#you decide what John did to upset Arthur

[reddeadvoid]

Don’t worry, Arthur would never get mad at Tilly. He knew it was John the whole time (she still got the $10)

(Content lifted from that Malcolm in the Middle scene)

[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

do you have any headcanons for arguing and making up? i’m a slut for angst with comfort 🙈

Making Up After a Fight

Gender Neutral Language!

Genre: slight angst, fluff Featuring: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, and Sean MacGuire Warnings: Dutch is kind of toxic | Not edited

AN: Sorry it took me so long to get these written! I went through some nasty writer's block and decided to play the game a little to help out but all that did was distract me for a week. This is definitely pretty roughly written - I'm also a huge slut for angst with comfort, though, so I hope you like these! <3 ---> Requests are open! Check out guidelines if you have any questions

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Arthur Morgan:

Arthur gets frustrated easily when he feels like he’s not being listened to or understood. It’s not really anyone’s fault, but his emotions can get the better of him and he’ll say something that he doesn’t mean.

“You got bait for brains or are you just being an idiot for fun?” (or something like that)

You know in the back of your head that he doesn’t mean it, and he regrets it the second the syllables bounce off his lips. Your brain can know something but your heart will still hurt all the same.

Usually when Arthur is getting too big for his britches with you, you can shut him down and put him in his place. It’s something he highly respects about you - not putting up with his bullshit when he gets like that. Sometimes, though, your eyes will start to water and you can’t say anything without feeling a lump in your throat constricting your vocal chords.

You have to turn and walk away or else you’ll cry in front of him. That would just make everything worse.

Seeing your form retreating, knowing that you’re running off because you’re hurt rather than angry, made Arthur’s chest grow heavy with guilt. His first instinct is to follow after you and hold you until you’re feeling better.

But since he’s the one who hurt you, he just lets you walk away and he goes to pout since he thinks he deserves to be outcast for a little while.

He’ll give you as much space as he can bear, avoid you for an hour maybe two, but he comes crawling back with those puppy dog eyes and a singular wild flower in his fist.

He’ll go to his cot where you’re sitting with his hat in your lap. You stopped being upset five or ten minutes after the argument. Once you took a few deep breaths you understand, but you also had to understand that Arthur would come back to you after he was done punishing himself.

So you waited.

When you saw him approach with that sheepish expression and slouched posture your heart bled for him. He was a brute and an ass at times, but he meant well.

“’M���sorry, Darlin’,” He’d mumble and get on his knees in front of you. ��I didn’t mean it, I never mean it.”

He places the flower in your lap by his hat and gazes up at you. His hair is long and falling in front of his eyes a little, so you brush the strands away from his forehead to get a better look at him.

His blue eyes are a little red and there’s a deep crease in his forehead from an hour or so of constant worrying.

“You can be so mean sometimes, Arthur Morgan,” You scold him lightly and he sighs, nodding.

“I know.”

He spends the rest of the week making it up to you. Truly it doesn’t matter exactly what was said or what the argument was about, when you are truly hurt by his words/actions it kills him. He’ll punish himself for a bit then come back ready to spoil you with words, presents, kisses, and anything else you could possibly ask for.

John Marston:

He’s constantly arguing with you about something. A lot of the time he just picks at you to get a rise out of you - he thinks it’s funny.

Things can get out of hand quickly with him if he grates on a nerve of yours and you bite back though. His first instinct is to give a smartass retort and it just spirals into a full-blown fight from there.

“John Marston you are a pig!”

You storm off and hide in your tent for a while. He’s just standing there dumbfounded. He starts asking himself why he let it get to that point, why did he have to open his big ol’ mouth and antagonize you?

He tries to get you to talk to him, he’ll pace in front of the tent and start calling your name nicely. He won’t ever open the flap though, he doesn’t want to invade your space and risk riling you up anymore.

When you ignore him he’ll eventually get the hint and wander off.

He tries to figure out something to do while he thinks about how to make it up to you. He offers to help Arthur out with any bounty hunts or little jobs, he’ll offer to take Bill or Lenny into town, or he’ll just pick up extra shifts of being on lookout for the camp.

When you finally come out he has to restrain the urge to run to you and scoop you up, demanding that you forgive him so that he can stop pouting.

He does drop whatever it is he’s doing to approach you and makes small talk to test the waters.

“How are you?”

“Fine, John.”

“That’s good… You still mad at me?”

You roll your eyes and try to walk away, but he shoots out and grabs your hand before you can get too far. He doesn’t hold you tightly; his fingers gently encase your own, if you wanted to leave you could easily. But, you falter with your back turned to him and wait for him to speak.

“I’m sorry, really. You know I’m an idiot.” He’s practically whining as he says it, begging for you to look at him.

You turn your head slightly to give him a side glare. At first, the sight makes his heart drop into his feet and he thinks he really screwed up this time, but when a small smirk starts to quirk the corner of your mouth upwards he lets out a low sigh.

“You are cruel,” He chuckles and tightens his grip as he pulls you into his arms and wraps you up in a bear hug.

Your laughs are loud and genuine as he twirls you around, pressing chaste kisses to your cheeks as he does so. Your voices echo throughout the camp once again.

Everyone in camp knows what’s going on with you and John whether you’re fighting or making up, your business is everyone else’s.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

I want to start out by saying Dutch never actually apologizes when you two fight. He’ll buy gifts, say pretty words, whisper sweet nothings, and all the like, but the words “I’m sorry” have never left that man’s lips in his entire life. He will not start now.

Dutch’s obsession with the O’Driscoll’s can cloud his judgment on many things, it makes him blind to reason. Further than that, it makes him hateful and sometimes just plain mean.

He trusts you, he loves you. So, you’re stuck listening to his plans and his grievances with the gang, the law, the O’Driscoll’s, and any other misfortune he has had to endure in his life.

He’ll go on and on, plotting, groaning, whining. One night, after being sat on his cot for hours, you’ve had enough. You beg him to do anything but complain and come up with a half-brained plan to get rich quick.

It hits a nerve and he blows a fuse.

“You don’t understand what’s at stake, do you?” He’s practically yelling. “It’s so easy for you - I spoil you!”

You’re stunned into silence as he shouts at you. You didn’t expect him to blow up.

“Get out of my tent, get out of my sight!” He sends you away. In a daze you stumble out of the tent and into the dark camp.

There’s a few people still up wandering around. Mary-Beth is singing by the fire and Kieran is trying to sing with her, but doesn’t really know the words. Your feet start moving on their own and you take a seat across from the two at the fire.

“What’s going on, gunslinger?” Karen shuffles to a seat beside you and settles down. Mary-Beth’s singing falters for a minute but she continues on, just quieter.

“Dutch is pissed.” You mumble, staring into the flames.

“When is he not? Have a drink,” Karen shoves a bottle of beer into your hand and watches as you take a long swig. She continues, “Have some fun without him for once.”

The night takes a turn from there. You sing and dance and laugh. A few more people join in until it’s gone from moping around the fire to a proper party around it. Javier even brings out the guitar. The noise is enough to draw Dutch from the dark hole in his tent to see what’s going on.

When he sees you, the tears on your cheeks have dried and your face is flushed from the drinks, he can’t help but feel a little guilty. To him, afterall, you were just naive. You didn’t understand what was truly going on in the camp, didn’t understand his plans.

He creeps out of the tent and sneaks up behind you as you’re dancing along to Javier and Mary-Beth. When a pair of arms wraps around your waist, you let out a little squeal.

Dutch spins you around so that you’re facing him, your bodies pressed flush together causing a heat to flare in your stomach.

“My beautiful dancer,” Dutch mumbles and presses a soft kiss to your lips. You don’t fight, don’t ask any questions. You’re just happy that he seems to be sorry for what he did. He’s holding you after all of that, kissing you. He must be sorry, and so are you.

When he pulls back you gaze at him with half-lidded eyes. “I’m sorry, Dutch.” You whisper.

“Hush now,” He starts swaying as he holds you, leading you into a dance.

Your fight is practically forgotten by the end of the night. In the early hours of the morning, everyone is stumbling back to their respective beds. Stomachs are full and heads will be aching come noon, but to you it was all worth it. So long as you and Dutch aren’t fighting anymore.

Javier Escuella:

He hates fighting. I mean not in general, but just with you.

He won’t allow himself to be taken advantage of or walked all over, but if there’s some stupid argument that’s making you mad he will roll over and apologize. Just to keep the peace.

He loves you more than he loves being right, and if it makes you happy to just admit that then so be it.

When y’all do fight, though, it’s over something big. Stupid quarrels are so rare that the first time anyone catches wind that the two of you had a falling out it shocks half the camp to the core.

Javier would only truly get upset with you in a life or death situation. Like when you decided to not tell anyone you were heading into town really quick and met a few O’Driscoll’s in the general store.

When you saw them you recognized them as few that had gotten into a fight with Javier in town a few weeks ago. Javier let them walk away to save face, there was a large group of witnesses that would have pretty much guaranteed him an execution if he had taken their lives.

Your heart skipped a beat as one of them turned to look at you, but they left shortly after you entered the store and you prayed that would be the end of it.

After you finished at the store, though, you walked through the door to find the three men standing in the road before you. Their arms were folded across their chests and their legs spread in a dominant stance.

You clutched the items you bought to your chest and tried walking away from the trio, but one of them called out and made you stop in your tracks.

“You’re one of Dutch’s people ain’t you?” The tallest one said. It wasn’t really a question, he knew who you were.

“And what’s it to you, mister?” You shot back, reaching for the dagger in your belt.

“I’ve got a few questions for you about your boss.” The three of them started moving towards you. They surrounded you and backed you to the wall of the general store. You whipped out your dagger to tell them to back off, but it wouldn’t do much against three of them - you knew that and so did they.

The only reason you had made it out of that situation without even a scratch was because Arthur happened to be riding through town on his way back to camp and noticed the commotion.

He brought you back to camp, and that’s where you saw Javier standing at your cot with this arms crossed and a scowl darkening his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He practically shouts at you.

You didn’t mean to, you held them back as long as you could, but tears start flowing freely down your face in large, hot drops.

Javier’s scowl disappears almost immediately. He didn’t expect you to cry. Maybe yell back or explain yourself, but not cry. He drops his arms and grabs both of your hands in his.

“Are you okay?” His voice is low and laced with worry. Arthur got to him first and told him what happened briefly, so he knew you weren’t physically hurt, but other than that he didn’t know what happened.

“They surrounded me. I was - I was so scared, Javier.” Your throat was thick and it was hard to speak. Javier embraced you, rubbing your back and holding the back of your head as you cried harder into his shoulder.

“You’re safe now,” He assures you and presses soft kisses into your hair.

He spends the next few days feeling guilty for being mad at first.

You tell him you understand his reaction and that you were sorry,but he just says sorry back to you and claims he shouldn’t have been angry when you were scared.

You’re both equally sorry, I guess.

After that, though, Javier refuses to let you go anywhere alone. You don’t have to go with him but you have to have a traveling buddy in case anything like that happens again.

Charles Smith:

Doesn’t fight with anyone, really.

Sure, you can get mad at him and yell and hold a grudge, but he just lets you figure your emotions out from afar if that’s what you need. He gives you space when you need it, attention when you want it, and does anything that he can for you.

He loves you more than anything in the world, so when you’re mad at him it eats away at his insides until you make up. He’s literally the consent king, though, and will wait for you to come to him before he initiates anything.

It feels like he doesn’t care sometimes. It drives you crazy that he doesn’t chase after you and try to make up with you then and there or rectify the situation immediately, which turns into another argument.

“Do you even give a shit what I feel?” You frown at him one morning after a small argument that he just brushed off from the night before. He assumed since you slept with him in his bedroll, that meant you were over it.

“I love you! What are you talking about?” He rubs at the little stubble on his chin in exasperation.

“You never listen you just say ‘okay’ and move on. You don’t learn that way, Charles. You roll over and the same thing will keep happening because you aren’t listening.” You try to explain yourself. Charles nods but you can’t tell if he actually gets what you’re trying to convey since he never acknowledges it more than that.

You sigh and get up.

“I need a minute, come talk to me when you can.” You walk away from him and towards Miss Grimshaw doing the laundry.

Charles just stays where he is and lets out a long deep sigh. He thought it would be better for him to just agree with you, it would make you happy to be agreed with rather than continuing to fight over something so trivial.

He hasn’t been with the group for a super long time, but he’s created a strong bond with Arthur. So, that’s who he goes to to ask for advice on the whole situation.

Charles relays as much as he can back to Arthur and the cowboy just starts to chuckle at the absurdity of the conversation. He’s used to people coming to him for advice (he doesn’t really get why), but the situation with you and Charles came out of nowhere for him. He didn’t realize you two fought ever.

“No relationship is perfect, Charles.” Arthur suggests.

That’s literally no help to him so Charles walks off and tries thinking what to do. He comes up with nothing, though. Which makes him frustrated.

He starts walking towards you. You look up and see his determined face and scrunched brow and excuse yourself to meet him halfway.

“We need to talk.” He says, his words are intense but his gaze is still soft. You aren’t scared of him anyways.

“I think we do.” You reply and follow him to a private area right outside of camp.

The whole time he goes off about how he doesn’t get what you want from him. What you expect him to do or say when you get mad or annoyed.

“I just want to know you care about me and my emotions.”

“Dear, I care about you more than anything in the world. More than life itself, why do you question it?” He’s basically pleading with you to understand him, to finally see that just because he isn’t as forward with every single thought (good or bad) on his mind doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you or your emotions.

It takes little to no time for you to throw your arms around him in an embrace and mumble an apology into his hair.

Even your big fights aren’t really fights.

Sean MacGuire:

Sean does stupid stuff all the time. Literally he does stupid stuff more often than he does anything smart.

Especially when he’s drunk.

One night a small group of some of the gang decided to head into the saloon in town for a drinks for the night. You and Sean were always up for a good time and tagged along - obviously.

It presented opportunity for a little pickpocketing as well (if you didn’t get too drunk and sloppy to do it).

Everything went well for the first hour. Drinks were shared among the group and laughs were bellowing through the air with a contagious warmth. Better yet, no one seemed to be testing the waters and starting a bar fight.

Sean had his arm around you the entire night. He claimed it was to let all the scoundrels at the bar know that you were his and no one should even try to stake a claim to you.

You rolled your eyes but stayed nestled in the spot.

That is, until you were pulled away by your bladder. All the drinks were catching up to you and you slipped from under him to run to the restroom really quick.

When you came back, though, a working woman had taken advantage of your absence to catch Sean’s attention.

In his drunken state, Sean couldn’t even realize that the weight of the woman beside him wasn’t the same as when you were sitting there before. He didn’t say a thing as her arms wrapped around his torso or when she ran her fingers through his longish hair.

Tears fill your eyes almost instantly. You try to blink them away and get a better look at the scene in front of you, but it doesn’t change. It only gets worse as her lips start leaving rougey red stains on his neck.

“Sean!” You shove at his shoulder. When he sees you in front of him, his bleary red eyes turn to the woman beside him. His brain takes a minute to put two and two together, but by the time he has figured the situation out you are pushing through saloon patrons to get out into the night air.

Sean sobers up immediately. He pries himself out of the grasp of the other woman and follows your trail out the door.

He calls your name over and over again until he finally finds you sitting on the street corner crying into your knees.

“Please, Love!” He approaches you and your head whips up at the sound of his voice.

“You stay away from me you dog.” You snap and get up. You’re still pretty drunk as well however and you wobble and nearly fall over at the sudden movement.

Luckily Sean catches you by the arm before you can tumble into the dirt.

“I didn’t know she was there, honest. Thought you was there beside me.” He lifts a hand to your cheek, ready to brush away some of your tears, but you turn your cheek and shrug him off.

“Sure.” You say and try to walk away. He catches your arm again and turns you towards him once more.

“Honest, Love. Why would I pay for sex anyways - I’ve not a penny to me name and you give it to me for free.”

The sentiment was there, but definitely not the right thing to say.

You have to physically restrain yourself from hitting him upside the head at his words.

He sees the struggle on your face as soon as he says it and clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Sean MacGuire you bastard!” You shout at him, but can’t help a weak laugh from erupting from your throat at the end.

“I didn’t mean that, oh lord I didn’t.” The terror in his face only causes you to laugh harder.

The laughter surprises him and even yourself, so much so that the both of you are laughing. Though you don’t really understand why.

“If you ever-“ You say with a mocking glare, “Ever do something like that or say something like that again, I am leaving you Sean MacGuire.”

“I wouldn’t blame you one bit,” He says somberly, still with a small smile.

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I didn't write for Sadie because I genuinely could not think of a situation for her or how she would be, my brain died halfway through writing Sean's. I'll just have to write some Sadie focused hc's next time teehee~

[fawnwilde]

Mamma Mia 𓂃۶ৎ

Charles Smith x reader, John Marston x reader, Javier Escuella x reader

rating: explicit (18+)

Life has been hectic lately, which is only amplified after you find out you're pregnant. The kicker? You don't know who the father is.

content warning: f reader, smut MDNI, liberal use of the RDR2 timeline, reader is going through it, cheating (not by reader), pregnancy, angst, fluff, i'm ovulating sorry

word count: 4.3k

You're fucked. Absolutely fucked.

The doctor in Strawberry was very certain. You're pregnant.

With whose child? Well.

A month ago, you had had the two weeks from hell. A rendezvous with a past lover, a lay with a friend with benefits, and a night with the man you pined for, had all happened in a very short amount of time.

And one of them is the father of your unborn child.

"I'm fucked."

Arthur lifted his head as you said that, his hat revealing his concerned look. Passersby gave you both judging looks, only amplified by Arthur's panicked look.

"What did he say?" He asked. You opened your mouth, but arthur was already listing possibilities, "Pox? Flu? Scarlet fever? Syphilis?!"

"Christ, Arthur, calm down!" You said through gritted teeth, grabbing his arm and dragging him to where your horses were waiting.

He stares down at you, eyes wide as he awaits your explanation. You sigh, avoiding his scrutinising look and patting your mare, Lavender's neck.

"i'm pregnant." You sigh.

Arthur stares at you for a minute. You turn to look at him, as he stares at you stock still.

"Is it mine?"

"Arthur, we haven't had sex."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, I panicked." He clears his throat, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair, "So who's the father?"

"That's the thing..."

"God, it's not Sean is it?" Arthur asks with a mix of fear and revulsion.

