#will smith x original female character

[writingonleaves]

wrap your arms around me, baby boy - will smith

pairing: will smith x original female character

warnings: swearing, probably the most dialogue in a piece i've ever had, mention of marijuana , boston college (as a boston university alum this is a valid warning❤️), niche massachusetts references, fluff fluff fluff

inspired by + title: paper rings by taylor swift

word count: 5.5k

author's note: hi!! tried not to overthink this one too much because i've been in a writing rut lately and this turned out longer than i expected. i also usually try not to write about the kids or anyone younger than me but i feel like this song fit our fave lexington shark boy and i had fun exploring a college relationship like this. this is for @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy's eras tour fic challenge!! i hope you all enjoy it and lmk what you think!

october 2023

“I think I’m gonna marry you one day.” 

Danielle Layden doesn’t even look up from her notes, unimpressed. “Sure, dude.”

“I’m serious,” She sighs, before putting her pen down and looking up at Will Smith, who’s continuing like he’s just asking her about the homework, which he did about three minutes prior. “You don’t think so?

She blinks, making sure that the professor isn’t in the lecture hall yet. “Will, I met you, like, three weeks ago, while you and your friends were high off your asses, mind you, and you don’t know how to write a proposal.”

“You have something against marijuana and bad writers?”

She rolls her eyes as he laughs. “We have a quiz in 5 minutes. Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Well, seat partner, I don’t think I do,” he says smugly. 

“We are not seat partners,” she drawls out, taking a sip from the coffee that he brought her when he came in, toothy smile making her unable to be 100% annoyed with him. She doesn’t wanna overthink about the fact that it’s her exact order too, because he shouldn’t know that.

“I think we are,” he sings. “Are you coming to the game later?”

“What game?”

Will snorts. “Yeah, nice try. I know you stalked me on the internet after we met. I also talk about hockey all the time.”

“I don’t know what hockey is. Explain it to me again?”

“Smartass,” he mutters as a smile seeps through Danielle’s lips. “So are you coming?”

“Should I?”

“I think so.”

The professor claps his hands and he’s still looking at her, waiting for an answer. She just shrugs. She’ll leave him on his toes. 

The next week, as Danielle’s been learning to expect now, Will slips in the seat right next to her, sliding over her coffee. 

“How do you know my order?”

At the same time, he asks. “What did you think of the game?”

She blinks. “What if I didn’t go?”

“Dani,” he deadpans. “I know you went. I saw you in the crowd.”

“You saw me in the sold out crowd?” She eyes him warily. “I highly doubt it.”

“Evie told me where you guys were sitting beforehand.”

“Evie doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“What did you think of the game?” He repeats with insistence. 

She bites her lip. “You got a goal.”

“I did.”

“It was fun.”

He lights up like a puppy and she can’t help but melt. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nudges his shoulder. “You’re pretty good at this hockey thing. Better than you are at writing proposals.”

He chuckles, running a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m glad you had fun.”

“I’m glad you didn’t lose.”

“Doesn’t happen very often.”

“Cocky,” Danielle observes. 

“Just like you are about writing proposals.”

She switches the subject. “How do you know what my coffee order is?”

“You told me.”

She tilts her head to the side. “When?”

“The night we met.”

“When you were high off your ass?”

“Quiet down,” he scolds playfully. “I am an athlete, you know? Gotta keep up that pristine image.”

She lets out a bark of laughter. “Pristine image? Okay, dude.” 

“Hey, actually, before Langley comes in, I wanted to ask you something.” 

That gets her attention, as she turns fully towards him. “What’s up?” 

“Okay, so, you can say no,” Will starts, which, hilarious way to begin. She tries to hide her amused smile as he continues. “Would you mind looking over my midterm paper? I know you have all your own stuff to do so I totally get it. It’s just, it’s obvious you’re the best writer in this class and I’d really appreciate a second set of eyes like yours.”

A few seconds of silence pass by before Danielle smiles genuinely. “You don’t have to beg, Will. I’ll look over your paper. You only talk to me though. You don’t know that I’m the best writer in this class.”

“I think I do.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she deadpans.

He smirks, sliding his phone over. “Put in your number and we’ll find a time?”

She types her number in and texts herself, “I think you just wanna find an excuse to spend more time with me.”

“Busted. I did say I’m gonna marry you one day.”

“Let’s see what you get on your midterm first.”

november 2023

“Hey”

Danielle looks up from her books at the familiar voice, a bit disjointed because she’s not sitting in Fulton Hall but instead at the library. She takes her headphones out and tilts her head to the side at Will and two other guys right next to him. “Hi.”

“Do you mind?”

She starts clearing her stuff from the table, “As long as you’re not annoying.” She puts on a warm smile. “Hi. I’m Danielle. Or Dani. Whatever works.”

“I’m Ryan, and this is Gabe.” Ryan grins. 

She narrows her eyes a bit, gaze lingering on Gabe. “You look familiar. Have we been in a class together?”

“Maybe? What are you taking?”

“You’re in my Psych class,” she concludes. 

“With Petrovich?”

“The very one.”

Gabe lights up. It’s kinda adorable. “Where do you sit?”

“Don’t,” she says as Will chuckles, which causes one side of her lips to quirk up. “I’m not having a repeat with what’s happening with Will here.”

“Hey now,” Will says as his two friends laugh at him. “Leno’s the one from Amherst, by the way.”

Danielle lights up. “Oh! Will’s talked about you. I’m from Ludlow.”

“Really?” She nods as Ryan leans back in his seat. “I went to Pope Francis.”

“Of course you did,” she deadpans. “That’s almost as bad as St. Sebastian’s.”

Before she can think about if it’s too mean, Ryan has burst out into laughter. “You know what? Smitty should marry you. You’re funny.”

She whips her head towards Will, who looks smug. “Are you telling everyone that?”

“No,” he drawls out. 

“Yes,” Gabe says with a giggle. “I mean, you are the reason Will did well on his paper.”

“I know,” she says wryly. 

“So why wouldn’t he marry you?”

She ignores them and tilts her head to the side at Will. “You know, I didn’t think you’d lure your side pieces into this nonsense.”

“They’ve been here from the start!”

“Side pieces?”

She blinks, before, “Oh! You guys were also high the night we met. You were the friends. It was kinda dark so I didn’t really see your faces.”

“If Coach ever hears you, we’re banned from the team,” Will says. 

“I don’t really have plans to get to know your coach, so you’re in luck.”

“Do you like hockey?” Gabe asks. 

Danielle clicks her pen. “What’s hockey?”

“Don’t,” Will warns as she giggles. “She always does this.”

“What?” Ryan smirks. “Bust your ass?”

“I mean, good,” Gabe adds. “You need it, Smitty.”

She nudges Ryan in the shoulder and blows Gabe an air kiss. “I like you two. Dunno why you hang out with Will though, so that’s a character flaw.”

“Can you help me with Psych homework?” Gabe asks with a hopeful tilt. 

“Of course.”

Will narrows his eyes playfully. “Get your own seat partner, Gabo.”

“As fun as this has been, unless you all are doing homework and can quiet down-”

“Can we join?” Will asks, playful facade fading into a genuine one. “We can leave, but we also did come to do homework.”

She puts an earbud back in. “Be my guest.”

By the end of her time in the library, she’s gotten a cookie from Ryan (“413 have to stick together, baby”), Gabe’s phone number so they can study for Psychology together and smiles from Will that has her stomach feeling unsettled. As she’s walking back to her dorm, she gets a text from her roommate Tracy. There’s a hockey game this weekend. Does Danielle wanna come? 

She gives Tracy’s text a thumbs up.

december 2023

“Happy last class,” Will says, sitting down next to her. 

She reaches out automatically for the coffee he slides over with a smile. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” He teases, but he’s visibly taken aback.

“Yeah,” she reaches into her bag to feel around for the crochet eagle. Once she finds it, she pulls it out carefully and places it in his hands. 

His eyes soften. “You made this?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. I love crocheting and, I don’t know, it seemed fitting.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, clipping it onto one of the zippers on his backpack. She swallows, a frog suddenly appearing in her throat. “I’ll carry it with me everywhere.”

“When do you leave for Sweden?”

“Leaving BC the 13th, so gotta take all my finals early.”

She hums. “That’s soon.”

“It is,” he drums his fingers on the table. “It feels like this semester has flown by.”

“Yeah,” she says somewhat wistfully. A curl falls onto Will’s forehead and she has to dig her nails into her hands to prevent her from reaching up and fixing it. 

He shakes his head a bit at himself, as if trying to motivate himself to do something. “Listen, I, uh, you can totally say no, because I know I kinda forced you to be my friend in the first place. And I’ve been wanting to ask you this for weeks now, maybe months, but I was thinking maybe when I come back next semester we could hang out?”

She teases him. “Hang out? Should we invite Gabe and Ryan along? Maybe Jacob? I met him the other day, you know. He threw you under the bus.”

“No,” he presses and Danielle hides her giggle at his minor petulance. “Just us two. On a date. Dinner and all. The whole nine yards.”

Danielle is full out grinning now. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You’re impossible,” Will deadpans. 

“Yes,” she says, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“I pay. I owe you for all the coffees this semester.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s not happening.” 

“You said anything.” 

“Dani.”

“Fine,” she pushes a finger into his chest. “You’re also deciding where we go though. I’m too indecisive for that.”

“Of course,” he grins, a slight blush painting his cheeks. “I’ll text you when I’m back on campus?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

january 2024

“It seems weird not seeing you Friday mornings anymore.”

Danielle chuckles as she opens the door to let Will inside. He steps to the side as she slips on her boots. “Not Mondays and Wednesdays?”

“Well, yes. But there was something nice about seeing you to end my week.”

She rolls her eyes. “Laying it down thick right at the start, huh?”

“Well, I would’ve brought flowers to really drive it home, but I remember you mentioning you didn’t like them.”

“You have a scarily good memory,” she remarks, grabbing her bag before they walk out of her dorm, Will’s hand hovering over her lower back. “Where are we going?”

“This restaurant called Seasons 52. It’s a 30 minute walk but we could also drive since I have my car. But it’s also nice out and I know you like walking everywhere-”

She halts in the hallway, causing Will to crash into her. “Will, that’s…a nice restaurant.”

“Is that okay? Too much?” His eyes widen in uncertainty. “I’ve been there with family for special events and stuff and it’s pretty good and I figured that-”

“It’s okay,” she assures him. “It is. I just, you didn’t have to do all that.”

Will shrugs as they wait for the elevator. “It’s not a big deal. You deserve all the stops. Wouldn’t wanna put that outfit to waste either.”

She snorts looking down at the nice brown sweater and jeans she put on. “This is nothing. You look very sharp. Different from the sweats you usually wear.”

“Hey!” He protests as she laughs. “Remember when you saw me in a suit before the game?”

“Yeah. I think I have those pictures on my phone still.”

He rolls his eyes at the memory of him seeing Danielle right before a game as she just snapped pictures of him with a smirk. “You know, the boys gave me crap about that for days.”

“Mission accomplished then.” She nudges his hip with hers right as the elevator doors open. “I know I texted you this already, but congrats on the Gold. My mom was confused why hockey was on the TV and it wasn’t the Bruins. My brother was pumped though. He’s been trying to convince me to get into hockey for years.”

He blinks. “You watched?”

“I tried to. Saw the gold medal match in full though. Landon loved Ryan’s celebration. What a bitch.”

“Landon’s your brother?”

“Yes he is.”

“Hockey fan?”

“Yeah. He went to BU.”

“Lame,” Will says without thinking. 

She laughs. “I tell him that all the time.”

“Just the one brother?”

“Nah. Two younger sisters too. He’s the oldest. He loves it.”

“Your sisters must love you.”

Danielle takes her hair out of her jacket as they start walking. “Why do you think so?”

“I have an older sister. Grace. She’s awesome. Also at BC actually. So I know what it’s like to have an older sister to look up to.”

“I do love them,” she admits. “I think I’m the lucky one to have them though.”

For January, it is surprisingly warm as they make their way to the restaurant. Will has a grin plastered on his face the whole time as he just lets Danielle playfully rag on him. At some point, she grabs his hand and their hands stay connected and Will feels like he just scored a hattrick. Dinner is yummy and romantic and so fun because everything about Danielle Layden is fun. Will snags the check, ignoring her look in the process. 

As they’re walking back to campus, Danielle has tucked herself into Will’s side. She pokes him playfully. “Do you still think we’re getting married?”

Will cackles. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

“No,” she says softly, biting her lip. 

He looks at her momentarily, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Good.”

Right in front of her dorm building, she kisses him. He smiles into her lips as he pulls her closer.

february 2024

Danielle has a big paper due next week. She doesn’t have time for this. 

She checks her phone again to skip the song and rolls her eyes at the dozens of messages from Will the whole morning. Thank God she’s been on Do Not Disturb. 

She may not know the ins and outs of hockey like her new boyfriend, but she knows what it’s like to lose. So she knows that he was really upset when BC lost in the first Beanpot game against BU. Hell, she was there in the stands. She knows the guys on the ice were one hundred times more upset than the fans in the stands representing the eagle. 

But ghosting her and then ditching her on a pre-planned date they had the next day is uncalled for. Judging from the sheer amount of texts and missed phone calls the last 24 hours, she knows Will knows he fucked up. But she’s not doing this. She’s not taking this crap from anyone, much less a boy. 

Two hours later, once she’s knocked out a good chunk of her paper, she leaves the library in search of some dinner outside of the dining hall to treat herself. It’s just her luck that as she’s walking past Conte with her headphones in, she sees some of the team in the distance walking towards her. Will is one of them. 

She sees the moment he recognizes her and then stubbornly puts her head down. She hears him call her name, but she just brushes roughly past him, shoulders knocking together. If he wants to explain herself, he’s gonna have to do more than that. 

When she’s just changed into her pajamas later that night, her phone rings. It’s Will again. She decides to answer.”

“What do you want?”

“Come outside.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t-”

“Please?” 

She hears the plea in her voice. “Fine.” She hangs up, grabs her keys and jacket, and runs down the stairs. 

As soon as she walks outside, she sees Will standing to the side, hands shoved in his pockets. “Hi,” he says.

“You ready to talk now?”

He flinches. “I deserved that.”

She crossed her arms, “Well?”

“I’m really, really sorry for ghosting you the last few days,” he rushes out quickly but tone dripped in sincerity and vulnerability. “I-it was really shitty of me to just avoid you and not respond to you at all, especially when I know you were just worried about me. I owed you more than that. I owe you more than that. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get to me like that. I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “Will, I get that losing a game like that sucks. I’m not really mad that you’re mad about it. I’m pissed that you didn’t talk to me, even if it was to tell me to leave you alone.”

“I’m really-”

She puts her hand up. “I’m not done yet.” He shuts his mouth and nods at her to continue. “I know I’m still trying to understand your world and how I fit into that, but getting ignored like I was the last few days sucked. We just started dating. It felt like a slap in the face. I don’t care if you don’t wanna talk to me, just tell me you don’t wanna talk to me instead of leaving me in the dark. If that happens again-”

“It won’t,” he says firmly. “It won’t. And it’s not my world that you have to fit into or whatever. It’s not about me. It’s never about me. It’ll never be about me. I fucked up, Dani. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She looks at him for a moment, before jabbing a finger into his chest. “Apology accepted. Just talk to me next time, okay?”

“I will, I promise,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief. “God, I’m such an idiot. It’s not like you’d ever judge me.”

“For what? The loss?”

“..Yeah?”

She rolls her eyes, taking her hands in his. “I judge you. I do it all the time, actually. Never, ever for that, though.” She squeezes his hands. “It just wasn’t you guys’ night. You’re a good hockey player, Will, but that’s not why I’m with you”

He chuckles wryly, leaning his forehead against hers. “I need to buy you a ring.”

“Easy, tiger,” she warns with a grin. “If you want me to completely forgive you, you owe me coffee for the next three months.”

“That easy?”

“No,” she admits. “But it’s a start.”

He places a quick kiss on her lips. “Anything. Anything you want.”

april 2024

The second the clock runs out, Danielle puts her head in her hands. There are murmurs of disappointment and cursing heard from attendants of the Frozen Four watch party her friend hosted, but all Danielle can do is bite her lip in sadness for Will and the other guys. She ses Ryan visibly sobbing and that’s her limit, as she walks into the kitchen to grab a glass of water to take a breather. She fingers through her phone to the text chain with Will, sending a red heart and “always proud of you” before putting her phone back in her pocket. 

She squeezes her eyes shut. God, they were so close. They worked so hard. Will’s worked so hard. But that’s just how it goes sometimes. 

As she’s helping clean up, she can’t help but think of the implications of the loss. She hasn’t been shy with Will after learning more about how big of a deal he is in the hockey world and how there’s a chance he may not come back next year. Initially it terrified her — getting into a relationship with someone who might not even be on the East Coast in a few months — and it still does somewhat, but he’s been so open and honest about it and Danielle has never been the kind of girl to not do something because she’s afraid. 

But that night, in her dorm, as she sees Will send a text back with just a heart, she’s afraid. They’ve only been dating for four months. And he’s become one of the best parts of her life. She has always wanted him to do what’s best for himself and his career — she has no part in that decision and doesn’t want to have a part — but if that means leaving BC, what does the future of them look like? 

The next morning, Danielle is up early and playing with her phone in bed mindlessly, waiting for the text from Will that he’s back and settled in his dorm. She knows the team had a flight scheduled to land early this morning and even before last night’s result, she was always going to see him.

Once she gets a text from Will, she’s bolting out the door, grabbing a small of groceries she had gotten the night before, knowing that him and Gabe’s fridge is emptier than usual and maybe a simple breakfast of a nice omelette and a smoothie will cheer them up. 

The door swings open before she can even text Will to let her in. She barely sees his face before he pulls her into a tight hug. She squeezes him, swaying them side to side, as students going in and out of the building step sideways to avoid them. 

“I’m sorry, dude.”

He somehow musters out a watery chuckle at the nickname that’s somehow become a petname between them. He mutters into her shoulder. “I fucking hate losing.”

She continues rubbing his back. “I know.”

“We were so close.”

“I know,” she pulls away and reaches up to run a hand through his hair. He practically collapses into himself, pulling her into another hug, resting his chin on top. “I’m proud of you regardless,” she says into his chest softly. “All of you. You worked so hard.”

“I love you,” he mutters and Danielle’s stomach flips. He first said it the day before he left for St. Paul when they were having a movie night at her place, snuggled up in her bed as he whispered it into her hair, but it still makes her throat close up with adoration. 

(She hasn’t said it back yet, but he hasn’t pressured her at all. She’s almost amazed at how much he doesn’t seem to be.)

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go inside.”

He automatically reaches for the bag around her shoulders with a furrowed brow. “What’s in here?”

“Groceries. I figured you and Gabe hadn’t eaten yet so I thought I’d whip up an omelette or something.”

He steps into the empty elevator and kisses her for the first time since he left. “God, you’re an angel.”

“No, I think ahead,” she corrects. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there in person.”

“Don’t be,” he says. “I feel your support everywhere all the time.”

“You do?”

“With every call and text,” he assures. “Thanks for coming. I’m probably not going to be the best company today.”

“Will,” she taps his chin so he’ll look at her when she says her next statement. “There is nowhere else I would’ve been today, no matter the result.” He just pulls her closer to his side in response. 

When she gets to Will and Gabe’s suite, she immediately scurries around the kitchen as Will hovers. Usually she would shoo him away and make him wait elsewhere, but she knows he doesn’t wanna be alone right now. As she’s plating the second omelette, Gabe wanders out and she shoots him a small smile, stomach dropping at the bags under his eyes that mirror Will’s. She gestures at him to sit and slides over a plate and a glass of the green smoothie she made before giving him a hug. 

“Smitty’s lucky to have you,” Gabe says inbetween forkfuls. 

Danielle chuckles as she fixes herself a plate. “I’m just as lucky to have him. Where’s Ryan? I can fix him a plate if he wants.”

“Stop,” Will says with a look.

“What? I can!”

“I know,” he says fondly. “But you don’t need to.”

She gives him a deadpan look. “Well, is he coming?”

Will sighs. “He said he might stop by in a bit.”

“I’ll leave him some of the smoothie then.” She catches Will’s smile as she starts digging into her omelette, talking with Gabe about anything except the loss. 

After breakfast, she and Will venture to his room, where they lay in his bed and he puts on Brooklyn 99. As she’s laying on his chest and he’s twirling her hair around his finger, she can tell his head is everywhere but in this room. She lets him be like that for three episodes before she reaches for the remote to pause it. 

She turns to him. “What’s going through your mind?”

He shrugs. “Probably everything you think.” They sit in silence for a minute or two, before he pipes up again. “You can ask me.”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the answer is yours to decide, and I know you’re gonna ask for my opinion but I don’t want you to be influenced by it,” she smoothes over his furrowed brows with her thumbs. “Everything coming up next has been a thing long before we met. Even if I had an opinion about it, it shouldn’t be taken into account.”

“So you think I should leave BC and sign?”

“I think you should seriously weigh the pros and cons of both, which I already know you’re doing.”

He sighs with a wry smile. “You were born to be a lawyer.” 

She tilts her head to the side. “Do you want to talk about it now? Because we can.”

“Later, maybe.”

She hums. “Okay.”

“But I want to let you know that no matter what I decide, that how I feel about you is the same.” She raises an eyebrow but he’s so lost in his thoughts and what he wants to say that he misses it as he barrels on, determined. “Whatever decision I make, I still want this to keep going. Which is maybe unfair to ask you because there’s a chance I’d be all the way across the country. But I really care about you and-”

“Will,” she interrupts him, holding a hand up. “You’re getting so ahead of yourself. Make your decision first, and then we can talk about us, okay?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m just leaving you.”

“Huh? You’re not. I know you’re not. This is your career, dude. I’m never, ever going to hold that against you.” She presses a quick kiss on his lips to try to assure him. “I knew what I was getting into, okay? And I’m still here, aren’t I? We can talk about the logistics of it all later more in depth, if we even need to get to that point, but don’t worry yourself in a tizzy about the ‘us’ part of it so much, okay?”

He blinks. “I got you something.”

Deciding to go along with the sudden change of topic, she humors him. “What did you get me?”

