#I have a big soft spot for Kieran as you can tell with all the analysis | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

Text

A Favor For A Favor (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: I love Arthur and reader being supportive of young lovers Kieran and Mary-Beth okay. This would make more sense if you read A Soft Heart, A Sweet Soul first. My masterlist is here!

Warnings: none, Micah is a douche but it’s in his character tree so that’s not surprising

Word Count: 3.7k

***

You hummed as you straightened up a few things around Arthur’s tent and wagon. You were going through both of your clothes, folding them and sorting them before putting them away.

“Y/N?”

You turned your head to see Mary-Beth standing just beyond the tent. She clasped her hands together nervously in front of herself.

“Hi, Mary-Beth.” You smiled. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

“I don’t mean to bother you. You look busy.”

“Oh, no worries. Just doin’ some chores.” You put the skirt of yours in your hand down. “What is it?”

“I just…. Would you wanna go for a walk with me? Nowhere far. Just maybe down to the river. I don’t want everyone hearin’ us and there are some…. nosey people here.” She whispered.

“Of course.” You nodded, chuckling just a little. “Come on.”

You walked side by side towards one of the trails that led out of camp. Your eyes caught sight of Arthur, who stood at Dutch’s tent with Hosea, John, Micah, Charles, Bill, and Dutch himself.

Arthur’s eyes met yours, his attention drawing away from whatever it was the boys were discussing. He tilted his head up, brows drawing together slightly as if to question what you were doing.

You shook your head softly, silently telling him not to worry. But he needed to know where you were going. It wasn’t safe to leave camp, especially to leave and not tell anyone where you were going.

Arthur excused himself from the group and made his way towards you and Mary-Beth.

“Hello, ladies.”

“Good afternoon, Arthur.” Mary-Beth greeted him.

“Arthur.” You smiled. “We’re just walking down to the river.”

“It really isn’t safe for you ladies to be out that far from camp.” Arthur shook his head. Once the words left his mouth, he immediately started to back track. “I-I didn’t mean it in the way that you can’t handle yourself. I know ya can. It just-,”

“Arthur, darling.” You stopped him, reaching out to place your hand on his chest. “We’ll be okay. I’m taking Calvin. He won’t let anything happen to us.”

“He’s a goddamn horse, Y/N.” Arthur grumbled, putting his hand overtop of yours. “He ain’t an attack dog.”

“Give us thirty minutes. If we aren’t back in thirty, you can send the cavalry after us.”

“Fifteen.” He bargained.

“Twenty.”

“Deal.” He brought your hand up to his lips for a quick kiss. “Be safe. Both of ya.”

“I’m always safe.” You grinned, taking a few steps away from him. “Come on, Mary-Beth.”

Arthur watched you untether Calvin and guide him down one of the trails. Only once you were out of sight did he return to the group at Dutch’s tent.

“Mary-Beth, come walk on my right. Calvin’s blind in his left eye and I don’t want to chance him gettin’ spooked and hurtin’ you.” You told her. She moved around to walk on your right side. You patted Calvin’s shoulder.

“Y’all are just so cute.” Mary-Beth brushed her fingers through the curls that fell over her shoulder. “Arthur’s really sweet on you, Y/N. I never seen him like that on someone.”

“He’s just got a big heart hidden under all that grumpiness.” You smiled. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, I just…. I don’t know.” She sighed gently. “I know you’re sweet on Arthur, but do you…. What do you think about Kieran?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too big.

“I think he’s a really nice kid. He’s done real good with the horses since he joined us.”

“He is nice, ain’t he?” Mary-Beth smiled, looking down at the ground where she stepped. The smile didn’t last long though. It faded and soon her nose scrunched up. “But he’s an O’Driscoll.”

You let out a soft sigh, reaching your hand up to rub Calvin’s nose.

“Have you ever looked at someone and just felt this feelin’ in your stomach that somethin’ ain’t right about them? That you can’t trust them? Maybe even that bein’ alone with them makes you feel uncomfortable?”

“Micah.” She nodded.

“Micah. Micah is a good example of that. Does Kieran make you feel that way?”

“Well…. No. Not really. I’m comfortable around him. Except I’m really nervous. My heart beats all fast and my stomach twists up like I might be sick.”

“Being nervous is normal.” You smiled and nodded. “I’m sure he’s nervous around you too.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well I don’t….” You trailed off. You didn’t want to tell her about what he had told you a few days ago. It wasn’t in your place to share what he disclosed with you in private. “Kieran is nervous around everyone at camp. He’s unsure where he fits in and everyone is sort of unsure about him. Which I understand. But he’s a good kid. I like him a lot more than I like a lot of other people up there.”

“I like him more than Micah.” Mary-Beth giggled.