"No!"

"Thank god."

"It's either-"

"Either?!"

"Shush!" You slap his arm, shutting him up, "It's either john's, Javier's or Charles'."

He stares at you.

"You get around."

You slapped him around the back of the head. He guffaws, as you climb atop your horse with a glare his way. He climbs upon his own, and you barely make it a yard when he begins asking questions.

And he asks them the entire way back to camp.

At camp, everyone was milling about, going about their days at usual, completely unaware of your inner turmoil. Hosea greeted you warmly as you passed, and you gave him a tight lipped smile, patting his shoulder affectionately as you passed. He watched you go, eyebrows furrow in concern at your clear anxiety. When he looks at Arthur, the enforcer merely shrugs and continues to brush his horse.

You walked to Pearson's station, grabbing an apple to satiate your hunger, looking across camp.

John was arguing the Abigail, much like any other day, while Jack sat a few feet away, playing with some pebbles and stacking them into a small mountain.

You and John Marston had a past. You had been close friends as teens, which naturally progressed into romance. He even proposed to you. You thought you would live your fairytale romance, like something out of Mary-Beth's books.

That was until he got Abigail pregnant.

He came to you one night, tears in his eyes, telling you he made a mistake. It broke your heart, and no amounts of him begging you to forgive him and move past it made you yield.

He disappeared when Jack was born, fearful of becoming a father, and upset that it wasn't you he was sharing a baby with. You liked Abigail, and grew closer to her during her pregnancy. When Jack was born, you took on the role of his second parent until John decided to step up.

When he finally returned, you were glad he was here for his son, but refused to talk much to him.

That was, until that night.

A month ago, you and he had been attempting to rob a stage coach. An unexpected interrupted by the law, had the two of you fleeing on foot after your horses were spooked.

Angry words were thrown between you, years of pent up rage and heart break coming to a head. Before long, you had him pressed to a tree with a knife to his throat, pouring out your heart as tears filled your eyes. He watched you with somber eyes, before taking the knife from your hand gently, and holding you close.

You slept with him that night. You allowed him to hold you close and murmur apologies into your neck as he rocked his body into yours. He clung to you like a life boat, and you held him just as hard. Your heart was breaking all over again.

After you both redressed, you asked him to never speak of this again, and left him devastated in the middle of the woods.

A bang startled you out of your thoughts, turning to see Uncle apologising after knocking over a crate. You wave him off, looking back at John, only seeing his back as he walks away from Abigail.

You sigh, taking another bite of your apple as you look to your left, spotting Javier sharpening his knife below a tree.

After John broke your heart all those years ago, you became a nightmare to be around. Always snapping, always angry, arguing with Dutch and ignoring Hosea's attempt to help.

Two days after John told you of Abigail's pregnancy, you found yourself sitting a ways away from camp, crying against a tree as the moon shone down on you. Your heart ached, but you didn't know how to express your agony. John, Hosea, Arthur, Dutch... they all wanted you to talk through your pain, but you just couldn't.

Footsteps approached you, and you spotted Javier walking towards you. He held his hands up in a calming manner, offering a small smile as he sat down beside you.

You sniffed, rubbing your nose in slight shame. He hummed, wordlessly pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, offering it to you. You accepted, letting the burn in your lungs and flush of nicotine in your head distract you. He said nothing, simply sitting with you while you shared the cigarette. After a while, you rested your cheek on his shoulder, and he held you close.

For so long, it felt like your life was a river, ebbing and flowing during the chaos of outlaw life. Until John's betrayal hit you, a damn breaking and flooding the water.

Javier became a raft for you to hold on while you waded through the wreckage.

He was a great friend. Unlike Arthur in ways, who you adored, for the fact that he hadn't been with the gang long enough to feel like a brother.

Maybe that is why you slept with him.

It happened naturally. The two of you sat in his tent as he tuned his guitar, the morning sun slowly rising. Everyone else was asleep. You leant on his shoulder, letting the calm wash over you. You turned to look at him at the same time he turned to look at you, and you pressed your lips to his gently.

After that morning, filled with affectionate and passionate sex, you and he began a friendship with benefits.

It was all you needed for the moment, never worrying that he would break your heart because he didn't ask for it, just two people who cared for one another, caring for one another.

He looked up as you watched him, his stoic face breaking out into a kind smile. You returned it.

Sean stole his attention for a moment, and you chuckled at javiers instant frustration.

When you turned, your eyes fell on Charles.

You and charles were... complicated. He joined the group not long before the incident in Blackwater, immediately establishing himself as a strong and reliable member of the gang. He was fierce, but calm. Deadly when needed, but gentle when he wanted to be.

You and he rarely talked at first, apart from the occasional greeting and small conversation by the camp fire.

But he saved your life during Blackwater. While havoc ensued, a lawman shot you in the arm while you fled. Charles arrived like a knight in shining armour, taking out the lawman and ignoring his own injuries as he carried you to safety.

In colter, you found yourself falling for him. you watched him as he worked, his brow always set in quiet contemplation, his eyes showing an intelligence and understanding you were unused to seeing.

You were resigned to never tell him your feelings, holding your heart in your hands like a newborn baby, protecting it from all outside forces. John broke your heart, Javier helped you put it back together, and you were afraid to put it out there to be at risk of being shattered again.

After arriving at horseshoe overlook, you took to hunting as well as your 'womanly' duties, and Charles offered to teach you how to use a bow. The two of you would regularly go hunting together, something which you both loved and hated.

A month ago, on one of your trips, rain began to fall too heavily to see, and you decided to camp where you were to avoid getting lost in the storm.

Being around him had felt even more intense that day, and in the dead of night; your body acted before your mind could.

You left your tent, clearing your throat outside of his and asking charles if you could come in. When you entered, he sat up, an eyebrow raised in concern.

He looked so beautiful.

You found yourself pressing your lips to his urgently, needing your actions to speak for you, as your world would surely fail to do your feelings justice.

After a moment of hesitation, he cupped your cheek, bringing you further into the kiss, lying down and bringing you with him. No words were spoken.

Charles held you close as he stripped you both of your clothes. He was gentle and slow as he rolled you on top of him, fucking up into you with ease. his soft groans and praises filled your head. You fell asleep on top of him, your bare skin pressed to his.

When you woke up, he was already getting dressed, not looking at you as he frowned down at the ground.

"Charles?" You asked groggily.

He looked over at you, opening his mouth to speak before he closed it, his jaw ticking.

"We best be going. They'll be worried about us." With that, he left.

Your fragile heart cracked.

Clearly, he regretted what happened. You resigned to hide your hurt and never speak of it. No more words were exchanged between the both of you on the way back. In fact, you hadn't spoken at all since that day.

You tore your eyes from him before he could see you, tossing the apple core away as you walked back to your tent.

The sun set, and the camp was once again alive with music and chatter, drinks flowing easily.

You were sat beside Arthur around the campfire, trying to follow Sean singing a song you were not familiar with. Your eyes kept going to Javier, who was smiling easily as he strummed his guitar. Catching your eye, he wiggled his eyebrows playfully, completely unaware of the reason why you were not partaking in the drinks.

Jack was sat at your feet, trying to avoid his mother so he could stay up past his bed time. You held his hands in yours, waving them about in dance, and he laughed happily, looking up at you with loving eyes.

Your heart clenched. Jack felt like your own at this point, god knows Abigail considered you his third parent.

You could be carrying his sibling, the child of the man you once loved more than anything.

Feeling the familiar sense of someone's eyes on you, you looked up and saw john watching you. His eyes were soft, a small smile on his lips as he watched you with his son. He made eye contact with you, the familiar look of grief and sorrow filling his grey eyes. You looked away, turning back to jack to focus on making him do silly dances again.

Abigail laughed and hugged your shoulder, telling Jack to head to bed before she makes him sleep even earlier the next night. With a kiss to your cheek, he walked away, hand in hand with his mother, and John followed them after.

You stood as well, apologetically refusing the whiskey bottle Sean offered you, siting a bad stomach. Arthur watched as you left, trying to be casual with his worry. Javier noticed, though.

Walking back to your own tent, you spotted Charles making his way through the camp, carrying more logs for the fire.

He looked at you at the same time, he pace faltering before he kept walking, nodding to you before passing.

"Charles-"

"Sleep well, Y/N."

You felt your throat close up as he walked away.

Turning back, you saw Hosea sitting on his own bed roll, a book in his lap as he gave you a sad smile. You returned it, joining his side. His presence comforted you, though you were unsure about telling him of your situation, worried about his reaction.

He noticed. He knew you too well to ignore your obvious distress.

"What's wrong, my dear?" Hosea asks softly.

You sighed, playing with the laces of your boots, avoiding his eyes, "Just... life."

He was quiet for a moment, before putting his book away and taking your hand in his, "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I'm... I'm pregnant." You whispered.

His eyebrows raise, and he takes a deep breath, "is it Charles'?"

"I, uh, I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"It could be his. We were, um, intimate about a month ago. But... I slept with Javier a few days before that, and John about a week before both of them."

This is humiliating, you think to yourself.

Hosea sighs, holding the bridge of his nose. You gnawed at your lip, expecting his disappointment and a lecture, at the least.

But he held your hand harder, giving you a soft look.

"I don't care who the father is, dear. That's your baby, and it's going to be a damn force of nature, that's for sure." He says fondly, "You should talk to them, let them know what's happening, and we need to tell the others so we can prepare... having Jack is hard enough when we're constantly in danger. We'll need to lay low, make sure you and the baby are safe."

You smile, relieved at his immediate support, leaning into him so he can wrap an arm around you, kissing the crown of your head paternally.

"Thank you, Hosea."

"Of course, sweetheart, we'll figure this out."

Seven months had passed since the day you found out you were pregnant.

Hosea had convinced Dutch to pull off one grand score, getting enough money for the gang to semi-permanently move into a farm far away from Blackwater and the Pinkertons.

The gang was excited for the new addition, though it took a while to get used to.

The girls were constantly distracted from their chores because they were sewing you maternity dresses and little baby clothes. Miss Grimshaw complained about losing a worker and the women being distracted, but would always be the first one checking on you and berating you for doing too much.

Hosea and arthur were always at your side, when they weren't working on the farm. By the time your bump was big enough that you couldn't see your feet, Arthur was attached to your hip, picking heavy things up for you and carrying you if need be.

They were both excited to be an uncle and a grandfather. The calm life in the farm was making everyone happier, though Dutch often disappeared to go and search out scores.

Life was good, though. Everyone could agree to that.

The fathers were settling, as well. Despite the strangeness of the situation.

Javier had reacted to the news the best.

He knew about your nights with John and Charles, and didn't care who the real father was. He was just excited to meet the little one, singing to your growing belly and helping you come up with names.

John had freaked out initially. He was afraid of what the future would hold, especially due to the uncertainty of who the father would be. He avoided you at first, but when you started showing, your relationship improved. His priority became your safety and comfort.

But even when he was in a weird mood, Abigail would step up, helping you with your aches and nausea and never ending worries. Jack was obsessed with the bump, not caring for the overall tensions and just being happy that he would have a little sister or little brother. Abigail assured you, that no matter who the father was, the baby would have Jack as a big brother. Hearing her say that made you cry, grateful for your little family.

Charles was concerned at first. He was understanding of your situation, and decided to no longer distance himself from you, not when you were vulnerable. He checked on you morning and night, making sure you ate and got enough rest. But there was a lingering worry in your mind.

During your fifth month, you were overwhelmed with hormones, your emotions got the better of you constantly.

Charles found you crying in the barn and immediately fell to your side, taking your hand and pressing a strong palm to your belly, asking what was wrong in his gentle, baritone voice.

"I'm sorry, Charles." You said, voice thick with tears, "I'm sorry all of this is happening. If this baby is yours, I'm sorry you're going to be stuck with me. I know you regret what happened between us. It's not fair to trap you."

Charles looked confused, intertwining your fingers as he looked away, searching for the right words.

"I thought... you would want to forget it happened." He said gently, rubbing your bump soothingly, "I didn't want you to feel obligated to stay with me because we slept together."

"Are you kidding me? I love you, you moron." you said through tears.

Charles' face softened, his hand leaving your belly to cup your cheek. You leaned into it, your tears coating his warm palm.

"I'm sorry, my love." He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "No more tears. We're in this together now."

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

Another few weeks have passed, and you and charles lay on your shared bed, another agonising day of being huge and the baby still hadn't arrived.

The doctor said you were a week overdue, and you had been given strict instructions on what to do to speed up the process. Walking, drinking specific tea's, having sex... a lot of sex, and nothing had happened. Your back was killing you, even just lying down.

You groaned, standing up. Charles watched you, eyes soft as you stretched and rubbed at your bump.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Yup, just the old back pain." you sighed, stretching your back and walking around leisurely, cracking your stiff joints.

"You're starting to sound like uncle."

"Excuse you, I have a reason to complain. I'm carrying a toddler at this point."

You looked out at the night sky as Charles chuckled, turning back over in bed to get some rest. The stars twinkled up above, and you admired them with a small smile. The baby kicked gently, eager to get out and see them for itself.

The sound of dripping liquid caught your attention, and you looked down, noticing some water pooling by your feet. You were confused for a second, before you began panicking.

"Oh shit." you whispered, looking at charles, who immediately sprung up from the bed and came to your side.

"What's wrong?" he looked down, face completely calm as he assessed the situation.

He looked up with a smile, which you shakily shared.

"Baby's coming." You said breathlessly.

Endings...

here i go again john's version

a fire within my soul javier's version

now or never charles' version

Thank you for reading, it's been months since I completed a fanfic so I'm cheesin at my phone screen. Likes and reblogs are appreciated but I just hope you enjoyed! <3

[omgwhatchloe]

STUPID MODERN AU HEADCANONS ALERT

-they all have one hideout they stay at after too many of their apartments kept getting raided. its…its chaotic sometimes.

-bill snores so fucking loud and sleeps on the sofas. he DOES have a bed, he just ‘rests’ his eyes during whatever he’s watching, spreads out and snores like hell. its the most infuriating thing, and arthur does not hold back when beating him with a pillow.

-however if it was lenny or one of the girls who’d fallen asleep on the sofa, lets just say hes sneaking back into the house after late night adventures, and he finds them, arthur would absolutely cover them with a blanket or even carry them to bed depending on how tired he was.

-the men of the gang have differing opinions on drugs, strippers, etc. some will absolutely spend their money on that, others will never even consider it. you gotta remember, this is a gang and theyre criminals.

-movie nights are very random as theyre all constantly in and out, doing this and that, but it is nice when a group of them can settle down and watch something. but you know theyre getting interrupted constantly, because lenny thinks that doesnt make sense and johns hungry and sean thinks theyre hot and tilly cant decide if she wants some of the blanket or not and micah’s just walked in and decided the whole ordeal is very gay etc etc

-STREET RACING. sean, lenny, arthur, john, javier, karen, sadie, even abigail all love it, and it miiiight just be one of hosea’s guilty pleasures.

-leopold strauss does not like dutch’s music. imagine, theyre coming back from a job and he rides with dutch and hosea, who plays ‘old classics’ because dutch thinks thats what theyre into. cut to strauss staring longingly out of the window, watching arthurs car with the roof down and pitbull up. he is a very unhappy old man in that moment. he does NOT WANT to listen to big iron, HE WANTS TIMBER!!

-booktok is lenny’s biggest opp. he likes the classics and to wander around bookshops (sean trailing behind him and picking up random books on weeds and fitness to offer him because he doesnt actually know what theyre about) looking for his own books to read and get his own opinion on.

-sean can read, but does struggle with dyslexia and still dislikes books for this reason. he doesnt mind being read too, but feels overwhelmed and gets upset with himself when actually attempting to read.

-mary-beth loves to watch tv in her room only to fall asleep with it on, causing susan to poke her head around the door and yell at her to turn it off at like 3am. but trust me, the girls seen everything. every dating show, reality show, drama, documentary, she has seen it! she also has teddys/stuffed animals!!

-john never grew out of enjoying sleepovers, but thankfully neither did javier. they’d always get drunk and high together, do dumb shit, snuggle only to deny they did in the morning, and get yelled at to shut up. of course, john’d eventually get to have a sleepover every night with abigail, but he feels like its just not the same…

-charles WILL go to sleep in your car and you cant stop him. arthur finds it cute tho.

-the cupboards do not have snacks because everyone is too possessive over what they want and just keep it in their rooms.

-a lot of the time only a few people are having stew, since the rest are off getting fast food or just not eating.

-sean misses ireland so much, homesickness is a big problem for him (to the point he may actually be sick from upsetting himself so much) and he wishes him and his da never had to leave donegal. though obviously he struggles with booking flights and decides to just not do it instead of asking for help. for a perfect birthday present, lenny booked a trip for them!!

-seans da is not dead!! though he lives quite far from where the gang are staying (different state, not back in ireland) and sean misses him more than he likes to admit. the little irishboy loves to sit in his da’s house with a cup of tea, stealing all the biscuits and yapping on. he used to like to bring lenny too, when they were closer (in distance, not relationship)and his da decided he liked lenny more than sean, joking ofc.

[darlingsfandom]

If your free (it's ok when your busy and need rest 😁 take care)

When Tommy and changretta reader have their first child a daughter . The little girl reminded Tommy of his late daughter ruby he's soft with her (plus protective) y/n can tell after he told her about what happened . He's got a chance with a daughter again it went well she's a daddy's girl with y/n can't stop smiling how her daughter makes Tommy soft to protective

I was going to make this a blurb but I decided to headcanon it instead!

•Tommy is 100% a girl dad!

•When he found out you were pregnant he actually cried ! He couldn’t believe it at first but after going to the doctor with you he was still in shock!

•it took a few tries to get you pregnant but he wasn’t complaining one bit on that!

•He got Arthur and John to help him set up the nursery which was a light pink!

•The whole family gave you a huge baby shower! Spoiled you with little dresses, shoes and even a cap to match Tommy’s!

•after you had your daughter Tommy instantly fell in love with her! She had your eyes and his nose! And more hair than John ! That was a Tommy joke.

•The first couple of months were hard for the both of you. The sleep schedule was trash. You couldn’t get out of bed, Tommy missed Ruby at times because this was his second daughter but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her any less.

•Her name ? Lillian Polly Shelby ! Of course she’s gotta be named after aunt Polly! Everyone called her Lilly for short.