He reaches over her to his bedside and she just lets him, exaggeratingly spitting out his hair that touches her mouth. He just rolls his eyes before retrieving a small white bag. 

She softens as he places it in her hands. “What’s this?”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You didn’t think I’d forget about your birthday, did you? I’m sorry I missed it.”

“You were competing for a national championship,” she responds automatically. “I didn’t-you didn’t have to get anything for me.”

He scoffs softly. “Bullshit,” he nods at the bag. “Open it.”

Biting her lip she carefully opens the bag, to see that there’s a ring box there. “Oh my God. Are you asking me to marry you?”

He rolls his eyes as she giggles. “You’re the worst.”

She pops open the box and it is a ring. She picks it up gently inbetween her fingers. A dainty leaf ring with light teal stones. It’s perfect. It matches with the rings she already wears. She slips it on and suddenly wants to cry. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.” 

She shoves the bag and box to the side before hugging him properly. “You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

“Happy birthday. Belated.”

As she looks down at the ring, she takes a deep breath. They’re going to be just fine. 

may 2024

As Ryan parks his car in front of Will’s childhood home in Lexington, Danielle suddenly feels like her feet are glued to the floor of his car. 

Ryan, noticing his friend’s girlfriend’s hesitation, nudges her shoulder gently. She’s quickly become one of his friends now, especially considering that he’s going to be staying at BC for at least another year. “Hey,” he says softly. “You good?”

“I’m great,” she responds automatically, reaching to the back seat to grab the box holding his present.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” he says. 

“It’s Will’s day,” she says firmly. “How I feel doesn’t matter.”

He clicks his tongue. “I’d disagree. And he would too. You can be happy for him and also sad that he’s moving to the other side of the country, you know?”

She looks over to him and swallows at the look on his face. The unspoken “I am” lingers in the air and she sighs. A small smile appears on her face as they exchange a look, as she leans forward to place a quick friendly kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for driving.”

“Anytime.”

The first person she recognizes as they filter into the home is Grace, who beams at the sight of them both. She wraps Ryan in a hug first, squeezing him tight before pushing him away to hug Danielle. 

“Oh, it’s so good to see you. How were finals?”

“A bit tough, I won’t lie.”

“You get used to it,” Grace says sympathetically, taking the box out of the younger girl’s hands. “He’s somewhere out back, surrounded by a bunch of people probably.”

Danielle nods and Grace must notice her lingering because the blonde offers her a reassuring smile. “He’s been talking about you all day.”

“That’s nice of him,” she comments softly. 

Grace gives her a knowing smile before lighting pushing her towards the direction of the back porch. “Go. He’ll be excited to see you.”

The second she walks outside, she smiles at all the teal balloons decorating the home and how wonderful the weather is to celebrate Will officially signing with San Jose. He made the decision a few weeks ago but waited until now to make it official and Danielle couldn't be any prouder. 

It seems like when her eyes land on him, he’s already looking back, eyes bright and a big smile on his face as he gestures for her to come to him. 

“Hi,” she says, leaning into his side for a hug. 

He instinctively kisses the top of her head. “Hi. This is Aidan, Nico and Max from the St. Sebs days. Boys, this is-”

“Dani,” Aidan says with a knowing smile. “Nice to meet you. Smitty hasn’t shut up about you since you guys met.”

“Unsurprising,” Danielle drawls out. “He’s kinda obsessed with me.”

The guys all laugh and Daniele giggles along with them. She looks up at Will, who’s beaming. She fights the urge to kiss him in front of all his friends, but he beats her to it, leaning down to kiss her sweetly. She laughs into his lips when his friends start chirping him goodheartedly. She hears Ryan saying that he’s used to seeing this shit all the time and that it’s frankly the cutest thing ever and Danielle is assured that Ryan’s a real one.

“Congrats,” she murmurs to Will, his friends now distracted. “I love you.”

(Danielle cracked a few weeks ago, when she finished her last final and Will took her out on a surprise date into the city. They were walking along the Charles River in the sunset and she felt like she just had to tell him she loved him at that moment. The smile from him after she said it is an image she’ll always have in her memory)

“Thanks, babe,” he says. He interlaces their hands together. “You ready to meet everyone?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

Will chuckles. “Come on. We’ll start with the cousins. They’re easy.”

She follows him as his thumb brushes against the ring.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: A well deserved hunt with Charles, met with an unexpected surprise back at camp...

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 5 - My Heart Beats On As Warmly Now

“What began as a journey had become a retreat into the unknown. We were backing into the abyss; so worried our sins would follow us we didn’t bother watching where we walked. And behind us was a cliff.” ~ Elsa Dutton 1883

Arthur’s anger dissolved with the storm, replaced by a heavy sense of regret as he trudged back to camp that evening. All he wanted was to drown his shame in a few bottles of liquor, away from prying eyes, away from the disappointment he felt in himself. He hadn’t intended for Kate to see that side of him, not yet at least. And certainly not against a sickly innocent man. He let his anger and frustrations get the better of him. Like he switched on auto-pilot and let the outlaw in him take control. He worried now that Kate might actually leave, and he blamed himself for that.

Swiftly, he made his way to the crate of beer bottles behind the chuck wagon, grabbing a few before retreating to his tent. He craved solitude, a respite from the demands of camp life, from the weight of his own mistakes.

Seated on his cot, a beer wedged between his legs, Arthur opened his journal, the one constant in his life since Dutch and Hosea taught him to read and write. It was his confidant, his sanctuary in a world of chaos. John always gave him shit for it growing up, calling him a pansy and constantly trying to snoop in his personal entries. 

Despite being in a gang for most of his life, he still felt incredibly lonely. There weren't many people he would truly open up to. So his journal became that person. It was the one thing that did not judge him, ever. But even as he poured his thoughts onto the page, he longed for a human connection, someone to truly understand him.  

Hosea and Dutch had been like parents to him, raising him from a young age in the ways of the outlaw. They had their flaws, but they had also shown him kindness and guidance when he needed it most. He always saw Hosea as his father, he would consider Dutch his father too, although he was more like an older brother at times. Hosea was probably the only person who truly knew Arthur, and saw the things he wished not to speak about. Neither parent was perfect by any means, and Arthur could recognize that. But even as an adult, there is still a child inside that longs for the comfort of a father. 

It was that fatherly instinct that drove Hosea to Arthurs tent that night.

“Evening Arthur,” he greeted, holding open the tent flap, “may I come in?” 

He put down his journal and nodded. Gesturing for Hosea to join him on his cot. 

“I noticed Kate didn’t ride back with you, is she okay out in this storm?” He inquired.

Arthur smiled with a slight shake of his head, that's Hosea for you. Always worried about others, here he was checking on his son but was more concerned about the lady he left behind. 

“I’m sure she’s fine, saw her heading into Valentine,” he answered, taking a sip of his beer. He handed one of the full bottles to Hosea as the older gentleman sat down.

“I take it things didn't go well then,” he said with a hint of sympathy.

Arthur sighed, “when do they ever.” 

As they sat together in the dim light, the rain drumming softly on the canvas roof, Arthur felt a sense of comfort in Hosea’s presence. He didn’t need to explain himself, didn’t need to justify his actions. Hosea simply listened, offering silent support.

“I don’t know why I do it,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “The man was sick and weak, I should've just given him a warning.” Arthur concluded with a shake of his head. 

Hosea sighed knowingly. “I think you can blame your fathers for that son,” taking a sip to clear his throat, “Dutch and I did what we thought was best at the time and well, you were quite impressionable when you were young. We used that to our advantage to turn you into a grade A outlaw.” He said gently with honesty. 

Arthur chuckled at the memories of his youth, before John came along he was the golden child. He used to love it when Dutch would teach him how to pick locks, or when Hosea taught him a whole book of curse words. Had he not been the son of outlaws, his life would’ve looked very differently. 

“We’ll always be thieves,” he mused with a hint of nostalgia, “only difference now is that the world don't want us no more.” 

Hosea nodded, silently agreeing, “We're doomed just like every other creature on this rock Arthur,” he remarked with a wry smile. “I just wish I had acquired that wisdom at less of a price.” 

After a moment of contemplative silence, Arthur spoke, his voice heavy with regret. "I just wish I’d done things differently," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the floor. His remorse mixed with his actions at the Downes ranch, and for every mistake he’s made in the past that led him here. 

Hosea laid a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder, a silent gesture of understanding. "We can't change the past, son," he said gently. "All we can do is learn from it and strive to do better in the future."

Arthur nodded, the weight of Hosea's words settling over him like a blanket of reassurance. "I don't want to be the kind of man who hurts others for no good reason," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I want to be better, for Kate, for everyone."

Hosea squeezed Arthur's shoulder affectionately before rising to his feet. “She’ll come around, son.” He offered a parting reminder, “underneath it all, you have a good heart.”

Before he disappeared into the night, Hosea turned back with a final piece of news. “By the way, your brother wants to speak with you about using that oil cart you found to rob the train tomorrow night.”

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. “He ain’t my brother,” he muttered disdainfully.

Hosea chuckled. “Well, you two sure argue like brothers. G’night, Arthur.”

He tipped his head to the old man as he left, “night Pa.” 

Arthur laid back on his cot, tucking his journal into his satchel when something small and round fell out and made a soft pitter on the ground. When he looked down he saw the peach pit, the one Kate gave him on her first night. He reached to pick up the small seed. His thumb ran over its hard wrinkles. 

He held it tight to his chest, and silently promised he would make things right with Kate. If he ever saw her again. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate took in a deep breath of the crisp morning air, reveling in the freshness that lingered after the storm had passed in the night. The scent of newly sprouted grass and moist earth filled her senses, while dew-kissed leaves sparkled under the gentle caress of the rising sun. A light breeze danced around her, carrying the promise of spring on its wings. It felt like the start of something new as if the world itself was awakening alongside her. It was the perfect day for a ride.

She met Charles in the early morning, exactly where he said he’d be. Waiting for her to begin their journey into the wild lands in hopes of finding a fresh hunt. They were a few hours into their journey now, heading north into Ambarino to hunt cow elk. Just one 200 pound elk is enough to feed the entire camp for a month. Maybe more. It was a day's ride there and back, short enough to keep the meat fresh in time. 

With a satisfied sigh, Kate exhaled the tension from her shoulders, “this is exactly what I needed Charles, thank you.”

Charles smiled warmly, guiding his horse closer to hers. "Thanks for joining me, Kate," he replied, his own gratitude evident in his tone.

With her face tilted to the sun, she savored the moment. Allowing Lorena to guide her. A silent trust shared between them, that her mare will take her where she needs to go. “You know, I always thought you preferred hunting alone. I never see anyone go with you.” Kate remarked, eyes still closed in bliss. 

Charles nodded thoughtfully. "Arthur and I have gone together a few times, but other than that, I don't seek much company from the others," he admitted, his words tinged with honesty. It was clear that while he valued his fellow gang members, solitude was his preferred companion in the wild.

“That why you’re always so quiet?” She inquired, innocently. 

Charles chuckled softly. "If the choice is folks thinking I'm dumb but not knowing for sure, and folks knowing I'm dumb because I sound like them, I think I'd rather keep them wondering," he explained with a grin. The confidence in his voice a testament to his strength. 

Kate chuckled, her eyes reflecting understanding. "I get that. Sometimes it's better to keep people guessing," she replied. Under her breath she added, “I know some of those men can be pretty dumb,” loud enough for Charles to hear.

Charles exclaimed in frustration, “tell me about it! All this death and for what? Just so we can have enough money to be able to run from what we've done?” 

Kate pondered for a moment, she still didn't know what happened all those weeks ago that drove the gang of outlaws here. It was the one piece of information they didn’t talk about around her. Perhaps Charles would share the missing pieces. “What happened to everyone to cause you to run?” Her tone colored with genuine curiosity. 

As Charles recounted the events of that fateful day, Kate couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for what they must have been through. The gang did not like to talk about Blackwater, and the consequences must have been devastating.

"It was a fucking execution," he began, his voice tinged with regret. "We thought it would a simple job robbing a ferry, carrying payroll. But there were civilians too." Kate could already imagine where this led. $5000 for his head alone, the words echoed in her mind. 

“We raised a lot of hell that day, and things got out of control. Next thing we know, the Pinkertons are on us along with the law. And everyone just starts shooting. I don't know which one of us shot first but that's all it took. There were passengers caught in the crossfire.” He shook his head with disappointment. She couldn't imagine the terror those innocent people must have felt as they found themselves caught in the chaos. 

“Dutch he,” Charles hesitated, “he killed a young girl. Just to get the law off him. And no one batted an eye.” His voice heavy with emotion. Her stomach churned at the thought of such senseless violence. “We lost three good people, and John barely made it out alive.”

He turned, facing her, "I don't kill for fun Kate; I kill when I need to," he urged, his tone pleading. It was clear that he was grappling with the moral implications of their actions, and Kate couldn't help but admire his integrity in the face of such darkness. One so hauntingly familiar. 

“Arthur came out different after Blackwater,” he added with a sigh. 

“Being an outlaw can’t be easy,” Kate added, trying to lighten the mood. She understood the hardships and turmoil that came with senseless violence. 

Charles huffed and shook his head at the memory, “easy certainly wasn't in the job description.” 

As they rode on, the weight of their conversation hung heavy between them. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were all running from something far greater than the law. A feeling she was not immune to. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Their hunt had been successful, tracking and swiftly killing a massive elk. They settled in for a fire and camped near a lake for the night. Enjoying fresh fish for dinner. In the morning they tied their game to the back of Taima, and began their journey back to camp. Kate’s spirit felt lightened in a way, the two of them spent most of the night sharing stories. And she realized she and Charles had a lot in common. A gentle reminder that she is not entirely alone in her struggles. 

The ride home went by quickly, and with the sun tickling the horizon, they arrived at the great plains of New Hanover, and eventually, the familiar overlook. 

As they rode into camp, the air was thick with urgency, Miss Grimshaw's voice cutting through the chaos. "Alright girls, everything into the wagons, now!" she barked, her tone sharp. 

Charles swiftly brought their kill to the chuck wagon, while Kate hurriedly dismounted and rushed to join the flurry of activity. The girls worked frantically, packing crates with blankets and clothing, fear etched on their faces.

"What's happening?" Kate asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Mary-Beth paused in her task, her expression grim. "Arthur and John got into trouble with the law in Valentine," she explained, her hands moving quickly. "Dutch says we need to leave, fast."

A surge of panic swept over Kate at the thought of Arthur and John in danger. "Did they get caught?" she asked, her heart pounding.

Mary-Beth shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted, sympathy in her eyes. "But we have to go."

As Kate’s mind began to spiral with the worst outcomes imaginable, a voice rose above the commotion. Speaking of the man himself. 

Dutch's voice cut through the chaos. "Charles!" he called out, his tone urgent. "Find Arthur at Dewberry Creek, we need a new hideout." Charles turned on his heel with a nod, mounting Taima and taking off back down the trail they came in on only a moment ago. 

With his words she felt a sudden sense of relief, Arthur is okay. Their last conversation weighed heavy on her heart. And she would be damned if that was the last time they spoke. 

Dutch's voice commanded attention once more. "When they give us the all clear, we move out! Let's get to work, people!" he shouted.

Mary-Beth and Tilly went back to their work and left Kate alone with her thoughts. She returned to her belongings, packing quickly. But her moment of respite was short-lived as a sickeningly familiar voice cut through the air like a bullet.

“Well hello Kate,” Micah said with disdain and arrogance. 

“I don’t have time for your bullshit Micah,” Kate retorted, her patience wearing thin. 

Micah advanced, his eyes blazing with hostility. "Funny how you show up right when trouble finds us," he taunted.

Kate scoffed, the idea completely absurd, “you idiots robbed a fucking train, did you seriously expect a welcome home party?” She shot back, her voice filled with sarcasm.

Micah's gaze narrowed. "We were set up in Valentine, someone ratted us out," he growled, his words dripping with bitterness. 

“I was just hunting with Charles,” she explained, not bothering to hide the bite in her voice, she refused to play his game. 

Micah approached with malice, his fist twitched at his side, ready to pull his pistol any moment. "Well Charles ain't here now,” he gestured around the camp, “and we think it was you," he hissed, the accusation cutting through the chaos.

Realization dawned on her that he was setting her up, but the reason why was still unclear. “And when Charles comes back he can testify to that,” she spat, turning to continue her packing. 

He closed the distance between them with predatory grace. In one swift motion, he raised his pistol. Before Kate could react, the butt of the gun connected with her temple, sending a searing pain shooting through her skull. Stars exploded behind her eyelids as she stumbled backward, the world spinning dizzily around her. Darkness threatened to engulf her. 

As she struggled to regain her bearings, Micah loomed over her, a twisted smirk playing across his lips, “we’ll be long gone by the time they come back princess.” 

With a sickening thud, Kate's head hit the ground, the impact reverberating through her skull. As the world faded into blackness, she felt herself being pulled into an abyss of darkness. The last sound echoing in her ears was the distant whinny of Lorena, a mournful cry that seemed to fade into the void. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The commotion of the camp kept her drifting in and out of consciousness for the next hour. She heard Abigail's voice call out to Kate in concern, and Micah snapped back warning her to keep her distance. She also realized her wrists had been bound along with her ankles, with Micah standing guard over her like a dog. Like she could run away in this state anyways. 

The darkness began to creep in again, and in a moment she awoke and Micah was gone. It was almost dark and she was in a different spot now, away from the center of camp and behind the tree line. That fucking bastard tried to leave me here. She thought with bitterness. 

In the midst of the chaos, a familiar voice pierced through the camp, but Kate's mind was still swimming in a fog of confusion. Wagons rattled as they hurriedly departed the overlook, leaving Kate struggling to make sense of the commotion. Summoning all her strength, she pushed herself up onto her knees, squinting through the haze.

Then, like a beacon in the night, Arthur's horse appeared, Belle’s white coat gleaming amidst the darkness. With a surge of relief, Kate locked eyes with Arthur, who rushed over to her side, his expression etched with concern.

Her consciousness flickered like a dim candle in the wind as she slowly regained awareness. The throbbing pain in her head was a harsh reminder of what had just transpired. Blinking away the haze, her vision blurry.

"Kate? Are you alright?" Arthur's voice cut through the fog, filled with concern as he took in the sight of her bound wrists and ankles. Swiftly dismounting Belle and pulling a knife from his belt to cut her free. 

Her head throbbed as she recounted what happened and she felt sick in the stomach. She couldn’t stay with them anymore, not after this. Micah was a real problem, and if what Charles told her about Blackwater is true, then Dutch is likely the same. 

“I’m okay,” she answered wearily, “Micah set me up,” a hint of fear mixed with rage creeped into her voice. Arthur helped her rise to her feet, just as the last wagons were leaving the overlook. Without missing a beat she turned to find her horse. 

Arthur was slightly taken aback, unsure if she was still upset with him from the nights before, all while trying to make sense as to why Micah had set her up. 

“I-I’m sorry Kate,” he pleaded, “I shoulda been here,” his voice was laced with remorse. His strides quickened as he closed the distance between them. Kate's heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice, but she knew she couldn't stay.

“It’s not your fault,” she reassured, “but I have to leave.” She decided in the moment, ripping the bandaid clean off. She longed to stay with Arthur and the gang, but she no longer wanted part in this trouble. “Goodbye Arthur,” she bid him a solemn farewell.

“Kate,” he called out, desperation filling the air. He wanted to stop her, to grab her and beg her to explain what happened with Micah. But the look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, she had made up her mind. So all he could do was stand and watch as she rode off. 

She clutched at Lorena’s reins, taking off in the same direction as the wagons, intending to ride past them and make her way to Rhodes, hopefully putting enough distance between them so she could get her bearings and be on the move again. Her heart raced with adrenaline and disappointment. Things could not have taken a turn for the worst. 

She used the darkness to her advantage, slipping away from the wagons as they took a path down following the railroad tracks, while Kate veered off towards the twin stacks. As she climbed altitude she watched the wagons below, specifically watching Arthur take off behind them, his mare flying through the train of carts and horses like a butterfly dancing between flowers. 

She paused for a moment, letting herself consider that perhaps she wasn't just running away out of fear, but something else as well. She thought about the girls, and Charles, who had just become a dear friend after their hunting trip. She thought about Abigail, who must be clutching little Jack close to her heart at this moment, praying John will see his family out of this alive. Her last conversation with Arthur still ate at her heart, so many words went unspoken that she wished she had said that night. 

Memories of her past came back in waves along with the painful throb of where she had been hit with Micah’s gun. Her fear, mixed with her disappointment and anger. A reminder of her own weakness. 

Yet, she decided long ago that she would never live in that kind of world again, where the weak would rather guilt the strong than become strong themselves. This world doesn’t care what the weak want. This world eats the weak. Therefore, she became strong. 

The sudden sound of gun fire dragged her from her thoughts, she rode farther up the slope looking for the source of the noise. She saw in the distance the tiny images of wagons and horses, and a group of raiders descending to their location.. 

Gripping the reins with such ferocity, Lorena reared on her hind legs as Kate spun her around and took off back down the slope. She would not let death sink its venomous teeth into the belly of another. 

[ysoandi]

Y/N: I still have no idea how I’m attracted to you...

Negan: Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, and no take backs, honey.

[lady-phasma]

Hen embār masti (From the Sea We Came)

Part 1 of ? 2.7k words

Daemon Targaryen x Elaenya Targaryen (ofc) additional characters and family tree here

Warnings: none yet, slow burn, will be 18+ in future chapters

Prologue: In his 25th year, Prince Deamon Targaryen, with Corlys Velaryon, arranged to take the Stepstones from the Triarchy. Their forces succeeded and by 109 AC Daemon, age 28, styles himself Daemon Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea. He is to be crowned by Corlys, the Sea Snake, and then return to the Stepstones to take possession of the island Bloodstone. The coronation is to be held at Driftmark, celebrating both Daemon’s and the Sea Snake’s victory.

The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffside calmed Elaenya when her thoughts wouldn’t settle. She could listen to the raging water for hours, watching the fishing boats in the distance, the gulls swooping and swarming around them. She would slip away at the first opportunity, before her morning studies or while the rest of the castle lunched. She and her older brother had duties and obligations, but were allowed free rein of Driftmark and its shores. Her mother, Maela, was the youngest of Corwyn Velaryon’s four children, and Elaenya and Laerys, his youngest grandchildren. They had fewer expectations thrust upon them. There were times when their station demanded they behave as a prince and princess ought, but that didn’t hinder them from exploiting unsupervised moments.