You agreed.

You found a decent spot at the river and tethered Calvin to a tree. Mary-Beth settled on a rock while you had no problem sitting in the grass.

She pulled a flower from the grass and studied it for a few moments, brows drawn together softly.

“Y/N, I want what you have.” She admitted quietly. “I-I want someone to look at me the way Arthur looks at you. I swear, he looks at you like you’re the prettiest sunset he’s ever seen and it’s just…. It’s like something straight out of a fairytale.”

You turned your head to look out over the river.

“It wasn’t easy, me findin’ Arthur. We’ve had our fair share of hardships.”

“I know.” She nodded. “Y/N, I don’t want you to think that means that I’m jealous and I-I don’t like you or nothin’, ‘cause I do-,”

“It’s okay, Mary-Beth.” You met her gaze, offering her a warming smile. “I understand. It’s lonely to have no one. Even with everyone back at camp, it means nothin’ if you’ve got no one special.”

She nodded again.

“But just…. Just be patient, sweetheart. You’re young.”

“It just feels like time is slippin’ by.”

“I know.” You paused for a few moments. “Do you think…. Do you think you might be interested in Kieran, Mary-Beth?”

She didn’t answer immediately, pulling a flower from the ground.

“He is so sweet to me, Y/N. He always asks me how I’m doin’ and he doesn’t expect nothin’ from me. You know how men are.” She murmured quietly.

“Unfortunately, I do.” You nodded. “Do you want my opinion, Mary-Beth? I won’t give it to you if you don’t want it. I know sometimes I just want to talk and don’t want to hear what others have to say, and there’s nothing wrong with that if that’s what you want right now.”

Mary-Beth pulled the yellow petals from the flower, letting out a little sigh. Then she nodded her head.

“I think that if you feel like you’re interested in him enough, then you should go for it.”

Her eyes lit up and the confusion and doubts melted away.

“You think so?”

“I do. I’m not saying he is the one and that you would be perfect with him.... But you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“That’s true, I suppose.” She nodded.

The two of you chatted for a while longer until you spotted Arthur coming down the hill from camp. He stayed on the hillside, a gun strapped to his back should he need it. He would keep his distance so long as you wanted to continue talking to Mary-Beth. You weren’t in trouble so there was no reason to break your conversation up.

You smiled at him, knowing he would stay there no matter how long you and Mary-Beth talked.

The conversation ended up going on a little longer than twenty minutes. It was nearly forty minutes by the time the both of you realized how much time had passed.

“I wonder why Arthur didn’t come down here.” Mary-Beth thought out loud as she brushed off her skirt.

“Well…. He’s been back there for a while.” You looked in Arthur’s direction.

Mary-Beth followed your gaze to find Arthur sitting at the base of a tree on the hillside just below camp.

The two of you made your way towards him. You guided Calvin by his reins, pulling a peppermint out of your pocket and unwrapping it. The second he smelled the sweet treat, he was nudging your hand with his big nose.

“Arthur, why didn’t you come tell us we were takin’ too long?” Mary-Beth asked him.

“It was nothin’.” He shook his head, standing to his feet. “Don’t mind waitin’. It was nice just sittin’ there doing nothin’.”

The three of you walked together back to camp.

As you tethered Calvin to a hitching post, you watched Mary-Beth go towards the caravan she shared with Tilly and Karen.

Calvin whinnied rather loudly right in your ear, tearing your attention away from Mary-Beth.

“I know, I know.” Arthur muttered as he moved away from Calvin’s blind side to his right side. Arthur knew he made the mistake of coming up on the horse’s left side but it was too late to fix it. Calvin had sensed him and it spooked him. Luckily, it wasn’t enough to make him rear up. “Sorry, boy.” He patted the horse’s shoulder, settling with standing right behind you.

“You’re okay, Cal.” You cooed, rubbing his side.

Calvin turned his head to look back at you, trying to get a good look at Arthur.

“That’s why he doesn’t like you, Arthur.”

“Nah. He’s just a grumpy old man.” Arthur shook his head.

You gave Calvin another loving pat and then moved away from him. Arthur followed, making sure to stick as close to you as possible so as to not spook Calvin again.

“She asked what I thought of Kieran.” You grinned a little, turning to face Arthur as you came to a stop.

His hands found your hips and yours went to his broad shoulders.

“I think she likes him.”

“Did ya tell her that he’s…. he’s soft on her?”

“No, it’s not my place.”

Arthur let out a rather dramatic sigh.

“Wouldn’t it make things easier if you just put the pieces together for them?”

“That’s not how it works, Arthur.” You patted his chest and slipped out of his hold.

“Sure it is!” Arthur followed you as you moved across camp to get to his caravan.