•Tommy helped her take her first steps! He was a little salty her first word was Mama but she soon learned dada afterwards.

•When she was actually talking in short sentences she did really well. Tommy was in a meeting when she came in running around yelling “fuck!” All the men laughed including Tommy. He’d tell her that’s a grown up word to which she’d argue how he uses it all the time and so does mommy !

•on her fifth birthday Tommy gave her a locket that a picture of you and him in it! She loved that locket and wore it everywhere !!

•One her first day of school she came home upset because she missed the two of you! That night Tommy read her a bedtime story twice!

•As she got older she started noticing boys and Tommy did not like that ! She brought home a boy to study and Tommy made sure to keep his gun out to scare the boy and it worked.

•Lilly came home crying one day from school because a group of girls told her she’s ugly and that boiled his blood! He talked to his daughter about how looks don’t matter and its brains! He talked about how he fell in love with you and not just because you’re pretty but because you’re smart, funny, a good kisser to which she made a face ! Tommy got her to laugh !

•Soon enough his baby girl was graduating and going off to uni! He paid her for to go. She decided to go for business because she wanted to be like Tommy just not as violent!

•she’d visit on breaks and Tommy would always send her back to school with a little letter to remind her of home.

•Lilly met a boy! She brought him home one day and Tommy tested him in every way possible. He did not approve! Tommy knew the boy only liked her because of her name and money!

•He comforted Lilly. When she went back to study she focused hard and graduated top of her class.

•A few years later she did meet a boy that Tommy approved of! He even shook the boys hand the night they met! Pretty soon it was wedding day.

•Tommy held onto Lilly’s arm tightly doing his best to hold back his tears but it was impossible and started crying when he said “Her mother and I do!” And sat down next to you as he watched his little girl get married.

•When Tommy found out he was going to be a grandpa he about died! He was excited !

•When Lilly had the baby, she had a boy and named him Benjamin Thomas ! Tommy cried hearing that his grandson had his name! Tommy had lived a beautiful life .

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Drunk Arthur and Reader!

Very much spurred on by @koboivanderlinde and their recent headcannon of the same thing! (Though it's reversed and theirs is drunk reader with sober arthur)

I just read it and I decided I HAD to

So I hope y'all enjoy!!

WARNINGS!: Drunkeness, fluff, GN reader (if theres a mistake I'll do my best to fix it!!)

TAGS!: @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @kieropal @cantchoosejust1

When Arthur drinks, he DRINKS

I mean, he tries not to drink a lot because he knows how he can be sometimes

But when he does drink

He DRINKS

So while they're few and far between, his drunken nights tend to be a little...obnoxious

He has a thing for you, which he has nOT told you

And when he get's shitfaced at Sean's return party his lips are loosened and he says almost anything that comes to his mind

Usually someone else takes care of him whike he's drunk, John or Charles, but tonight, with EVERYONE celebrating there's not really anyone TO take care of him

Other than you of course

While you've had a few drinks yourself you've still got your wits about you.

And you realize just how deep he's in it when he calls out to you

"Y/N! Y/NNNNN! Sugarrr!" He's slurring his words and he's got the largest smile on his face from where he sits at the table.

When you reach him he smiles at you widely and his arm wraps around your waist without a single bit of hesitation

He's pulled you into his lap and latched his lips to your neck within a matter of seconds, sending your face into a red haze

You do your best to try to get him to stop

Not that you don't like it, that's not the thing at all, you yourself have felt something for him for god knows how long

But it's the fact that he's clearly drunk, the red haze on his cheeks, the face that his eyes were glazed over, and that loopy lopsided grin stuck to his face that you loved so much.

You don't want him to regret what he's doing when he wakes up sober tomorrow.

When you do manage to get him to stop kissing you he simply places his forehead against your shoulder, muttering quietly against you.

"You always smell so nice Y/N....you're so good lookin'...and...smart...and so...so...good, and you...you...I love you...you're my favorite...and...I'd do...."

You manage to put your hand over his mouth before he finishes that sentence, the look in his eyes as he looked up at you made you realize that he probably would have finished it with "I'd do anything to fuck you"

He seemed to give you bedroom eyes everytime you looked at him

You tried to leave his lap several times

He refused

Literally iron gripped your waist, like no matter what you did there was NO escaping his grasp.

"Arthur please, you're drunk, you wouldn't say all this if you were sober."

He just laughs at you, and it's a real one, hearty, in his chest, it rumbles through him and even though he's drunk that laugh makes you smile. It isn't often he's in such a good mood

"I love ya Y/N....you're goddamn perfect...." He slurs.

You can't help but smile at him, you know you love him too

You just know he didn't want this, and you're sure when you bring it up to him tomorrow morning he's going to be upset.

You decide it's best to try and get him into his bed

You're able to convince him easily

(He thinks you want to take him somewhere more private 😉)

When you get him into his best he tries to pull you to him, and he manages to kiss you

It's sloppy, rushed, heated, and at first you feel guilty, but then your entire body heats up.

You pull away from him obviously, you know it's the right thing to do, even though his kiss was FANTASTIC even drunk

"Y/N...what's wrong...why won't you kiss me? Why...why won't you tell me you love me? You...I mean... you...You don't love me...do ya?"

He's not on the verge of tears, but his face obviously falls. His eyes, while glazed over a little still show emotion, and you can see just how much your rejection, while it's only temporary, fucks with him.

He'll silently climb onto his cot and then stare at you for a second or two before he speaks again

"'M sorry Y/N....shouldn't have," he hiccups and leans against the side of his wagon that his cot is leaned agsinst. "Shouldn't have said that...'m sorry..'m sorry..."

He keeps apologizing and every apology makes your heart break. He puts his head in his hands, and you can't help but climb onto the cot with him and gently place your hand against his cheek

"Oh Arthur, I do love you, you silly man."

He simply looks at you through his fingers and then silently he manages to position himself with his head in your lap.

You run your fingers through his hair and sigh.

"I love you more than words can explain Arthur, it breaks my heart that you think you have to apologize for saying you love me. Even if I didn't love you, you never have to apologize for loving someone."

You're 90 percent sure he didn't hear a word of that

He's snoring

And you're stuck there for the night but you don't mind.

You truly love him more than words can describe and not only that but the warmth of him against your lap makes you smile. You've never felt closer.

The next morning when he wakes up, confused as to why you're in his tent you have to explain to him what happened

He is so fucking embarrassed

I mean

Puts a hand over his face

Cant look at you

And groans at every word you say

He again apologizes profusely, trying to explain that he'll understand if you hate him, if you don't want him around

You kiss him to shut him up and he's happy to return the kiss.

(After a few moments of brief panic)

When you pull apart and mutter that you love him too he simply sighs quietly and wraps his arms around your waist before saying it for the first time sober

"I love ya too Y/N, I mean that."

[a-mossy-amethyst]

if trans stuff/gnc stuff is up your alley i am very fond of the post-coma name scene. What if John had decided that instead of being John, he wanted to be Jane? I enjoy the softness and humanity of it all.

Jane Doe rights!

Some of the dialogue is from episode 5 as this is meant to be an alternative version of the name scene

“So, what have I missed?” Arthur asks.

The entity pieces together what to tell him first. He’s been in a coma for a month, and it feels like so much and so little has happened at the same time.

Their focus should be on Amanda Cummings. Arthur was already talking about her before it cut him off.

But the entity spent a month alone with no one but a kind nurse to keep it company. And the name she, without realizing, gave it has been stirring at something in its mind.

It decides to pry open the topic gently. “For one thing, they don’t know who you are.”

“No?”

“No. I thought maybe they would piece together the missing driver from the car accident a ways away from here.” It pauses. “... You’ve been John Doe for the past weeks.”

“Oh.”

“It’s…” How does it explain?

“What?” Arthur asks.

“It’s actually interesting,” it says, stalling for time.

“Well, how so?” he prompts the entity to explain.

“The nurses, one in particular… she comes in to check. She always says, ‘Good morning, John,’ and, uh…” it trails off.

“What about it?”

The entity flexes its hand, testing the joints. It’s stiff. At first, it used to drum its fingers against the bed to entertain itself, but after so long it started drifting away from this body. The only times it came back to it was when Lilly visited, and it avoided moving so she didn’t freak out.

Having a name sounded nice. But not necessarily that one. Part of it wanted to keep it for Lilly’s sake, but it doesn’t quite fit. Like a puzzle piece that matches its color scheme and looks like it should be a part of it, but just doesn’t have a spot for itself.

The entity was grateful for Lilly giving it a name. It just wishes it was one it liked more.

“Well, I like having a name.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur moves his limbs one at a time, probably testing them like the entity did its hand. “You want to be called John?”

“No. I want to be called… something.” It didn’t know.

“Okay…” Arthur says slowly. “Did you not like John?”

“I guess not.”

“How about other ‘j’ names? James, Jack, even just Jay-”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” it snaps, because none of those are right.

“Alright, so not ‘j’. Um… what about Robert? Or Nathan, or Alexander?”

The entity huffs. “You aren’t getting it.”

“No, I’m afraid I’m not,” Arthur retorts. “You said you wanted a name, but not John. I’m sorry I can’t list every name in existence on the spot. I just woke up from a coma, as you said. I’m still adjusting.”

It sighs. “Sorry, Arthur,” it says sincerely. It doesn’t mean to upset him so quickly, but he just isn’t getting it.

How does it explain better? It’s not that the names Arthur listed were particularly bad, they just weren’t right. Not like…

“I like ‘Lilly’ more than I like ‘Arthur’.”

Arthur stills. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The entity groans. “I’m trying to explain.”

“You’re not doing a very good job of it, then. I feel rather insulted. Is ‘Arthur’ so bad a name?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean? I can hardly be called Lilly, that’s a woman’s–” he abruptly cuts himself off.

“What?” it snaps.

“Oh.”

“Just spit it out, for God's sake!”

“Ah, well, it's just…”

“Jesus Christ, Arthur, what–”

“Would you… prefer a woman's name?” Arthur tentatively asks.

The entity pauses. Was that the problem? That “John” was too masculine for whatever it was?

“Like what?”

“Oh- um- John Doe is the name for unidentified males, and the female version is Jane Doe, so what about Jane?”

The entity twirls the name around in its mind. Jane Doe. It would still be an homage to Lilly, and, more importantly…

It felt right.

“Jane.”

“Y-yes,” Arthur nods, Jane’s vision bouncing with the movement. I'm sorry if I'm wrong, it was just a thought, ignore me–”

“No!” it cuts him off. “Jane is good. My name… is Jane Doe.”

Arthur sighs in relief. “It's a nice name. I'm glad I can call you something. Does that mean you're a she, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Jane is a woman's name, so I thought you'd go by 'she’ as well.

“… Was I wrong?”

Jane hesitates. It doesn't sound like a bad idea.

“No, I think it's fine.”

“Right. Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

Jane thinks if she had a body, she'd be smiling right now. “Thank you for helping.”

[theshelbyclan]

A Sisterly Bond

Summary: Ada and Teddy don’t have much in common, but that doesn’t mean that they couldn’t make a good team

A/N: I just felt like writing again, and for Ada and Teddy in particular. I always imagine them getting on better and better as Teddy gets older. She’s still young in this one, so it’s a rocky relationship still 😂 anyways, hope you enjoy to whoever still is reading my stuff!

Words: 2630

*****

“Teddy, would you be so kind as to give me my coat?”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ada sighed, “why do you always have to be difficult?”

“Am not,” Teddy grumbled.” I just don’t see why I have to be your lady’s maid, just because you’re my sister.”

“Ooh, there’s a big word!” the older sister replied sarcastically.

“Tommy says all fancy rich ladies have a lady’s maid.”

“ ‘Tommy says’…” Ada rolled her eyes and Teddy stuck out her tongue at her.

In many ways, Ada and Teddy were nothing alike. There was the age gap, of course, but they also just seemed to have very little in common. Ada didn’t care much for family business, while Teddy wanted to know everything about everything. Ada tried her best to live her own life without her brothers interfering at every turn, whereas Teddy wanted to be like her brothers in every way. Ada made an effort to never care too much, unlike Teddy, who cared so much and didn’t have a problem showing it. Also, Ada wanted to go out in her fancy coat and high heels, and Teddy wanted to run free in her brother’s trousers and shirt.

Polly watched the two sisters and followed Teddy with her eyes as she stormed out the door in a huff. She then turned to Ada and said, “Would it kill you to just say a kind word to her every now and then?”

Ada had her nose back in the papers and shrugged, “I don’t know, Pol. Would it kill her to practise some good manners?”

“You know what she’s like.”

“Oh, I do,” she sighed, “I remember when she was born and you told me how nice it would be for me to have another girl in the family. Instead we got… Teddy.”

———

Nine-year-old Teddy Shelby was walking through the muddy streets and pretended she was a pirate. With a stick in hand, she fought off the assailants only she could see and shouted out battle cries. But in the chaos of Small Heath, no one really noticed her. And if they did, they simply thought: there goes Teddy Shelby…

Her playing was suddenly interrupted though by her youngest brother. “Aunt Polly says she wants you to go with Ada!” Finn shouted out, as he ran towards her.

“Why?” she sighed, exasperated.

“I don’t know. She needs help carrying things from the market?”

Teddy kicked a rock, “Can’t you do it?”

Finn shrugged again, “It’s a woman’s job, isn’t it.”

“Oh fuck off!” As Finn pouted a little, she added, “Please can you go? Ada doesn’t even like me…”

If there was one thing Finn couldn’t stand, it was seeing his little sister upset, so he agreed. “You know, Arthur is always with John. Ada likes me, but you’re Tommy’s favourite.”

“I know.”

“So it’s not that bad, right?” Finn tried hopefully.

“I suppose not.” But Teddy couldn’t help but feel a little sadness over it.

———

“Aunt Pol says I’m to get you ready for church.”

“I am ready,” Teddy motioned to her dress, which she hated so intensely.

Ada sighed, “What have you done to your knees now? They look like you’ve become the chimney sweep’s latest apprentice.”

“Why do you always have to badger me?” Teddy called out, full of frustration.

“Just… clean your knees before Polly sees,” she waved a hand and put on a hat.

Teddy started scrubbing furiously at her legs. Ada watched her and decided that maybe she should make an effort. So she asked, “What do you think of this hat? Does is suit me?”

“I don’t know,” the little girl shrugged, “it stays on so I’m guessing it fits your head?”

“Bloody hell, I don’t know why I even bother. Let’s go.”

———

In the late afternoon sun, Tommy was talking to a man about a horse. Next to him, a small girl was following the conversation intensely, trying to learn as much from the interaction as she could.

“I’ll give you four for her, but no more.”

“Can’t do less than six, mister Shelby,” the man slapped her brother’s hand, “She’s a good horse, that one. Strong.”

“She’s no war horse and I could have fucking five of her for that price. Four and a half.”

“I have a family to feed, sir. Five?”

Tommy shook his hand and that was that.

After he’d left, Teddy looked up and, like she’d been in the business for twenty years, said, “She’s worth at least ten, Tommy.”

“Is she?” he took a drag on his cigarette, but inside felt like he could burst with pride. Then he lifted Teddy up and planted her up onto the horse, “Go on, tell me what she’s like.”

As Teddy rode around the yard, Ada joined her brother. With her usual air of indifference, she commented, “Well, if it isn’t the big brother and his pride and joy.”

“Hello, Ada…”

“Did she persuade you into spending more money once again?”

“Look at her,” Tommy pointed, “She might be the best rider in all of Small Heath.”

Ada raised her eyebrows and mumbled, “High praise…” In truth, Ada was impressed. She’d always been the odd one out in the family when it came to horses. She never much cared for them and riding them had always been more of a chore than a pleasure.

“Why don’t you tell her how good she looks up on that horse, eh?”

“Me? Why the hell would I tell her?”

Tommy locked eyes with Ada, “Because it’s you she wants to hear it from.”

She laughed a little at that, “No, Tommy, it’s you she wants to hear it from. Everything she wants to hear from you.”

As Ada walked off again, Tommy called after her, “She is your only sister, Ada.”

“And what a joy she is,” but it didn’t come out that sarcastic this time.

After a few more minutes or riding, Teddy hopped down from the horse again. Her brother asked her some questions about the horse and she answered to the best of her abilities. But in between, Teddy carefully asked, “Was that Ada?”

“Yes, just on her way home from the Bullring.”

“Did she watch me ride?” Teddy asked in a small voice.

Tommy observed her for a second, “Now, why do you ask that?”

She shrugged her shoulders and turned away to brush off the horse, “Just curious.”

———

Polly was a modern woman in many ways, but not in every way. She might’ve even been insulted if you called her that. So, when it was time for the spring cleaning of the house, she asked the girls to help. Well, she didn’t really ask.

“Ada, you start on sweeping and Teddy you can follow her with the bucket.”

Both girls rolled their eyes so hard it had to hurt and Polly couldn’t help but notice how in those few seconds, they looked exactly alike.

“I’ll be in the back with the washing,” their aunt continued, leaving no room for arguments.

Cigarette in hand, Ada started sweeping the floors at her own leisurely pace.

“Hurry up, will you?” Teddy grumbled, “I have to wait on you to mop and I do have other things to do, you know.”

“Oh? And what important appointments might you have, you strange little idiot?”

“Don’t call me an idiot!” Teddy stomped down het foot, “and hurry the fuck up!”

“Swear again and I’ll give you a slap!”

“Go on then!”

Ada huffed and swung her broom, aiming for her annoying sister. Teddy ducked and laughed, “You’re too slow.”

“Teddy…” she sighed, “I don’t want to do this either and I don’t have the energy to fight you as well. Just shut up and get this done.”

“Fine. Go on then, work, unless you’re afraid you’ll break a fucking nail or something.”

That earned Teddy a firm smack around the head. Angrily, she picked up her bucket and threw its contents in Ada’s direction, instantly soaking her sister.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!”

Aunt Polly came barging in the house after hearing Ada scream. Inside, she found a furious Teddy with one red cheek and an even more furious Ada, completely wet and dripping.

“I left you two alone for five fucking minutes,” she glared daggers, “and you can’t even behave for that long?”

Ada seemed to have found her composure again and grabbed another, dry, cigarette. “That’s what happens when you leave me with an actual fucking savage, Pol.”

“It’s not my fault! She started it!” Teddy fumed, “She called me an idiot and she does that all the time because she hates me!”