She thought back to times she and her brother had explored the cliffs and caves along the beach, how they would return to the castle with sand covering them from head to toe, pockets filled with pebbles and shells. She had a fortunate childhood in some ways, though not perfect, and had been spared the boring days at court in King’s Landing and the machinations of the royal family.

She stood up from her seat on the rock and dusted the sand from her breeches. The wind caught her silver hair and lashed it around her. She closed her eyes and relished the salt spray on her face. The sun was low on the horizon and the air had become chilled.

Elaenya turned back to the castle, walking slowly up the beach. She still wore the leather pants and thick tunic from her training that afternoon. Being far from King’s Landing had many benefits, not the least of which was the small glimmer of freedom she was allowed. With a plethora of male cousins and her brother she had fought, quite stubbornly, to learn everything they learned. When her mother had finally acquiesced to Elaenya’s demands to learn swordsmanship, she had been inwardly overjoyed and outwardly unbearable for weeks. She wasn’t allowed to train as frequently as the boys, nor as fervently, but she had a natural talent and practiced on her own. She had held a sword in her hand nearly every day since she was three and ten years of age. She fingered the grip of Elēdrar as she started up the stairs. They were rough-hewn on this cliff face and weather worn and there were many of them. She took her time climbing, enjoying the changing hues of the sky presaging sunset. Well before she reached the top, a screech jerked her attention skyward. Crimson, almost black, against the orange sky, Caraxes dove and announced his arrival. Elaenya bounded up the remaining steps, paying no attention to the exertion.

The stair landing opened onto a flagstone courtyard. She was dizzy from her strained breathing but had room for only one thought. Daemon turned at the sound of her footfalls

“Cousin!” she nearly squealed, sounding much younger than her eight and ten years. He smiled at her as he removed his helmet. He ran a hand through it, mussing it after having his helmet on for hours. Elaenya stopped short.

“Yes, cousin?” Daemon grinned at her.

“Well, you,” she stuttered, then smiled back at him. “You seem to have lost some hair, my prince.” She winked at him. He closed the distance between them and scooped her up in an embrace that lifted her feet from the ground. She hugged him back. Still trying to catch her breath, she looked toward Caraxes. He was eyeing them both passively. The dragon was exhausted.

“Shall we get you both settled?” She took his helmet from him, freeing his hands to unpack his saddlebags. She looked at the soot and blood on it and smoothed the plume down. It too was filthy. She would summon a squire to take care of his armor for him.

Daemon patted Caraxes’s snout as they walked off. Their hair and clothes whipped in the air as the dragon ascended and left the courtyard. He would find plenty of sheep or goats to eat before he rested. Elaenya walked ahead of Daemon as they entered the castle.

She doled out instructions to a waiting maid and requested a squire to assist the Prince with his armor. Daemon watched her with a prideful smile, but his eyes were tired. The journey was two days by dragon.

“I’ve had a bath and supper sent to your room. I trust you remember where it is?” she asked. She beamed upon noticing the way he looked at her.

“You’ve become quite a Lady since I saw you last. It wasn’t so long as a year ago though it seems much longer,” he was genuinely impressed, but teasing Elaenya was something of which he would never tire.

“Lady!” she scoffed. “Hardly.” She grinned and gestured to her filthy clothing. “I suppose I need a bath as well. I forget how to be a Lady unless we entertain guests. And if the rumors are to be believed, we will be having quite a few guests tomorrow.”

“Perhaps.” Daemon’s mouth twitched up at the corner. “I shall see you when we break our fast tomorrow?”

“Of course,” she replied. She kissed his cheek before departing for her chambers.

The fire helped to dispel the chill in the room but not entirely. It must have not been lit long. Steam rose from the bath water. Elaenya undressed impatiently. The evening sea air had seeped into her bones. She loved the way the water felt as if it burned when she first stepped into it. As she sank down into the tub, letting the day slide off her, she mulled over Daemon’s comment. She supposed she had become more confident with the servants and had learned more from her mother about her duties this year. This was inevitably the result of her mother’s intention to make Elaenya a desirable prospect as a wife. She groaned. She glanced to the corner near the hearth where Elēdrar was propped. Her Valyrian steel sword. It had been her father’s. There weren’t many in the family so when her brother had given it to her for her eighteenth name day she had been speechless. By all rights it should be Laerys’s.

It was a bit small for him. It had more sentimental value to him as he could remember more time with their father. However, Laerys had been bequeathed his own. His had come from the Velaryon lineage; Elaenya’s from the Targaryen’s. It fit her perfectly. She could wield hers one-handed if needed and could do great damage with two hands.

She let her eyes close as she rested her head against the back of the tub. She would wash when the water was cooler. For the moment she wanted to feel the heat. She gathered her silver hair behind her head, keeping it from the water and using it as a makeshift pillow. An unbidden memory floated behind her closed eyes...

Elaenya remembered how her sword had stopped midair, striking an unyielding object. She had turned around immediately and almost dropped it.

"Well, what do we have here?" The Dragon smiled down at her. All black armor and silver hair. He let the blade slide down his forearm, then gripped it, keeping it from falling to the ground. It had struck his vambrace when she had swung inexpertly.

She swallowed and was too embarrassed to respond. She could only blink up at him, then down at her sword in his hand and his helmet in his other.

She had been ten years of age the first time she had seen Daemon Targaryen up close. He tossed the sword in the air, flipping it to catch the grip. He turned it, making a show of inspecting the blade.

“They let you train with this, little one?” He flipped it again and handed it back to Elaenya, grip-first.

“Yes, only a bit, my Prince,” her mouth was dry. He seemed overlarge and certainly his reputation contributed to that.

“You’d do well to pay attention to your surroundings, cousin,” he grinned. “Watch where you swing such a deadly blade.” She laughed at this. They both knew it was a training sword with the dullest blade imaginable. “I shall leave you to it.”

He left unceremoniously. Young Elaenya watched him walk away until he entered the castle.

Elaenya made her way to break her fast the next morning. Her excitement propelled her down the corridors. The skirts of her pale blue dress flowed out behind her as she walked.

When she arrived at the hall, Daemon and her uncle weren’t present. She hid her displeasure with a genteel smile and walked toward the table.

“Good morrow.” She greeted her good sister, Rhanora, and brother, Laerys. She took her seat next to Rhanora as a servant brought her meal.

“You welcomed Prince Daemon last night, sister?” Laerys asked as he reached for the bread. He broke a piece off and handed it to his wife before taking some for himself, then handed the loaf to Elaenya. His eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief as they met hers.

“Thank you. Yes, I was on the beach when he arrived.” She gave him an exaggerated reproachful look. “How is the babe this morning?” Elaenya nodded toward Rhanora’s rounded middle.

“He was quite restless last night, but seems to have calmed today. I am ready for the little prince to make his appearance.” Rhanora stroked her belly as she spoke. It would not be much longer. Perhaps only a month’s time according to the Maester.

“Hopefully you may both have some rest before the festivities this afternoon.” Without meaning to, Elaenya rolled her eyes. She immediately flushed, praying neither of them had seen.

“Do you not approve of our cousin’s new title, El?” Her brother graciously winked at her, relieving her of the guilt that had begun to creep in. Laerys chuckled but it was clipped off when he looked up.

Their mother, Maela, had entered the hall. She smiled at them as she approached the table.

“Good morrow, Mother.” Elaenya and Laerys spoke almost in unison. Elaenya giggled. They had acted like they were still children, caught up to no good. Her mother kissed her fondly on the forehead before she sat.

“Good morrow children, Rhanora. Was something amusing, my son?” Maela didn’t look up from her task of buttering her bread.

“Well… yes, Mother, in fact, El thought Daemon’s coronation a bit of a farce.”

“I-“ Elaenya began in a huff, but her mother and brother laughed.

“Perhaps you should keep your opinions of your cousin confined to this dining table, El, lest someone mistake you for an usurper.” Her mother smiled at her.

Maela was a delicate woman but strong and fierce and kind. Her outward appearance and demeanor were every bit as regal as was required to marry a Targaryen prince. Before their father had died, Maela had smiled more often. Since then these intimate moments were the only times she seemed to slip off the twelve years of mourning which she wore like a cloak.

Maela had loved Gaemon Targaryen, their father, regardless of the marriage having been arranged. She was devoted to her two children, often seeing their father in their humor and playfulness.

“You look lovely today, El,” she said as she appraised Elaenya’s hair and dress. “More excited for the festivities than Laerys would lead me to believe?” She smiled mischievously.

Elaenya shot a sour look at her brother. She would find a way to repay him for exposing her to their mother.

“They will be historic, Mother,” she replied, not attempting to hide her smile.

Daemon and Corlys didn’t join them. Elaenya excused herself after she had finished her meal. She decided to go to the terrace to watch the arriving ships and the dragons. They, too, needed to break their fast and could be seen diving in the sea for fish that they rarely had access to at their homes.

She walked the corridors in no hurry. As she passed the library she heard voices. The doors were closed and she didn’t enjoy eavesdropping but she couldn’t help but hear Daemon’s agitated voice interrupt Corlys.

“-to Bloodstone. Tomorrow.”

Elaenya heard boot heels approaching the door. She moved away quickly, on through the corridors.

The ocean breeze was warmer than she had expected. She took a seat on a stone bench near the parapet. The dragons keened above and below her. Caraxes dwarfed her Saelys by half. Saelys’s teal coloring shifted between blue and green as she flew in the morning light. She watched Caraxes dive and reappear. A couple of newcomers circled and dove with them.

Bloodstone. Elaenya thought. She supposed it had not occurred to her that Daemon would go away so soon. Of course he would. Driftmark was not his home and only the war with the Triarchy had caused him to visit during the last few years. He and the Sea Snake would convene here when they needed to regroup or plan a new offensive. Those times were rare. None of the visits were long but she had spent every possible moment she could listening to them discuss strategy and tactics. More than once she had been their cup bearer in these meetings. The years had seemed to pass slowly with nothing remarkable happening between Daemon’s appearances at Driftmark.

He had spent most of his time there focused on his duties but after the councils he would walk on the beach with Elaenya. He would ask her questions about her training or Saelys or walk in comfortable silence. She didn’t prattle like young women were wont to do. Yet in all that time she had never thought about where he would be after the war ended. He had been a constant part of her life for three years and three years could feel like an eternity when your days were monotonous.

Elaenya gazed out at the ocean and let her mind wander. Soon she would be required to attend her mother and brother. Alongside them she would represent the Targaryens at Driftmark. What an odd predicament, she thought, to be loyal to her uncle and cousin and yet claim to be loyal to the Crown. Surely Daemon’s and Corlys’s actions were treason but she would heed her mother’s words and keep these thoughts to herself.

That afternoon, Elaenya took her place next to her brother in the hall. They stood to the side of the dais. Their uncle Corlys Velaryon sat on the driftwood throne. Every Velaryon who resided at Driftmark was present. The hall was buzzing with conversation. A few younger men laughed, the sound echoing through the rafters. The celebratory mood overshadowed the fact that Daemon and Corlys we committing a minor act of treason. Looking at the faces around the hall, she didn’t see any that showed displeasure. Everyone in attendance reveled in the victory.

A voice was heard above the others, asking for silence, and a wave of shushing flowed through the crowd. Heads turned to watch the young prince enter. His short, silver hair was raked to the side. His violet eyes focused directly ahead, not looking at the spectators. He looked smug even without a grin, but surely that grin lay close to the surface, Elaenya thought. She allowed herself a tight-lipped smile.

Her cousin stopped at the dais, not mounting the stairs. Silence fell completely as the Sea Snake stood. He walked to the edge and a servant met him, holding out the crown. The polished bones curved like those of a man’s ribs. Elaenya swallowed dryly at the unsavory thought. Daemon didn’t kneel, only bowed his head slightly.

“Let all present bear witness,” Corlys spoke loudly to the onlookers. “Daemon Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea.” The Sea Snake placed the crown upon Daemon’s head. Cheers and applause sprang up from the crowd. Elaenya wondered if it wasn’t a bit forced, overly enthusiastic. Surely not everyone was excited to see her cousin become a king.

Daemon raised his head and began to turn to face the crowded hall. As he did he caught Elaenya’s eye and proffered her a smirk that fell away as quickly as it had arrived. Heat rushed to her face but Daemon had already looked away. That single look had confirmed her suspicions: he knew exactly how much of a farce this had become.

To be continued...

[mentally-a-slut]

twenty thousand words into my poly charthur x oc fic, haven't even gotten to a kiss scene yet lol

in case anyone would like some details about the fic, it is a poly fic between my oc, charles, and arthur. they are all romantically involved, meaning charles and arthur are also dating. i will have eventual smut, but the development of their relationship and my character's story is the main focus. i have no real idea for the plot but i can tell you it won't follow canon, except for a few details. it's a fix-it fic, so no sadness allowed! i'm basically taking some details from the game and inserting them into the story, which is not going to follow the events of the game. (SPOILER IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IN THE GAME I AM ABOUT TO TALK ABOUT SOME MAJOR EVENTS) arthur, kieran, and sean will live in this fic, that is one hundred percent guaranteed.

i'm gonna be honest, i have yet to finish the game myself but i know most major events of the game, like who lives and dies. the fic will likely be spoiler free, except maybe some tiny details. since it isn't really canon compliant, i wouldn't worry about spoilers.

the main focus for this fic is my oc, and this is really kind of a practice thing for me to improve my character writing and development. so if you aren't interested in learning about my oc, this fic will probably be a little less interesting. however, there will be plenty of character interactions and relationships (romantic and platonic.)

for example, my oc is sean's older sister, so they obviously have a relationship. she's going to develop close friendships with a few others, including sadie and kieran.

basically, if you like banter and character interactions with a sprinkle of filth and fluff, you'll like my fic!

i will post a teaser for it if there is enough interest, so please comment/reblog or even send in an ask expressing your interest and i will post it!

side note, if you want a post explaining more about my oc, i will very gladly do so! let me know <3

[alligator-tearzz]

Why Didn't You Stop Me? Chapter Four

Masterlist

AO3 Link

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Chapter Four

By the time Rosa finally had the chance to gather her thoughts, the gang had packed up everything they had and loaded it all back onto their carts. She helped with making sure all the boxes and loose items were secure and hopped onto the back of a wagon with the girls. They started the journey down the mountain. Rosa was all too happy to leave the old town of Colter behind, but the cold still chilled her to her bones and made her muscles ache. She caught Charles’s eye sitting at the front of the wagon behind them and exchanged friendly glances.

The change of scenery felt like they were starting anew. From the stormy and challenging past to the bright and sunny future. Spirits were high among the gang and it was hard for Rosa to even think of her troubles at that moment as she felt the excitement radiating off the girls around her. She knew her emotions would bubble up later, but for the time being, she was content sitting among the girls, giggling and chatting about their hopes for their new camp.

“Oh I hope we have a river nearby, it’s drivin’ me crazy not bein’ able to wash up.” Mary-Beth said excitedly with her familiar midwestern twang. 

“Lord knows we need it, I’m starting to smell like a dead rat.” Karen retorted, sniffing herself and scrunching up her face in a sour look to emphasise her point, drawing out laughs from all the girls in the wagon.

“Well I just hope we’ll be able to do something for once, I don’t know how much longer I can deal with staying behind at camp sewing and cleaning.” Tilly sighed, then looked toward Rosa, “it must be so freeing, Rosa, being able to run with the men.” Rosa shrugged.

“I do appreciate it, though being depended on to contribute money all the time is rough. Sometimes men’s pockets are dry and I can’t do much about it. God forbid you tell Dutch that, though.” Rosa mused. The girls chuckled, but didn’t add much else to the feed the flames about Dutch. Their conversations eventually broke off into separate chats among everyone, then they all eventually extinguished, with Karen and Tilly opting to rest their eyes. Rosa and Mary-Beth read a book together, giggling and squealing over the plot, until a commotion behind them made their wagon stop. Rosa and Mary-Beth peered over the back of the wagon, watching as one of the back wheels of Arthur and Hosea’s wagon had fallen off. Arthur groaned and hopped off the wagon, walking around to bash the wheel back onto its axel.

They continued on, after Arthur assured them they didn’t need help, and Rosa settled back in reading with Mary-Beth again.

As they rolled onto the path cutting through a thick treeline, Rosa eyed Javier standing guard, who nodded to her and tipped his bowler hat. She flashed a smile at him then settled back into the wagon as it rolled past him, catching her breath she didn’t realise had run from her.

Rosa helped everyone set up, occasionally getting nosy, running her fingers over the ridges carved in Javier’s guitar, staring at the photo she propped up by Arthur’s bed, reading the blurbs of Mary-Beth’s books before getting reprimanded by Miss Grimshaw for dawdling. By the time everything came together, she was exhausted. The camp had a newfound sense of hope and excitement now, as everyone seemed to buzz about with more energy. Though the chill still lingered a bit, the new warmth gave Rosa a little pep in her step. She made her way over to the round table by Pearson’s wagon, sitting down to watch Tilly play dominoes with Arthur. 

“You wanna join, Rosa?” Tilly asked as she shuffled the tiles around. She had just beaten Arthur in the last round, who was shaking his head in mock disappointment. Rosa chuckled at his reaction and nodded, grabbing an empty domino rack then placing her tiles on it. “Can I just say, I am so glad Miss Grimshaw isn’t on our backs for the rest of today. I really needed this rest without worrying about dying from the cold.” Rosa watched Tilly place her domino down, and nodded in agreement with her. 

“I think she’s as happy as any of us to get out of that place. It’s been a rough few days for us.” Rosa responded, surveying her dominos and trying to figure out the best one to place down after Arthur chooses his own.

“I still don’t know what happened on that ferry, and no one seems to want to give me much information on it.” Arthur said, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes seemed to go off to the side in thought. Rosa and Tilly shared knowing looks, they had both confided in each other about the same thing. The most they knew was that it was going well one moment, then the next it wasn’t. They remember waiting on standby at their camp near Blackwater, then having to pack up and leave after Dutch had come back, his gravelly voice booming and instructing that they had to leave immediately. That’s when it felt like life had flipped upside down for Rosa. When Jenny wasn’t among the people who returned, and Lenny had strided into camp looking like his world had shattered, Rosa knew. She didn’t need to seek confirmation, she just knew, and she immediately went to gather Jenny’s belongings. She shook her head, trying to push back the memories again and ground herself in the moment. She stared at the grooves in the wood of the table, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Your guess is as good as ours, Arthur.” She responded. Arthur stared at her for a moment, then nodded, seemingly having more to say, but knowing it wasn’t the time. Tilly continued on with the game, changing the topic to the nearby livestock town, Valentine. It was supposedly a pretty lively town, though it was apparently covered in mud mixed with horse shit, according to Arthur, with his upper lip lifted up in a disgusted sneer as he recalled the smell from when he rode out to see it while the camp was being set up.

Rosa half-heartedly listened to Tilly pulling all the details she could about the opportunities for the gang in Valentine from Arthur. She focused her attention on the game, not participating verbally but nodding and smiling occasionally when the conversation called for it. The game finished with Tilly putting her fists in the air with a quiet whoop, celebrating her win and poking fun at Arthur’s domino skills, despite Rosa having even less points than him. Rosa smiled, trying to make herself seem as energetic as she could as she excused herself from the table and thanked them for letting her play. 

Slowly, she ambled toward a part of the camp that she had eyed since they had finished setting up. A log by the edge of the cliff, overlooking the beautiful scenery below them. She settled on the log, her eyes trying to make out houses, train tracks, water, anything to take her mind off the grief that had suddenly started bubbling up inside her. The unanswered questions about Jenny’s death and what exactly happened in Blackwater were slowly starting to eat away at her, now that she didn’t have the distraction of surviving through the gang’s days in the Grizzlies. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Javier’s all too familiar voice rang out from behind Rosa, and she whipped around to look at him, staring at her sheepishly, holding his guitar by the neck. She turned back around to stare at the scenery.

“You can sit here too, unless you want to be alone, but I’m not leaving because I was here first.” 

Javier chuckled, then sat next to her on the log, resting his guitar on his lap and strumming once to see if it was tuned.

“So welcoming, Rosa, thank you.” Rosa turned her head slightly to watch Javier tune up his guitar. Contemplating whether or not to keep talking to him.

Fuck it.

“I missed hearing you play, you know.” She said, still focusing on him tuning, occasionally strumming. He looked up to meet her eyes and grinned at her.

“Is that so?”

Rosa hummed. He smiled to himself as he looked back at his guitar. “Feels like forever since I played. It’s only been a few days.”

“A long and gruelling few days.” Rosa added, making Javier nod in agreement. Seemingly having tuned his guitar to his liking, he turned to meet her gaze again.

“Any requests for my first song at Horseshoe Overlook? Since you missed hearing me play so much.” He teased, and Rosa chuckled, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. She put her index finger on her chin and looked up at the sky, in a mocking display of serious thinking which pulled a hearty laugh from Javier.

“How about Angel de Amor?” Javier raised a brow.

“Such a solemn song for such a bright and happy camp.” Rosa rolled her eyes.

“Ain’t nothin’ bright and happy about our camp right now, Javier.” She looked into his eyes and his gaze softened. He seemed to understand her now. The losses from the Blackwater job still seemed to be hanging over everyone like a dark cloud, Rosa more-so than most. She had lost her closest friend, the woman who always understood her, the woman she could always count on, the woman she shared her deepest thoughts with over the burning campfires late at night. 

And so he played the song she requested. His fingers picking and strumming the strings adeptly, his eyes closed as he felt the lyrics he sang.

The lyrics, melancholy and heartfelt, describing a love that had slipped through Javier’s fingers, a love that Javier still mourned.

Together they sat on that log until the sun set, letting themselves mourn. Feeling what they didn’t allow themselves to feel before. 

Finding a silent pull toward each other amidst the loneliness of grief.