“It ain’t my job to play matchmaker, Arthur. If they want to get involved with each other, they can do it on their terms.”

“Fair enough.” Arthur leaned against the side of his wagon while you went back to folding the laundry. He took his hat off, tossing it down onto the foot of the bed so he could brush his fingers through his blond hair. “But look at it this way. If we weren’t together and someone knew that we were interested in each other, wouldn’t you want someone to come along and…. Give you a nudge in the right direction towards me?”

“If I remember correctly, that did happen.” You turned your head to look at Arthur. You caught sight of Charles moving towards your shared caravan. “Mr. Smith here had a little something to do with that. Didn’t you, Charles?”

“Someone had to make you two see eye to eye. I knew Arthur wouldn’t do anything. No offense, brother.”

“None taken.” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck.

“If you aren’t too busy right now, I could use some extra hands on a ride over to Emerald Ranch.” Charles spoke to Arthur. “Hosea has something he wants picked up from a man who works there.”

“Yeah, I’ll ride with ya.” Arthur nodded, picking his hat up from the bed.

Charles moved to mount Taima while Arthur lingered by the tent.

“Anything you need while I’m out, pumpkin?”

“No.” You shook your head. “You just get back to me in one piece and without tearin’ your clothes up too much.”

“We’re just goin’ to Emerald Ranch.” He rolled his eyes at you. You moved to stand chest to chest with him, your hands finding either side of his jaw.

“There’s a lotta things you could get snagged on. Branches and tumbleweeds.” You did your best to hide the grin on your lips.

“You’re rotten, you know that?” He dipped his head down to kiss you softly. “Teasin’ me like that, it really hurts.”

“Oh, you’ll get over it. You heal up quick.” You patted his chest as he took a few steps away from you.

“You’re a cold woman.”

“So I’ve been told. Be safe, Arthur.”

“Safe is my middle name.”

“I thought your middle name was Burton.” Hosea teased from one of the tables at camp.

Arthur grimaced and swatted a hand in Hosea’s direction.

You watched Arthur and Charles disappear from camp, a sigh leaving your lips.

***

When the sun went down and everyone was having dinner, you found yourself sitting at a table with Mary-Beth. The two of you were idly chatting to pass the time when you spotted Kieran moving towards the pot of stew.

“Hey, Mary-Beth?” You cut her off, keeping your eyes on Kieran.

“Yeah, Y/N?”

“Would you…. Would you mind if I invited Kieran to sit with us?”

Her eyes widened and she quickly looked around, searching for Kieran.

“Mary-Beth, you don’t have to say yes.” You reached over to comfort her, placing your hand on hers. “I just thought it would be a nice idea. Maybe to make him feel included.”

Mary-Beth looked over her shoulder for a few moments before nodding her head.

“Just…. Just don’t let me make a fool of myself, Y/N. Please.”

“I won’t, sweetheart.” You assured her with a smile and stood up from the table.

As Kieran was making his way away from the stew pot, you hurried to catch up to him.

“Kieran!”

He turned to you, a smile coming to his face.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Do you want to come sit with me and Mary-Beth?” You asked, gesturing to the table.

Mary-Beth waved when he looked over to the table.

“Oh, uh, I-I…. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

He sat to your left and Mary-Beth sat directly across from you.

“Hi-Hi, Mary-Beth.”

“Hello, Kieran.” She smiled at him.

It was quiet for a few moments as all three of you ate.

“I haven’t seen Arthur all day.” Kieran looked at you. “Is he busy?”

“Hosea sent him and Charles over to Emerald Ranch.” You nodded. “They should be back soon.”

“Always so hopeful, Miss Y/L/N.” Micah commented as he leaned against the back of your chair.

“Micah.” You sighed.

“What makes you think Morgan’s gonna come back to you?”

“Oh, don’t be so mean, Micah.” Mary-Beth scrunched her nose up at him.

“I’m not bein’ mean, darlin’, I’m just trying to help Miss Y/L/N be more realistic so that when our dear Arthur doesn’t return she won’t be so heart broken.”

“I know he’s coming back to me, Micah.” You tapped your fingers against the side of your bowl. “Don’t you worry about it.”

He left the table, realizing he wouldn’t stir up the reaction from you he wanted.

“Speak of the devil.” Mary-Beth said, her eyes focused on someone behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see Arthur and Charles hitching their horses up just outside of camp.

“I’m going to go get Arthur.” You excused yourself from the table.

A smile grew on Arthur’s lips as you approached him.

“Hi, pumpkin.”

“Hey, handsome.” You leaned against the hitching post his horse was tethered to with your hands. “I’ve got a favor to ask you.”

“A favor, hm?” He shifted his weight to one foot. “Do I get a favor in return?”