“Jesus Christ,” Polly lit a cigarette of her own, “Ada, go get changed and then you can continue the work outside. Teddy, you take over the sweeping. Probably my own fucking fault for thinking you could get along for half a day…”

With all the dignity she could muster in a soaked dress, Ada stalked off. Teddy picked up the broom and tried to avoid Polly’s eyes.

“I’ll have a word with her,” Polly said eventually, not without sympathy.

“Which is more than I’ll ever fucking have again,” Teddy spit.

“God,” Polly whispered to herself, “Why did you have to make them both so fucking stubborn?”

———

It was the evening after pay day, so all the pubs in Small Heath were filled to the brim. Normally, they didn’t serve women on their own, but Ada Shelby was the exception to the rule. Harry wouldn’t dare to refuse her.

“Here you go, Miss Shelby,” he said, as he handed her a drink.

She took it gratefully and went to sit down. The truth was, she was hoping to catch a glimpse of Freddie Thorne, but he hadn’t been in yet.

After fifteen minutes, she wanted another one and made her way over to the bar again. But the place was packed and it took too long for her liking. So, Ada went behind the bar and poured her own drink. Teddy watched her and smirked slightly. Deep down, she did admire her sister, simply because she wasn’t impressed by anything or anyone really.

At the same time, an older gentlemen strolled into the Garrison. He was dressed differently, looked like money, and had the confidence to match. Short as he was, he made up for it in attitude. Teddy didn’t know him and eyed him carefully.

Then he spotted Ada and made his way over. Leaning on the bar, he started talking to her, but Teddy couldn’t hear. She stood up and walked a little closer, while remaining invisible in the crowd.

“Come on, sweetheart, pretty girl like you all alone without a man?”

“Who says I am?” Ada shrugged, and Teddy could tell she was uncomfortable.

He smiled at her without humour, “How about I take you for a good time. You don’t want to be difficult, do you?”

Teddy frowned and felt the urge to spit at him. But instead she noticed how he was standing up on the little ledge of the bar, just a few inches off the ground. Cockily, he balanced on one leg, presumably to make up for the inches he lacked.

So the little girl grinned and just as he was telling Ada about all the things he had and could offer her, Teddy walked up to him and kicked him in the back of his knees. At once, he lost his balance and his legs buckled. And in one swift motion, he collapsed onto the bar and then fell flat on his arse.

The pub erupted in laughter.

Teddy joined in, but only got to celebrate her triumph for a few seconds. The man became furious and grabbed her, raising his hand to strike her. But before he could, Ada had grabbed a bottle and smashed it over his head. Afterwards, she calmly brushed the glass off her own coat and bit, “Now, piss off.”

“Yeah!” Teddy added, “Piss off!”

Ada looked down at her and grabbed her hand. She didn’t feel like waiting for what was to happen next, so she marched her little sister out of the pub.

Outside, neither said a word for a long time. Eventually, Ada was the first one to speak, “Would you mind explain what the bloody hell that was?”

Teddy shrugged, a little winded from having to run after Ada in her four inch heels, “I thought he was a bad man, so I didn’t want him to talk to you.”

Ada looked down at her strange little sister and felt a sudden surge of love for her, “He was a bad man. And I didn’t want him to talk to me.”

“Why?”

“Teddy… there are some good men out there…”

“Are there?”

“…but most of them are just bastards.”

Teddy pondered on that for a second, “How do you know which one is the not-bastard?”

Ada smiled, “Well, apparently, you already do. This one was not one of them.”

“So, you’re not mad at me for kicking him?” She tried carefully.

“Mad?” She laughed, “I thought it was bloody brilliant!”

Teddy smiled back up at Ada, beaming with pride.

“Thank you, Teddy, because for a moment, I did get scared.”

“I can come with you all the time, if you like!” her little sister quipped happily, “Keep watch for you?”

“That won’t be necessary, sweetheart, but I appreciate the offer.”

Casting her eyes down again, “Yeah, I know you don’t want me around…”

And quite abruptly, Ada stopped her in the streets, “Now wait a second, you strange little…” she quickly swallowed her words, “Teddy. Just because I don’t always like you, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Do you understand?”

“No. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe not,” Ada marched on again and Teddy once again struggled to keep up, “but it will as soon as you find your own not-bastard!”

Teddy looked a little too pensive for Ada’s liking, so she said in her version of being comforting, “I’ll look out for you too and kick any man that gets to close, don’t worry.”

“What happened to you two?” Polly demanded, as her two nieces walked through the door.

“Nothing,” they both replied in unison.

Thomas looked from one to the other, “Tell me what happened.”

“We told you, Thomas, nothing happened,” Ada replied airily, while taking off her gloves.

“Teddy, you fucking tell me now.”

But even Teddy didn’t crumble under her brother’s piercing eyes this time. Instead, she looked up to Ada and said, “It’s nothing, Tommy. Just women’s business. Nothing for you to worry about.” She was now directly quoting her other female role model and Polly had no choice but to bend her head to hide her smile.

Ada smiled back at Teddy and left the room, with her little sister in tow.

“What the fuck was that?” Tommy sighed.

Polly replied, not without some smugness, “I believe that was a sisterly bond in action.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, as he lit another cigarette.

Polly turned around to continue her work, “You’re outnumbered now, Thomas!”

Tommy tried to make a dismissive hand gesture, “There’s four of us, only two of them.”

“Yes, but they’re women, sweetheart, and women count for at least two men. Besides, they’re together now.”

This was all too much for the great leader of the Peaky Blinders to understand. There were some things, ‘women’s business’ as Teddy so elegantly had put it, that he tried to steer clear of. Still, he felt a pang of sadness over his little sister growing up. Maybe he was losing her.

“You won’t,” his aunt read his mind, “but you can’t protect her forever either.”

“If I can’t, who will?”

Polly smiled gently, “We will.”

*****

Masterlist

[anxiety-potato]

So, I was planning on working on what Hazel's mother looks like, but I thought I should ask you all opinions and ideas since I'm afraid I'll make her look exactly like her daughter when Hazel is supposed to look like more like her old pa, Arthur Morgan.

I did think about making Mary Linton the mother, but decided against it since Hazel in my story grew up with young Jack as an older sister figure after being adopted by the Marstons after her father's passing. I felt like Mary wouldn't just leave her child, and Arthur wouldn't still be in the gang if that was the case due to what had happened to Issac and the mother of Issac.

I know fan children and anything oc x cc related are kinda seen as cringy now a days, but I'd still like to know you what you all think she would look like. If you didn't see my last post where I kinda explained a little, why I made Hazel, I'll explain on this post. It's pretty much because my dad (who is not a good person and I don't talk to anymore. That is all I'll be saying about it) looks very similar to Arthur, feeling bad that he lost his kid, along with not having an heir to tell his story since John ends up dying along with Abigail and Jack not remembering much about him. It's also because I wanted to give Jack someone to be his playmate during the gang days and sister to be there for him when Abigail passes. Also, because I wanted to punch Micah in the balls, so I made Hazel for that reason, too.

Sorry for the small worry rant, I thought I should explain since I've seen a lot of people get kinda upset about that kinda stuff.

Anyways, the reason why I'm asking is because I'm gonna start writing stories again, and I was planning on writing Hazel's. I didn't wanna make her mom just a faceless nameless woman even though she died shortly after giving birth to her. Though that part might change if I make a friend that I'm comfortable enough with and who ships their oc with Arthur to be the mother.

If you guys have any ideas or anything, please feel free to comment or do me! I hope whoever is reading this is having a great day/night, and if you're not, then I hope you get your favorite food or something to make it better!

[branwhen-will-the-pain-end]

Vomiting responses! Me, disappointed no one comments on Arthur vomiting his guts out after eating oleander sage in camp, decided to write what everyone would say. It's just super basic, one line, and just for fun. If there IS vomiting dialogue and I just missed it I'll print this post out, burn it, and bury the ashes in the garden.

Kieran: Errr...you alright there, Arthur?

John: Now what'd you get into?

Dutch: Did Hosea teach you nothing?

Hosea: Happens to the best of us.

Charles: Ohhh, you ate that oleander sage, didn't you, Arthur? Best to get it out.

Abigail: Oh gross, Arthur! *small pause* You okay?

Grimshaw: Oh, be careful, it's gettin' on your boots!

Micah: Aww, upset tummy, cowpoke?

Pearson: Hope that wasn't from something I cooked up.

Sadie: You alright? You don't seem alright.

Tilly: You okay, Arthur? Need anything? *Rubbing his back*

Mary-Beth: Arthur- *gagging* You- *gagging more as she scurries away*

Strauss: Ahh, reminds me of the first time I tried surstömming. (I couldn't find a gross Austrian food after one Google search)

Sean: Ah look! Englishman is havin' a right bad time. *Laughs*

Javier: Gross. I'll get you some water.

Lenny: You...you okay? Can I get you anything?

Swanson: (??? Like I can imagine his tone but not his words)

Jack: Uncle Arthur? Did you eat something bad?

Karen: *laughing with satisfied glee* Looks like a good time to me.

Bill: *laughing* Someone can't handle their liquor.

Molly: Ugh. Could you do that somewhere else?

Trelawny: Too much liquor, perhaps? Or enjoy something a little too raw?

Uncle: *laughs* Oh this reminds me of when I was your age, or maybe a little younger, either way, reminds me of stealin' bottles o' whiskey off this wagon they were unloadin' when the shopkeeper had his back turned and- anyway, you've heard that story before.... I learned a lesson that night, that's for sure!

Cain: Bark bark!

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

The Sting - a Malevolent fic

The trap springs.

But how effective can three people and two pieces be against a god?

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis

AO3

--------

Everyone was looking at him.

All of them dared.

Hastur opened his mouth, and he growled. “What in fuck are you doing?”

Arthur pointed with one shaking hand. “Stopping you.”

Hastur stared.

“Dad,” said Faroe.

“Be silent, my daughter,” said Hastur, staring at his own, growling like a bear, like a dragon, like a betrayed god.

“No,” she said.

He turned his masked face toward her, slow and deliberate.

She met his many-eyed gaze. “We just need you to listen.”

“To listen!” He flexed. Unseen will warped the air. Making their flesh ripple, making the walls…

Do nothing. No creaks. Not so much as a shift in the wallpaper’s color.

He snarled. “Have you lost your minds?”

Arthur tried to stand and couldn’t. He leaned back against Parker’s chest, breathing hard. “No,” said Arthur. “You have, though.”

“Dad,” said Faroe. “Listen.”

“Listen!”

“Yeah,” said Parker. “Listen.”

That may have been a cue. John, though, was too freaked out by Arthur’s unsteady heartbeat to speak (and Arthur’s heart had always been a weak spot, hadn’t it, and Hastur would have to fix it, and what was he thinking he’d been betrayed).

Sunny was the one who spoke. Y-you have… behaved… He took a deep breath, and Parker touched his jaw. Sunny actually did it: You have behaved in a way unbecoming for the Lord of Carcosa.

Hastur was stunned silent. He had no jaw to drop, but he gave that impression anyway, all his tentacles frozen like question marks, his masked face pinned toward them.

I… I do not remember much, of when we were one, Sunny said. But I know we would never have betrayed our word to our marked. You are unwell, Great One.

They all knew.

Faroe knew.

Unfamiliar feeling sped Hastur’s breath, so unfamiliar that it took him a moment to realize what it was.

Was he dying?

No. This was shame. A deep, unpleasant orange flickered through his hide, as if he’d internally lit on fire.

“Dad,” said Faroe.

“No,” said Hastur, lifting her, holding her close. “No. We are leaving. Keeper! Keeper!”

“She won’t come until you hear us out,” Arthur wheezed like a hundred-year-old-man.

“Then speak so we can end this,” said Hastur. “And do not hope you will escape my wrath for this behavior.”

“Yeah,” said Parker. “About that. How about you wait on deciding to hurt us until maybe you've stopped hurting us?”

Hastur stared at him.

“We know what you’re doing,” Arthur gasped.

“What?” said Hastur.

“I know, too,” said Faroe, very quietly.

Shame. He hadn’t known it tasted sour. Hadn’t known it felt like some low-level electric current under the muscles, unpleasant and uncomfortable and prompting the urge to run. “My daughter.” He didn’t like how his voice sounded, and tried again, stronger. “My daughter. Everything I do, I do for you.”

“I know, daddy,” she said softly, so sweetly. “But sometimes, even gods make mistakes.”

Oh, this was not happening. “Keeper!”

“I need to stand,” gasped Arthur.

“Lester, not yet—”

“Help me stand!” Arthur snarled between clenched teeth.

Do you want healing? Sunny’s voice was low and concerned.

“No! Let him feel this.” Arthur shuddered.

Parker helped him stand, slowly.

What the fuck had the Keeper meant? What had she meant? “She nearly killed you?”

“She made my body remember a place I’d been before,” said Arthur, holding his stomach, leaning on Parker. Without that help, he clearly would not be upright at all. “In the mines on Larson’s estate.”

He died, John said, strained.

“No, but… close as I’ve ever been,” said Arthur.

Parker was pale.

Hastur growled. “Why would you do this?”

“Why are you trying to make them upset?” Faroe’s fists were balled in his cloak, and to Hastur’s horror, her shoulders began to tremble. “Why are you hurting them on purpose, Dad?”

An even darker orange, deep, a burned color.

This would have been so much easier if Faroe weren’t here. He was angry. Oh, he wouldn’t kill anyone, but the things he would do in this moment if Faroe weren’t here… His growl rose. “You planned this.”

“Yeah,” said Parker, taking point, maybe taking blame, maybe trying to direct rage. “I did.”

“We did,” said Arthur, throwing himself in front of the charging bull like the infuriating moronic absolutely fool-hearted unbelievable frustrating idiot he was.

“You’re an idiot,” Hastur verbalized.

“Yeah, I am,” said Arthur. “Because I let it get this far.”

Oh, Hastur could solve this. Show them who he was, establish his position, betray Arthur’s trust again—

“You can’t sway me in here,” said Arthur. “You can’t kill us. You can’t puppet us. We learned.”

Was that true? Was he bound?

And it was Sunny who spoke, quietly: We who are gods… need to be in a position without power… before we understand the powerless.

“There is nothing I must understand!” Hastur snarled.

“Really?” snapped Arthur. “Because it seems to me you don’t understand what the fuck you’re doing.”

What’d you think was going to happen? John said. You thought these people would go, ‘Oh, you hurt my feelings,’ and walk away? Them? These guys?

Wait.

Wait.

They didn’t know what he was doing. Nobody knew what he was doing! “What the fuck are you talking about, piece?”

Fuck you. I know what I am, said John. I am every bit as much of a god as you are.

Hastur’s growl rose.

“We know it’s about Gokar’luh!” Arthur suddenly shouted.

Everything in the room—seemingly even the fire, at least according to Hastur’s awareness—went completely still.

“We know,” said Arthur. “I… I know. I get what you’re doing. And I won’t… I won’t fucking let you do it.”

Hastur stared at him.

They all stared back.

Arthur couldn’t meet his eyes. Arthur was fucking blind. Arthur still held Hastur’s gaze as if he’d hooked him through with obsidian. “Did you really think, after everything I’ve been through, the years of suffering under my own hand, that I wouldn’t see a… a father, having lost his son, who responds to his grief by trying… trying to…” His breath hitched, and Hastur could feel his heart (fragile, unsteady) lurch. “Fuck you. Like I didn’t do the same damn thing, just with a bottle and strangers at Jack’s.”

Hastur stared. They thought he was trying to self-destruct like a human and be alone.

Hastur began to laugh. Low, unsteady. Because that was funny, wasn’t it, absolutely hilarious, that they would jump to that conclusion, a twist he couldn’t have predicted, and that only made the Keeper’s words worse because what in fuck had she meant in the middle of this setup?

“Dad,” said Faroe, sharp, the tone he’d taught her to use to quell murmurs in court, or arguments in a council, or idiots trying to speak over her voice.

He stopped laughing,

When one entreats another to solve a problem, it is generally frowned upon to then go and make that problem more difficult to solve. You have a lot of explaining to do. Good luck.

The two things were connected? His… expiration date made Arthur’s mark not work? No, that was nonsense; the mark had been malfunctioning before he’d receive his sentence. Then what—

He discovered he didn’t know what to say. It’s not like they were entirely… wrong. It was more just… just…

How could he say, I am not trying to destroy myself, I am pouring all that I am into ensuring your future so when I am gone you will be fine because my destruction is inevitable so it doesn’t matter how much it hurts along the way?

Yeah, no, that wouldn’t go over well.

“Nothing to say?” said Parker. “I don’t buy that for a second.”

Coward, said John.

Hastur growled.

Great One, Sunny said, voice low. You spent a great amount of time elevating Arthur before your court. Why would you undo all of your work by forcing his cooperation?

His tentacles lashed. “I will not undo his elevation. I fight to preserve it. Why would you suggest it endangers his position?”

Because I have heard rumors he’s cried in court, Sunny said grimly.

Hastur stared. That… was so well said. That was discerning. That was even… politically savvy.

Deep inside, Hastur’s plan—branching and huge like a Lichtenberg figure—quivered and added a branch: Sunny more suited than John?

Later for that. “He… may have been emotional after a reminder of his position.”

“After you swayed me,” said Arthur, thickly.

“I have every right to sway you.”

“You gave up that right!” Arthur snapped. “You did it for me, for you, for all of us! It was a concession, a good one, because we were learning our way around each other! We both compromised, and that was yours!”

Does your word mean nothing to your own? Sunny said.

Such a dark orange this time it was nearly bronze.

Hastur felt sick. This was shame? This was shame. It was awful. He felt painted with it. “Circumstances changed.” And he knew that was a pathetic answer.

Is that so? Sunny rumbled. (Bold. Confident, even; there was still deference there, a touch of hesitation, but Hastur could see how far he’d come.) A change so severe you would be willing to undo the position of your court composer, weakening the position of John as a young god learning to rule, Sunny said, slowly, as if referencing notes, and allowing a sycophant free rein to insult the one whom—you have claimed, before all of the Dreamlands—to be so trusted and loyal that you bestowed upon him a piece of yourself?

Well, when he put it that way, it didn’t sound clever at all.

“Good job,” Parker whispered, though he couldn’t spare a hand to touch his jaw. Arthur wasn’t standing on his own yet.