[hunterssm00n]

Natural Born Sinner / part 3 /

The Comedian has addictions too, and they include more than just cigars and violence. | Eddie Blake/OC |

part 3 of 3

also on ao3: here

*cw include dubcon smut, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, degradation, stalking, emotional/psychological abuse, misogyny, name-calling, breaking and entering, past abuse, dark themes*

౨ৎ

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

What will I say? / What will I do? / Maybe it's fear / That leads your rage / Maybe you're me, and I am you

He lurched both of them forward so she was thrown up onto her knees, pushed her face first into the peach colored tile wall, and she knew it was all over. 

With one surge, she was pushed face first against the tile wall, and there was barely a beat that went by before he pushed himself inside of her. The girth and length of him stretched her and filled her so good; she let out a wild animal sound that she'd never before made in her life. 

It was all over now. 

With that first stroke, all of her resistance had evaporated. It was all him now - he took over everything like he always did. He'd never left her mind. What was the point in even trying to make him? He was right; no matter what, it always ended this way. And when it was this good, what was really so bad about it? 

Her brain was all Eddie, Eddie, EDDIE!

She moaned his name, her body rocking against the wall in time to his steady thrusts, "I hate you,"

His breathe was coming out in hot gusts against the back of her neck, and he groaned when she used her inner muscles to squeeze around him, "I know you do," He didn't even try to argue with her - he always knew the struggles she had in her mind about him. He was, in fact, irresistible, something he prided himself on. "But ya also fuckin' love me." 

In between gasps, she breathed out, "That's a load of shit!" 

Eddie chuckled deeply behind her, "That's a real sexy thing to say right now..." 

"Shut up," she moaned out, her cheek against the tile shower wall. The man behind her reached around to her front to grope at her breasts, and she whimpered at the feel of his hot, calloused hands palming her sensitive flesh. She was close already, though she didn't want to be. That would just mean he'd won, once again. "Eddie..." But God, she couldn't help it. Everything was just so good, so fucking good - it was like trying to stop a train moving at a hundred miles an hour on a dime. 

As if he could read her mind, he rumbled into her hair, "We just fit so damn good, baby; we're perfect fuckin' matchin' puzzle pieces, that's why it feels so damn good all the time, every time, that's why I can't fuckin' stay away from you and you can't fuckin' say no to me - we're two peas in a pod, hun, uh, fuckkk," He said all of this while he was fucking her, her body bouncing against the porcelain edge of the tub. 

The whole time he was babbling just brought her closer and closer to her release that she knew would be one of many this evening. Her fight was steadily receding back to the recesses of her mind as her pleasure mounted and was brought to the forefront of her brain. EddieEddieEddieEDDIE-

"Oh, no," she moaned out, unable to stop herself.

Eddie Blake chuckled into her hair, taking pride and pleasure in her defeat, "Cum for me, 'Chelle,"

She let out another animal noise that she'd never made; one of pure pleasure and defeat as her sweet release exploded; he was right. She couldn't say no to him. Only he could bring her this type of pleasure, give her this kind of high. Only. Him. 

He slowed at her back as she came down from her orgasm, kissing her hair, her neck, her shoulders. She openly shivered at the feel of his scratchy beard on her soft skin, but it was a good feeling. The thought of defying him did nothing for her anymore; it had all been zapped from her mind with that first release. Her body that had once been held rigid against him with defiance was now liquid and compliant. Her limbs contained no further fury to fight at the moment. Maybe tomorrow she would feel different, but now, she didn't care. Right now was all about her and him. 

He had not come yet; he wouldn't for a while, she knew, and he gently turned her around in his arms in the bathtub and pulled her in to kiss him on the lips. "Baby..." She openly accepted his kiss now, the fight gone from her body, satisfaction having turned her bones to liquid and satiating her for that moment. His tongue met with hers and she let out a low moan against his lips, kissing him back lazily. The wet sounds of their lips meeting gave her a tingly feeling in her lower back, and she felt the familiar arousal slowly returning to her core. She didn't want to fight anymore tonight. She wanted to be with him like a lover, to enjoy his company like he was her boyfriend. She didn't want to fight anymore; she just wanted him.

This was it. He'd broken her down once again.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and accepted his embrace, pressing her damp breasts against his equally damp chest. The hair on his chest tickled her nipples and she tried to scoot her lower body closer to his across the bottom of the tub. It was easier said than done; the bath was barely big enough for one person, let alone two people, and one of them being built like a linebacker. Bed. Move to the bed. The thought made her breath quicken and her throat suddenly parched with thirst for him, and she started to rise up out of the bathtub, her hands not letting go of him. He must have misunderstood because he held fast to her waist as she tried to stand up off of her sore knees that she knew would have bruises all over them. "Where you goin'?" came his rasping voice, sounding ferocious, his brown eyes alight with a dangerous fire.

She gulped, her breaths coming heavy with her own arousal, chest heaving, "I- There's more room in the bed," She barely got the words out before he rose up out of the water, holding her body flush against his and pulling her up with him. Apparently she didn't have to tell him twice. When they were both standing and she was flush against him and she realized once again how much he towered over her, how much bigger his body was than hers, the musky smell of him permeating all of her senses. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn't he be disgusting, not charming, not handsome? It wasn't fair. Maybe a stronger woman could resist him, but she wasn't that woman. She wanted him and there was nothing she could do about it. 

Between her legs ached, and she rose on tiptoes to press her hips against his to try and relieve some of the pressure, hoping his cock would slide between her legs and rub against her soaking wet lips.

"Thought you wanted to go to the bed?" One of his big hands tangled into her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck, She let out a wordless whine as he licked a hot, wet line up her neck to her earlobe, where she felt his scruffy chin scrape her skin deliciously. "That's okay, we can go there after."

After?

Then he hoisted her up into his strong arms without warning, her thighs on either side of his hips and his hard flesh pressed against her core. Moaning with need as he pressed her back against the wall, she gripped his broad, sinewy shoulders with both hands as he pressed his hard, steel rod into her glossy opening. "Ohh, fuck, doll, you're so fuckin' wet," he groaned as he began thrusting at a steady pace. The pleasure between her legs exploded almost immediately, and her head lolled back against the tile wall, desperate sounds of pleasure winding their way out of her throat. "Fuck yeah, this what you like baby? Is this what you want?" he huffed as his hips bounced against hers with a wet slapping noise. He spread her open so exquisitely, fully filling her to the brim and giving her a sensation of being stretched that was unmatched. No one else could make her feel like this. Yes she did like this, yes this is exactly what she wanted. At this angle he was grinding against her clit, and with a shriek she came again, her walls clenching down on his cock and her nails digging into his shoulder sinew. "Yes baby yes," His hips stuttered against hers, and he gave a final hard thrust as he spilled himself inside of her. "Oohhh fuckkk," He grunted and held them both there for a few minutes, both of them and trying to catch their breath.

And then he said, "Now, what was it you were sayin' about a bed?" 

Michelle looked at him for a moment before she broke out into giggles - giggles like she was a fucking schoolgirl or something. She realized she was probably drunk on his presence; that was what she would chalk it up to. "You're insufferable." She shook her head, but couldn't help the smile on her face. 

"I'll show you insufferable, baby," With that, he hoisted her up into his arms so they were no longer leaning against the wall in the bath, instead he was supporting them on his two legs with her in his arms. He leaned in to kiss her, his tongue lapping at hers as he stepped out of the bathtub with her in his arms, his large hands holding onto her thighs and ass to keep her elevated in his arms. She kissed him back with fervor, not caring about anything else at the moment. She just wanted to enjoy his presence like he was a normal man, and she was a normal woman. She knew it was hypocritical of her to be cursing his name one moment and (screaming it) kissing him the other, but right now she simply did not care. He'd made her come more than once tonight so far, and she knew he was bound to make her come plenty more times this evening. Heaven knew they had a long night ahead of them; she just wanted to relax and enjoy it without feeling guilty or angry at him, or herself. She was just too damn tired to keep up the act tonight. His presence had a way of doing that to her.

She felt a cool, hard surface under her backside, jumping a little at the unexpected contact, and when she opened her eyes she realized he had walked them into the kitchen and had placed her down on the counter top where he'd first cornered her. 

"This is where it should have happened first." 

The hair on the back of her beck rose, and she knew what was going to happen before it even did. "Eddie-" She was cut off by him leaning down and taking a ripe nipple into his mouth, lightly scraping his teeth across the hard bud. Much like before, she leaned her head back with a smack against her cabinets on the wall, a hiss of pleasure escaping through her teeth. She felt his calloused fingers trailing down her hips, over the tops of her thighs to slip between them, coaxing them further open. She anticipated the feel of those fingers on her core before it even happened - she was practically holding her breath in anticipation. At the first swipe of his fingers on her soaked cunt, dripping with their mixed fluids, it was like a zap of electricity that shot through her whole body. Despite him already just having made her come - a few times - every touch of his fingers felt brand new, like she was a virgin all over again, and he was going to he her first lover. Any other lover she'd ever had couldn't hold a candle to this man, and that was a fact. 

She nearly jolted off of the countertop and onto the floor when she felt his lips replace his fingers, and a gasp came from her throat that she couldn't control. One of his hands reached up to fondle a breast while the other held her thigh open so he could better reach his target. He wasn't kidding when he said he was insufferable. He was literally eating her out on top of her kitchen counter. The surface underneath her was going to be disgusting tomorrow morning, covered with a mixture of water, her fluids, his cum and saliva. That thought came and went quickly though, as it was hard to focus on anything other than the immense pleasure she was feeling. 

He sucked her clit into his mouth, hard, and her body jumped like she'd been zapped. She moaned loudly, the combination of his tongue and fingers and scruff of his beard making her so aroused. "Eddie..." 

He rose from his place between her legs, his hands remaining on her hips. He kissed up her body until he got to her lips, and she could taste herself on his tongue, mixed with his own semen. Their mingled fluids were steadily soaking the countertop she was sitting on; she could feel the slick mixture between her thighs and under them. He was vile, but she would have been lying if she said that wasn't attractive to her. From him, at least. She would have never let anyone else do this to her; never let anyone else do half of the things they had done to each other. 

Suddenly he pulled her up off of the counter, her backside sliding easily across the surface from the liquids pooling underneath her. She expected him to pick her up and carry her to the aforementioned bed. She was surprised again when he set her on her feet and turned her around so she was facing the counter and the cabinets, and she realized, at this moment, he wasn't quite done with her here yet. With one big hand on the middle of her back, he pushed her facedown onto the wet surface, her heavy breasts mushing into the puddle of sticky liquid. 

"Tell me you want it," came his lust shredded voice from above and behind her. 

Had she more will to withstand his power, maybe she would have held out further. He was too strong; too good. And he knew he could break her into pieces. Maybe he wouldn't have wanted a stronger woman. Maybe he thought she was perfect just the way she was. Why did that thought sound so right, so good? Especially since it couldn't have been true; Eddie Blake had hundreds of women chasing him at all times. How did he do this to her? Why did he have this effect on her? 

She gulped, but didn't say anything. The words were still caught in her throat, surprisingly enough. Even after all they had done so far, this was the part she was having trouble with. Because he was such a narcissist, he wanted her to tell him exactly how much she wanted him - as though he couldn't see her right here, naked and willing before him, dripping with water and sweat and various other juices. God damn him.

"Please, Eddie, cut the shit and just..." 

He rubbed the tip of his cock against her entrance, already hard again. She highly doubted he was ever soft. He felt so good just brushing against her slit; she thought she would die if he didn't push himself inside of her.

"Just what, baby?" 

She laid her forehead down on the cool surface she was bent over, and growled out, "Just fuck me, goddammit." 

His laughter came from the same place that his voice had, somewhere above and behind her, His big hands grabbed hold of her hips, lining himself up with her entrance. "With pleasure." And then he entered her with one big shove. Immediately he began a rough, fast pace, his hips smacking hard against her backside and making a wet slapping noise of skin on skin in quick succession. One hand stayed on her hip while the other reached up and grabbed the back of her neck to keep her chest down on the countertop. Her chest made wet squeaking noises on the damp surface as her body forcefully rocked with each hard thrust. He wasn't holding back now. 

"Is this what you like, bitch? Huh?" he ground out. This was the real Eddie Blake. Rough, not gentle or loving. A cold bastard. And god she loved it. All she could do was moan his name over and over and over. She felt herself getting closer with every earth shattering thrust. She knew her whole body would be sore tomorrow; knew there would be bruises everywhere. But she also knew it would be worth it. 

"Eddddiiiiieeee," Her voice was jumbled from the forceful pounding her backside was taking by his hips, brutal and uncaring. Justified by his own proclamation in his constant state of self-righteousness. He was owed something by the world, according to him. And this was just him simply taking what he was due. 

Her poor pussy ached, and she couldn't tell how many times she had come around his cock as he'd been pounding into her on her kitchen counter, but from the squelching noises where their bodies met and the rivulets of sticky liquid running down her legs, she knew it had been quite a few times.

"Who's fuckin' pussy is this?" 

"Y- Yours," She sounded drugged, her words slurred. 

"Who's?" The hand that had been on her hip smacked her ass cheek, hard. There would be a mark from that tomorrow, too. 

"Yours, Eddie, it's yours." She felt heat rising once again, and she moaned, her fingers gripping the edges of the countertop she was being rutted against. She was a tough woman, she thought - she shouldn't enjoy being degraded like this. 

"That's what I fuckin' thought." He said this with each hard thrust. That's. What I. Fuckin'. Thought. 

Without warning, her orgasm overtook her, as the main railing into her was practically yelling: "Say my name, baby!" 

"Eddie! Eddie!" she shrieked out, and he gave one last final shove into her with a shout as he came as well, his hot seed filling her womb once again. 

Michelle was completely exhausted. She could hear Eddie behind her sounding none too lively himself as the two of them each tried to catch their breath. After what must have been a few minutes but felt like mere seconds, she felt herself being lifted up off of the countertop. Her legs were so tired and sore she didn't know if she could stand, but somehow she did. Her knees wobbled as the man behind her took her hand and turned her around, then led her towards the bedroom - her bedroom. She was too tired to protest as he opened the door and walked the small expanse of the room until he got to her bed. Lazily, he flopped down onto her mattress, and she couldn't even muster an eyeroll at the self satisfied grin on his lips. Everything was almost a blur at the moment, she was so tired. He pulled her down onto the bed with him, got her pillows situated, got them both snuggled under the covers, and she could feel sleep pulling at her as she laid against his warm skin.

Tonight, she would pretend. But just for tonight, she told herself as she drifted off into slumber. 

"Damn, I missed you, doll." came his voice near her ear, also sleepy with satisfied lust.

She had missed him, too. 

౨ৎ

AN: I do not own the Watchmen franchise or any of it's characters. Michelle is my own OC. I also do not own the song 'Natural Born Sinner' by In This Moment. The above photos are from pinterest, and have links attached to the original posts.

[fizzyxcustard]

Never.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairings: Eleventh Doctor x OC

Warnings: Angst, insecurity, sadness, smut, first person POV

Summary: Sarah has been travelling with the Doctor and has fallen madly in love with the Time Lord. Will their feelings finally get the better of them?

Comments/Notes: I wrote this fic around 2014/15 and it is currently up on my AO3 page for reading, but I thought I would try it here and see how it goes. This is part 1 of 5, in a series called 'Cup of Tea and Jammie Dodgers'.

Currently I am keeping the tag list for this series completely separate from my main Follow Forever tag list, so if you'd like to be added to this tag list for Doctor Who, please let me know.

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

It didn’t matter how many times I tried to convince myself that he could love someone like me, I knew he never would. I was a mere human, nothing special, nothing fantastic. A man like him deserved an exotic woman from a distant planet who could match him mentally with her expertise in time travel and higher than average IQ. I couldn’t deliver on any of that. I was just a mediocre, run of the mill woman from central England.

The Doctor had come into my life quite by accident. He’d been the one to pick me up from a dark place and took me to the stars – literally. Over the time we’d travelled together in the TARDIS, he’d spoke of his previous companions and all of them seemed to have something to offer. But I just couldn’t see at all what had called him to take me to other worlds. Maybe I should have asked him as it was something I’d never brought myself to ask.

The last two or three days I’d tried my best to keep myself to myself while I let this confusion in my head unfold. Each day I’d retire quite early to the library or pool and so far he hadn’t really noticed. He was his usual self: bouncy, child-like, but always had that all too familiar sadness sitting behind his eyes. I’d only seen him cry once, but he’d smiled through the tears, pretending that he was being silly. But, to me, he’d never be silly. He was the most amazing man I’d ever known, and I’m sure everyone else that had met him thought exactly the same. So...why would I be any different?

The TARDIS, so far, had been big enough for me to hide. But not anymore. I was sat beside the pool, listening to my own thoughts, when I heard a gentle calling of my name. And there he was, stood in the doorway. When I first met him he hadn’t been the kind of man I’d have fallen for; he was boyish in his appearance with floppy hair, continuous hand gestures and a mad bowtie. Behind that and he was so much more. He was freedom, hope and a reason to live life expectantly. Since stepping on board the TARDIS, I woke up awaiting the wonder of a new world or the echoes of someone’s forgotten past.

He placed a freshly brewed cup of tea and a packet of Jammie Dodgers on the table beside me. His shoes squeaked on the tiles as he spun on his heel and sat on the edge of the recliner next to me.

“You don’t look dressed for swimming,” he said softly, looking at my attire of jeans and blouse.

“You never know what I might have hiding under here,” I laughed, looking down at my blouse, but as soon as I’d let the words fall off my lips, I realised my stupidity. I’d never been one to talk provocatively, no matter how hard I tried.

The Doctor let his expression gradually turn to a sad smile as he seemingly forgot my comment. Maybe he hadn’t seen the innuendo of it.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked. “I had noticed even though you always tell me I don’t seem to notice anything.”

I sighed and shifted awkwardly in my seat. I wanted to tell him so badly how I felt. Every time I caught sight of him and I felt the butterflies set up residence in my stomach. I’d always been so guarded when it came to men and allowing myself to fall for them. There were still old scars inside me which hadn’t quite healed over completely. One of these scars was due to an old fiancée who had fallen out of love with me. He’d grown distant from me, finding more happiness in the company of others until he broke the relationship off. Maybe he hadn’t been the one so to speak, but he made me feel like I fit in with everyone else. With him and I could tell everyone that someone loved me. I could be like all my old co-workers and ex-school friends who I accidentally bumped into on the street. With the Doctor...oh, it was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Unknowingly, he’d taken me from that need to be ordinary and like everyone else, transforming me into something else. I was different now. I travelled through time and space with a mad man in a blue box. What was normal about that?

How could I just let everything spill out? I suddenly felt hot and flustered. I needed to run.

I got up from my seat quickly, ignoring his protests for me to come back. The tears began to fall down my cheeks and a lump rose in my throat.

Suddenly I felt his hand around my arm and I was turned quickly, although not forcefully.

I looked into his eyes, those deep set eyes that had become so beautiful to me. Gradually I backed up against the wall, but he stepped forward, keeping the distance between us minimal.

My heart thundered in my chest and I looked down, unable to keep eye contact. “You’re playing with me,” I said sternly. “Stop it!”

“Somehow I believe you’re the better one at teasing,” he replied. His eyes had grown darker with something I couldn’t, in that moment, admit to seeing there. I just couldn’t admit it to myself that he might possibly feel something for me.

Then he raised his hand and cupped my cheek, his thumb gently rubbing away the one tear that had clung there. “My dearest Sarah,” he whispered. “You just don’t see it. None of it. You think beauty lies in the constellations, nebulas and galaxies. But I see all of that when I look in your eyes.”

“You chose me to travel with you, but why? Everyone else that you’ve had as a companion has had more about them...”

“Shhhh,” he said, growing agitated. “There’s a reason for each one of you passing through those doors. The TARDIS knows who I need, and she chose you for me, Sarah.”

How could he speak to me like this when he was married to River Song? Did Time Lords have a twisted idea of marriage and then sneak off with concubines? He was confusing me, and I think he sensed that.

“Doctor, you’re married to River. Why do you think I’ve kept away from you?” I asked, moving aside and out of the door. “How can I stand in front of the man I love day after day and know nothing can ever come of it? I age and die, you regenerate. It’s as though life enjoys playing sick games with you.”

I dashed down the corridor, trying to find my way back towards my room, but each and every time I attempted to get away, I kept coming back to the entrance to the pool. The Doctor stood there with his arms crossed.

“You know how the TARDIS works, Sarah. Don’t keep running away. You need to face up to problems in your life rather than keep running,” he told me.

“Oh, you’re a fine one to say that to me seeing as you took me from home!” I shouted. “You run from your past every day, Doctor. And you stand there preaching to me about it.”

I could see the frustration growing on his face and with no other words spoken he approached me quickly, and kissed me.

I tried to pull away but he had his hands on my cheeks, keeping me against him. As his lips moved, I knew I couldn’t keep the running routine up. He weakened me and I stood there completely defenceless, responding to his kiss. My arms wound around his waist and I groaned beneath our locked lips.

Gradually we parted, our breaths heightened.

He smiled at me and then pressed his forehead against mine. “Never think you’re unimportant. Never!”

*

The Doctor excused himself from my company a short time later, promising to come and see me once he’d taken care of some calculations and such in the main console room.

I took a quick swim and then had a shower, washing all of the chlorine out of my hair. But all the way through I couldn’t take my mind off the Doctor. Smiles kept coming out of nowhere and I must have looked like a lunatic to anyone watching. However, I knew I needed to learn of his intentions. Where would any kind of relationship go from here? Or would it be nigh on impossible. For today I needed to forget it all and just enjoy the moment. Living in the moment for the sheer fun of it was something I’d never been able to do. My mind had always been locked on the future, stressing about the what ifs and maybes of life.

After the shower, I returned to my room only to find that the single bed which was against the wall had now turned into a double, centred amongst the simple furnishings.

What on earth was the TARDIS doing? I’d been told countless times how she needed to be sure of a person and only allowed those on board who were important and integral to the Doctor’s travels. What was the reason behind my presence?

I stepped further into the room and slipped a hand down onto the crisp, white bed sheets. A tingle shot up my back making me shiver. The Doctor... and me...in this bed.

The door shut behind me and as I turned I saw him. His tweed jacket was missing and his shirt sleeves were rolled up.

“Been busy?” I asked.

“Not as busy as I’d like to be,” he replied. “I think you’ll make sure I have my work cut out for me.”