“Not in those dirty clothes.” You scrunched up your nose at him but did a bad job at hiding the grin on your lips. He wasn’t terribly dirty, but it was clear he had been working hard all day. “After you get somethin’ to eat, you can go down to the river and get a proper bath.”

“A proper bath?”

“Mhm. So you can go to bed nice and clean, and not dirty and nasty.” You searched his blue eyes for a moment, your heart fluttering as he smiled down at you.

“You callin’ me nasty, Miss Y/L/N?” He raised a brow, stepping towards you.

You giggled, placing your hand on his chest to keep him from coming any closer to you. You didn’t want him to get you dirty.

“That favor, Mr. Morgan.” You reminded him, knowing very well you were about to lose track of what you were supposed to be doing.

Arthur took your hand from his chest and kissed the space on your palm beneath your thumb.

“What can I do for you, pumpkin?”

“Come sit down with me, Kieran and Mary-Beth.”

The smile fell from his lips as he looked over to the table the two younguns were seated at. Mary-Beth was smiling at something Kieran had said. They seemed to be doing okay while you were gone.

“It’s not so bad right now, Arthur. Just a little…. awkward.”

“Why don’t we just leave them and go get that bath early?”

“‘Cause I can’t do that to Mary-Beth. Or to Kieran.” You shook your head, pulling your hand from Arthur’s grip. “Go wash up, then you can come sit with us. You don’t gotta sit there all evening. Just a few minutes.”

He sighed heavily, watching you walk away.

***

Mary-Beth and Kieran greeted Arthur as he sat down at the table next to you.

“How was your day, Arthur?” Mary-Beth asked him.

“Didn’t get shot, so that’s good. I reckon. Every time I go to Emerald Ranch, I remember how lucky I am I don’t got a farm.”

“What happened?” You looked over at him.

“One of the fences broke. Ended up spending most of the day chasing cattle halfway across the Heartlands.”

“Don’t sound too bad.” Mary-Beth shook her head. “To have a broken fence be your biggest worry.”

“I’d rather get shot at.”

“I agree with-with Mary-Beth.” Kieran said. “Much rather have the farm and normal life.”

“Looky what we got here.” Micah approached the table with his hands on his belt. “Cowpoke sittin’ with the O’Driscoll, Miss Y/N and Miss Mary-Beth.”

“Good evening, Micah.” You greeted him, your tone less than friendly.

“When are we gonna go for that ride, Y/N?” Micah asked, moving around the table.

“What ride?”

“Micah, I’d watch what I say next if I were you.” Arthur warned.

“Easy there, cowpoke. Just tryin’ to have a friendly conversation.”

“Don’t get too friendly.” You said.

“You two are still at it, aren’t ya?”

“Micah, that’s enough.”

“Settle down, Arthur.” Micah waved a hand dismissively at him. “Just tryin’ to establish what ladies are fair game here.”

His eyes landed on Mary-Beth, who kept her back to Micah.

“What about you, Miss Gaskill?”

“I am not interested, Mr. Bell.”

Micah reached out to touch Mary-Beth.

“Didn’t you hear her say she ain’t interested?”

Your eyes flickered up to look at Kieran. You didn’t expect him to say anything, especially not to Micah.

“What did you say, O’Driscoll?”

There was a brief pause as Kieran held Micah’s gaze, debating on whether or not to repeat himself.

“I said didn’t you hear her say she ain’t interested? Don’t put your hands on her. She-She ain’t interested.”

Mary-Beth’s eyes found Kieran.

“You think you’re all tough, don’t ya kid?” Micah took a step towards Kieran. He stood to his feet.

“Arthur.” You whispered his name but he was two steps ahead of you.

He made his way around the table to keep the two from fighting.

“This ain’t your camp, O’Driscoll.” Micah stepped forward as if to prepare to strike Kieran but Arthur stepped between the two.

Kieran stepped back.

“You throw a fist at the kid, Micah, and I’ll put on your ass.” Arthur promised..

Micah, still angry, kept his eyes on Kieran.

“This is as much of his camp as it is yours, Micah.” You told him.

Knowing he had no chance of beating Kieran up with Arthur in his way, Micah stomped away.

“Th-Thank you, Arthur.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.” Arthur moved back around the table to return to his seat by you. “He’s just a hotheaded fool. No sense is startin’ anything with him.”

“I wasn’t gonna let him make Mary-Beth uncomfortable. Wouldn’t want him to do that to any of the ladies.”

“I get it. But next time let someone a little more…. At level with Micah handle Micah. Don’t want you with a broken arm or somethin’ stupid like that.”

You smiled at Arthur, placing your hand on his forearm.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” He began to eat his stew. He was tired and wanted to get to bed. He didn’t want to stop anymore fights. If anything, he’d be starting them pretty soon.

