He saw Abigail laughing in the sun, her hair glinting like gold, and Jack with his innocent grin, oblivious to the cruel world that loomed just beyond their laughter.

“You see them, do you not?” the voice continued, weaving through the memories. “These moments, glimmers of a life half-lived. Yet, they are but echoes of what could have been. Do you feel it? The void that echoes in your heart?”

“What are you talking about?” John’s voice broke through the haze, laced with confusion and anger. “What void? What have you seen?”

“The story you have penned is riddled with pauses and unanswered questions, an incomplete saga yearning for resolution. You have faced death, and still you walk. But I have seen your end, John Marston.”

The darkness pulsed around him as another memory surged—he stood before Dutch, his once-hero now a shadow of betrayal, the gunfire echoing in his mind like a mournful dirge. 

“Do you not feel it, John?” the voice pressed, more insistent now, each word punctuated by a haunting echo. “The weight of your choices, the choices of others, pressing down upon you like the weight of the world? Do you ever feel as if your tale is a mere whisper lost in the cacophony of existence? An unfinished manuscript, waiting for the ink to flow?”

John clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I’ve fought to survive, to protect what matters most. I’ve done what I had to do! But it never feels enough.”

“Precisely.” she replied, her voice weaving through the air like smoke. “You strive for a conclusion, yet the battle within yourself persists. Love and loss, triumph and despair—they intertwine, creating a narrative tangled in fate's cruel grasp. You stand at the crossroads, John, a sentinel of choices yet to be made.”

Another image flickered, capturing him standing on a hilltop, gazing out over a landscape of possibility. It was beautiful and terrifying, a tapestry of paths that could lead to redemption or ruin.

“Have you ever wondered if this journey is truly yours?” she asked, her tone shifting, as though inviting him to peer deeper into his soul. “Each thread of fate you’ve woven carries the weight of every heartbeat, every breath you’ve taken. Yet here you stand, lost amidst the void, burdened by what you have lost.”

John felt a shiver run down his spine as the memories washed over him, each one pulling him deeper into the labyrinth of his heart. He saw himself laughing with his family, but the laughter was hollow, the joy dimmed by the shadows that lurked behind him.

“Your heart bears the scars of a lifetime spent running from the ghosts of your past. The void grows with each fleeting moment, gnawing at your essence.” she said, her voice laced with a sorrow that resonated in the emptiness around him. “What will you choose, John? To embrace the void, or to confront it, to carve your own destiny amidst the chaos?”

The questions hung heavy in the air, demanding answers he was not yet ready to face. “I’m not done yet. I have more to say.”

The ethereal voice lingered, wrapping around John like a shroud as the void shifted once more. Memories began to unfold—fragments that coalesced into moments he had long buried in the recesses of his heart. He saw himself with Arthur, the two of them riding side by side, laughter echoing in the warm sunlight, the camaraderie of brotherhood pulsating between them. The joy radiated from Arthur's smile, a stark contrast to the grim fate that awaited them.

Arthur…

“You see it, do you not?” the woman continued, her voice both gentle and insistent. “The bond you shared with him, forged through trials and tribulations, laughter and tears. But oh, how the tides have turned, casting shadows upon that once-bright light.”

John felt the swell of emotion, a bittersweet ache as he witnessed the familiar warmth of their friendship. He watched as they shared secrets beneath the stars, whispered dreams of a better life that felt almost tangible. Each memory was a thread woven into the tapestry of their lives, a reminder of what they had fought for together.

“Arthur has always been a beacon in your life.” she continued, her tone shifting to something more somber. “He saved all he could, and yet the weight of his sacrifices left him wanting—longing for a life he could never grasp. The betrayals, the heartache, they forged a path leading to despair.”

Another image flickered, capturing Arthur as he faced the realities of their choices—the moment they stood together on the edge of everything they held dear. John’s heart tightened as he heard Arthur’s voice, echoing through the void: “We ain't both gonna make it.”  The resignation in Arthur’s tone sent a shiver down John’s spine, a haunting reminder of the inevitability that had torn them apart.

“I have watched from afar,” the woman said, her voice imbued with deep sorrow, “my husband and I have observed your struggles, your love for one another. He, a man who knows the weight of fate, understands your pain and the void that now consumes you.”

John felt a sudden jolt of recognition—the strange man. He had encountered him, a figure cloaked in mystery who seemed to know more about him than he did about himself. “He knows the depths of your heart, John. He knows what has been lost, what could still be gained.”

“What do you want from me?” John questioned, uncertainty threading through his words. “What can I do?”

“I wish to grant you both a second chance.” she said, her voice lifting with a spark of hope. “A chance to rewrite your story, to reclaim what has been lost. Arthur’s death has carved a void in your heart, one that only he can fill. The world you knew may be fraught with danger and unexpected challenges, but it is a chance—a chance to confront the betrayals, to forge new paths, to stand side by side once more.”

Images flooded the void, more memories of John and Arthur entwined in the tapestry of their lives—Arthur rescuing John from the brink, their shared determination to build a future free from the chains of their pasts. Each fragment painted a picture of resilience and love, a powerful reminder of what had once been and what could be again.

“But this journey will not be without its trials.” she warned, the gravity of her words hanging in the air. “You will face new adversaries, new choices, and the specters of the past will linger at your heels. The question remains: can you reclaim the bond that was lost, the love that thrived even amidst the darkness?”

With each word, John felt a fire ignite within him, rekindling the determination he thought he had lost. “I’ll do it.” he declared, resolute. “I’ll fight for Arthur. I won’t let the darkness take him away from me again.”

“Very well.” she replied, the weight of finality wrapping around them. “Embrace the void, John Marston, for it is only through facing it that you will emerge into the light. Go forth, and weave your tale anew.”

---------

I’m still deciding whether to add more details or keep it as it is. Your input would mean a lot to me, so feel free to share any thoughts or suggestions! (P.S. This is just a sneak peak, edits may occur.)