One thing I knew was for certain: if I made love to him here, tonight, things would never be the same for me. I couldn’t let this be a one night stand. My heart was his, completely. But was his heart mine?

“Doctor,” I whispered. “I can’t.”

He smiled at me. “I know you enough by now to know why. Truth is, I know I’m married to River, but my heart...or hearts,” he began. He stopped and chuckled. “My hearts aren’t there. I care for River but not in the same way I care for you. In my last regeneration, I felt this way for someone else.”

“Rose?” I asked. I knew it was her. Sometimes the way he spoke about her made everything so clear. She’d been his first love. He’d speak about other companions from his last regeneration like Martha and Donna, but the regret and sadness wasn’t present in his voice like when he mentioned Rose. His previous companions from this regeneration, Amy and her husband, Rory, had been his best friends, sharing in so many of his trials and triumphs. Where I fit in, I didn’t quite know.

“But...I’m different, Sarah. In this form I have my memories, but the feelings disappear...some of them.”

“You said that you left a clone of yourself with Rose so she’d never be without you. How am I supposed to walk away from all of this without you? And I mean you as you are now.”

“Isn’t it better to taste love once even if it’s not meant to last, than never taste it at all?” he asked me.

All reason and control left me and I leaned up to kiss him.

My hands wound up in his hair as his drifted down me, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. I couldn’t help but let out a groan, momentarily feeling embarrassment, but that soon dissipated as I found myself being disrobed.

His lips inspected me carefully, inch by inch as we made sure no more clothing could get in the way. And shortly after, we lay amongst the fresh covers. He was leaning over me, kissing my neck passionately. I’d never seen him so primal and unrestricted.

I couldn’t help but arch my back as his lips travelled down my body, until he came to my inner thigh and it was then that I called out into the air.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” I said, trying to get the words out coherently between the feelings which were bombarding me.

He never spoke but instead began kissing back upward, seemingly not missing an inch. And as his face came in front of mine, I took his lips back against mine but felt him enter me at the same time in one swift movement. On instinct and in shock I groaned under the kiss, and then he reciprocated.

We began to thrust against one another, matching one another’s movements and as we did, he took my hands in his. I could feel the ascension to my orgasm beginning and it became so quick the harder we pulsed into one another, until finally, I felt that last turbulent wave hit me. Whilst the orgasm pulsed through me, the Doctor groaned against my neck, signalling his release.

Breathlessly, he withdrew and lay beside me.

We let our breaths come back to normal before the Doctor reached over and began tickling me. Instantly I laughed, pulling away, but he came almost on top of me, attacking me with his hands. My insides hurt as I laughed over and over, until I found a way to get at him.

I lunged forwards, still giggling and began tickling him back in retaliation. His laughter filled the room until we settled down to sleep.

*

I woke to find that the space next to me had become vacant and the Doctor’s clothes had disappeared. Sighing, I got up, re-dressed and decided to take a walk down to the console room. Maybe he was in there, hovering over leavers and gauges...as per usual.

This time the TARDIS allowed me to walk smoothly into the console room, where I found him. I stayed by the door, watching him grinning like a happy child and hopping around the system, chattering away. Now that I’d experienced what it was like to not only travel with the Doctor, but allow him in, I knew I’d never be the same again.

***

Doctor Who tag list: @asgardianhobbit98 @bookworm-with-coffee

[revolversandlace]

Author Disclaimer: All works contain adult themes that are not appropriate for minors and reader discretion is advised. All links are tagged appropriately for the themes that are featured, please ensure you read these prior to interacting with any works as you are responsible for the content you consume. 

RED DEAD REDEMPTION II

The Amelia Edwards Series - Blemished Silk (107k) | Tumblr | Ao3 | FFN | Wattpad

Arthur Morgan x f!OC 

 Amelia Edwards navigates the business hardships of America as she comes to rely on the unexpected help of a sullen associate living a life on the run. 

Corrupted Hearts (5.6k) | Tumblr | Ao3

Dutch van der Linde x f!Reader & Arthur Morgan x f!Reader 

A dangerous affair ignites within the Van der Linde gang, putting loyalty to the test as you and Arthur risk everything for love, only to face the looming consequences of your fiery passion.

RED DEAD REDEMPTION II

Moonlight on the Lake (9.2k) | Tumblr | Ao3

Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

After a night of drinking by the campfire with both Arthur and Charles, you convince the men to take a swim with you. It doesn't take long for the alcohol to take hold and to end up in a situation you never imagined was possible.

The Dangers of Summer (2.8k) | Tumblr | Ao3

Dutch van der Linde, John Marston, Arthur Morgan x f!Reader 

 Dutch asks you to rob a homestead, unfortunately the loot isn’t what you expected.

The Bite that Binds (3.9k) | Ao3

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader 

 You are the owner of a rich estate and you have hired Arthur for protection. During an attempted robbery you lock yourself in your chambers and await for his return.

HARRY POTTER

Our Pretty Little Condemned Souls (120k) | COMING SOON

Draco Malfoy x Ginny Weasley 

 The Wizarding World falls into darkness after Harry Potter's defeat, as Hermione and Ginny are captured and sent to Malfoy Manor. In a battle for survival against exploitation and betrayal, Hermione must summon all her strength to overcome her greatest challenge yet and save all that has been lost.

ORIGINAL WORKS

In Our Victory, We Are Hopeless 

 Elisabeth, a half-German, half-English SOE agent, must navigate the treacherous world of espionage in Nazi-occupied Berlin. As she poses as a high-ranking Gruppenfuhrer's mistress and spreads rumors of a fake resistance, Elisabeth's loyalties are tested, and she must question what it means to be on the right side of history.

[alicenwrites]

@badthingshappenbingo

Square: Hurt Caretaker

Fandom: Rusty Quill Gaming

Word Count: ~1300

A/N: I am trying to shake off the writer's block and dust. I have been listening to the Rusty Quill Gaming Podcast and have found muse in the medium. I will be using a random number generator to select the prompt. There will be an OC in most, if not all, of these posts. The OC is going to be a part of a bigger write that I am working on, and these are to help me get in the mindset for writing everyone. It will eventually be Zolf x the OC. Thank you for any feedback or comments.

The encounter had been more difficult than any of them had anticipated. Luckily, the group had defeated the men following them, but it had left Zolf injured, which wasn't good for the main healer of the group. He had tried to heal himself, but something the enemies used was affecting his ability to use magic. The group had found themselves in the middle of the forest. Cassandra had spent enough time with an apothecary to know that there would be herbs and flowers in the forest she could use to help Zolf. At least to the point that he may be able to heal himself with his magic.

Cassandra had decided she would need to head deeper into the forest to find what she was needing. The group agreed that Cassandra was not to go alone, concerned that there could still be enemies around. After a quick discussion, Sasha was the one to go with her as Bertie was not exactly the quiet type. They didn’t need to bring any attention to themselves. She had helped the others make sure Zolf was comfortable before leaving Hamid and Bertie to care for him.

The walk through the forest was quiet. Sasha was never a big talker and Cassandra was looking for what they needed. Cassandra had found a couple of the items they had needed before Sasha was the first one to break the silence. Which made Cassandra jump at the sound of her voice.

“Will he….will he be alright?”

Cassandra looked over to Sasha before turning her attention back to the ground. She stopped to pick up another herb, biting her lip to make sure to hide any discomfort she was in.

“I am going to do my best to make sure he is.”

Sasha nodded but it was a motion that Cassandra had missed. Her attention was on the gathering of the last herb that she was going to need. Cassandra smiled as she stood to her full height, suppressing a groan.

“I've got everything. Let’s go back.”

Sasha followed Cassandra’s lead back to their makeshift campsite. Sasha’s head seemed like it was on a swivel as she took stock of their surroundings. Sasha’s eyes fell on Cassandra’s profile. Even Sasha could see the worry lacing Cassandra's features as she looked over the items in her hands.

“You care for him, huh?”

Cassandra looked over to Sasha, surprised that she had picked up on that emotion. Cassandra thought she had done so well at hiding her emotions when it came to the dwarf. Besides, Sasha had not been the best at reading a room emotion wise to which only added to Cassandra’s surprise.

“I….”

Cassandra was unable to finish as they broke the treeline and met with a frantic Hamid.

“Zolf is getting worse!”

The trio ran back to where Zolf was. Bertie was leaning against a tree, completely oblivious to things around him. Bertie only seemed to care as he saw the others approach.

“Ah! Ladies. You have returned and I am bored. We should move on.”

Cassandra ignored the man as she knelt by Zolf’s side and checked on him. Hamid stood close to her, explaining the changes he had seen. She nodded and removed her backpack from her back with a wince but pushed past her own discomfort. Sasha had started an unnecessary argument with Bertie about common decency. Hamid had moved to attempt to stop them to allow Cassandra to concentrate. Cassandra was rummaging through her bag, ignoring those around her. She removed a pestle and mortar that she was thankful she had brought with her. She added the herbs and plants she had collected and began to ground the items into a paste. She looked up to the rest of the group, realization dawning on her.

“I’m going to need water. Bertie. Sasha. Why don’t you take a waterskin and find a nearby stream?”

Sasha and Bertie both look to Cassandra, stopping what they were saying but neither of them made any attempt to move or even acknowledge what she had said. Cassandra looked in her backpack and pulled out her empty waterskin and held it out to them in earnest.

“Please?!”

Sasha took the waterskin with a nod, glancing at Bertie before starting to walk off.

“Come on. Maybe you can find something to hit.”

Bertie followed behind Sasha, starting in on another of his ramblings. Cassandra sighed as she settled on her haunches and picked up the tools she had started to use. She took a deep breath to fight back the black that was starting to creep in on the edges of her vision. She looked up to find that Hamid’s gaze remained on Zolf’s face.

“Hamid.”

Cassandra waited until the halfling looked at her before she continued.

“Once they come back with the water, mix this poultice with some of the water, enough to fill this mortar. Then add three drops of nectar from this stem. Make him drink it.”

Cassandra could see the panic in Hamid’s eyes grow as she spoke, which was only confirmed when he started to speak.

“Wh-what?! Why…why me?”

Cassandra set down the mortar to make sure she didn’t drop it as more of her vision started to give away to the black. She moved the cloak she wore to the side, revealing a blood stain that was growing from where one of the attackers had stabbed her. With a fluke, the attacker had hit her in an opening in her armor. She let out a long, slow breath.

“Because I may not be awake…”

As she spoke, Cassandra could feel her body sway. Before she could say anything else, her vision became black and she fell over on the ground. She could hear Hamid yelling her name as she finally passed out.

Cassandra woke up with a gasp. A hand moved away from her side as the other hand was on her shoulder making sure she stayed down. The first thing she noticed was that night had fallen around them. There was a soft glow from a fading fire nearby, lighting up the features of the person hovering over her. She let out a soft sigh as her eyes met familiar green ones.

“It worked.”

There was a scoff. Zolf’s hand moved from Cassandra’s shoulder to the side of head, cupping her cheek. She glanced around them. She noticed two figures, Bertie and Hamid from what she could make of the shapes, had fallen asleep. Sasha must have been on watch, which made her wonder how long Zolf had been awake.

“Why didn't you tell anyone you were hurt?”

Cassandra chuckled, trying her hardest not to lean into the unexpected soft touch.

“Because I knew if you were healed, then you could heal me.”

Zolf shook his head, removing his hand from her face. Cassandra fought the urge to show her disappointment in the loss of contact.

“That was reckless.”

Cassandra smirked as she sat up with Zolf’s help. She could tell that the wound had been healed and raised a brow as she met his gaze once more.

“Worked though.”

Zolf rolled his eyes as he stood and walked towards the fire, bringing back some food and a waterskin. He handed her both items before settling back in the spot the group had made for him.

“Eat up then rest. We are going to continue at first light.”

Cassandra’s smirked turned into a smile as she watched him for a moment as he turned to his side to have his back face her. She took a deep breath before looking up to the night sky, thankful they all made it out of that situation even though she knew there would be others.

[summerontatooine]

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption)/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Karen Jones/Original Male Character Characters: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, John Marston, Sadie Adler, Abigail Roberts Marston, Jack Marston, Uncle (Red Dead Redemption) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut Series: Part 2 of Second Chances Summary:

Kate liked Charles Smith the moment she met him. Much to her intrigue, and frustration, he is always elusive about his past no matter how close they become.

Healing from heartbreak, Charles can hardly believe that the beautiful engineer Miss Kate Hale is truly interested in him. He thought the random questions she would ask him was just her being friendly but now he realizes that they're slowly learning about each other. The more he learns, the more he feels himself falling for her. It all feels like too much of a good thing and good things never last.

But when a killer begins stalking the people of Wittington, no one is safe. This masked murderer is attacking people at random during the night. The Hale's are at a disadvantage and know nothing about defending themselves. Will Charles be able to protect them?

@photo1030

[johndeerequeer]

The Pursuit of Greater Things - Masterlist

She leaned closer, drawn to him like a lighthouse in a storm. His eyes glittered in the dim lantern light like obsidian. Her eyes wandered his face like a horse cantering the plains, carefully absorbing every inch of his face, every line, every crease. From the freckles speckled across his cheeks from spending every day in the sun, to the scar on his chin she had yet to ask him about. She wanted to bring her hand up to his face, trace a finger along each of his features and commit everything to memory with her touch. She searched his face for a sign, something to tell her she wasn’t crazy. Something to tell her she should cross the distance between them and do what she so desperately wanted to do.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character 

Summary: Madeline Luella lived a life she was grateful for. When a distant cousin married into a booming family business in Saint Denis, she secured a job and ultimately, the life she’d always hoped for. She had independence, she had charge over her life, she had a future. That is until Madeline is left with bloody hands and a stained record. One minute she was filing papers in the office after a long workday, the next she was locked in the police station awaiting trial. Her misdeeds not only earned her a pair of shackles but a target on her back too. But, in a strange twist of fate, a pair of mysterious outlaws break her out of jail, and Madeline is given another chance. Not at a normal life perhaps, but maybe something greater.

Tags: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-ish burn, did somebody say ‘daddy issues’?, high-honor Arthur Morgan

Warnings: Mentions of attempted sexual assault, depictions of violence, blood, gore, etc., mature themes (Warnings will be put on specific chapters)

**CURRENTLY ON A WRITING HIATUS**

Chapters:

Jailbreak

Damnation

Welcome Wagon

Play Your Cards

Big Spender

Ambush

Former Sins

The Spoils of War

What Once Was

Showstopper

A Fine Night Indeed

Surrender

Respite

Read on Ao3

Read Spanish version on Wattpad

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 14 - A Hundred Months ‘Twas Flowery May

Summary: As Kate navigates Arthur’s recovery, she discovers that true strength lies within her trusted companions, finding relief in their unwavering support during the trials of his healing journey.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: ~10.6k words. Sorry this chapter took longer than I anticipated. It's more of a filler than anything, but lots of fluff/comfort nonetheless :') (trying out a new layout!)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist 

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Nearly three months had slipped by since Kate and Arthur's lives intersected on that fateful day at Emerald Ranch, though to Kate, it felt like an eternity. The days following Arthur's return with her had stretched out endlessly, each moment laden with uncertainty and worry. It seemed as if a hundred months could have passed in that single week alone, as Kate grappled with the ever-present fear that each day could be Arthur's last. Despite the relentless onslaught of challenges and worries, Kate found herself adapting to the rhythm of each new day.

Determined to provide Arthur with the best possible care during his recovery, Kate took to heart the doctor's instructions. She made it her mission to ensure Arthur's comfort, meticulously tending to his wounds and faithfully administering his medication. She gave him the penicillin each day, crushed and mixed with a spoonful of honey. And yet, every day brought its own set of trials, but Kate faced each one with unwavering resolve.

As Arthur battled against the fever that ravaged his body, Kate remained steadfast in her optimism. Though his skin burned hot to the touch and his body trembled with chills, Kate saw the fever not only as a sign of infection but also as a testament to Arthur's fighting spirit. With each passing hour, she held onto the hope that Arthur would prevail in the battle against the illness that threatened to consume him. Only time would reveal the outcome of their struggle—where victory hung in the balance between sickness and survival.

Kate tended to Arthur's needs with resolute care and devotion. She recognized the subtle cues indicating his thirst, gently offering him water-soaked cloths to moisten his parched lips, ensuring he stayed hydrated despite the challenges. When his stomach rebelled, she was quick to react, keeping a bucket nearby and assisting him to sit up, determined to prevent any mishaps like before.

The day following the doctor's departure, Kate took on the task of bathing Arthur herself. Knowing he would be more comfortable in clean skin. With a bucket of warm water and fresh cloths in hand, she ventured into his makeshift room, drawing the canvas flaps closed to provide them with privacy. As she worked, memories flooded her mind—recollections of the night Arthur had confided in her about his body, merely days before he would be tortured. He didn’t have to say it, but she knew he felt ashamed of the way he looked. Though the reasons why were beyond her, his body was perfect in her eyes. 

And yet, on that haunting night when she found him again, she had seen beyond his physical scars. His whole body laid before her, his most vulnerable secrets exposed from the cruel hands of fate. Scars carved so deep she knew they would reach his soul. Kate knew how violating it felt, and she vowed to respect every part of his body with tenderness and acceptance.

Regret weighed heavily on Kate's heart as she took in the sight of him, wishing she had expressed the admiration she felt for him during their intimate encounter. To her, Arthur's form was a testament to his strength, he was a strong man built to withstand the storm. But he was also gentle and soft. It was a canvas of stories waiting to be discovered. His body carried with it the song of his past, and Kate longed to hear it. 

Lost in her thoughts, she entertained fleeting fantasies of exploring his body with affection and adoration. Lips gently brushing over every insecurity. Warm hands wandering over every inch. 

Kate shook her head at the thought, jolting herself back to reality with the pressing tasks at hand. Blushing at her own thoughts, she refocused her attention on caring for Arthur, knowing that there were more immediate concerns demanding her attention. 

Deep down, she cherished the secret longing that stirred within her—a silent promise to honor every aspect of Arthur, body and soul.

Starting with his face, Kate delicately wiped away the layers of sweat and grime, unveiling the sun-kissed skin beneath adorned with a constellation of freckles. As her fingers trailed across his beard, she marveled at its softness, each stroke a tender caress. With gentle, wet fingers, she combed through his hair, untangling knots and brushing away dirt and dried blood, restoring its natural silky luster.

Moving down to his arms and abdomen, she carefully pulled back the sheet to reveal his stomach, noting the dampness of the blanket beneath him from sweat. Making a mental note to replace it, she reached for more cloth. The water, now cold, offered a refreshing contrast against Arthur's fever warm skin. Despite the chill, each touch was infused with tenderness.

Kate hummed a quiet melody, her touch gentle as she traced the cool cloth over Arthur's skin. His face twitched, rousing him from his slumber. Blinking wearily, he uttered her name, his voice a whisper in the dim light.

"I'm right here, honey. Need to sit up?" Kate's voice was soft, friendly. As if they were discussing the simplest of tasks.

Their eyes met, Arthur's still bloodshot but slowly regaining their vibrant blue hue. He shook his head, a silent response to her question.

"Did I wake you?" Kate inquired, her head tilted with concern. Arthur nodded, his weariness evident even in this small gesture. "I'm sorry, hon," Kate offered with a jaded smile.

"S’alright," Arthur breathed, his eyes closing again, reassured by her presence. "Feels good. M'really hot," he mumbled, words heavy with fatigue.

Kate hummed softly, dipping the cloth back into the cold water, letting its refreshing droplets cascade over his overheated skin. Arthur sighed in relief, savoring the cool sensation. "Feels good," he repeated, his voice muffled by exhaustion. "You washin' me?" he asked, words tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

"Yes," Kate replied honestly, her touch tender as she continued her ministrations. "Is that alright?" She was prepared to stop if he was uncomfortable.  

Arthur nodded once more, "S'rotten work, Kate," he murmured, the echoes of past torment still haunting his thoughts. His expression a mixture of gratitude and self-deprecation.

Kate paused, her hand resting on his now-clean cheek, he opened his blue eyes meeting her gaze with unwavering sincerity. "Not to me," she whispered, her words carrying a depth of emotion. "Not if it's you."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As the days passed, life in the camp gradually resumed its familiar rhythm. Kate, Lenny, and Sadie took turns tending to Arthur, but Kate remained a constant presence by his side, especially during the long, dark hours of night. Only swapping shifts with her trusted companions when she needed to eat or bathe. 

Arthur spent most of his time asleep, rousing only when he needed something. Kate felt immense gratitude for the assistance of Charles and Hosea, especially during the more intimate moments of caregiving. Their help spared Arthur any unnecessary embarrassment, allowing him to retain some semblance of dignity amidst his recovery.

Despite her body's protests, Kate stubbornly refused to leave Arthur's side for a proper rest. Nights were particularly challenging for him, the fever raging through his body like a wildfire, casting his veins in searing, white-hot flames. With just a week's supply of antibiotics remaining, Kate found herself praying fervently for them to be effective, desperately hoping they would be enough to quell the relentless onslaught of infection.

Arthur's evenings were plagued by haunting night terrors and feverish delirium, his mind a battleground of fear and confusion. He would often awaken in a state of panic, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he grappled with the phantoms that tormented his dreams. 

In the quiet of the night, amidst the shadows that danced around them, Kate would find herself stirred awake by the sounds of Arthur's restless slumber. His cries, soft yet troubled, echoed through the stillness of the camp, tugging at her heartstrings like a grim melody. With each silent hiccup, his face contorted in pain, resembling that of a child lost in the throes of a nightmare. It was a sight that weighed heavily upon her, casting a veil of sorrow over her weary soul.

Drawing closer to him, Kate would perch on the edge of his cot, her presence a beacon of relief in the darkness. With tender care, she enveloped his uninjured hand in her own, the warmth of their touch a fragile lifeline amidst the turmoil of his dreams. Her fingers traced soothing patterns through his tousled hair, a gentle caress to ease his troubled mind. In whispered words, she offered him a remedy, weaving a tapestry of reassurance around him like a protective cloak.

In those moments, as she sat vigil beside him, Kate found herself transported back to a distant memory, a bittersweet recollection of her infant daughter Lorena. The late-night awakenings, the cries for comfort that echoed through the still darkness—each moment a testament to the unbreakable bond between a mother and her child. Kate offered him the same unwavering love and protection that had once been bestowed upon her own flesh and blood.