“For bein’ such a sweetheart.”

“Don’t get soft on me. M’too tired for that.”

Across the table, you could hear Mary-Beth quietly thank Kieran.

“Thank you, Kieran.”

“Oh, you-you’re welcome, Mary-Beth. I’m sorry if-if he made you uncomfortable.”

“I’m a little used to it by now, but it was awfully brave of you to stand up to him. Micah scares me a lotta times.”

“He can be a bit scary but I’ve dealt with guys like him before.”

***

You and Arthur parted ways with Mary-Beth and Kieran after dinner was over.

As you were heading towards your shared tent, Hosea called Arthur over. You continued on towards the tent to get out clean clothes for the both of you. You hummed softly as you folded the clothes into a neat little pile on the bed. Those were the clothes you’d be taking down to the river.

Arms wrapped around you from behind. Arthur tucked his nose into your neck. His stubbly beard tickled your skin.

“Arthur, stop it.” You giggled, leaning back into him.

“I think it’s time for my favor, pumpkin.”

Taglist: @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fic #arthur morgan x reader fluff #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #oneshot #queenxxxsupreme

304 notes · View notes

a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

Bathing With the RDR2 Gang

This is 150% self indulgent please forgive me. Im only in like chap 3 of the game haha but i cant resist. rockstar please cant i just give everyone a bath and nicer clothes??? let me give tilly lots of dresses i beg you

In this imagine, you’ll be warshin: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Sadie Adler, Micah Bell, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Tilly Jackson, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Karen Jones

ARTHUR MORGAN

He’s bashful about it at first, even if you’ve been together before, but it doesn’t take long at all for him to relax. He really enjoys the closeness of it, and how intimate and calming something as simple as sitting in water can be. It’s a little cold, which just makes him want to hold you closer. If he’s had an exhausting day, he’ll lean on your shoulder and close his eyes, slowly dozing off as you run your fingers through his hair. You figure you should let him rest, and you wash the rest of him while he sighs contentedly against your wet skin. After a bath, regardless if it’s in a river or tub, he’s always worried you’ll catch cold. He packs an extra jacket or shirt of his for you to wear. If you had a warm bath at the saloon, he’ll be in such a snuggly, intimate mood that he’ll grin as he carries you to the room.

JOHN MARSTON

You’ve never met a man who gets as mangy as he does, and so quickly! You have to drag him to a river to properly wash, since he seems to just splash water on his face and arms and call it a day. John fusses with embarrassment at first and can’t believe you actually brought fancy soaps (any soap is fancy to him), but he quiets down once you strip. Once you’re in the water and lathering him up, he’s bashful from the attention but actually really likes it. He can’t help himself from getting handsy, almost clingy, but he stays obedient and rinses off when you tell him. He’s not so fond of the saloon tubs, even with the hot water, because it just feels too cramped. The openness of a lake or river, along with the bright sun and noise of nature, is just objectively better.

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

While he loves sharing a bath with you, it’s definitely an indulgence and one you both don’t always have time for. So when there’s time, he makes sure it’s a cozy tub with plenty of hot water. He thinks it’s adorable if you want to wash him and care for him, because he’d rather do that to you. Sometimes he’s chatty and playful, other times he’s tired and thoughtful, but Dutch always likes to just hold you and soak for a bit. He’ll make sure you’re dried off and warm first, and he’ll want to keep touching you, so he’ll want to dress you and escort you to the room. Dutch really can’t get enough of your skin when it’s wet and smelling so nice, so you aren’t going to sleep anytime soon.

HOSEA MATTHEWS

He enjoys bathing out in nature, even if there isn’t always time for a proper wash, so your suggestion to take a dip in the lake amuses him. He’d rather wash you first, enjoying the simplicity of doing something like that for someone he loves. You two often end up chatting and joking about this or that while you just take your time and enjoy the sunny day. Hosea doesn’t mind if the water is a little cold, it invigorates him better than a cup of coffee. He always urges you to dry off and dress quickly so you don’t catch cold, and he’s the one who double checks to make sure you both brought a spare change of clothes. Hosea doesn’t mind a hot bath in the saloon, even if it is cramped. It makes him terribly sleepy, though, he’ll rest his head in the crook of your neck… but he’d rather not fall asleep in a giant porcelain bowl, so he’d urge you to head to bed with him.