“Perhaps you have a point,” Hastur said slowly, trying to talk his way into more time, to figure this out, to win.

“Perhaps?” said Parker. “Sunny just nailed your ass to the wall.”

Arthur’s pale lips twitched.

“In the midst of your righteous anger,” said Hastur, “did Arthur bother to tell you why I violated his trust?”

“Dad,” said Faroe like a little adult. “While that is salient, and will be considered, the consequence of choices must come first.”

Ah, he loved her so much. “You’ve listened too well in your lessons,” he rumbled.

She planted a kiss on his mask. “Nobody here hates you, dad.”

Oh.

Oh, he…

“Not yet,” he said, and did not at all like how unsteady he sounded saying it.

“Can’t make ‘em, either,” Parker decided to add.

“You think I couldn’t make you?” said Hastur, seeing an opening and diving through it like a panicked mouse under a door. “You think I don’t know how to hurt you, to take from you, until all you have left for me is hate?” His growl rose again, making the sconces rattle.

Then do it, Sunny said, voice firm.

Hastur swiveled toward him.

“Bud?” Parker asked, very softly.

We’re both aware that I am the most vulnerable of everyone in this room, Sunny continued, his voice carefully neutral; almost bored. You know how easy it would be to destroy me utterly.

“Sunny,” Parker warned.

It wouldn’t even violate Kayne’s rules. I would simply vanish, not dead, but gone all the same—and you would have all of the hate you so desire. Sunny took a single, shaking breath. I am the weakest link, Hastur. I cannot fight you, I cannot resist you; we both know exactly how easy it will be to sunder me. If this is what you want, what you truly want, then do it.

Everyone held their breath.

Hastur wondered if they even knew they did it.

It was true. No one could stop him. Whatever binding the Keeper had done (which Hastur couldn’t feel, and was believing purely based on Arthur’s words) did not apply to this. However Parker got through their earlier conversation would be gone. Parker would be heartbroken, would loathe him; and Arthur would follow, because nothing upset Arthur like hurting someone he loved.

Easy. It would be so easy.

Nobody moved.

Perhaps on purpose, a log in the fire popped, and everyone (including the God of Carcosa) jumped about a foot.

“Perhaps I should,” Hastur finally said, absolutely flatly.

Faroe trembled. “Daddy…”

His front fell apart.  “I won’t, my daughter,” he said to her, stroking her back. “I mean no one here harm.” It was true. Besides, it wouldn’t work. Not really. John would flip his shit, Carcosa would be left without a leader, Parker… he wasn’t sure what Parker would do specifically, but he knew how humans were when robbed of their true love, and it wouldn't be pretty. And Arthur…

Arthur would probably die entirely of spite, the ass.

He would… wait.

When one entreats another to solve a problem—

Wait.

You were right about her being here, said John.

“Shhh,” said Arthur sharply.

“It was my choice,” said Faroe quickly. “I did not give them the option of excluding me.”

This was an opening, a thing to jump on, but he almost had the connection.

—it is generally frowned upon to then go and make that problem more difficult to solve. You have a lot of explaining to do.

That implied something he’d done since the last time they’d talked made Arthur’s condition worse.

Hastur suddenly did not feel very well. He took a step back, clutching his daughter.

“Don’t punish her,” Arthur suddenly said. “If you have to be mad at anyone, do it at me.”

“It was my idea, English,” said Parker. “You can’t even fucking stand.”

I agreed to it, Sunny said, very softly; sapped of energy by his show of courage.

What were they doing? The expected, trying to take the bullet for each other, the thing he would have predicted they’d do, but how did this tie in with him, how did this tie in with Arthur’s mark, had Arthur really gotten worse, what had—

“Cat got your tongue?” said Parker at last.

“Why are you doing this?” said Hastur evenly.

“Because whatever the fuck else we are,” Arthur said, “you’re Faroe’s dad, and that makes us a family, and I’m not going to let you make the same stupid mistakes I did.”

Hastur’s entire being shuddered, from the top of his crown to the tips of his tentacles. “A forced family.”

“Maybe,” said Arthur. “Maybe it started that way. But I chose to be part of this with you. I made that choice. You fucking know I did. John chose. We all chose.”

Well, that might be slight exaggeration. He wasn’t so sure about Parker and Sunny. Though… they had chosen to be here, hadn’t they? For Arthur. Logically. But they had chosen to be part of this.

And two things hit Hastur in such quick succession that he had to physically turn away.

One: It was too late to ensure they would not miss him. He couldn’t break them of that without breaking them, which was literally the opposite of everything he was trying to do with what time he had left.

Two: It was as if making Arthur upset somehow made him less… well. Could there be a connection? Was that what the Keeper meant? By hurting Arthur’s feelings (okay, he’d done a lot more than that), he’d weakened the power of the mark?

That made no fucking sense—but since when had Arthur made any fucking sense?

He laughed weakly. “And all of this because of my son.” There were more words there. He could not say them.

“I know how you feel,” said Arthur.

No he didn’t.

…yes he did.

Faroe hugged him, arms around his neck, and it was…

Fuck, what was this emotion? Unraveling? Was that an emotion? Why did these humans keep making him have emotions?

But they didn’t understand. They… couldn’t understand. If this is what they did when they thought he was just trying to push them away…

Fuck. If they knew he was going to die, they’d throw everything out the window. Plans, training, all of it; they’d break themselves—illogically, unreasonably—against the wall of Kayne’s sadism, and then be weak when the harvester came.

Fuck. Fuck. “You don’t… understand what I do,” said Hastur, who could not tell them.

“So tell us,” said Arthur. “We’re here. We’re listening. We won’t let you jump off a cliff, or whatever you’re trying to do. And Hastur, it won’t work, anyway. It won’t work!”

“Arthur—”

“No! Listen to me! It won’t work! You think it’ll work, but it doesn’t! Your heart still aches, and you bleed, and you fucking cry all the time, and you wait for it to get better, but it doesn’t, and all you’ve done is be an asshole to people who didn’t deserve it, and it won’t fix anything!”

Hastur stared.

Arthur panted.

“Your heart is strained,” said Hastur. “I dislike the way it responds to magic, repeatedly. We must address this.”

“You’re not changing the subject,” Arthur snapped.

Hastur laughed weakly. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with you?” slipped right out. “You stubborn little…”

He’s stubborn enough to fight your mark, and you think he can’t argue you down? John snarled.

There it was. “Why would you fight my mark?” said Hastur, who suddenly knew, who abruptly understood, who clearly saw a thing he hoped he could yet unsee. “Why would you do that?” And he had to ask. “Don’t you want its power?”

Faroe trembled in his arms. Parker’s eyes were huge. Sunny and John were both frozen. And somehow, in this moment, Arthur and Hastur were alone.

Arthur hung there in Parker’s arms, staring at nothing, jaw set, red high in his cheeks.

Hastur waited.

“No,” Arthur finally said. “I don’t. But that’s not why we’re here.”

Hastur realized he was shaking. That was new. “You’re resisting the mark on purpose?”

Arthur sighed. “It’s not on purpose. Not like that.”

“Dad?” said Faroe.

“You’re… erasing that power, the many gifts that come with being my own—”

“No!” Arthur sighed. “Yes. Fuck. The Keeper’s been working on it, okay? It’s not about that right now.”

“So you are choosing to age?”

He’s choosing to die, you fuck! John suddenly shouted.

“John!” Arthur made a frustrated sound. “This is getting off-track.”

Choosing to die.

Arthur Lester, stubborn enough to resist even Shub-Niggurath’s power.

Choosing to die.

Arthur Lester, who slit his own damned throat and still made it out the other side.

Choosing to die.

Arthur Lester, who—

And Hastur remembered, at last, his satisfaction at the very moment Arthur Lester had broken, the moment Arthur had decided that once John was gone, and Faroe was safe, he just wouldn’t keep living anymore.

But that…

That couldn’t be this.

It’s true! John said.

“I’m all right, John,” said Arthur, soothing.

“Come on, guys,” said Parker, gently. “Pull it together, or we’re never getting out of here, right?”

Th-there’s… brownies waiting for us in victory, Sunny managed with a weak laugh.

It had been years!

Arthur had sat up!

He’d bloomed! Like a dead branch blooming! He hadn’t actually been broken! He had not!

“Dad,” said Faroe. “Dad?”

“Yes, my daughter?” said Hastur, distracted.

“Dad, you’re… you’re a strange color.”

Ah. Yes, he was—sort of a cosmic purple, a deep and unpleasant chrome, a sick color, which only made sense because he was fairly sure he was going to be sick, even though gods did not generally do things like throw up, but then, gods didn’t have headaches, either, or get confronted by a bunch of squeaky stinky hairy little mortals and find themselves lacking, or adopting a human, or facing their death, or—

“Fuck,” said Parker. “Keeper?”

“Wait,” said Arthur.

“He’s a bad color, Arthur.”

“Wait,” said Arthur sharper.

Hastur, who’d spent every waking moment since facing his doom trying to ensure Arthur’s life and future beyond his own end, said, “You are dying because of me,” and then, he shut down.

#

They were talking through mud.

Hastur!

Dad!

Fucking… HASTUR!

King! Great one!

HASTUR!

Through mud, or something thicker.

He didn’t want to be hearing through mud. That wasn’t the goal.

None of this had been the goal.

If he’d pushed harder, swayed more, would Arthur have just fucking died?

Maybe. Maybe.

Was he killing Faroe, too, somehow? No, he didn’t think so… but he was guaranteeing she wouldn’t have a parent in five years.

Hastur!

Wow, the mud was thick.

Memory seeped in: You broke him. You fucking octopus. You broke him! Kayne had said it. And all jokes aside, Hastur had been sure that was a lie, that he’d failed, because Arthur had sat up, Arthur had started talking, Arthur had done things broken people couldn’t do.

But no, he hadn’t failed. Arthur just had to break wrong, like he did everything else. Wrong.

Why the fuck is he laughing?

You’re right. Damn it. Keeper!

KEEPER!

He’d never… fixed a broken person before.

You couldn’t do that, as far as he knew. That was the point. They weren’t bruised. They were broken. They were not supposed to be repairable. Even the power of the mark couldn’t build the broken back up, and even if it could, Arthur was resisting it, anyway!

What was he going to do?

Faroe was crying. No. No, that wasn’t right. “My daughter,” he said, or thought he said, or tried to say, and held her close. “No, don’t cry.”

Suddenly he was floating, scooped up, Faroe still in his arms, for she had come to them.

Oh, dear. Everyone, hang on.

Was the Keeper angry? He sure had made the problem more difficult to solve.

No, she wouldn’t be angry. She’d discovered the truth, and been paid for it, which was all above board. That was good because he didn’t have a clue what to do next.

How strange. To not know what to do. No plans. He couldn’t see any of them.

Shit, Arthur, I knew you could affect him, but DAMN…

I didn’t mean this!

Arthur, come here; he won’t harm you. He needs you right now.

He… he… he can be hurt? John said and Hastur felt like maybe he’d said that already a few times.

Where? Ah—

Arthur pressed into his other side.

There was no plan to pick him up (there were no plans), certainly none to wrap him like… well, something that could be wrapped a lot (no plans). Hastur just did it, and held him close.

Arthur’s heart beat. It didn’t sound weak. His breathing was still too fast, but that could be emotional distress. It had been a distressing day, hadn’t it? It sure had!

Dad?

She could mean either of them. They were both here (for now, only for now).

Sunny, it’s okay. Baby, listen to me. It’s okay. He’s fine. We’re all gonna be fine.

Yes. Yes, that’s right. Do that. Take care of (no plans) the other forgotten one. “I may not be able to do that,” Hastur said, or thought he said, or tried to say. The Keeper was here. For no reason (no plans), Hastur added, “Are you taking him?”

“No, Hastur. I am not.” A gloved hand reached up, smoothed down his cowl, held him in a massive, comfortable lap. “I am sorry I forced you into this position, but I found it necessary to ensure my research continues. I betrayed your trust.”

He really, really wasn’t sure what she was talking about. More emotions! Feeling stupid was a new one. “He’s dying because of me.”

“What?” said Arthur. “I said I’m not!”

Because of course he would. Wriggly, defiant little creature (broken wrong).

“That is not useful information for anyone right now, Hastur. The conundrum of Arthur’s aging is my problem to solve; I relieve you of it, as you have paid me to do so.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” Arthur said, trying to comfort Faroe.

Faroe, who must be so afraid. He’d been so frail before her today. She’d witnessed his utter failure with Gokar’luh, and now this would take her Arthur. Was it enough? He knew he’d been on borrowed time, loved by her, after that happened. Was this it? She’d finally turn away?

The Keeper awaited an answer for… something, didn’t she? There was nothing left to say for himself, so he went back to the salient point. “I am aware I paid you. But he is dying because I broke him.”

Arthur’s sigh was deeply annoyed and far less grim than the situation warranted. “Fuck’s sake.”

But isn’t that what… John trailed off.

“He’s worse than you are,” Arthur muttered.

“I know, Hastur.” The Keeper’s voice was solemn. “But you appear to have the good fortune of breaking a human who has the ability to fix himself, and he and I have been working very, very hard to figure out how.”

Oh. She misunderstood. That made sense. Arthur was a tricky little thing. “He’s not fixed,” he said. “He sits up and you think he’s not broken after all, but he is. He fooled me for years.”

Arthur was making faces.

“Oh, Hastur,” she laughed, gentle and light as her fingers pet his head. “Your biggest mistake, from the very beginning, is that you underestimate him. I hold no such confusion.”

Arthur was alive.

(For now.)

Arthur was alive.

(For now.)

He could see his plans again, but they looked faded, as if left in the suns. This changed everything. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“She’s saying you don’t,” said Arthur. “I do.”

We do, said John.

“What’s done is done,” the Keeper said softly. “I cannot change that. But Arthur has proven that recovery is possible. He’s already shown great improvement.”

“He didn’t show that tonight. He nearly died.” A tiny tendril of rage rose. “What in fuck did you do to yourself?” he demanded, raising Arthur up to eye-level.

“What I had to,” Arthur snapped, defiant (of course) in the face of his god.

Faroe’s breath was still unsteady. “Don’t fight. Please. You promised you wouldn’t hurt him anymore.”

Every limb but the two holding his people drooped. “I did. I did.” Failure.

“No,” said Arthur. “No. We already went through that. I forgive you. All right? It’s done. We’re fine.”

Stubborn. “You are dying because of me,” Hastur explained.

“I’m alive because of you,” said Arthur. “I would’ve died a dozen times over.”

“Times I ensured happened.”

“Oh, sure. I have no choices, no agency, no enemies of my own—”

He is good at making enemies of his own, John allowed.

Hastur grunted.

“Oh, shut up,” Arthur said. “Look, I won’t pretend it’s been easy, but you’re missing the point. I’ve told you before, and I fucking meant it: if this is what it took so I could see my daughter grow up, then it’s worth it to me. Do you understand? It’s all worth it to me, and that’s my call to make, and no one else’s!”

“Dad,” whispered Faroe.

And Hastur said words that tasted absolutely foreign, but were all that remained in the wake of faded plans and unexpected, terrible success: “No. I don’t understand.”

“Maybe that’s good,” said Arthur, who would think so.

Hastur had scared his daughter. He’d made her cry. He’d lose her. This was the last chance to tell her. “I’m sorry, Faroe. My precious one. My heart.”

“Oh, dad,” she said, half choked up, half embarrassed.

“My Faroe… I’m so sorry…”

“What can I do?” Arthur said to the Keeper. “What do we do?” He patted the tentacle holding him, like handling a nervous horse.

“For now?” said the Keeper. “Rest. I will put on some musicals, and all of us will watch. Rest. No time is passing here, but you all need time—as if you have run a marathon, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Rest. You will return home as if no time has passed, but you all need time to calm, and then, to begin to heal.”

Faroe lifted her head. “That will help my dad?”

“I believe so, your highness.”

“Dad. We’re doing it,” she informed him.

Hastur laughed weakly, barely audibly. “Your highness. Very well. As you wish.”

That… works? said John.

“I guess so,” said Arthur.

Hastur did not care that he was being carried. He didn’t think he could walk very well at the moment, and if he tried to fly, he’d probably float into something and knock the books down, and wouldn’t that be just pathetic?

“Tabby,” said the Keeper. “Bring those ginger crunch cookies you made, would you please?”

“If we can do Repo: The Genetic Opera at some point,” Tabby said.

The Keeper gave her a look, communicated purely through body language and the angle of her veil.

“Sorry, sorry, just trying to lighten the mood,” said Tabby, and fetched the cookies.

Hastur sat where he was placed.

He barely comprehended the human woman on screen, singing and flying with an umbrella.

When he realized Faroe and Arthur had both fallen asleep on him, one on each side, he exhaled, releasing the last, foolish tension he’d held as if he could possibly have lent them aid.

This didn’t solve what faced them. He still held the truth in shadow; but this… changed how he had to face it.

The plan must compromise. He couldn’t hurt them like this again. He could not.

The woman on screen sang about sugar and medicine. Insane. Delightfully insane.

It was a nice musical movie to sit to, and not think, and just… merely… be.

#

Parker leaned over and took in the scent of drinking chocolate again, just barely sipping it, letting it linger. Then went back to rubbing his jaw, his lips, his cheeks. “I can’t believe how fuckin’ brave you are,” he said again, voice rough. “Braver than me. Incredible. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, Sunny. I’m so proud.” He swallowed.

Next was the cinnamon tea, a contrast and a real treat for the senses.

“Scared me pretty bad, won’t lie,” he said, switching hands to rub his oddly numb features. “I didn’t know if he’d do it. And if he did… fuck, I’d die trying to kill him, you know? I didn’t know what would happen. But you were so brave. You just dared him, stood right up. I think maybe you saved this whole mess tonight. Hinge the whole damn thing turned on.”

Back to the drinking chocolate. This time he chased it with one of the small peppermints, which he allowed to melt on his tongue.

He switched hands again. “He’s gonna be fine. Keeper’s got him. And I am so, so damn proud of you. Every time I think I know how brave you are, how golden, you go and blow me away.”

Cold water, cleansing the palate. Maybe something savory. He took the tiny cracker with the salty, slightly fishy paste on it—absolutely delicious, and he had no idea what it was called—and chewed that for a minute.