Reflecting on those tender moments of bonding with her newborn daughter, Kate's heart swelled with a mixture of nostalgia and longing. The sleepless nights, the endless feedings, all intertwined with an indescribable sense of purpose and fulfillment. It was a journey marked by both exhaustion and euphoria, a testament to the depths of a mother's love and devotion.

As she gazed upon Arthur's sleeping form, a soft smile graced Kate's lips, her heart swelling with a bittersweet tenderness. The trail of tears that had once stained his cheeks had now dried, replaced by the tranquility of peaceful slumber. With a soft kiss pressed against his forehead, she allowed herself to be enveloped by the comforting embrace of sleep, where memories of her daughter awaited her in the quiet space of her dreams.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Arthur’s first week of recovery drew to a close, the camp adjusted to his absence, each member picking up his slack with newfound determination. No longer the camp's handyman, Arthur's absence was palpable, highlighting the countless tasks he once effortlessly juggled. Even before his injury, he never knew a moment's rest, always putting the gang's needs above his own.

The afternoon sun bore down on the camp, its intensity softened by rare clouds that offered brief reprieves from the oppressive heat of a July day in Lemoyne. Despite the welcome shade and gentle breeze, the air remained thick with humidity. In Arthur’s tent, Kate sat perched, using a folded newspaper as a makeshift fan to combat the stifling heat. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her, her eyelids growing heavy as she battled to stay awake, the weight of fatigue pressing against her.

Kate sat upright, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair, as the sound of John's urgent call echoed through the camp, accompanied by the quick patter of footsteps. "Jack! Get over here!" John's voice rang out, his own footsteps hastening toward the tent.

Suddenly, Jack's eager face appeared at the tent entrance, his eyes alight with excitement. "Uncle Arthur!" he exclaimed with a wide grin, poised to step inside before he was swiftly scooped up by someone outside, his protests muffled by the canvas flaps.

In Jack's place, John's weary face appeared, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, his arms occupied by the squirming boy. Jack wriggled against his father's hip, clutching a book in his small hands. "Put me down! Why can't I see Uncle Arthur?" he demanded with a hint of frustration.

Kate rose from her seat, bridging the distance between them with a reassuring smile. "It's alright. I can keep an eye on him for a bit, John," she offered warmly, her words soft and comforting.

John hesitated, lowering Jack to the ground. Uncertainty etched in the lines of his face as he glanced at Arthur's slumbering form. "Y’sure? I don't want to..." he trailed off, his grip tightening on Jack's hand, “trouble you.” He silently noted the tiredness in her eyes.

With a gentle smile, Kate reassured him, "It's no trouble at all." She crouched down to Jack's level, her eyes sparkling with kindness. "Did you bring Arthur a book?" she asked with genuine interest.

John sighed ponderously, ruffling Jack's hair affectionately before departing. Kate watched him go, a soft smile playing on her lips as she noticed John's growing presence in Jack's life.

"Papa Hosea taught me a lot of new words. I wanted to show Uncle Arthur," Jack piped up excitedly, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Kate's smile widened. "That's a wonderful idea, Jack! Why don't you come sit on my lap, and we can read to him together?" she suggested, voice warm with invitation.

Jack nodded eagerly, allowing Kate to lift him into her arms as she settled back into the familiar wooden chair. His gaze shifted to Arthur, a puzzled expression on his face. "How long is he gonna sleep for, Auntie Kate?" he asked with innocent curiosity. 

"I'm not so sure. He'll sleep as long as he needs to, I suppose," Kate replied honestly, gentle yet tinged with uncertainty.

Jack turned his gaze back to Kate with a worried frown. "Is he gonna sleep forever?" His voice trembled with a hint of fear, his young mind grappling with the concept of mortality.

Kate could sense the weight of Jack's question, knowing that he had been exposed to the harsh realities of life at a tender age. She struggled to find the right words to comfort him, to shield him from the harsh truth that lingered in the air.

"Arthur will wake up when his body is ready, Jack," she reassured him, offering a comforting squeeze. "Right now, he just needs all the rest he can get so he can keep up with you once he's feeling better." She playfully tickled his sides, coaxing a bright giggle from the boy as he squirmed in her lap.

After a moment, Jack's expression softened as he revealed his longing. "I miss him," he admitted softly, voice tinged with sadness.

Kate's heart swelled with empathy as she felt the depth of Jack's affection for his uncle. She fondly remembered Arthur's dedication to the boy. Abigail had told her how he stepped into the role of a father figure during John's absence from the gang. The thought of their bond being severed filled her with a profound sense of sorrow.

"I miss him too, Jack," she whispered softly, pressing a kiss atop the boy's head, her touch warm and comforting like that of a mother's embrace. "But I know Arthur would love to hear those big words you've learned." Her smile radiated reassurance, instilling confidence in the young boy.

Jack beamed back at her, his grin revealing a gap where his tooth had recently fallen out. With newfound enthusiasm, he eagerly opened the book, its size seeming comically large in his tiny hands.

"The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," he announced proudly, each word spoken with growing confidence.

As Jack read in her lap, Kate marveled at his proficiency, surprised by his advanced reading skills at such a tender age. Since the day she joined the gang, her mind recalled memories of Hosea's patient efforts in teaching Jack, a heartwarming display of mentorship and care that would surely be treasured by the boy for years to come. 

Kate entertained the idea that Hosea must have been the one to teach Arthur to read. She pondered this as her gaze drifted to Arthur's journal, a testament to his inner thoughts and reflections. Despite his reserved nature, Arthur was diligent in recording his thoughts, a habit that intrigued Kate endlessly. What tales did he document within those pages? Did he share his dreams or pour out his frustrations? And amidst it all, did he ever write about her? The questions swirled in her mind, a curious blend of wonder and anticipation.

Although Arthur's journal sat tantalizingly close on his bedside table, Kate resisted the urge to pry into his private musings. Instead, she harbored a hope that one day he would willingly share his thoughts with her, trusting her enough to confide in her the words he committed to paper.

Jack nestled comfortably in Kate's lap, his small frame relaxed against her chest, his feet swaying gently. The rhythm of his soft voice, intertwined with the gentle cadence of his breaths, lulled Kate into a serene half-slumber, the cares of the world momentarily forgotten.

Minutes later, her peaceful reverie was shattered by Jack's urgent grip on her arm, Kate jolted awake, her eyes snapping open in alarm. Startled, she sat up abruptly, her heart racing as she followed Jack's pointed finger to Arthur's cot. 

Kate's gaze shifted to Arthur, his discomfort palpable as he shifted restlessly, his brow glistening with sweat, signaling the onset of nausea. With a weary sigh, Kate sprang into action, moving him from her lap. She swiftly lifted Arthur's body while shielding Jack from the distressing scene unfolding before them. With practiced efficiency, she reached for the bucket, ready to offer relief to her ailing friend.

As Arthur lay back on his cot, Kate's gaze shifted to Jack, her heart twisting at the sight before her. Jack stood by the entrance, his book clutched tightly to his chest, his lips pursed and cheeks stained with tears. His big, sad brown eyes met hers, his voice barely a whisper as he choked out his question, "Is... is he going to die?" The words hung heavy in the air, trembling on his tongue.

"Oh, Jack," Kate murmured softly, lowering herself to her knees to meet his gaze at eye level. "Arthur's fighting with all his might. He just needs some time, sweetheart," she reassured him, reaching out to grasp his small hand in hers, her touch warm and steady, enveloping him in comfort. "And a whole lot of love," she added, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Jack nodded somberly, wiping away his tears with a sniffle before darting off without another word. As the tent flaps billowed in his wake, Kate sighed, understanding his fear but determined not to let him dwell too deeply on Arthur's condition.

Kate eased back into her chair, a low groan escaping her lips as she massaged the soreness from her back, her fingers kneading the tension from her shoulders as she rolled her neck. Suddenly, a groggy voice broke the silence, startling her from her trance. "Did I scare the kid?"

Arthur's tired pink eyes met hers, a hint of blue returning with each passing day. Kate offered him a solemn smile. "He'll be alright. You need somethin’?" she asked gently, weariness lacing her words.

Arthur let out a deep sigh, his good hand dragging down his face in a gesture of fatigue. "I feel like I'm losing my mind, Kate," he confessed, his voice raw with honesty. "I don't feel like I'm in control."

Kate's expression softened with understanding as she realized he was speaking about his night terrors. Tainting his once quiet evenings with haunting shadows. "It's just the fever, Arthur. The dreams will fade with time," she reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

Arthur glanced up at her, his eyes tinged with sadness, and she sensed the weight of his torment mirrored in his gaze. "Seems all I’m good for is makin’ people suffer, and it’s finally caught up to me."

“I don’t think that’s the case Arthur,” she added soothingly, leaning closer to him. “You’re suffering is not a punishment, it’s a second chance.” Her thumb traced gentle patterns against his warm skin. Lulling him back into a blissful slumber. Her sweet words like a sugar cube, disappearing into the heat of a dark cup of tea. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the evening air took on a refreshing chill, carrying the aroma of Pearson’s savory beef stew. Kate’s stomach, stirred by the tantalizing scent, demanded attention, and she finally complied, settling into her chair beside Arthur’s slumbering figure with a steaming bowl cradled in her lap. With each spoonful, the warmth of the hearty stew spread through her body, offering relief amidst the trials of the day.

With dusk settling in, Kate made the decision to open the tent flaps of Arthur’s makeshift shelter, inviting in the cool embrace of the summer night. The once stuffy confines now filled with a gentle breeze, carrying with it the symphony of the wilderness awakening with the ascent of the moon. The chorus of crickets, the rhythmic chirping of cicadas, the haunting calls of owls, and the resonant croaks of bullfrogs formed a comforting backdrop to the solitude of the evening.

Amidst the serene ambiance, Kate discerned the approach of two sets of footsteps, drawing closer to Arthur’s tent with purposeful intent.

"Hey Kate," Bill's familiar, slurred voice cut through the evening calm, accompanied by the shuffling footsteps of Micah behind him. Kate let out a weary sigh, her hopes of enjoying a peaceful meal dashed by their unwelcome intrusion.

"Seems Arthur’s gone and turned himself into a real crybaby," Bill jeered with a drunken swagger, casting a mocking glance at Micah. "Think when she’s done playin’ nursemaid, she’ll wipe my ass if I get shot?" His words dripped with alcohol-infused arrogance, punctuated by a bitter laugh that grated on Kate's nerves.

Kate leaned back in her chair with casual indifference, reaching an idle hand for her pistol that rested on Arthur’s table, “you wanna find out?” She retorted, her voice cool and composed, tinged with a hint of warning.

Micah chuckled at her bold response, while Bill's face flushed with embarrassment, his drunken bravado deflated. "Relax, princess," he muttered gruffly, “was just pokin’ fun.” He retreated back to his seat by the campfire. Micah lingered near the tent, his hands resting casually on his gun belt.

Kate stifled a deep yawn, rubbing her face wearily. Feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her like a heavy blanket. Each movement was a struggle against the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm her. Micah's chuckle grated on her nerves as he closed the distance, casually leaning against the makeshift table that served as one of the walls of Arthur’s tent. He lingered like a pesky mosquito, buzzing around her head. 

"Poor little cowpoke is tired," he remarked with feigned amusement.

Rolling her eyes, Kate brushed off his comment with a sharp retort, "Spare me, Micah. I’m not in the mood for this."

Micah raised his hands in a mock surrender, his smirk still evident. "Just making an observation," he quipped. "Why don’t I take over for a bit? Me and Arthur got some catching up to do anyway."

Kate's response was swift and sharp, her tone laced with defiance, "Over my dead body."

Micah sighed, a moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them as he eyed her with suspicion. "How were you able to find him, anyway?" he asked, curiosity and skepticism coloring his words.

Kate's patience wore thin, her fatigue adding to her irritation. "Dumb luck," she snapped curtly.

Micah huffed, his disdain evident in the tilt of his head. “Sure don’t seem like he got too lucky.”

Kate's gaze turned steely, her eyes flashing with spite. "If only someone had spoken up sooner when he didn't show up after the parley."

Micah shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t call the shots ‘round here, sweetheart,” he replied dismissively, showing no hint of remorse for Arthur’s condition.

“Oh, really?” Kate shifted in her chair, facing Micah directly. “Because it seems to me Dutch has quite the worm in his ear.”

Micah's grin was wolfish, his amusement unsettling. “Care to explain that?” he challenged.

“I don’t buy into your games, Micah,” Kate spat, dripping with contempt. “And Arthur doesn’t either,” she added, gesturing toward the sleeping figure beside them.

Leaning in, Micah loomed over her, his presence imposing. “There’s no game, Kate. Arthur is nothing more than an old dog at Dutch’s heel, just begging for scraps,” he growled. “He’ll do whatever that man asks him to do. You’ll see that soon enough.” With a final tip of his hat, he vanished into the darkness without another word, leaving Kate alone with her thoughts and the quiet of the night.

Kate sighed, feeling burnt out as the weight of exhaustion settled on her shoulders while she observed Arthur's slumbering figure. "Quite the friends you got here," she murmured to him, words tinged with weariness. Yet, her moment of respite was short-lived as the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears once more. With a groan, she buried her face in her hands, bracing herself for whatever interruption was to come.

Turning her gaze towards the source of the noise, Kate spotted Jack hurrying towards the tent, dragging something bulky and hollow-sounding behind him. Javier trailed close behind, calling after the energetic boy. "Más despacio, hermano!" he urged, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Furrowing her brow, Kate strained to make out what Jack was hauling in the fading light of dusk. As he reached the entrance, panting heavily, it became clear—he was bringing her Javier's guitar. "Auntie Kate!" Jack called out eagerly, his small frame vibrating with urgency. Kate's heart softened at the sight, touched by the earnestness in the boy's actions. "You have to sing to Uncle Arthur!" he insisted, presenting the heavy wooden instrument to her with small mighty hands gripping its neck.

Kate's chuckle resonated softly in the tent as she cradled the guitar in her lap, its weight a comforting presence against her. Her gaze lifted to Javier, who had followed Jack inside. "Sorry for his antics," she murmured. Apologizing on Jack’s behalf for his uncanny thieving. Her tone tinged with a hint of amusement, "do you mind if I borrow this for a while?"

Javier brushed off her apology with a warm smile, his demeanor relaxed and jovial. "Little hombre insists your voice is the best medicine," he remarked. “How could I argue with that?” A fondness was evident in his tone. Stepping closer, he regarded Kate with a hint of concern, his brows knitting together in a silent question.

Kate's surprise flickered briefly across her features as Javier's hand gently guided her chin upwards. His touch was tender, filled with a quiet concern that spoke volumes. "Ay, cariño," he murmured softly. "Have you been getting any rest?" His eyes searched hers, Kate’s dark circles and tired hollowness not escaping his notice.

A reflexive instinct prompted Kate to pull away slightly, a feeble attempt to shield her exhaustion from Javier's perceptive gaze. "M’fine," she replied, her voice carrying a weary resolve. "Just a little tired, s’nothing I can't handle." Her reassurance was touched with the gravity of her fatigue.

Javier's worried expression softened into one of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the burdens she bore. With a nod of farewell and a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, he left Kate with her little companion.

Jack had nestled himself into Arthur’s cot, finding security in the space beneath his uncle's uninjured arm. Curled up like a beloved house cat, he nestled snugly against Arthur's side, seeking comfort in his embrace.

Kate's heart swelled at the sight, her lips curving into a tender smile. Jack's innocent affection for his uncle made her feel like she could endure every sleepless night if it meant they would be reunited again.

As she adjusted the guitar strings to her liking, Kate's voice softened to a gentle murmur. "Jack, sweetheart," she began, warm with affection, "where did you get the idea to sing to Arthur?"

A warm virtue radiated from Jack's heartfelt gaze. “Mama told me Uncle Arthur was having nightmares,” he said honestly, “you have to sing him a lullaby so he knows he’s safe.” His wide eyes reflected honey-brown in the low lamp light. Radiating a genuine sincerity. Kate adored how big his young heart was, and she prayed he would retain that kindness long into his adult years.

Her mind wandered to a cherished memory—the night Arthur had kissed her. The warmth of his touch, the tenderness in his eyes. Kate was lost in her emotions as she sang Jack to sleep, and Arthur’s presence was like warm sunshine after rain. Shrouding her in comfort and protection amidst the storming clouds of her loss. She began to notice that Arthur always brought out a tender side in her, one she had long thought vanished with the woes of her past. 

A soft chuckle escaped Kate's lips at Jack's earnestness, her affection for him overflowing. "Arthur is lucky to have you, Jack," she murmured, her voice filled with admiration.

With a quiet hum, Kate's fingers began to dance across the guitar strings, weaving a melody that echoed through the tranquil night air. Each note resonated with the quiet beauty of their makeshift home in Clemens Point, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of their nomadic existence. As she sang, the words flowed effortlessly from her lips, a heartfelt lullaby born from the depths of her soul.

I don't know what steps to take, I do the easy ones until it helps.

Little acts of conversation, I don’t think I really like myself. 

Am I comfortable in this silence, or is it eating me alive? 

Nothin’s ever really quiet when you need distraction to survive. 

It’s part of me, wouldn’t you believe it’s nothing? 

I’m already going under, nothing I can do but sit and wait.��

Are you really having fun, or do you like becoming what you hate?

Am I comfortable in this silence, or am I waiting till it ends?

You were just too stubborn to pretend. 

It’s all you need, to keep the rain from coming. 

I’m good at letting you go, I’m good at letting it get to me. 

I’m good at letting you go. No, you were never the enemy. 

Kate's fingers danced over the guitar strings, the soft melody lingering in the air even after she had stopped playing. Her eyes were fixed on the tender sight before her: Arthur and Jack, their bond unbreakable in the way Arthur's arm had moved to enveloped the small boy, a gesture of pure love and affection. Defying the trials of his torment. 

A heavy sorrow settled over Kate, like a thick fog descending upon her weary soul. The burden of her exhaustion pressed down on her being. Her eyes felt raw and heavy, strained by the lack of rest. It was a relentless force that threatened to overwhelm her at any moment. In the quiet of the tent, emotions swirled within her, a tempest of longing and love that stirred her heart. She fought the urge to surrender her resolve. 

Kate watched Arthur and Jack, a lump forming in her throat as she struggled to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to spill forth. It wasn't just concern for Arthur's well-being that kept her rooted to his side, but a deep-seated devotion that bound her to him in ways she couldn't fully comprehend.

As she looked upon Arthur's sleeping form, a pang of fear gripped her heart. The shadows of her past loomed large in her mind, casting a dark shadow over her hopes for the future. Like some divine conspiracy was once again taking a man of her heart from her grasp. But she had vowed to do better, to not let Arthur meet the same fate. 

Though exhaustion threatened to drag her into the depths of sleep, Kate remained vigilant, her eyes fixed on Arthur's face, her heart remaining unshaken to see him through the storm.

As her emotions threatened to spill from her tired eyes, she sighed and put the guitar down. In a moment of spontaneity, she reached for Arthur’s journal. Flipping to a blank page, she grasped his worn dull pencil and spewed her plaguing thoughts onto its pages: 

Dearest Arthur, 

As I write these words by the light of the moon Jack has curled up by your side, sleeping peacefully. He insisted that I must sing to you, to chase away those bad men that haunt your dreams. How could I refuse? His heart is as vast as the sky above, and he holds you in the highest regard. Oh Arthur, one of life’s greatest tragedies, is that you will always be loved more than you’ll ever know. 

In these quiet moments, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my life. I've come to understand the depth of my feelings for you. They have come on gradually from the day we first met and I have been ever so sweet on you since. 

Arthur, there are no words sufficient to convey what you mean to me. And yet, some part of me fears that you will never hear these words from my lips, so I commit them to these pages in the hopes that they'll reach you when you return to this journal.

I yearn to live an honest life, and never be cruel. A quiet life, where I can be good to you. A life filled with family and friends, where we soar like birds in the endless sky. But I fear we may never change, that we may never learn from our past. 

In my fleeting moments of slumber, I dream of a wooden house. Filled with our laughter and love. Where we can sit upon a porch swing, admiring the sunset. As we whisper to each other and say, “it was hard, but we made it.”

As challenging as it has been, to sit by your side in these dark times. My heart aches to see you back in the saddle, riding free across the open plains. To witness once again the spark in your eyes and the warmth of your smile, the very essence of the man I hold so dear.

You are a beautiful soul, Arthur Morgan, and I am blessed beyond measure to have crossed your path. If you'll have me, I will give you the beautiful life you deserve.

With all my love, Kate 

p.s. On my honor, your words contained within have not graced my eyes. They belong to you, and to you alone.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

With a weary sigh, Kate closed the heavy leather journal, the weight of its contents lingering in her thoughts. As she rose from her seat, she stretched her arms wide, her tired muscles protesting the day's strain. "C'mere, little love bug," she whispered softly, lifting Jack's sleeping form and cradling him in her arms.

Like a mouse with gentle steps, she navigated through the camp, the darkness enveloping her like a comforting shroud. Intending to settle Jack into his own bed. She returned to Arthur's tent, only to find Hosea occupying her usual spot.

"Evening, Hosea," Kate greeted, her voice soft with fatigue, though her smile held a flicker of warmth.

Hosea nodded in response, his gaze distant, lost in the recesses of his thoughts. "A fine evening it is," he murmured quietly, his tone tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Leaning against the post of Arthur's tent, Kate studied Hosea's weary demeanor, a pang of concern tugging at her heart. "Something troubling you?" she inquired, her voice laced with genuine curiosity despite her exhaustion.

“I can't shake this feeling that I should have done things differently,” Hosea confessed, his voice tinged with regret. “I raised him to be the way that he is. I’ve come to realize that my teachings were a death sentence.”

Kate took a moment to absorb Hosea's words before responding. “Hosea,” she began softly, “you've been a father to Arthur in ways that go beyond his actions. You gave him guidance when he needed it, and stood by his side. You gave him a home and the tools to navigate an unforgiving world.”

Hosea let out a rueful chuckle, tinged with bitterness. “Taught him how to kill and steal, and look where that got him.” He gestured to Arthur’s sleeping form. 

“Arthur was taken by Colm,” Kate gently reminded him, “protecting what he holds dear. Because he was taught to fight for his family.”