SADIE ADLER

Honestly, she’s a little too embarrassed to squeeze in a tub with you, so a quick wash in a river is preferable. Her first thought is to strip down and get it done quick, but it’s a pleasant surprise when you want to sit in the water and help wash her for a bit. Only a bit, she says, but she ends up enjoying the smalltalk and admiring you. She’d rather wash herself, but she wants to help you reach any spots you can’t get. If she’s feeling more relaxed and sentimental, she’ll want to take care of your hair, too. Sadie prefers bathing with you at night, half because it feels more private, half because it feels like you have all the time in the world and you both can just enjoy each other’s company and the stars. It always makes her feel less tense and helps her sleep a little better.

MICAH BELL

Good lord, it’s like wrangling a cat. Your chance of success is significantly higher if he’s drunk and you promise sex afterward. You all but push him into the river, he grumbles and swears the entire time, he can’t believe you have “soap and shit”, also he can’t keep his hands to himself and wants to drag you into his lap. You could’ve washed his hair in just a few minutes, but it takes longer because you keep swatting his hands away and scolding him for nipping at your neck and shoulders. He’d never admit how nice your fingers feel on his scalp, even if it relaxes him to the point where he’s quieter and less handsy. You don’t bother taking him to the saloon for a dip in the tub because there’s no way he’ll give a shit about bathing when you’re squeezed in such a tight spot with him.

CHARLES SMITH

He loves bathing in rivers and lakes with you; he’s the one to casually suggest it first. It’s just such a simple yet private and loving thing for him, he can’t keep the grin off his face as you strip down and join him in the water. He wants to spoil you first, really touch and enjoy every inch of you, but he melts in your hands when you start washing his hair and rubbing his broad back. His favorite time to do it is at night, since you look so beautiful under the glow of the moon and the stars. If you both are feeling more playful, he’ll definitely splash at you or drag you to the deep end to swim around. Once you both are thoroughly clean and tired, he’ll want to fetch your dry clothes for you, and he always packs a blanket in case you want to sit out and enjoy the night.

BILL WILLIAMSON

Well, your offer embarrassed him at first, but then you teased him and playfully dared him and well, now you’re here at the riverbank and he’s stripping down in a huff. You were surprised how shy he was at first, since it wasn’t the first time you’d been naked together. Bill wasn’t sure where he should put his hands (or his eyes) and how deep in the water you wanted to go, but once you cuddled close and started washing him, that all melted away. It’s exciting and fun to him, and he likes the soaps you use on him. Even if they smell girly and flowery, it’s what you use, and it’s nice to have your hands on him. Maybe this is why they’re so soft? Afterward he’d really want you to wear one of his shirts back to camp, and he’s disappointed when the smell of your soap eventually fades off the flannel.

JAVIER ESCUELLA

He jumps at the suggestion when you first make it, and he’s the sort to prefer the saloons and their hot water. First of all, hot steaming water, often with bubbles because of the soaps you bring, and he gets to keep you as close as he pleases and “accidentally” brush against your body at all angles. No downsides here. He dislikes the cold water of lakes and rivers; the sun is rarely strong enough to warm them. He’s very weak to you washing his hair. He’ll lean into your touch and give you all sorts of kisses and praises as you run your fingers through it. He’s in such a giddy, warm mood afterward that he wants to dry you off himself and carry you to the room, grinning like you two are newlyweds. There’s no way he’s letting the night end with just a bath.

SEAN MACGUIRE

Alright, he talks big game when you suggest it, grinning that of course he couldn’t turn down such an offer, and you two won’t be doing much bathing, if you get his point. You just roll your eyes and tell him to follow you. The thing is, once you start stripping down without a care, he starts getting a little red in the ears. By the time you’re both nude and you’re relaxing in the water, he’s flushed to his neck but still trying to make jokes. He’s startled that you actually want to help him wash, and when he does the same, he’s seriously conflicted on where to put his hands. Once he’s relaxed, the “accidental” touches are gonna happen all the time and a splash fight will break out. Once you’re all dried off and heading back to camp, he totally talks big game and wants to kiss on you and brag about your little dip, as if it’s something scandalous.

LENNY SUMMERS

He’s totally flustered at your suggestion but there’s no way he’s not doing it. He’d rather go to the river, especially at night, since it feels more private and something about a stuffy, heated saloon bathing room is a bit … much. Besides, this way you can see the stars and moon, and be as loud as you want. Lenny’s nerves all but melt away once you both start talking and washing, and he gets in a very content, cuddly mood. He makes a point to remember the soaps you like so he can get more if he comes across any, and he wants to help you dry off so he’s sure you won’t get too cold. He’ll probably suggest sitting by the campfire for a bit, just to be sure (and just because he wants to keep cuddling).