“You beat him, you know,” he said. “You won. Which means we won. Hell of a sting, kid, and we pulled it off because of you. Means you saved him. King in Yellow owes it all to you.” He swallowed, considered the table, considered his stomach, and went for another peppermint. “Saved me, too,” he whispered.

I learned from the best, Sunny whispered back, weak and exhausted.

“Beloved,” breathed Parker, who had never said that word before in his life, and closed his eyes in relief.

Hafh yogfm'l, I know you’ll always lead me home. Their lips curled into a smile. May I have some more of that tea?

Guiding star. That sap. “Fuck yeah,” said Parker, who sounded close to tears, and reached for the cup.

[peakyswritings]

OMG THIS WAS A ROLLERCOASTER Brummie I’m so sorry it took me so long to write this comment but I wanted to do it properly and with a clear mind!

" I...don't"

I LOVE how she took the reins of her own life here. And she did it in front of everyone💅🏼

Seems like Cal showed his true colours, with his little fit. And I loved how protective Tommy immediately got. Made me melt.

“ By order of the Peaky fucking Blinders. That's who"

This line always eats

I got so scared for (Y/n) when Cal attacked her, and I was so glad when Tommy arrived. You described the scene so so well, it was like having it in front of my eyes!

And I loved how you alternated it with Arthur and John’s scenes, which made me laugh so much😂. Arthur comparing moustaches was something I didn’t know I needed until now.

" At least he doesn't smell like Aunt Pols Sunday roast though, ay Arthur?"

Ah John, the little shit you are

And them freeing the crowd😂

" Y/N, meet Jayne. Cal's daughter"

Oh my god, what he did to the poor woman😭 his cruelty knows no limits. I’m glad the truth came out in front of everyone, he deserves the shitstorm that’s coming.

As Cal's reputation in high society came crashing down around him, so did his body as his widening eyes darted from face to face to the sound of scum and bastard leaving their mouths. All thanks to the strategically placed cane of an elderly woman, intent on seeing him take his fall from grace in a more... physical sense.

GRANNIE

I was waiting for her, I swear😂

" Now where in the bloody hell does Meredith think he's going?"

Listen I could quote every part of Arthur and John that made me laugh, but I’d probably finish this comment tomorrow😂 when they started making (and later taking) bets I lost it

But going back to (Y/n), my heart broke for her. Of course now she’s worried about people whispering behind her back, probably ridiculing her. And although Tommy’s intentions were good, no one can blame her for being upset. But I couldn’t help feeling bad for him🥺. Tommy and Grannie’s bond is one of my favourite things, they really grew fond of one another🥹

Cal was gone. His life ended by Tommy with a bullet through his head. Buried by his hand in a six-foot deep hole in an unmarked grave. His name forgotten for an eternity. No flowers laced in tears sitting beside his earthy tomb.

And we all rejoiced

I loved what (Y/n) did with Cal’s money. At least little Jayne will have the freedom to decide for herself when she grows up, without worrying about marrying for money.

The fact that Tommy keeps on visiting her, but respecting her wishes and waiting for her to be the one to approach him🥺

" Into the closest she goes!" she teased as you hurried passed her

Oh this made me giggle a bit.

Her conversation with Grannie was wonderful. You can tell her grandma wants the best for her, and only wishes to see her happy. And we finally found out about Grannie’s past! What a plot twist! My heart aches for her though, being separated from the man she loved…

I was giggling like a schoolgirl at Tommy and (Y/n)’s final confrontation. He was so soft with her🥹 These two are made for each other.

" Tommy. And I ride him every day" the corners of your smiling lips turned into an amused grin as a scoffing laugh loudly responded to your choice of name.

Ahhhhh I loved this

The image of Tommy gardening (and failing miserably) had me laughing. Poor man, he was really desperate, wasn’t he?

AND THEY MADE IT. They said those words. Amen.

They truly deserve their happy ending!

Brummie, you’ve outdone yourself with this series. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, and each part of it had me hooked. Your writing is just amazing, you have such an ability to mix drama, angst, fluff and funny moments never fails to leave me speechless! Amazing job!

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Nine/ Final Chapter)

Summary: As the gathering of guests in the small bricked church, wait on your stuttering response. Tommy is also left, holding his breath for the finale of his carefully timed plans to come to fruition. Will things pan out as he intended? Or will fate be the ruling decider over the day's events?

Warnings: Language, angst, violence, mutual pining, use of one racial slur.

Word Count: 5500

Fuck, fuck, FUCK...where are they?! Tommy's panicked eyes darted between the large oak doors to you stood at the altar as your stuttering response torturously echoed back to him.

Hands clammy, ears ringing. His heart rattled furiously against its bony enclosure as a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. Forcing him onto his feet just as you let your long awaited response slip past your lips.

" I...don't" your wobbly voice answered, head shaking in unison with the internal thoughts that had spurred on your response as Cal's grip on your fingers tightened, crushing them between the pads of his palms.

Rather poor and homeless, you thought to yourself as your answer settled among the many guests attending the supposedly joyous day. The very same answer, you'd be a fool to deny you hadn't already settled your mind on, ever since the day you learned of the promise your father had selfishly made on your behalf.

A life of hard labor suddenly sounded as peaceful, as comforting as the last rays of summer glittering through the technicolour stained windows warming your skin.

Your willingness to take on the burdens of others had finally made way for something you had shown throughout the entirety of your troubled life. Will power. Backed with a shit tonne of your famously brooding stubbornness, of course.

"Now, sweetpea..." Cal's teeth gritted together, pulling you into him like a flimsy rag doll, limp from hours of play as a sudden dread of fear rolled up your spine, eclipsing your renewed confidence as he made his intentions clear.

" Father, proceed" his head snapped towards the cloaked man, brazenly ignoring your protests and the wave of startled gasps from the members of high society watching from the pews.

"I'm sorry sir, but we..."

"I said proceed, goddamit!" Cal's voice snapped with fury, holding you tightly in place when a bellowing voice boomed from the far end of the small chapel, swiftly commanding Cal's attention.

" Enough!" Tommy yelled, hands clasped fiercely onto the back of the wooden bench in front of him. " You heard her. Now, let her go" he warned, his menacing tone of voice accompanied by the two gloomy shadows sat beside him. Teeth baring as they excitedly awaited to draw the blood of any man who dared to pick a fight with them.

"Him?" Cal scoffed as he snapped his eyes back to you, refusing to accept that less than a month's worth of time spent with a cutthroat gangster was enough to sway your mind from a life of unimaginable riches and titles that he had to offer " A gypsy thief?"

As your eyes turned to Tommy, a watery cloud of unspent tears settled in front of your vision as those present waited on your answer for a second time. An answer you found yourself unable to give under the suffocating sea of eyes, drowning you under the pressure of their stares. An answer you would flee from in a flowing stream of taffeta and lace down the aisle you had solemnly walked mere moments ago.

Running past the lure of Tommy's eyes, you crashed through the church doors and away from the answer he waited on berated breath for.

" I think it would be best if we postpone..." the priest turned to the many guests as the heavy tension you had left at the doors of the chapel in your dramatic departure, weaved its way through the sounds of shuffling feet and hushed whispers.

" Wait!" Cal stopped him as he smoothed back the stray hairs, greased with lacquer that had fallen In front of his darkening eyes.

" She just needs a little convincing, is all" his attention narrowed in on the towering wooden doors, sharply turning on his polished heel with an unstoppable determination to have his way.

Unwilling to sit idle, to see for a second time the bruising damage a private conversation with Cal ended in. Tommy stepped over his brothers, rapidly following after the echoes of raised voices that distanced him from you.

"Hold up, gents" Arthur's long body lurched in front of the exit, stopping the two pompous friends of Cal from interfering in the scrap undoubtedly about to take place.

" By the order of who?" Dicky, the son of the notorious butcher of Bordesley Green spat as a heavy hand settled on his shoulder, a quick smirk of enjoyment flashing across its owners face as he looked to his younger brother. Prolonging the schooling of the self-righteous twat in front of him on just who he was up against.

" By order of the Peaky fucking Blinders. That's who"

Dragging your body outside, you let your gasping lungs inhale the welcome chill of Autumn approaching as you let the weight of your body rest against the hood of one of the many cars lined up along the browning hedgerow.

Finally, it was over. Your refusal of marriage made known to all those present. For if god was your witness, then so were they. And soon the joyful chattering of gossip would rapidly make its way among high society. With tales of Cal's abhorrent temper unmasked under the watchful eye of the almighty and all those attending.

" Please, just a moment" you briefly looked up to the sound of concerned footsteps making their way across the cemented ground as you rested your trembling hand on your heaving chest. But concern was far from what was coming your way.

Within a blink of an eye, you felt the full force of Cal's body slamming you into the car. His fingers wrapping tightly around your throat.

" You little bitch!" he seethed through gritted teeth, releasing the shame, the anger he felt for having been shown up in front of the many noble faces of high society he deemed more important than the sentiments of the woman he was supposedly in love with.

"You dare to show me up? Me?!" he spat, inches from your face as his fingers curled around your throat.

" Cal..." you mumbled, desperately scrambling for air as you watched the dimming rays of sun cower behind the looming frightful sight in front of you.

" Now, we're going to go back in there. And you're going to tell everyone how you were overcome with a touch of the old cold feet. Ok sweetpea?" he squeezed his fingers around the protruding veins of your neck, impatient for your response his ignorance and straining grasp hadn't realised he was delaying.

"No..." you wept, furiously shaking your head as your hands searched for something, anything to hinder him from squeezing the last breaths of life you so desperately wanted to live.

" When will you understand, Y/N. I always get my..."

His damning words were abruptly delayed as you felt his body being pulled off you, his grip releasing from your neck through searing gashes as his nails dragged along your reddening skin.

With dazed eyes, and rattling lungs, you pulled yourself up to the sound of feet shuffling along the gritted ground, bodies grappling in a bloody fight, dulling out the ringing in your ears. Tommy.

"Lard" Arthur noted, pointing at the neatly curled moustache sported by one of Cal's lackeys as he internally weighed up who had the mightiest tash of whiskers out of the two of them.

" I beg your pardon?" the gentlemen's brows scrunched with insult that he, a man of such standing would use a kitchen staple intended for the roasting of spuds on his pampered face.

"To keep the strays in place" Arthur replied, smoothing down his own perfectly trimmed moustache with the pads of his fingers.

" Lanolin" the pompous man turned his head up and away from the gangster and his accompanying guard dog keeping a strong hold on the church doors.

" Beggars can't be choosers" Arthur sniffed as he straightened his tailored suit, raising his chin above his competition. Still bloody taller.

" At least he doesn't smell like Aunt Pols Sunday roast though, ay Arthur?" John sniggered, earning him a sharp blow to the side. The toothpick twirling between his teeth, dangerously close to making its way down his throat from the force of his brothers strategically placed knobbly elbow.

" Fuck off, John boy"

"Stop!" You screamed watching Cal and Tommy throw fists at each other, the flaps of their tailored suits casting shadows under their scuffling feet with every dodge of their bodies.

"Tommy, please!" you tumbled forward, trying to calm the rage within him before he left you with the slaughtered image of a dead body sprawled onto a guests' car as he held the upper hand over Cal. His gun swiftly pulled from its holster, now firmly nestled into the neck of his opponent.

" Y/N, back!" He pushed you away from the line of fire with his free hand. Bloody knuckles staining your ivory gown as his finger squeezed around the beckoning lull of the trigger, seconds from blowing a bullet through Cal's skull.

" Mr Shelby?" A meek voice broke Tommy away from his gory endeavor as you turned in unison to see a veiled woman holding the hand of a dark haired tot, tearfully sobbing through her wobbling bottom lip.

"Can't hear anything" John mumbled with his ear pressed up against the wooden doors as a small crowd of inquisitive eyes gathered around him.

" It's gone quiet" Arthur smirked to his brother, satisfied the grave Tommy had personally dug that morning would soon be filled with the body of the bastard that had delayed his punishment in the back alleys of Small Heath.

" Perhaps an ambulance is warranted?" One of Cal's acquaintances stepped forward before swiftly being pushed back into his rightful place in the newly established pecking order, void of status and wealth but instead, muscle and crazed instability.

" Are you doubting my brother's ability to get the job done, ay?" Arthur squared up to the mumbling man, offended by the mere suggestion that a Shelby, reared from fighting stock would acquire backup to take down one lone man.

" Wha...?" the pompous prick replied, suddenly realising that the only call worthy of being made was that to the foreboding sound of a horse-drawn hearse.

"Alright, alright! Give us some space. Bloody hell" John rolled his shoulders as the many guests pushed forward, eager to see the gruesome sight like the jeering crowds that waited on the ax mans delivering blow from times before.

" Anybody would think they've never seen a scrap before!" John shouted over the murmurs and growing excitement as he looked to his brother.

" Well, brother..." Arthur's smile deepened into a mischievous grin as he pushed the doors open, freeing the crowd like a King would his loyal subjects. " '...'ave at it boys and girls!"

"Tommy? What's going on?" Your eyes darted from the small child's whimpers to Tommy lowering his gun as he released his grip from around Cal's collar.

Plagued with his own childhood horrors, he'd be damned to inflict such nightmares on another innocent mind caught in the cross fire between the affairs of adults, their fragile minds were too young to understand.

" Y/N, meet Jayne. Cal's daughter" Tommy pulled away, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

" Daughter...?" Your brows knitted together, your attention pulled back to the sweet girl standing patiently next to her guardian.

" Our Jayne's only surviving family" the sister from the convent informed you as the sound of the crowds footsteps came to a stop, curious by the unexpected change of events.

" Utter nonsense!" Cal straightened the lapels of his suit as he eyed the rosy cheeked toddler from the corner of his eye. Seething with disdain for the image of himself he saw in her.

" Dear god...she's the spit of you" Johnathan remarked as Cal's head snapped away with a scoff.

" Only surviving family? But her mother...where's her mother?" Your curiosity peaked for the small child and the unusual tale her presence brought as you noted the subtle exchange of glances between Tommy and the woman that cared for her.

" Dead" Tommy straightened his back, his eyes snapping to the gulping man whose hidden lies, now held the attention of all those present.

" Found strangled to death in her bedsit two years ago, with her newborn daughter screaming in her bassinet beside her. Cal's daughter" Tommy looked to you as the horror of the childs early life came to light.

"Her murderer stood here, a free man, with us today" Tommy let the darkness that Cal had hidden from his life of riches be known as the sudden realisation that you could have shared the same fate rattled your nerves.

" A troubled life she led, but we are not ones to judge. Little Jayne is in our care now, away from danger" the sister revealed as she caressed the plump cheek of the small child, before her eyes snapped to Cal shuffling away from the growing whispers and stares of those stood watching.

His liking for visiting the back alleys of Birmingham and the service's they had to offer, was now laid bare for all to see. How he had dodged the repercussions of the horrors he had inflicted with the help of his wealth and status, avoiding the deadly drop of the hangman's nose as punishment for the life he taken from a woman few cared for, exposed. His most favourite choice of punishment, brushing down the film of sweat sitting on his forehead, those of the hands he used to squeeze the life from Jaynes' mother.

As Cal's reputation in high society came crashing down around him, so did his body as his widening eyes darted from face to face to the sound of scum and bastard leaving their mouths. All thanks to the strategically placed cane of an elderly woman, intent on seeing him take his fall from grace in a more... physical sense.

" Ever so sorry. Shakey hands" your grandmother looked down past her nose to Cal slumped on the ground at her feet, her fingers as steady as a meadow of flowers on a windless day clutching around the top of her cane.

" Now where in the bloody hell does Meredith think he's going?" Arthur's moustache twitched at the scrambling man, formerly known as Cal, running through the gritted ground away from Arrow House.

" I'll get him" John swiftly pulled out his gun, closing one eye as he honed in on Cal heading for the small pasture of galloping horses.

" Steady on, John! You'll take one of the bloody toffs' heads off" Arthur lowered his brother's revolver as the herd of guests ran forward, keen to see how the day's thrilling events would end.

Stood back, Tommy's eyes drifted to yours. Desperate for your acknowledgment, for you to seek comfort and refuge in him. But as he watched your eyes cast down to your shuffling feet, he was met with the glistening flicker of unspent tears, pooled under your batting lashes. Shit.

" Bloody hell, that horse is as skittish as a Catholic girl on confession day. She'll buck him off" Arthur's eyes narrowed in across the field to Cal precariously sat on your white mare.

" Five says she won't"John put his hand out, keen for the day to not got to waste as he waited for his brother to take the bet.

" Go on then" the two brothers shook on it in a slimy spit-covered pact as serious as any pinky promise.

Gripping onto the ivory mane of your horse, Nelly violently bucked with her hind legs as Cal desperately tried to control her erratic movements. The crowd of people that had gathered by the rickety wooden fence, encouraging the theatrical display with waving hands and hurling cheers until she delivered one mighty kick, throwing Cal off head first into the muddied ground below him.

With a satisfied flare of her nostrils, notorious Nelly gave one last boot into the face of her unwanted rider for good measure before happily trotting off to join the others grazing.

" 'ere" John relented, pulling five coppers from his pocket to a gloating Arthur.

" Five bleeding shilling!" Arthur looked down at the jingling coins in his hand, expecting the feeling of crisp pound notes to warm his fingers.

" Tit" Arthur mumbled, smacking the back of his younger brother's shaved head as the crowd's laughter grew to a roaring thunder at the sight of Cal, muddy and dazed, slumped in the grass feet from them.

Stood away from the crowd, their echos of laughter, their grinning smiles of amusement tapered back to you. Your life had been turned into a circus, on display for the enjoyment of others.

Pulling up the dragging ends of your dress, you turned and leave, running from the laughter of those who would soon be gossiping about the pitiful life you led during their afternoon luncheons in the most prestigious of tearooms.

" Y/N!" Tommy called after you, watching the cascade of tears that you had desperately kept from the peering eyes of others, trickle down your cheeks.

Shit, shit, shit, Tommy thought to himself as he ran after the rippling ends of your muddied dress, suddenly realising he had taken it one step too far in his fondness for a dramatic conclusion.

" Darling..." Tommy's feet came to a stop behind you, his hands gently cupping your waist as you sought solitude behind the small bricked chapel away from the lingering sounds of laughter.

" Go away, Tommy!" You snapped your head back to him as he raised his hands in surrender. Carelessly brazen enough to approach you without precaution like he would with your jittery horse that shared your guarded nature.

" Y/N, I'm sorr.."