With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years, Hosea leaned back into the chair, his eyes fixed on his son's still form. The lines etched on his weathered face told stories of countless battles fought, both on the frontier and within himself. After a moment of silence that hung heavy in the air, he spoke up again, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that seldom surfaced.

“Do you mind if I stay with him tonight?” His request was simple, yet carried a profound sincerity that resonated with Kate.

She smiled softly, a tender expression that spoke volumes of her trust and respect for the older man. She would have hesitated to leave Arthur with anyone else, but she knew he was in loving hands with Hosea by his side. With a nod of understanding, she gathered her belongings, preparing to take her leave. But before she could step away, Hosea called out to her once more.

“By the way,” his voice carried across the dimly lit tent, “Abigail is looking for you. I believe she’s over by the chuck wagon.”

As she stepped out into the cool night air, the stars above seemed to twinkle with secrets, whispering tales of uncertainty. What could Abigail possibly need her for at this hour? Perhaps she doesn’t want Jack to be around Arthur too much, or maybe she wants Jack to visit him more to give herself a break. With each step Kate felt the world bearing down on her shoulders, her muscles aching with the weight of her own body. As much as she loved the little filly, she was growing increasingly more drained with each encounter. Kate's heart ached with the weight of her responsibilities, the constant juggling act of tending to Arthur's needs while fulfilling the demands of their community.

As she neared the back of the chuck wagon, the soft murmur of familiar voices reached her ears, weaving a tapestry of comfort and familiarity. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, she rounded the corner, her eyes alighting on the gathered group before her.

"What's all this?" Kate exclaimed breathlessly, her eyes widening in astonishment. There, amidst the soft glow of lanterns and the gentle summer breeze, stood Abigail, flanked by Sadie, Mary-Beth, Tilly, and even Karen, gathered together in a tight-knit circle. They had fashioned a cozy enclave behind the bustling chuck wagon, cocooned by canvas blankets that offered a sense of sanctuary from the outside world. The space was dimly lit by flickering candles and oil lamps, casting warm shadows that danced across the makeshift walls.

In the center of the little haven sat a large wooden wash barrel, steam rising from its depths like wisps of magic. Nearby, a small table was adorned with a bounty of provisions: fresh fruit, savory meats, and an assortment of cheeses, a feast fit for royalty.

Overwhelmed by the gesture, Kate felt her eyes welling with tears, her heart swelling with gratitude. "I... I don’t—" she stammered, unable to find the words to express her emotions.

Abigail approached her with a gentle smile, her eyes shimmering with warmth and compassion. Taking Kate's trembling hands in hers, she guided her into the cozy sanctuary. "You've been working so hard, Kate," she murmured softly, her voice like a soothing lullaby. "We thought you deserved a proper rest."

As Kate stepped inside, she was enveloped in a hug by Mary-Beth, who stood by her side with a reassuring presence. "We turned the storage wagon into a room for you," Mary-Beth whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "You can use it for as long as you need."

With a heartfelt smile, Kate allowed herself to be led into the haven of peace and comfort. The weight of the week’s burdens seemed to lift from her shoulders as she stepped into the warm embrace of the steaming bath. Had it not been for the supportive presence of the girls, she feared she might have collapsed to her knees from the overwhelming gesture of kindness.

With tender care, they helped her undress, their movements gentle yet purposeful. They said nothing about her scars, silently embracing every aspect of her being with no questions asked. 

Mary-Beth meticulously washed away the grime of the day from her arms and body, while Tilly worked her nimble fingers through the tangled knots of her hair. Karen, ever the nurturing soul, offered her bits of succulent fruit and creamy cheese, providing nourishment for both body and soul. Meanwhile, Sadie tended to the bath, ensuring that the water remained at the perfect temperature, adding more as it threatened to spill over the sides. Eventually bringing her a fresh clean pair of clothing to change into.

By her side, Abigail sat with a comforting presence, her skilled hands kneading away the tension from Kate's shoulders and palms. The warmth of their collective care enveloped Kate, soothing her weary soul in ways she had never imagined.

As she surrendered to the comforting embrace of the bath and the love of her companions, Kate felt a swell of emotion rising within her. Overwhelmed by a mixture of love and exhaustion, she could no longer contain the flood of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Hot droplets mingled with the bathwater, forming a poignant symphony of release. Her sniffling hiccups echoing into the night.

They held her close, offering silent comfort and understanding as she allowed herself to be vulnerable in their presence. Their actions showed no judgment for the state she was in. 

Abigail tenderly tucked Kate's head against her chest, her fingers tracing soothing circles on her cheek as if she were comforting a crying child. "It's okay, Kate. We're all here for you," she whispered softly, the warmth of her embrace a comforting balm to her shattered spirit.

Kate sniffled, her voice quivering with emotion as she struggled to articulate her overwhelming grief. "Christ," she choked out between sobs, "I've barely graced his life. I just–I can't–I thought I had more time with him." Her heartache was palpable, the ache of longing for the man she had grown to cherish threatening to consume her.

Karen's voice broke through the heavy tension, her words carrying a mixture of tenderness and determination. "Arthur won't go down without a fight, sweetpea," she reassured Kate, "but you need to look out for yourself too."

From behind her, Tilly's gentle voice joined the chorus of support, her hands working magic as she massaged Kate's scalp with a tender touch. "You can't take on all these burdens by yourself, Kate," she urged softly.

Abigail echoed their sentiments, her voice filled with unwavering solidarity. "Anything you need, you've got us girls. Just say the word, and we'll be there," she promised.

As Kate nodded in silent acknowledgment, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within her soul, painting the canvas of her heart with hues of gratitude and awe. In that moment, she realized she was not just an individual navigating the tumultuous seas of life, but a cherished member of a sisterhood, bound together by threads of resilience and unwavering love. 

Each tear that traced its path down her cheek was a testament to the profound impact these women had made on her life, transforming her solitary journey into a tapestry of shared experiences and dreams. With them, she found solace in the embrace of kindred spirits, a sanctuary where her fears were met with understanding and her joys amplified by celebration. They were the pillars of strength that held her aloft, the guiding stars that illuminated her path through the darkest of nights. And in their warm embrace, Kate discovered a sense of belonging, a home within the hearts of her newfound sisters, where she was cherished, accepted, and loved.

Kate had found family once again, and they had become her fortress. 

As Kate whispered amidst the tide of tears, her voice trembled like the flickering candlelight around them. Each word carried the weight of a soul laid bare, grappling with emotions too vast to contain. "Thank you," she confessed softly, her words barely audible above the rustle of water and fabric, "I don't know how to say it. Arthur he– I just... I..." Her voice trailed off into the night, lost in the labyrinth of her thoughts as exhaustion cloaked her in its tender embrace. With each passing moment, she felt herself surrendering to the warmth of their love and care, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of her mind.

Mary-Beth's voice, filled with gentle understanding, saw the depth of her heart. "You love him, Kate," she murmured, her words laden with shared experiences and whispered confidences. Kate's nod was accompanied by a choked sob, her cheeks flushed with the heat of her emotions. Once more, the girls gathered around her, their arms forming a protective cocoon against the harsh realities of their existence. 

"But what kind of woman loves a man she barely knows? I may never know if he even feels the same," Kate lamented, tinged with doubt and longing.

In that moment, the air seemed to shimmer with unspoken truths as the girls exchanged knowing glances. They had witnessed the subtle nuances of Arthur's heart, the tender gestures and lingering gazes that spoke volumes of his affection for Kate. Though shrouded in the shadows of their unfavorable situation, his feelings were as undeniable as the stars that adorned the night sky. All he needed was time, and perhaps a gentle nudge, to unveil the depths of his love for the woman who had captured his heart.

Tilly's soft giggle cut through the heavy air, a beacon of light in the midst of Kate's swirling doubts. "You and Arthur, my oh my. You two are like a match made in heaven," she chimed, her voice dancing with warmth. Drawn from her reverie, she could hear the smile in Tilly's words.

"Really?" Kate's voice trembled with uncertainty, her heart hanging on the edge of Tilly's response. The other girls exchanged cheeky grins, their eyes sparkling with mischief as if they were engaged in the usual camp gossip that takes place during their shared chores.

"If I were none the wiser I’d say your souls were meant to find each other," Karen interjected, her fingers delicately plucking a piece of fruit from the tray Kate had abandoned. 

Abigail, ever the beacon of reassurance, enveloped Kate's shoulders in a comforting embrace. "Love waits for no one, Kate. It has no rhyme or reason, it comes when it comes," she whispered.

As Kate nodded, her vision blurred by tears she couldn't contain, Sadie's strong hands enveloped hers with a tenderness that belied her fierce exterior. Kneeling before her with unwavering sincerity, Sadie met Kate's gaze with an unspoken understanding born of shared loss and unwavering resilience.

"I understand what it's like to lose a husband, Kate," she began softly, her words drawing from the depths of sorrow. "That fear of losing someone you love, it can weigh heavy on your heart for a long time." A silent understanding passing between them. "But you can't let that fear chain you down," she continued, her tone urging Kate to consider her own well-being. "You've got to rise above the waves, put yourself first to stay afloat. Or else you’ll drown in that fear."

As Kate felt the weight of Sadie's words sink in, she was overcome with a sense of gratitude for the support surrounding her. Abigail stepped forward, eyes brimming with admiration. "You're the strongest woman we know, Kate," she said with a warm smile. "But even the strongest need time to rest."

With gentle hands and loving care, the girls helped Kate dress in fresh clothes, their actions speaking volumes. As she settled into the cozy embrace of the transformed wagon, now a sanctuary of comfort, Kate felt a wave of tranquility wash over her.

With a whispered "thank you" to her companions, Kate allowed herself to surrender to the embrace of sleep. In the warmth of their support and the quiet comfort of the unlikely bedroom, she found peace, knowing that she was not alone in her journey. And as she drifted into slumber, she silently hoped that Arthur also felt the love and support of his makeshift family. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate slept through two moons, rising with the dawn of the third day. She felt like a new woman, rejuvenated and ready to tackle the challenges ahead. The girl's kind gesture had filled her with an undeniable surge of gratitude and strength. She knew Arthur was in good hands, and together, they would see him through his recovery.

Rising from her cozy makeshift bedroom in the back of the storage wagon, Kate stretched her limbs with a satisfied groan, feeling every muscle come alive. She stepped out into the fresh morning air, the camp bustling with the start of a new day. The sun cast a golden hue over Clemens Point, and the familiar sounds of morning chatter and clinking pots filled the air.

Making her way to the chuck wagon, she was greeted warmly by Mr. Pearson, who looked up from his preparations and smiled. "Well, look who's finally up and about! You look refreshed, Kate. Like your usual self."

Kate returned the smile, her heart lightened by his words. "Thanks, Pearson. I feel much better."

Pearson wiped his hands on a rag and approached her. "I was thinking of heading into Rhodes later to get some ingredients for a soup. It would be easier on Arthur’s stomach and help him keep down food so he can recover his strength."

Kate nodded appreciatively, touched by his thoughtfulness. "That's a great idea. Thank you. It's good to know everyone cares about his well-being."

As she savored a hearty breakfast, Kate realized it wasn't just the girls who were looking out for Arthur. The entire camp shared the burden of his recovery. Pearson's gesture struck a chord in her, reminding her of the importance of community and the support that surrounded them.

With newfound energy, she decided to make some house calls to the other members, expressing her gratitude and checking in on their needs. She was determined to give back to those who had shown her such kindness.

While the women normally took care of the chores, Kate knew the rest of the gang had stepped up in Arthur’s absence. She finished her meal with a sense of purpose, ready to contribute in any way she could. Rising from her seat at the table, she made her way to greet her mare, Lorena. She had been neglecting her faithful companion, only tending to her in fleeting moments when she could steal away from her duties.

As she neared the hitching station, a tender sight met her eyes. Lorena’s familiar black coat lay next to another horse, Belle, whose brilliant white contrasted sharply with Lorena's midnight sheen. The two horses were comfortably sprawled in the grass together, nuzzling their heads in a display of equine affection. The scene warmed Kate’s heart, momentarily lifting the weight of her worries.

Approaching them, she was suddenly interrupted by a wavering voice calling from beyond the treeline. "I-I wouldn’t get too close to them!" A moment later, Kieran stepped into view, visibly relaxing when he saw her. "Oh, it’s just you."

Kate smiled warmly, appreciating the sight of the skittish young man. "Morning, Kieran," she greeted. Raising a curious eyebrow, she asked, "Is something the matter with them?" referring to his earlier warning.

"N-no! Nothin’s wrong," Kieran stammered, scratching his neck nervously. "It’s just, um—your mare, Lorena. She don’t really like when anyone gets too close to Belle," he explained, his voice trailing off. "She’s become real protective of her since, um, you know." Kieran looked away, a guilty expression crossing his face.

Kate’s eyes softened as she regarded the two horses. Lorena’s protectiveness over Belle mirrored her own feelings toward Arthur.

Kate recalled how Kieran had come to join the gang, once a reluctant member of Colm’s crew. His past affiliation with the O'Driscolls had initially cast a shadow of doubt over him, but over time, he had proved himself loyal and trustworthy. Nodding in understanding, she approached the horses cautiously. Lorena, recognizing her rider, whinnied in excitement, while Belle's ears perked up with curiosity.

“I’ve missed you girls,” Kate cooed, bending down to scratch their snouts affectionately. As she ran her hands over Belle, she noticed the horse's wounds had been carefully stitched and tended to. “You did this?” she asked, turning to look at Kieran, who stood awkwardly nearby.

He nodded, shuffling his feet. “I did the best I could. She’s still a little skittish about getting the saddle on, but she should recover fine.”

Kate beamed at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. Arthur would be immensely thankful for Kieran’s care, she was sure of it. “Thank you, Kieran. Really, you’ve been a huge help. I don’t know how I can repay your kindness.”

Kieran shrugged modestly, brushing off her gratitude as a faint blush colored his cheeks. “No need for that, Kate. Just glad I could do something useful.”

“I’m serious, I would be lost without my girl. Arthur too. I’m really grateful for your help.” Kate urged. 

A wide smile tugged at Kieran's lips as he looked down bashfully. "Oh, s’nothing. I just really love horses. I’d do it for any of ’em," he said, gesturing to where the other horses were idly grazing.

Feeling a new sense of confidence, he joined Kate on the grass, running his hand along Lorena’s strong neck. "You know, I tried singing to her."

Kate chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? How’d that go?" she asked, her grin cheeky.

Kieran raised his brows in amusement. "Oh, she loved it so much she nearly bit my ear off!" He laughed, the sound rich and genuine. Kate couldn't help but join him, their laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of the trees.

As their laughter subsided, Kate found herself reflecting on Kieran's presence in the camp. She had never had much of an opportunity to get to know him, but she was finding him to be quite pleasant. A pang of guilt struck her heart as she recalled how some of the other members, especially the guys, had treated him with suspicion and disdain.

"I took the hint after that," Kieran added, shaking his head with a chuckle.

Kate's smile softened. "Well, sounds like you've done a great job with them, Kieran. They look happy and healthy. Arthur’s gonna be real happy  when he sees how well you’ve taken care of Belle."

Kieran's eyes lit up at her praise. "Thanks, Kate. That means a lot. I just want to be useful, y’know?"

Kate nodded, understanding all too well the desire to prove oneself. "You are useful, Kieran. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We all have our roles to play, and you’ve found yours."

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them as they groomed the horses. The simple act of brushing the horses' coats brought a sense of normalcy and peace to Kate's heart. The rhythmic motions, the gentle rustling of the leaves, and the occasional snort from Lorena and Belle created a tranquil atmosphere.

Kieran suddenly faced her with a hesitant expression. “Kate, I-I’m sorry for what happened to Arthur,” he squeaked, his voice shaky despite his earnest apology.

Kate’s expression softened as she looked at him. “S’not your fault, Kieran. You got nothing to apologize for.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, s’just… Colm, he’s a nasty man. Scares the piss outta me for sure. I’m terrified he’s gonna find me one day, and Arthur he’s—” Kieran hesitated, searching for the right words. “He’s lucky to be alive. I’m honestly shocked Colm let him live.”

The gravity of his words sank into Kate, a cold shiver running down her spine. She had never met Colm, but after what he did to Arthur, their feud had become personal to her as well. They had tried to take someone from her, and she had vowed long ago to never let anyone make her feel so powerless again.

“I’m sure Colm will get what's coming to him,” she said gravely, her gaze distant and hard.

Kieran scoffed, shaking his head. “That man is like a cockroach. Every time you think he’s dead, he ain’t. And somehow he always comes back with more men. And he will come back.”

A heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the breathy whine of the horses. Kieran kept his focus trained on the horses, his hands moving methodically through their manes. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone serious and low. “Colm don’t care what Arthur means to you, Kate. If you were wise, you’d keep your head down and out of the crossfire. 'Cause he’ll kill you too and won’t think twice about it.”

Kate swallowed hard, the weight of his warning pressing on her. She understood the danger, but the thought of hiding away while others fought for their lives felt unbearable. Micah’s words hung heavy in her heart ‘Arthur will do whatever Dutch asks of him’. As much as she despised the greasy blue-eyed snake, she couldn’t help but feel his words held some truth. She glanced at Kieran, his face etched with genuine concern, and gave a resolute nod.

“I hear you, Kieran,” she said softly.

Kate bid Kieran farewell with a gentle smile and a grateful nod. She watched him for a moment as he continued to tend to the horses, his quiet dedication a testament to his loyalty. With a sigh, she turned and made her way across the camp towards Dutch’s tent. Each step felt heavy, laden with the weight of the confrontation she knew was coming.

Dutch's tent stood at the heart of the camp, its presence grand and imposing. As she approached, she felt a mixture of determination and apprehension. Dutch had always been a commanding figure, his charisma and vision drawing people to him like moths to a flame. But beneath his charm, Kate sensed a deep responsibility that he sometimes seemed to neglect. She felt that Dutch bore some responsibility for Arthur’s condition, and he had not even so much as glanced in his direction nor asked about his recovery. It made Kate’s blood boil, the facade of brotherhood and family that he so often preached about. But was never a man of his words. 

She stopped outside the entrance, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The flap of the tent was slightly ajar, and she could hear Dutch inside, muttering to himself as he pored over maps and plans. Steeling her nerves, Kate stepped inside. Slightly surprised to see he was sitting alone, Molly must be occupied elsewhere.

“Dutch,” she called softly, her voice firm but respectful. 

Dutch looked up, surprise flickering across his features before he masked it with a charming smile. “Kate, my dear. What brings you here?”

She met his gaze steadily, refusing to be swayed by his easy charm. “I need to talk to you about Arthur.” As frustrated as she was, she dared not to challenge his command.

Dutch’s expression shifted slightly, the charm dimming as he registered the seriousness in her voice. “Arthur? Worry not. I’ve already got a plan to get back at Colm. We’ll show the O’Driscoll’s who’s in charge ‘round here.”

Kate shook her head, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. “You know that’s not what I mean Dutch. He needs to see you, now.” Her words came out with a sharp bite. 

Dutch leaned back in his chair, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “Kate, you have to understand. Everything I do, I do for the gang. Arthur knows that. He understands the bigger picture.”

Her patience waning, Kate took a step closer, her eyes flashing with determination. “I don’t care about the bigger picture. Arthur is fighting for his life. He needs you by his side. Not plans, not strategies. He needs you.” Kate emphasized her words, straining to get her point across without insulting him. 

A heavy silence filled the tent as Dutch stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. He looked away, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Kate, you have to trust that I’m doing what’s best for all of us,” he said, his voice softer but still laced with stubbornness. “I had a plan to get Arthur back–” 

“Enough about the plans!” Kate shouted, her voice echoing through the tent. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Dutch's eyes widened in surprise, but his hard gaze never left hers. At that moment, Kate realized it wasn’t about the money, nor the family Dutch claimed to have created. It was about control.

Dutch always had to be the one in control, dishing out orders, calling all the shots. Kate knew, deep down, there was a part of Dutch that truly cared for Arthur. But his disappearance meant little to nothing to him; he had bigger plans, different goals on his agenda. Now that Arthur was back, Dutch seemed confident he had regained his throne, as if Arthur's torture were nothing but a minor setback in his grand scheme.

The realization made Kate seethe. Dutch treated Arthur like a soldier, cannon fodder in his relentless pursuit of power and influence. His indifference to Arthur’s suffering was a betrayal of the brotherhood he so often preached about.

“Don’t you get it?” Kate's voice was raw with emotion. “You talk about family and loyalty, but where is that now? You say you make all these grand sacrifices for the gang, but where is your sympathy for the sacrifice Arthur made?” Her voice boomed, and though she knew she was losing composure, she couldn't hold back.

Dutch's eyes softened slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Kate, it was a miscalculation. I had no idea that—”

Kate cut him off, stepping closer with an accusatory finger, like a mother scolding a child. “You should count yourself lucky it didn’t cost him his life. He may never use his arm again, did you know that? His ankle was nearly shattered. It’ll be a miracle if he can even ride.”

Her worries and fears bubbled to the surface, and she poured every ounce of frustration onto Dutch, heedless of the consequences. “He ain’t gonna be the same, Dutch. And I’m real worried because you haven't shown a care in the world. Like he’s just some retired workhorse.”

Dutch's gaze hardened again, but he rose from his seat, his posture stiff. “No, no, of course not,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Arthur is... Arthur is more than that.”

Kate's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she continued, her voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “Arthur thinks highly of you, Dutch. He looks up to you, always has. And now he needs you more than ever. He’s lying in that bed, fighting for his life, and he needs to know you’re there for him.”

Dutch swallowed thickly, his expression grave as he nodded silently. “Alright, I'll go to him,” he said, his voice carrying a weight of solemn determination. With a final, meaningful glance at Kate, he bid her farewell, his footsteps heavy as he left the tent.