KIERAN DUFFY

This poor man, why are you teasing him like this? He’s so sure there’s some kind of punchline, but you walked with him all the way to the river, and now you’re stripping down … He’s so flushed with embarrassment, but there’s no way he’s not following you into the water. Once you joke around with him and talk to settle his nerves, the tension finally leaves his shoulders. He’ll be a little unsure about you touching and washing him, but he’s glad to do the same for you, trying very hard not to get distracted by the softness of your skin. Once you’re ready to get out, Kieran suddenly worries about you being cold, and he really insists on you wearing his jacket on top of your’s, and that you ought to sit by a fire to warm up. It’s cute how much he frets about this.

TILLY JACKSON

Tilly will pick warm water and a cramped tub any day of the week, and really, it’s not so bad since you’re both ladies and she’s fairly short. She finds the cramped space comical if anything, and you both will be wiggling and giggling while you wash off and just leisurely enjoy the bath. She’s the type who doesn’t like to prune, but she won’t get out until you do. She has a nice collection of soaps and often finds ones you like, and helps you wash after you help her. Afterward she definitely wants to cuddle and probably apply some lotions; you think it’s cute how much she likes feeling so clean and pretty. All that plus the saloon’s mostly cozy bed makes you two feel like fancy ladies living in luxury, and you both grin and recall it for a least a week afterward. A dip in the river is so … unexciting by comparison, you both just sigh and wash quickly before you shiver to death.

MARY-BETH GASKILL

Your offer made the color rise to her cheeks, even if you’d been intimate before. Why hadn’t this occurred to her? It seemed like a private thing, but she was too interested. She always thought a hot bath was the height of comfort, but when you took her to the river, she was in awe over how quiet and cozy it was as the sun set. The colors of the sky and stillness of the water was so romantic! She likes being the one to undo your hair and clothes, although she’s shy about you doing the same and wanting to wash her. Mary-Beth loves having nice soap to wash with and will admire you for having several on hand. She can’t help but be full of giggles and give you lots of kisses while you both sit and chat.

KAREN JONES

She’ll laugh at such a “saucy” suggestion, but she’s game for either a quick dip in the river or a trip to the saloon. When it comes to a warm tub, her usual jokes and fun will peter out as she gets sleepy and cuddles up to you. No matter where you two are, washing her hair and massaging her back makes her tired, and she’ll curl up in your arms and tease you about carrying a nice lady back to her bed. Once you two are dried off, she’ll wake up enough to help tie your hair up and dress for bed or for the day, depending on when you bathed. If it’s the morning, she’ll need just a few kisses and hugs to be energetic again. If she’s still chilly afterward, she’ll borrow one of your jackets and wear it well after she’s dried off.

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 imagines #arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #hosea matthews x reader #sadie adler x reader #micah bell x reader #charles smith x reader #bill williamson x reader #javier escuella x reader #sean macguire x reader #lenny summers x reader #kieran duffy x reader #tilly jackson x reader #mary-beth gaskill x reader #karen jones x reader

882 notes · View notes

khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

Text

This is War - A Crack Fic

All the chaotic, horny energy today had to be channelled somewhere, right?

You can read the fic here on ao3 too :)

Central park was a vision to behold. There were no mundanes within sight. The warlocks had made sure to glamour the entire area just for today.

“We are not shadowhunters,” Ragnor had said. “We don’t half ass things.”

He of course had left immediately after securing the parameter saying he didn’t want to be involved in another one of Magnus’ childish squabbles.

“Welcome everyone,” Simon said, standing on a podium hadn’t been there before. Where was that from?

“Why is he wearing a robe?” Helen whispered to her wife. Aline just shrugged.

“For far too long we have been trying to settle this debate,” Simon said in a deep voice that was not that deep. “But today, we must settle on an answer.”

Jace rolled his eyes. “Can we get to the good part?”

“Jace, you promised you’ll let me have my moment!” Simon hissed at him and then cleared his throat. “Today we will decide the most pressing crisis of our time. Who broke the coffee maker in the Lightwood-Bane household?”

“Wasn’t me,” Magnus shrugged. “If I did, then I would have fixed it immediately. It was obviously Alec.”

“Liar!” Alec gasped. “I love coffee. I love that coffee maker. Why would I break it?”

“Well, to love is to destr-” Jace spoke up.

“Honey, not now,” Clary shushed him.

“Listen, the kids can’t obviously reach the coffee maker yet,” Magnus pointed out. “And I’m not the one who takes out my frustration on inanimate objects. I mean we all know what happened to the kettle in the institute.”

There was a soft murmur from the shadowhunters of the New York institute.

“I WAS HAVING A BAD DAY!” Alec argued.

“Just admit you broke the coffee maker, Alec,” Magnus said.

“I didn’t do it!” Alec replied. “You’ve always been jealous of the coffee maker.”

Magnus snorted. “Jealous? Me? Pfft. You’re the one who is obsessed enough with the darn thing to name it.”