"I'm glad you all find this funny. My life, the grand finale to your finishing act" you cut off his intended apology, pulling the netted veil from your head, the pearl necklace from around your neck through frustrated sobs." Would you like me to get up and dance for you all too?"

" Hey, c'mere" Tommy sighed as he tested the waters with an apprehensive step in your direction, unable to withstand the upsetting sight he was responsible for.

" No!" You snapped back, unapologetic with your adamant refusal to be comforted by the day's event and the harrowing fate that could have awaited you if your response had been two letters short.

" No, Tommy. Not this time " you shook your head, watching the hurt of your rejection pull down the corners of his eyes as you turned to leave. Shunning him out like he had done to you without the slightest possibility for reconciliation.

" Don't fret dear, she'll come around" Grannie made her presence known as she turned the corner to see the internal battle Tommy was inflicting upon himself as he watched you leave.

" I'm not so sure, Dowager" he turned back to see the gentle smile, creased with fine lines of wisdom greeting him.

" Call me, Grannie" she placed her cane in front of her, slowly stepping towards a man whose fractured heart had taken another self-imposed blow.

" I'm afraid she comes from a long line of stubbornness, Mr Shelby. Best let that steam cool off, or I'm afraid you may get burnt. And nobody likes the sting of that" she patted his arm, drawing his attention away from you marching down the dusty path his longing eyes desperately wanted to follow after.

"That was quite the finish, Mr Shelby. Are you sure you're not classically trained?" your grandmother teased, earning her the boyish smirk of amusement she had grown fond of.

" Not too much, then?" Tommy's eyes playfully asked as he gave her his arm to take, leading her back to the ruckus you had fled from.

" Goodness no. What's life without a little show, hm?" Grannie giggled as a loud wave of cheers came from the enclosed paddock.

" Seems we're not so different after all" your grandmother nodded to John sat on Nelly riding her one handed like a bucking bronco as Arthur worked the cheering crowds collecting bets.

" Five shillings says she kicks him off" Grannie turned to the grinning gangster with her hand out, lightening the heavy mood that shadowed above you both.

" You're on"

Sat back at your brooding spot in the bay window of your grandmother's cottage, you watched as the maple tree in front of her house disheveled its crisp leaves from its branches one by one into a high enough heap to jump in to, in a fit of giggles. But laughter had escaped you for more than eight weeks since Tommy dramatically exposed Cal's secret. And although you were safe from ever feeling his heavy hand strike you again, you let yourself slip into your solemn thoughts, relentlessly mulling over what had been unearthed.

Cal was gone. His life ended by Tommy with a bullet through his head. Buried by his hand in a six-foot deep hole in an unmarked grave. His name forgotten for an eternity. No flowers laced in tears sitting beside his earthy tomb. And like everything in your life, you were faced with an unexpected twist of fate.

Arrogantly bold enough to assume you would be his wife, Cal had prematurely signed his estate over to you until you birthed a son.

A child that never came to be, a demise quicker than expected, you were left with his thousands and the harrowing reminder of the young child he had fathered. Jayne.

Relinquishing the hefty sum of money left in your name, you forwent a life of unimaginable riches, and set up a trust fund for the orphaned child in the hope she would be able to carve her own future, free from the ruling hands of greedy men.

But with all matters settled, one still occupied your every waking breath. Tommy.

" Speak of the devil!" Grannie announced, suspiciously in tune with your internal thoughts of melancholy as she turned her head to the sound of a Bentley steadily driving up to her gated home.

" Right on time" she giggled as you flew up from your seat, eyes darting in a frantic panic to the weathered window.

" Into the closest she goes!" she teased as you hurried passed her, making a beeline for your trusted hiding space in the cramped hallway. A spot you had cowered yourself in each week over the past two months.

"Mr Shelby" Grannie opened the door, the gentle autumn breeze bringing notes of whisky and tobacco, with a handful of ribbon tied hydrangeas along with it.

" Grannie" he greeted her, kissing her cheek in a loving familiarity as his eyes searched behind her for a sign of you.

" Y/N?" He sighed, questioning your whereabouts as you battled with a precariously placed broom beside you in the darkened room, the door ajar enough to see the shine of his blue eyes longing for a glimpse of you.

" Indisposed I'm afraid" your grandmother gave the disappointing weekly response he'd become accustomed to.

" In the closest" she quietly mouthed, rolling her eyes as Tommy's darting gaze met yours through the thin line of light. Taking you aback enough for you to stumble into the aged broom with a thud. Oh, bollocks.

" Tell her I came by" Tommy left the bouquet of flowers in the hands of your grandmother, his pining eyes still firmly fixed on the shadow of your body behind the door.

" You have my word" your Grannie patted his hand before he turned to leave with one last glimpse of your batting eyes through the rays of sun shining through the glass-framed door he'd opened.

Never staying for long. Never intruding into your life without your welcome. Tommy would make the long drive to your Grans home in Cheltenham, arriving on the dot at exactly 12.05 every Friday.

Like a delivered telegram, like a small hello. He made it his weekly routine to show you how much he still longed to have you back in his life. How much he missed you.

" No sense in hiding anymore, dear. Your inherited clumsiness gave it away" your grandmother shut the front door, turning to see the irritated pout sitting on your lips.

" For you" she handed the freshly picked bouquet of flowers, you ceremoniously tossed in the bin along with the others.

" My sweet summer child, sit with me" Grannie sighed, ushering you to her favourite armchair beside the window of her garden.

" Before you say anything, it will never work" you stopped the words of advice your stubbornness was intent on ignoring.

" I don't even like him...that much" you started to ramble, releasing the many excuses you had convinced yourself of one by one to your grandmother's stuttering lips as she tried to get a word in. " He's so pig headed, so cocky. So..so stubborn!"

" Stubborn?" your grandmother raised her brow, a pursed smile of amusement for the characteristic he shared with you. " You're more alike than you care to realise, my dear"

" I'm nothing like him. We come from two completely different worlds, Grannie" you crossed your arms, blowing the lock of hair from in front of your eyes as you fell back into your seat like a stroppy child. " God, why won't he just let me be..."

" That's where you're wrong, my dear" Grannie leaned forward, taking your hand.

" I have a confession" she whispered. An urgent enough secret that she felt it best said in a hushed voice to you, the only person within close proximity to her home, if not miles from the nearest sign of life. " We're counterfeits"

" Counterfeits?' you voiced louder than intended as you scooted forward in your plush seat.

" Good heavens, child. Do you want the whole of the county to hear?" she scolded you and your rolling eyes as she returned to her story

" His name was Jack. Known to some as, Jack the lad from Digbeth" she divulged into her past, reliving her younger years through the memories she cherished.

" A strapping stable boy who worked on my father's land. We had taken a fancying to each other, and after a summer's night in 1847 I found myself in a rather troublesome ballooning predicament.

" Grannie..." your cheeks blushed, hearing the details of your grandmother's risky teen years hidden behind the prudishness she had shown throughout her entire adult life.

" Don't think I don't know how my favourite afternoon treat was void of its jammy filling, dear" her brows raised, reddening your cheeks to the same shade of her favourite jelly before returning to the tales of her younger years.

" He asked me to marry him, said we'd run away together and join the fair...a hopeless romantic. Of course, when my father caught wind of our plans, my Jack was banished from the home, and I was quickly arranged to marry into a noble family before my growing secret revealed itself before my wedding night" she finished, feeling a pang of sadness for her long-lost love she'd never see again and the son they shared, your father.

" My dear, we're not of blue blood, not even a hint of turquoise" she wrapped her fingers around your young hands, free from the wrinkles that creased hers.

"You come from the same cobbled streets of the man whose heart and your own you're breaking. Fate brought you together, my child. Best not to piss it off with your shared stubbornness and start off on the wrong foot, dear. Bygones be bygones, hm? She sent you a gentle smile of encouragement as your brain scrambled to reevaluate your life after yet another exposed secret.

A family of commoners. The most freeing of revelation you could have ever discovered. Not only were you free of Cal, you were free of the restraints high society held on you. Free to love and live the way you wanted, with the man you wanted. If you would let your bullheadedness be buried with the troubled past you still held on to, of course.

"Easy girl" Tommy brushed his hand along the mane of your horse, calming her jittery nerves when something, or rather, someone caught his attention in the dark orbs of her eyes.

As the smell of your sweet perfume filled his senses, the sound of your heels clicking along the cobbled stable floor sang in his ears. His hand, unsteady as your horse's temper, rested on her back, fingers rising with each calming, heavy breath she took.

"Am I in hell?" He teased, the curling lilt of his black country accent heard through the small smile of playfulness on his lips as he stood with his back to you.

Slowly approaching, you rested your hand gently on his coated arm as his shoulders relaxed in response to the comforting feeling of your touch. Only for the skin prickling reaction to be swiftly snatched away when you poked him in the ribs shortly after.

"Nope. Still alive" Tommy grunted, a hint of a throaty laugh heard through his wincing breath.

" Hey" his voice pattered out upon seeing your radiating beauty, his eyes had gone too long without gazing upon as he turned around.

"Hi" you quietly replied, apprehensive as to how he'd take your sudden appearance back into his life you'd hidden yourself away from for two months.

"You came home" his lips softened into a loving smile as he stepped towards you, desperate to pull you into him.

" Is it my home, Tommy?" Your eyes lowered, darting with every quickened breath back up to his gaze as he took in the fading sun's glittering film of light on your wind-nipped cheeks.

"Ours" he soothed the redness from your skin as his thumb brushed over the slopes of your face down to your plump lips as an unknowing silence of how things would pan out, settled between your bodies.

" New horse?" Tommy broke the quietness hovering over you both, lightening the mood before a heavy discussion of hurt feelings ensued.

For now, he wanted to bask in the moment as you stood in unison with him. And with your relieved sigh of acknowledgment to the black stallion stood outside the stables, he was reassured to know that you too, welcomed the distraction. Let bygones be bygones, as your Gran would say.

" Moody looking thing, what's his name?" Tommy led you forward for introductions, resting his hand on the slope of your back.

" Tommy. And I ride him every day" the corners of your smiling lips turned into an amused grin as a scoffing laugh loudly responded to your choice of name.

" Tommy, eh? Sorry mate, but we can't have that. I'm gonna have to steal your girl back" he patted down the muscled body of your stallion before guiding your giggles outside to the front of Arrow House.

"Still in tact, I see" you looked up at the bricks of your childhood home, feeling his eyes roam over your face, hand holding you tightly next to him. " Seems you managed fine without me"

" The house hasn't been the issue" Tommy turned you to face him as your hands brushed up his chest, fingers curling around the lapels of his tailored jacket.

" It's me. I've been bored. Got me gardening, it's been that bad" he revealed his newly-founded hobby as your eyes drifted down to the potted flower, miserably limp with a stubbed out cigarette in its earthy soil.

"Goodness, going well I see" an amused smile for the green thumb he didn't inherit from his Aunt pulled at your lips as you felt him raise your eyes to meet him, his thumb hooked gently under your chin.

"No more avoiding me, sweetheart" His fingers brushed along your skin, cupping your cheek in his hand as he searched for reassurance that things wouldn't slip into how the past two months had panned out.

"Especially not in closets, eh?" he teased as you matched his toying smile, closing your eyes as he pressed his smiling lips into yours in a tender embrace.

" I lov.." you both stumbled to give your confessions of loyalty as you broke apart.

" Ladies first" Tommy shot you a wink, his playful response echoing the moments you had spent together in blissful torment of each other.

" I love you" the three-worded confession slipped past the draw bridge of stubbornness you had lowered to welcome him back in.

" I love you too"

Pulled into the warmth of his chest, an intoxicating sense of calm and comfort pulsed through your bodies.

For as the saying goes, home is where the heart is. And your hearts had finally found a home, in each other. Always.

The end.

Thank you to everyone that commented, reblogged and liked this series. Your interactions helped me finish this final, long awaited chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the ending in the comments below! Thank you again, my lovelies ❤️.

Brummie xxx

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@meadows5

[bcttlecqp]

the guys helping their s/o whilst they're being harassed in town

warning: creepy men, violence, period typical sexism, implied fem reader but its gender neutral bc theres no pronouns

(gif not mine)

-

arthur morgan

he left you for no more than four minutes to get some stuff from the general store, and when he glances out the window he sees someone chatting you up and you looking extremely uncomfortable.

immediately storms out of the store, forgetting to pay- so he's got stolen items in his bag now- and marches straight up to the guy

"this man botherin' you, darlin'?" he asks, gesturing to the man who seems offended. arthur can only laugh in the creep's face when he asks who arthur is.

your hands on arthur's bicep makes his chest swell with pride; and he immediately explains that he's your boyfriend.

the man, intimidated by your lover, spits a venomous insult at you before storming off

arthur smiles as you kiss his cheek and thank him- but the moment is soon interrupted by the angry shopkeeper who wants arthur to pay for the stuff he had in his bag.

-

john marston

he. is. pissed.

immediately runs up to the man and shoves him away from you, getting in his face and squaring up.

if arthur knew what the word simp was, he'd call john it everyday, bc thats kinda how he's acting.

you just have to watch as john challenges the man to a fistfight- and thats when you have to step in because john is absolutely shit at fist fighting.

your hands on his chest and your soft words are enough to make john back down, and he dismisses the man immediately.

as soon as the creep leaves, john hugs you protectively, apologising for making a scene and offers to buy you whatever you want from his cut from the recent robbery he did

please reassure him that everything's fine because he will beat himself up for 'ruining' your evening

-

sean macguire

this man never leaves your side, he's like your personal guard dog

in fact- he notices the man sauntering over immediately, and decides to watch carefully just in case he was reading the situation wrong

however, body language to sean is everything, and the way the stranger cocks a hip, leans in and mutters something in your ear- to which you recoil and immediately look to your lover- is enough to make sean swoop into action

argues with the man immediately when you look at him, and grabs your hip protectively to pull you behind himself

sean- the guard dog he is- will literally start barking at the man if he doesn't leave. it's very comedic to watch but it eventually works because the guy starts to feel awkward and leaves.

sean will immediately spin around and hug you, asking for a kiss because he saved you... but at the end of the day, sean's hero complex is sated and he's extremely happy

-

charles smith

this boy is so fucking tall and built- he's just naturally intimidating to most men

all he has to do is walk up behind you and glare at the man harassing you to make him turn and run

you're obviously a little confused, and then you turn around and see charles smiling innocently at you.

"was he bothering you, my love?" he asks, smile so innocent yet so smug- he's kinda proud of himself for getting the man away from you without causing a fight

(not that he wouldn't fight for you- he just prefers little conflict when it's not necessary)

if you're still upset, he takes you around town and spoils you as much as he can to cheer you up <3

if the guy walks past again, he will definitely glare at the man whilst wrapping his arm around your shoulders until he's out of view

he's petty like that

-

micah bell

as soon as he sees the man trying to chat you up from across the bar, micah sees red

he practically flies over the bar and lunges at the creep, socking him square in the jaw

this obviously devolves into a bar brawl- with micah and the harasser in the spotlight of it all

eventually, you manage to get to your boyfriend and grab his arm to try and pull him out of the fight- but micah's elbow jerks on instinct so he elbows you in the nose

as soon as you yelp, he turns around and noticed what's happened; and god he feels awful

knocks the guy out with a bottle to the head, and grabs your hand to lead you from the saloon and into the quiet street

presses a rag to your nose and apologises quietly- you can literally see the guilt in his eyes, he looks like a kicked dog

when you assure him it's alright, he visibly deflates with relief. showers you with kisses to show how sorry he is for the entire situation

micah's hand will never leave your hip until you two are back at camp and in bed; then he's hugging you and asking if you're okay after the whole night

lets you lay on his chest and talks to you until you fall asleep- always assuring you that no creep's gonna get their hands on you so long as he's alive

-

kieran duffy

this poor boy is absolutely petrified

but... he has to stand up for you! he has to help you! you're his partner!

you helped him when he was tied to that tree, so he marches over with fake confidence and confronts the guy harassing you

as soon as the man replies with a snarky comment, kieran's confidence dissipates and he's a stammering mess

"i-i said leave 'em alone!"

holds up his fists to fight the guy, but in reality keiran has absolutely no clue how to fight- he can barely shoot a can off a wall let alone fight someone

sooo- he gets his ass kicked, but he did it for love!

spends the rest of the evening getting patched up by you as he asks if you're okay

"i'm alright, sweetheart! promise, it's just a scratch... are you alright?"

will literally cry if you are grateful, he sees himself as a failure and is embarrassed that he got his ass beat in front of you- but knowing that you don't care and that you're just happy he's okay sends him over the moon <3

-

javier escuella

he's sat aside from you, and he puts his trust in you to handle the situation.

watches the guy's every move- its only when the guy goes to grab you that javier jumps up and snatches the guy's wrist.

turns out the fella had friends, so it's technically javier versus four people

javi is a fierce fighter compared to others, and he's passionate about keeping you safe, so he's both protecting you from the guys and fighting them

eventually, after one of them gets a fair punch on javi's side, he gets tired of the combat and draws his knife, giving a warning swipe in their direction

they get nervous around the weapon and immediately scatter, making javier holster it again.

you lover immediately turns to you, hugging you tightly as his adrenaline wears off.

ignores your attempts at pampering him and makes your safety and comfort his top priority

considering the situation, you're extremely shaken up, so javi gently rubs your arms, gives you kisses and takes you home

as soon as your safe in his tent, javier feels like he can fully relax, but still stays alert incase anyone had tailed the two of you home

he'd protect you in exchange for his life- even if you hate it- but javier's not going to let anything hurt you, even if it kills him.

[themultifandomgal]

Isaiah Jesus- Cheating

I sigh while lying on Isaiah's chest, his hand moving up and down my arm

"I have to go" I sadly say

"I wish you could stay here" he sighs also sad

"So do I"

"Why can't you just leave him?" Isaiah is referring to my husband, Alexander

"How many people do you know that have left their husbands and divorced?" once again Isaiah sighs "exactly"

"We can't keep doing this YN" I sit up looking at Isaiah with a frown while holding up the bedsheets

"What? you were the one who suggested this"

"I know, it's just.. I want to be able to hold you and kiss you in public. Hiding us is so hard" Isaiah and I have to keep our relationship a secret, but the Blinders know all thanks to Polly walking in on us one day

"I know it is. I'd like to do that as well, but  my husband..."