As Dutch's departure left Kate alone with her frustrations, she couldn't help but feel a weight being lifted from her shoulders. Though uncertainty lingered, she found solace in the knowledge that her words had struck a chord with Dutch. For the first time, she dared to hope that perhaps things could change between them. That Arthur can be the kind of man he wanted to be, despite the changes in himself that lie ahead.

~~~

A/N: My lord, I wrote way too much. That last section with Kieran and Dutch was added last minute because I forgot about the horses and then that reminded me of Dutch and I was like AHH! So much tooth rotting fluff coming up next. Also lots of healing and tender moments. Things between Kate and Arthur are finally beginning to pick up pace. I’m sorry for making y’all wait so long…sometimes I have to remind myself this is a slow burn.

[kaizenwaus]

five hundred sixteen days gone

The worn off denim did nothing to protect the woman's knees from the sand and small stones that made the gravel adorning the forest's ground, not even shifting her weight from one knee to another would ease the pain of her skin fighting not to break. Although all the stinging on her skin and burning on her muscles was nothing compared to the fear and uncertainty that surrounded the clearing.

Everything was... Perfectly set for this exact moment. Almost as if they had taken their time preparing this area for this. The woman could imagine the bald man with the thick mustache cutting down trees that morning, meanwhile the blond man with the burnt face cleaned everything off as well as he planned how to lure the group to this location. Then one of them had to tell the rest of their friends about the place and the time to meet up, and they had to decide the formation of all their vehicles and the armed men. If that had been the case, they did a good job. The scene was, in fact, quite... Intimidating.

The group of survivors, sinners of innocence and naivety, were on their knees, forming half a circle in front of the motorhome that Eugene had been driving just minutes ago. There were also a couple of cars and other vehicles on the sides, their headlights dazzling the survivors and their engines loud in contrast to the silence of the night.

Behind them stood the army of men and women that called themselves the Saviours, each of them holding a firearm if not two. In front of them there were only three men: the bald man with a distinctive mustache, the blond dude with a burnt face, and... The man. The boss. The leader. Negan himself.

He looked just like Sierra had imagined him: disgustingly smug. He wore dark pants, with a leather belt hanging way too low to be comfortable. It was a cold night, so he also wore a leather jacket with a red scarf around his neck. All of this paired up with leather boots and his weapon of choice: a baseball bat.

This bat, whose name was Lucille (as the man had introduced her), had barbed wire around the top of it, which seemed kind of useless against the undead but was incredibly painful for the living.

Eenie...

After introducing himself and the bat, the man explained the reason why they decided to meet up on this beautiful starry night. He paced from one end of the line of survivors to the other, swinging his bat around as he talked and talked and talked...

The survivors were sweating, the bravest ones looking around frantically to find a way to get out of this situation, but the man did not even let them finish a thought as he laughed loudly or got too close to someone with Lucille.

Meenie...

It was nauseating how free and careless he was, walking around as he sang this stupid little song for kids. Even though he was intimidating, Sierra truly questioned if the man was capable of killing one of them randomly. Deep down she thought this was just his little show, that his random pick was going to be a core member of the group: Rick, Daryl, Michonne, or even herself, she thought. There was also the possibility that Negan only wanted to weaken the leader by killing someone close to him: Carl or Michonne.

Would he really pick someone randomly?

Miney...

Sierra wanted to think a human would not be able to murder someone in cold blood, without a true motive. There was a motive, denying it would be straight up lying, but there were a fair amount of people in this line up that did not participate in said killing.

Questioning human behavior in the context of a literal zombie apocalypse was somewhat difficult if they were trying not to be hypocrites too, so maybe he was going to do as he said. Maybe, as he sang and as he pointed randomly at different survivors he was truly picking someone to kill. Maybe, for him this was just a game.

Mo...

The wielder of the named bat stood in front of Carl, causing everyone to cringe at the thought of the teenager becoming this psychopath's victim. But they were able to breathe again as the man continued his game – ironically, considering that if Carl was not the one tagged then the odds of being of them just rose.

Catch...

Rosita.

A tiger...

Rick.

By...

Eugene.

His toe...

Daryl.

My mother...

Michonne.

Told me...

Glenn.

To pick...

Aaron.

The very best one...

Maggie.

And you're...

Sierra. Negan left his bat staring at the blonde for a few more seconds than anybody else before her, he even bent down to stare right at her, taking in the hateful look the woman was giving him. Without breaking eye contact, the man smirked, winked at her and took blind aim with his bat as he sketched the last word of his song: it.

Abraham.

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything..." the man started speaking with a smirk on his face after he looked at who Lucille had chosen, slowly and almost teasingly walking away from the blonde woman to face his victim "Cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we'll start"

The bravery and strength with which Abraham presented himself to his soon-to-be murderer was highly admirable. The red-haired man refused to be submissive to the man's inflated ego, he could not forgive himself if his actions fed that man's grotesque and disgusting attitude. Much to Abraham's dismay, this façade only made Negan both flattered and challenged, making him want to prove what he could be able to do. To prove how much of a cold-blooded killer he could be. How much he truly did not care about their lives and only about what they could do for him.

"You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry..." the man chuckled, firmly gripping his beloved bat and lifting it up slowly "Hell, you're all gonna be doing that"

Abraham was standing straight, subtly giving his most recent lover the hand signal they had translated to "I love you" as she silently broke down before everyone. On the opposite side, his ex-girlfriend could not even watch the scene. Watching the man she had learnt to love standing tall on his knees, keeping eye contact with the monster that was about to end his life. Not everyone was able to watch, it was not only Rosita (his former partner) that looked away into the distance as tears streamed down her face. Others, who were not as close to Abraham as Sasha (his lover) was, also dared to watch as Negan cruelly attacked the man.

Gasps, sobs, cries... Those were the noises that took over the crickets as the bat was smashed against Abraham's skull. The echo of the hit was painful, you could almost hear the metal spikes digging into his skin, the blood gushing down his face, Abraham's incoherent mumbles as he tried to speak his last words: "Suck... My... Nuts"

Negan laughed at him before hitting him again, this time harder and leaving him on the ground. He even taunted him, repeating his last words as he looked to his followers to further enjoy his mockery of the victim. He hit him again, and again, and again, and again... He fully raged at the corpse, letting all his anger out on the innocent man's man until his red hair was too faded with the blood to point it out. In Negan's head, this was his revenge for all the Saviors Rick's group had murdered.

If the roles had been reversed, Sierra would not have considered this enough of a punishment. But her perspective of the situation could not let her think too much about it, at least rationally. Her mind was occupied by the little drops of blood that had fallen on Rosita's face, or how Sasha just had to witness the death of her lover very much like she had to a few years ago (without all the cruelty, surely).

The violence and helplessness surrounding the scene were too overwhelming for the woman to be able to have any other thoughts that did not involve wishing for Negan's death or planning how to murder him and his entire group. It was not only overwhelming for her, but also for everyone and everything around her. It was visible, palpable... So noticeable that not even the undead (or walkers, as Sierra had grown accustomed to call them) dared to approach the small clearing in the forest. Not even the walking dead dared to interrupt Negan's moment, his superiority and control over everyone else scarily good as well as incredibly infuriating.

Sierra's stomach was growling in disgust, her breath going faster, her heart pumping what felt like lava in her chest... She bit her tongue, pinched the skin on her wrists to keep herself from fighting back or talking back to him.

"You guys, look at my dirty girl!" the man yelled, showing off his bloody bat and swinging it around in the air – bits and pieces of Abraham's something flying off, until he just pointed the weapon at Rosita, who still could not dare to look at it "Sweetheart... Look at this"

Her eyes were fixated on the red tinted gravel, too shocked to even register tha taunting words of the man responsible for it. Negan enjoyed the state she was in, he watched her and smiled at how miserable she was and how powerful that made him, continuing his tormenting: "Oh, were you together? That sucks!"

Each word that left his mouth was one more log of wood thrown into the fire growing within Sierra. Her chest was growing tighter, her heart pumping faster and her skin getting hotter... Her whole body became a bomb, the clock showing how many seconds until it exploded being each and every word Negan directed towards her friend.

"But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this" he laughed.

Ten seconds. Ten more cruel words is all she needed...

"Red -- and hell, he was, is, and will ever be"

The blonde woman growled in an animalistic way as she jumped off the ground and lunged towards the man, grabbing him by his crimson scarf to hold him in place and punching his face with her other hand. She was fisting the scarf so hard that he did not even move one inch, his neck and jaw taking all the pain and movement. Before she could land another hit, two of his men grabbed her from behind and pulled her away from him, attempting to tackle her to the ground.

Attempting.

Sierra managed to avoid being immobilized by the two Saviours, pushing and punching them until one of them was knocked out by the motorhome and the other one was in a headlock.

She heard Rick calling her name as a warning, while Negan frowned at her in pure and raw anger. He huffed, and she watched. Everyone watched, holding their breaths, as Negan and Sierra stared at each other in a silent war.

"Let him go" a man behind her talked as she felt a crossbow she knew too damn well pressed against the back of her "Or this will be the last thing you do"

She looked briefly towards her found family, all of them scared of what was about to happen to either them or her. It was Carl that slightly nodded to her, letting her know that the best thing she could do right now is listen.

Very slowly, she let go of the man and raised her hands in the air. The man walked away from her, holding his neck in discomfort, meanwhile the man behind her kicked the back of her knee and grabbed her hair to make her look up at Negan.

"Who do you think you are?" he spat angrily at her, almost in a whisper.

"Your worst fucking nightmare" she smirked.

As soon as those words left her mouth, she was hit by the consequences of her own actions. Lucille collided against her cheek with almost superhuman strength, breaking her skin with the force of impact and the barbed wire dragging against her flesh. It was such a strong blow that Sierra fell to her side, barely managing to collect herself with her hands.

"That!" Negan spoke to the rest of the group while pointing at the injured woman with his bat "That is a no-no! That whole thing! Not one bit of that shit flies here!"

His words reverberated against her skull as her heartbeat moved to the bleeding wound on her face, her whole vision turning red and in her ears growing an uncomfortable ringing. Someone close to her, probably the man that threatened her with Daryl's crossbow, dragged his unconscious colleague away from the motorhome – thus leaving a clear path for Sierra to crawl under the vehicle and hide as Negan ranted.

"Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with... But I'm a man of my word. I already told you people, first one's free, then what'd I say? I said I would shut that shit down!"

Sierra was halfway under the motorhome when someone dragged her out by her ankle, exposing her torso and dragging her skin against the gravel. The man turned her around, making her face him as he pointed the crossbow to her head. She blindly tried to cover her face, her hands clumsy as her vision was deprived of focus and other colors beside red, still she was able to see the blond man with a burnt face speaking to her: "Where do you think you're going?"

"Please..." she whispered, struggling to speak as her mouth filled up with her own blood.

"You've got guts, lady" Negan looked down at her, before turning to the blond man "Dwight, load her up, I like her"

The man, now known as Dwight, grabbed the woman by her hair and dragged her towards a black van. She kicked her legs and yelled in pain, in way too much pain to try to put on a façade in front of the Saviors. In a desperate attempt to avoid being taken, she went to grab... Something. Her left hand flew to the floor, trying to grab some kind of anchor that would keep her from being abducted.

But it was the anchor that found her. Glenn's hand went over hers and gave her a reassurance squeeze, too fast to be noticed by anyone else besides them. She knew what it meant. She knew it was a silent promise, an oath to her that she would not be held against her will too long – and he was going to make sure of that.

Dwight threw her in the back of the van rather aggressively, making her whole body ache more (if that was even possible). She used the last bit of her strength to lunge towards him, but her fist was met by the van's doors being closed right in front of her.

"Feisty, just how I like them" she could hear Negan talking to her people, dwelling on his own gain and the group's loss of a great asset "She's mine now, so... Back to it!"

Sierra only managed to hear a loud thud, similar to the sound of Lucille crashing against Abraham's skull, accompanied by gasps and a woman crying out: "No!"

She hit the van's doors in frustration, hearing the suffering of her friends combined with her own physical pain becoming too much for her, until she eventually felt herself give up to the blood loss and overstimulation. Her knees got weaker and she could no longer hold herself up, her stomach growled as her chest heaved, her heart finally relaxing and her face going numb. She brought her hand up to her open wound, feeling the wetness and roughness of blood mixed with gravel against the tips of her fingers – perfect cocktail for an infection, she thought.

Her back was resting against the van's walls, feeling how they vibrated from the noises coming from outside. She tried to fight off the tiredness that overcame her, but her eyelids seemed to have grown independent from her brain's orders. Slowly all the tension left her body as she felt herself weighting more as she let go... Pain and life threatening anemia made her shut her body down to a comatose state, the last words she was able to register from outside echoing through the van's walls:

No exceptions.

[legends-of-time]

The Journey of Living at Downton - Masterlist

Pairing:

Tom Branson/Original Female Character

Warnings:

Major Character Death, Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Period Typical Attitudes, Cannon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide

Summary:

Emma’s life used to be fairly normal one for someone living in England in the early 21st century, nothing peculiar but that all changed when in 2021, at 19, she woke up in the past, more specifically 1909.

Emma turned up in Yorkshire, England on a mild day (what else) in the grounds of an estate called Downton Abbey. After literally falling onto the floor right in front of said owners of the estate, the Earl and Countess of Grantham, Robert and Cora Crawley.

——

A young girl from the 21st century ends up in the world of Downton Abbey. Not a typical one where it is another Crawley sister or where she’s from a world where Downton Abbey is a TV show.

Chapters:

Chapter 1: April to Summer 1912

Chapter 2: September to October 1912

Chapter 3: April to May 1913

Chapter 4: End of May 1913

Chapter 5: July to August 1913

Chapter 6: May 1914

Chapter 7: July to August 1914

Chapter 8: Autmun 1916

Chapter 9: April 1917

Chapter 10: July to September 1917

Chapter 11: Early 1918

Chapter 12: August 1918

Chapter 13: October to November 1918

Chapter 14: February 1919

Chapter 15: April 1919

Chapter 16: April 1919 to January 1920

Chapter 17: March 1920

Chapter 18: April to Early May 1920

Chapter 19: Late May 1920

Chapter 20: Late July 1920

Chapter 21: Early August 1920

Chapter 22: Early August 1920 Continuation

Chapter 23: Mid August 1920

Chapter 24: Mid August to End of September 1920

Chapter 25: September 1921

Chapter 26: February 1922

Chapter 27: March 1922

Chapter 28: April 1922

Chapter 29: April 1922 Continuation

Chapter 30: May 1922

Chapter 31: June 1922

Chapter 32: July 1922

Chapter 33: Early August 1922

Chapter 34: May 1923

Chapter 35: February 1924

Chapter 36: February to Late April 1924

Chapter 37: Late April to Early May 1924

Chapter 38: Summer 1924

Chapter 39: September 1924

Chapter 40: Late September 1924

Chapter 41: Late September to Early October 1924

Chapter 42: Mid to Late October 1924

Chapter 43: November to December 1924

Chapter 44: January to Early May 1925

Chapter 45: Mid May 1925

Chapter 46: Mid to Late May 1925

Chapter 47: June 1925

Chapter 48: July 1925

Chapter 49: August 1925

Chapter 50: September to December 1925

Chapter 51: July 1927

Chapter 52: April 1928 to January 1929

Children of Downton - Spoilers!!!

Just a little additional post explaining when the children born during the show were born and parents. Not that important but if anyone wants to keep track, it’s here rather than sifting through chapters.

Wattpad access

fanfiction.net access

Ao3 access

[mentally-a-slut]

Luck Ain't Got Nothin' To Do With It Teaser

ALRIGHT Y'ALL HERE'S A LITTLE TEASER FROM MY POLY CHAURTHUR FIC!!

i just put down a random title, i'm not sure it'll stay the same but it'll do for now! this is from later in the fic, about 20k words in i think, but i thought it was a cute interaction to show!

notes: Josie is the main character and my OC in this fic, her love interests are both Arthur and Charles and she is Sean's older sister. she's irish ofc, and she is pretty stereotyped simply because Sean is too and they're siblings. also part of her character is that she leans into the whole "luck of the irish" thing, so it's not meant to be ignorant in the way she is described. no offense is intended by the characterization of Josie or Sean for that matter, and if anyone has a valid issue with it, lmk.

anyway, enjoy, and let me know if you want me to start posting the full fic!

Josie was up before anyone else the following morning, which would have been impressive except for the fact that pretty much everyone was hungover.

She had refused to drink last night, knowing that she was set to depart the next day. She had traveled with a hangover before and had no intention of doing it again anytime soon. It was a whole hour before someone else stirred. Kieran stumbled groggily through the brush, emerging from his haven on the outskirts.

Josie greeted him with a small smile, tipping her hat as she sipped her coffee. He spoke in a whisper as he approached her, eyes narrowing under the morning light. “Morning, Miss Josie.”

Josie chuckled softly at his formality, taking off her hat and placing it firmly on his head to shield the sun. His cheeks flushed red at her actions, and she sent him a friendly smirk. “Just Josie, Kieran. And you can borrow my hat until your hangover dies down. I know how bad the sun feels the morning after a fun night.”

He fiddled with the hat on his head, stuttering through a reply. “Thank you, Josie. I appreciate it.”

She nodded, and they fell into a mutual silence as they stood idle by the fire.

Hosea was not long after Kieran, looking far more chipper than one should after the celebration of the previous night. He didn’t approach the pair, opting to send a silent wave in their direction and make his way to the lake. Josie caught the tail end of a fishing rod in his wake, and she smiled when she realized he was likely taking advantage of the quiet morning to do some fishing.

Within the next couple hours, the others emerged with dramatic groans and complaints, followed by a poorly received yell from Miss Grimshaw telling everyone to smarten up. Dutch laughed good-naturedly and waved the matriarch off, telling everyone to take the day easy to recover. Susan didn’t look very happy about the sentiment but followed his orders anyway.

Kieran trotted off to tend to the horses as the camp livened up, his discomfort around the others clear. Seraphina took the boy’s spot next to her, plopping her butt down on her boot. Josie couldn’t stay mad at the husky, failing to scold her for trapping her. Josie enjoyed the quiet time with her pup until Jack made his appearance, frantically whipping his head around looking for something. The something turned out to be the very dog next to her, and he let out an excited squeal as Seraphina pranced over to him, freeing Josie’s boot from the confines of her butt.

She vaguely heard John’s voice grumbling towards his son to quiet down, the little boy’s exclamation likely causing discomfort for most everyone in camp. Josie snorted, finally moving from her idle position by the fire for the first time in hours.

Almost everyone was accounted for, grumbling messes stumbling out of their tents by noon, still clad in nightclothes with no intention to change.

After a few scans of camp, Josie furrowed her eyebrows and looked around for Charles. Arthur was no where to be seen, which was unlike the man. He was usually one of the first awake. Charles was already looking her way when she met his gaze, and Josie tried not to blush. She made her way over to him, holding his stare as she spoke. “Where’s Arthur?”

Charles huffed out a laugh, wincing slightly as the noise sent a slight twinge through his head. It seemed he wasn’t immune to the effects of alcohol after all. “No one told you? Arthur’s an awful drunk. He’s probably holed up in his tent, trying to sleep it off. We’ll be lucky if we see him all day.”

Josie frowned at this, which caught the man’s attention. “Why? Everything okay?”

She flashed a smile at him, heart fluttering at the concern he displayed for her. “Yeah, I was just hoping to say goodbye to him before I left.”

His eyes flickered with an emotion close to panic, but he masked it quickly with his usual indifference. “You’re leaving?”

Josie studied his expression for any sign of discontent at her departure, sighing lightly when she found none. “Yeah, was gonna take my leave today. I did what I came for, don’t wanna overstay my welcome.”

He hummed, processing her words. He spoke again, shifting the conversation in a strangely sudden way. “Hey, how about we get Arthur up? That way you can say goodbye.”

Josie knitted her brows. “I don’t want to upset him or anything…”

Charles waved her off, moving to go towards Arthur’s tent without giving her a chance to protest. “He’ll be fine, c’mon.”

She stammered in confusion for a moment before speed walking to catch up with him, pausing at the entrance to the tent. Charles took the lead, knocking on the wooden supports of the canvas. The answering groan was pained, followed by a string of curses that would make Susan smack him upside the head. Charles stifled a grin before going in, motioning Josie to follow.

She hesitated a moment before entering, trying not to blush at the implications of entering a tent with Charles.

“Wake up, Arthur, Josie wants to say goodbye.”

Charles did Arthur the favor of keeping his voice down, but the disheveled man still cursed him out. “Get the hell out of my- what do you mean say goodbye?”

Arthur suddenly sat up, groaning and cradling his head when the movement sent a jolt of pain through his brain. He shook his head and continued to get up, bleary eyes struggling to focus on the awkward redhead before him. “Well, I’m taking my leave later today. I did what I came for and all, so no reason for me to stay.”

Arthur sent as much of a glare towards Charles as he could manage, grunting when he tried to stand up and stumbled. Charles steadied him with a smug smile on his face as Arthur continued cursing him out while leaning on him for support. Arthur stammered through his words, gaze flickering nervously as he tried to gather his thoughts. “Uh, your arm! You, you can’t just leave with an injury like that, you gotta stay until it’s all healed up.”

Josie stifled a chuckle at the tough cowboy’s slurred words, cocking her head at him. “I’m fine. It’s all patched up now, I don’t need to be babysat.”

Arthur attempted another sentence, looking pointedly at Charles when he stumbled on his words too much to get them out. Charles shifted and abruptly jumped in, a slight nervousness in his tone that she hadn’t heard before. “Uh, Arthur’s right! Just, uh, just to be safe, you should stay a little while longer, you know, infection and… stuff…”

Arthur nodded frantically in agreement before immediately wincing at the discomfort the quick movement caused. Josie glanced between the two men, smiling slightly at the sight of Arthur leaning on Charles. She knew they were being odd, and she had the feeling they were keeping something from her. Instead of stressing herself out over it, she decided to agree with them, just to ease their worries.

“Right. I suppose a couple more days won’t hurt. Uh, if that’s all then, I’ll just be… going now…”

Josie slowly backed out of the tent, suspicious gaze staying locked on the pair until she was out of sight.

The second the tent flaps fell shut, Arthur slumped down onto his cot. Charles kept an arm around his waist as he did so, steadying him on the way down and only letting go when he was sure he wouldn’t fall off. His eyes fell tightly shut, almost like he was trying to block out the throbbing pain the hangover was torturously causing. Charles sighed and looked down at him, a hand going up to rub his forehead. “Smooth, Arthur.”

Arthur made a sound of protest, as much of one as he could, anyway, lightly nudging his foot against Charles’s leg. “You weren’t any better.”