"The husband who doesn't treat you right"

"Is that's not fair. He just works a lot"

"Hmm if that's what it's called. YN you and I both know he doesn't love you. You married because your parents wanted you to for some reason. You've been married for 4 years and you haven't had a child yet. Why is that?"

"Thats no ones business" I get out of Isaiah's bed wrapped up and grab my clothes off the floor and go into his bathroom.

I come out fully clothed and now he is also fully dressed

"YN I didn't mean to upset you, but normally when you marry you have a child almost immediately. Talk to me YN" Isaiah takes my hands in his. I sigh and close my eyes bracing myself for this. I open my eyes back up and look at Isaiah

"When we first got married I fell pregnant. He didn't want the baby so made me have an abortion, but instead of taking me somewhere legit he took me to a back ally. Things went wrong, we thought it would be ok, but.. 2 years ago he decided we should have a baby so we tried and tried but nothing. The night I met you we had an argument how it's apparently all my fault. Since that day we haven't slept together. He no longer sleeps in our bed and I know he's sleeping around, but what am I supposed to do?"

"I'm so sorry. You deserve so much more than him. Neither of you are happy. I know it's not a normal thing to divorce your husband, but..." before Isaiah can finish his sentence the door at the front of the house opens

"YN?" I hear Tommy's voice "YN I know your here" I frown looking at Isaiah. Tommy's footsteps seem to get louder and louder until the bedroom door bursts open and Tommy is stood with his eyes closed "are you decent?"

"Yeah what's going on Tommy?" I frown as Tommy opens his eyes

"It's Alexander. He's in hospital"

"What?is he ok?" I ask

"It's not looking good. Come on I'll drive ya to the hospital"

When arriving Alexander is lying in the bed asleep

"What happened?" I ask the doctor

"He was stabbed last night, unfortunately it was already infected by the time he go here. You might need to prepare for the worst. I'm very sorry" I sit down next to the bed and take Alexander's hand in mine "I'll leave you alone for a bit"

"How are you love?" Polly asks me handing me a cup of tea

"I don't know. I'm sad of course, but I also feel.. free"

"The funeral will be next week YN" Tommy walks in the door of my house with his brothers and cousin behind him

"Also found out he left the Garrison with another woman. She was the one who stabbed him, did it for money. We dealt with it" John sits down

"Speaking of money. Alexander has left you everything" Arthur says getting himself a drink

"Thank I guess"

"Think about it this way, now you and Isaiah don't have to sneak about" I glare at Finn

"My husband just died. I don't think the best thing would be to announce that I have a new partner" Finn shrugs his shoulders and walks off

"Things will be alright" Isaiah kisses the top of my head while I continue to drink my tea.

Maybe I can finally be happy.

[maybanksslut]

Dating Tommy Shelby would include...

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and smoking :)

Ok pls watch me drop everything to write this bc I'm married to cillian murphy <3

First of all, how the two of you met

One night, you’d be alone in one of Birmingham’s many pubs, drowning down the sorrow you felt after fighting with your father, who was visibly upset with you for not being married

He’d been talking about marriage with you for weeks and you grew tired of having to tell him the same thing every day

“I don’t want to get married, dad, there’s no one I love!”

Of course, he’d think that was bullshit and tell you marriage wasn’t an act of love, rather a business that was supposed to tie two families together

This angered you, so here you were, drinking your pain away

And just as you’d got seated and ordered some Irish whiskey, a certain Shelby walked into the pub

Perhaps it was fate, perhaps a mere accident, but no matter what it was, it changed your life forever

“May I sit here?”

You were quick to realize he was a peaky Blinder by the way he was dressed

And by the way everyone appeared to shiver when he entered the pub, you concluded that he must be one of the Shelbys as well

“Only if you promise not to get blood on my dress”

To be honest, he was taken aback by your joke, expecting more of a nervous smile or a look filled with lust, like other women seemed to give him

He was immediately intrigued by you and made it his goal to get to know you better by the end of the night

Tommy tried to be a gentleman, he paid for your drinks, offered you cigarettes, and referred to you as “Mrs”

Until you told him you weren’t married, that is

His jaw (his jawline is perfect tho can we talk about that?) practically dropped, because how could such a beautiful woman like you not have a husband?

At the same time, he was happy, because this meant he could have a chance of making you his forever

Which, he realized later, was something he did wish to do

Tommy fell himself falling for you more and more every day, he just adored your smile, your laugh, the way you weren’t afraid of him, but rather treated him as a close friend

Yes, he was entirely enamored with you, and he knew he had to make a move before anyone else did

He often took you on horse rides or to restaurants to hear your voice, and he loved to hear you talk

“What about that horse race you went to last week, eh? Can you tell me more about it? I don’t quite remember”

He didn’t officially ask you to be his lover before you’d known each other for three months

His feelings for you were a big burden when he kept them a secret, and so was keeping your friendship from both of your families

Therefore, one night as you walked through the empty streets of Birmingham, he confessed to you

“The truth is, y/n, I am in love with you and I want you to be mine. What do you say, eh?”

You were stunned when you heard those words come out of his mouth

You’d never expected this coming, even though you had for some time now felt a stronger connection to Tommy than just a friendly one

Furthermore, the way he said it made your breath tremble. You could almost feel the passion burning its way through his confession

You could feel all the atoms in your body craving him and his love, but you couldn’t utter a words

So instead, you gently caressed his cheeks and kissed him, as if you were trying to pour everything you wanted to say into his mind by this sweet embrace

It took the both of you some time to cool down after the kiss, but when you did, the two of you grinned like idiots

“I love you, too, Tommy Shelby”

He’d carry you home and properly introduce himself to your father the second he got the chance

Your father would be so surprised, because of who you’d brought home

But he’d also be so happy (mostly because Tommy is rich, but also because his daughter finally had found someone)

He and Tommy ended up getting along quite nicely, though you saw his jaw (again he can cut me with that jaw) clench a couple of times when he mentioned the word “thugs” about some of his peaky boys

Before he left that night he kissed you so softly and romantically you thought you’d FAINT

Luckily, you didn’t, but you dreamt about him after you went to sleep

Sometime later, Tommy pushed aside his hesitations and decided to introduce you to his family

“Darling, I beg of you, don’t let them scare you away, eh?”

“Why would they scare me away? If they’re anything like you, I’m sure I’ll love them”

You’d be fascinated by all of his family members because they all appeared to be very interesting people

John would be the first one to talk to you, his outgoing personality very evident after even only a few seconds of conversation

You did enjoy his company, though you had to admit, he was kind of intimidating with his strong voice and loud laugh

Next on the list was Polly, the woman you’d heard so much about, yet knew nothing of

She was the one that you’d were afraid to meet the most, a sue she seemed so majestic and proud in her red dress and high eyebrows

Her personality was the complete opposite of what you’d expected

“Oh my god, you must be y/n! You’re gorgeous, my love! Oh, come here for a hug, my dear”

Her friendliness was overwhelming, yet it warmed your heart deeply to see that she cared for you after such little interaction

It was comforting how she took you under her wing, introducing you to the other family members while Tommy went to talk with his brothers

After the night was over, you’d befriended Ada and learned not to get on Arthur’s bad side

It was an evening full of emotions and feelings, but it was one of the best ones in your life, so you were quick to thank Tommy for making you the luckiest woman in England

“Don’t thank me, sweetheart, you’re the one who made my life brighter”

It took Thomas four weeks to propose to you

He loved you and he needed no time to know that you were his true love and he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side

It was one night you’d spent together in bed, talking about anything and everything, stealing kisses from each other now and then

Suddenly Tommy’s face turned more serious

“I want you to marry me, y/n”

“What?”

“I want you to marry me. I want to show the whole world how much you mean to me. I want to spend the rest of my life in your arms, holding your hand and kissing your lips. I want to start a family with you and I want you, forever.”

You agreed immediately, tears in your eyes as you looked into the eye of your future husband and thought of the life you’d build together

It was perfect.

TAGLIST: @fangirlings-things @runaway-mom-friend @gxtitobxby @amirahiddleston @myloveforluna

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hello!! I'm kinda embarrassed but could you do an uno reverse with the chubby Arthur fanfic but its with a chubby reader instead?? (your choice to make Arthur also chubby or not) Thank you!!

A/N: Don’t be embarassed (I spelled that wrong but autocorrect won’t work right now and I’m too dumb to know how to spell it off the top of my head lol) I absolutely love to write for Arthur! I feel like he doesn’t get enough attention anymore. Thank you for the ask!! I hope you like this! The ending got a little messy and not great cause I didn’t know how to end it but I hope you like it!

Warnings: mentions of poor body image and Micah being a fucking douche, but there’s fluff! Arthur makes things better

***

“Y/N!” Mary-Beth called your name. 

You turned your head to look at her. Karen and Tilly stood with her by the wagon. John was hitching up a couple horses to the wagon with Lenny’s help.

“Hi, ladies.” You greeted them as you approached the tent. 

“We’re gonna go into town. You wanna come with us?” 

“What are you plannin’ on doing in town?” 

“Oh you know, just the usual.” Mary-Beth answered with a little wave of her hand. “Seein’ what the folk around here are like.”

“And maybe robbin’ them.” Tilly giggled. 

“But we aren’t gettin’ into too much trouble.” Karen added. “John won’t let us, will you John?”

“I hope not.” He sighed, buckling a strap on the horse. 

“So what do you say, Y/N?” Tilly asked you.

Arthur watched from across camp as you declined the ladies’ offer to join them on their trip into town. His eyes stayed on you while you watched them leave in the back of the wagon John and Lenny were driving. 

You began to pick at your nails, the furrow between your brows becoming more prominent. The picking at your nails was a bad habit of yours, one you only did when something was clouding your mind. 

“Are ya even listening to me, Arthur?” Uncle asked him.

Arthur took the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it into the fire as he stood up. You were going to your tent so that’s were he planned on going. 

“Stopped listenin’ a while ago, Uncle. Thought you would’ve noticed.”

Uncle began to complain about Arthur’s inattentiveness but the outlaw was already leaving the table, making his way across camp to check on you.

Arthur ducked inside the tent he shared with you, taking his hat off. 

“Hey, pumpkin.” He greeted you.

You turned to face him, offering him a little smile. 

“Hi, Arthur.”

“What’re you up to?” He asked. Maybe you were too busy to go into town. 

“Gonna go read out by the cliffside for a bit.” You picked up your book from the end table. “Do you want to come with me? Or are you busy?”

“I’m never too busy for you, pumpkin.” He flashed you a little smile as you moved towards him. He was expecting you to stop, even if only for a moment, to give him a kiss on the cheek or to brush your hand along his chest like you always did when you passed him by. But you simply walked by him without even looking at him.

Something was definitely wrong. This confirmed his worries. 

“How was meetin’ up with Mary?”

“Went about as pleasant as you’d think. Wanted me to get her brother back from that religious group, the Chelonia.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Depends on your definition of fun.” Arthur muttered.

You were thankful that no one was down by the edge of the cliff. You wanted to have some peace and quiet away from everyone. 

You decided to sit beneath a tree, placing your book in your lap. Arthur grunted rather dramatically as he got down next to you.

“M’too old for this kinda shit.” He sat facing you. One of his legs was loosely crossed while the other was spread to cross over yours, though he didn’t put any weight on your legs. 

“You don’t gotta follow me around, you know.” You giggled softly.

“I know. Just like spendin’ time with ya.” He took his hat off and put it in the grass beside him. “I, uh, I heard the girls were askin’ you to go to town with them.”

You nodded your head, opening the book in your lap so that you didn’t have to look at him. 

“Why didn’t you go? Thought you were tellin’ me just last night you had some errands to run in town.”

“I can do them another time, Arthur. It wasn’t anything important.”

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say next.

“Mary-Beth sounded a little eager to have you go with them, don’t you think?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“She was just bein’ friendly though, wasn’t she? She’s a good kid.”

“Arthur, what are you getting at?” You looked up from your book, meeting his gaze.

“I don’t know.” He sighed heavily. He ran a hand over his face. “I-I saw that look on your face when you were watchin’ them go, pumpkin. You looked upset about somethin.’” He paused to gauge your reaction. “Did something happen with one of the girls?”

“No, Arthur.” You dropped your attention back to the book.

“Karen’s not bad unless you get her drunk.” Arthur thought out loud. “And Tilly’s a nice girl, least from what I’ve seen. Mary-Beth too. Abigail can be.... something else. Did she do something?”

“Arthur, please.” You closed the book firmly. “Just stop.”

“Pumpkin, I’m just concerned is all.” Arthur reached over to place his hand on yours. “I don’t like that look I saw on your face. It don’t belong there.”

“The girls didn’t do anything to me, Arthur.” You murmured quietly, feeling a scratchy sensation begin in the back of your throat. “It’s all okay, I promise.”

“You say that, but I don’t see it in your eyes.” He shook his head. Cerulean blue eyes gazed at you with such a softness that you could’ve melted right there, but the torment you felt in your chest and in your head were too much. It pushed that softness he was able to make you feel away and brought in a dark feeling. 

“It doesn’t matter, Arthur.” You stood up, brushing off your skirt, and began to move back towards camp.

However you didn’t get very far. Arthur’s hand found your arm, bringing you to a stop. 

You turned your head to look away from him, taking a steady deep breath through your nose in an attempt to make the tears go away. If you could calm yourself down, they would go away. 

Arthur’s hand slid down from your bicep to your hand and his thumb began to trace small circles on the back of your hand. You turned your hand over so that you could lace your fingers together. 

“You don’t gotta tell me, pumpkin, but I just hate to see you so upset and so quiet about it.” He stepped closer and leaned down to kiss the top of your head. 

“I just…. I can’t stand some of these people, Arthur.” You tilted your head down, unable to look up at him. You focused your eyes on his boots. “Just can’t fucking stand them. They’re just….” You couldn’t find the words to accurately describe what you wanted to say. 

“Who was it?” Arthur had a very short list of who would put you on the verge of tears. Possibilities and scenarios began to race through his mind. 

“Micah just…. He was just being a bastard.” Your voice cracked. “He said you were going into town to see Mary Linton. I knew that’s where you had been earlier today. But he just…. He started saying that you were going to…. That you and her…. Because she’s-she’s thin and pretty and I’m as big as one of the pigs Pearson butchers.”

“He what?” Arthur had to pull his hand away from you as to not cause you any harm. His fingers automatically curled into tight fists and he felt the need to seek out Micah Bell to cause him serious damage. 

His eyes left yours and he tilted his head up to search the camp behind you. Micah was sitting at a table with Bill, sharpening his knife. 

“It doesn’t matter, Arthur.” You sniffled, looking down at the buttons on his shirt. “He wasn’t wrong. No use in sugar coatin’ it.”

Arthur stared at you for a few moments, his brain still trying to process the anger he felt. Then he took a breath and ran a hand over his face. 

“Micah Bell is a miserable son of a bitch, Y/N. He ain’t right about nothin’. Not a damn thing.”

“But Arthur, I don’t-I don’t look like other girls, like Mary or like Karen.” You whispered, tears trailing down your cheeks. You crossed your arms over yourself, suddenly feel extremely self-conscious. “I-I didn’t go into town with them because every time we go into town, people stare at me.”

“Pumpkin, they stare at me too. They’re just a bunch of judgemental pricks.”

“That’s different, Arthur.” You shook your head. It was sweet of him to try to make you feel better, but they stared at him for different reasons than they stared at you. “It’s-It’s just not the same. You.... You’re a normal size. You just come across as intimidatin’ and sometimes folk don’t know how to take that. But me.... They see me and all they see is a pig in a dress.”

“Don’t you say that, Y/N.” He reached up to cup your face, calloused thumbs brushing away your tears. “You don’t look nothin’ like a pig.”

“Mary, she’s just…. She’s so different from me, Arthur.”

“Course she is, pumpkin.” Arthur leaned forward to kiss your forehead, then he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you in for a proper hug. His slipped around you, providing you with a sense of protection. “I don’t see nothin’ wrong with that. And I definitely don’t see nothin’ wrong with you. You’re absolutely gorgeous in my eyes, pumpkin. Wouldn’t change a damn thing about you.”

“But Arthur, I look like a cow.”

“Stop comparin’ yourself to farm animals, Y/N.” He kissed the side of your head. “It’s breakin’ my heart.”

You frowned, leaning your head against his shoulder. Arthur pressed his lips against your head. 

“I know you’ve never had the best thoughts about yourself.” He murmured into your hair. “But I got plenty of good thoughts about you for the both of us. I’ll make sure to share them with you until you start thinkin’ about yourself differently. I need you to know that it don’t matter that you’re different from Mary or Karen or anyone else. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. It’s who you are.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” You sniffled. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“Only ‘cause I love ya, pumpkin.” 

***

Hosea caught sight of Arthur as the burly outlaw made his way across camp, a dark look in his eyes.

“Arthur-,”

“Not now, Hosea.” Arthur waved him off. His eyes were set on Micah who wasn’t even looking at him. His back was to Arthur. He sat at a table with Dutch talking about something Arthur didn’t care to listen to. 

Arthur grabbed the back of Micah’s chair and tipped it back, knocking Micah out of his seat and on to the ground. In the same heartbeat, Arthur drew the revolver from his hip and cocked the hammer with his thumb. 

He put his foot on Micah’s shoulder and aimed the gun at Micah’s chest, glaring down at the man. 

“Whoa, cowpoke!”

“Arthur!” Dutch shouted. “Put that gun away!”

Arthur ignored Dutch. The anger bubbling and festering in his veins made him focus solely on Micah.

“It’d be in your best interests to leave Miss Y/L/N alone.” He spoke lowly.

“I was just havin’ a conversation with her while you were out with your old fling-,”

“What I do ain’t none of your goddamned business.” Arthur cut him off. “If I find out you’ve said anything out of line to Y/N again, Micah Bell, I’ll be puttin’ a hole through your goddamn chest.”

Micah said nothing, locking his jaw as he glared up at Arthur. Arthur lowered his gun and then removed his foot from Micah’s shoulder. 

Hosea watched as Arthur moved towards his tent, holstering his weapon. 

“You’re a funny guy, Arthur Morgan!” Micah stood up, angrily brushing off his clothes. 

“And you’re a dumb bastard.” Hosea muttered, shaking his head as he walked away. “Surprised it’s taken this long.”

Taglists:  @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @zodiacaldust @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(