“Treat lightly, Magnus,” Alec said. “Charles is already dead. Why would you-”

“ENOUGH!” Simon said into the microphone. When did he get that? “Like I said, this childish argument has gone for too long. Today we will settle it like the civilized adults that we are.”

Simon bent down and picked up a giant gun.

“PAINTBALL FIGHT, Y’ALL!” he yelled.

Everybody started cheering – with way too much enthusiasm for a Monday morning.

“Alright. Magnus, Alec – whoever loses the game will agree that they broke the coffee maker, and we will put this whole thing behind us and move on. Do you agree to these terms?”

Magnus and Alec looked at each other and then nodded at Simon.

“Alright!” Simon grinned. “Pick your teams!”

Little Rafe ran towards Magnus.

Alec gasped. “Betrayed by my own blood.”

Max ran towards Alec. “We are going to win. I always win.”

Alec grinned at that. “I pick Jace.”

Jace grinned back and ran up to his parabatai. “Ohhhh y’all are so going down.”

Magnus laughed. “We’ll see about that, blondie. I pick Emma.”

“Oh damn,” someone said from the crowd.

“Emma, this is a paintball fight,” Alec pointed out. “You can’t use Cortana.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just for emotional support,” she said with a wicked gleam.

“Alright,” Alec said. “I pick Julian.”

“Isabelle,” Magnus called.

“KIT!” Alec yelled.

“TIBERIUS!” Magnus thundered.

“Count yourself lucky that it’s daytime,” Alec said. “Otherwise, I would have called Lily and she would have destroyed all of you!”

“Already making excuses for your imminent failure?” Magnus chuckled. “I choose Helen and Aline!”

“You can’t pick them both!” Alec argued.

“I can and I just did,” Magnus winked.

“Yeah, Helen and I won’t fighting in opposing sides,” Aline shrugged. “Sorry, Alec.”

“I got the lesbians!” Magnus laughed. “You are going down, Alexander.”

“You wish,” Alec said and whistled. Diego showed up behind him. “I got the Inquisitor!”

“Clarissa,” Magnus said. “The Angel’s chosen one.”

“Babe,” Jace said. “You can’t!”

“Everything is fair in love and war,” Clary shrugged, pointing a gun that was bigger than her. “And this is war, biatch!”

“Kieran!” Alec called and the unseelie king materialised from some corner and ruffled Max’s hair.

“Mark!” Magnus called.

“Cris-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Cristina lifted her finger warningly. She was perched on top of a tree. “I’m not going to be a part of this madness. I got a medicine kit right here. So, if anyone needs me, just holler, okay?”

“And I will excuse myself as the referee of course,” Simon pointed out. “Alright. Standard paintball rules apply. No serious injuries. If you get shot, then you’re off the game. Last team standing wins. And no runes or downworld powers. We are gonna fight mundane style.”

“YAS!” Kit cheered, already cuddling his paintball gun.

“Alright then,” Simon waved a flag. Where did he get THAT from? Did he have a bag of equipment just lying around?

“LET THE BATTLE OF THE COFEE MAKER BEGIN!” Simon yelled.

And then there was chaos.

The warlocks – mostly Ragnor – had changed the area into a paintball area. There were places to hide behind and attack from. It was really elaborate. Maybe Ragnor had more fun designing this space than he had let on.

“Alright,” Alec said to his team. “Let’s keep this simple. Take down anyone you see.”

“Anyone? What about our significant others?” Jace asked. “Do we shoot them down too?”

“Of course not!” Alec chastised. “We are not animals! Is that clear?”

“Yes, Consul!” everyone yelled.

“I DON’T CARE IF THEY ARE YOUR BOO OR YOUR BAE, THEY ARE GOING DOWN,” Magnus said to his team. “FIND YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHERS FIRST. THEY WILL NOT EXPECT YOU TO STRIKE! USE THAT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE! THERE ARE NO SIGNIFICANT OTHERS. ONLY SIGNIFICANT ENEMIES. IS THAT CLEAR?”

“YES CAPTAIN!” they all cheered.

They all broke out and ran to find their targets.

It wasn’t even five minutes since the game had begun and Kit ran straight into Ty.

“Hey,” Kit waved.

Ty pounced and pinned Kit to the ground. He pointed his gun at his boyfriend.

“Alec said we can’t hurt our significant others,” Kit put up his arms.

“Our captain said no such thing,” Ty replied. “You’re not-…Why are you grinning? I got you pinned down.”

“It’s my favorite place to be,” Kit smiled. “I open my eyes and there you are. You’re beautiful.”

“Stop flirting with me when I’m trying to fight you,” Ty blushed and then held out his hand. “Fine. I didn’t see you and you didn’t see me.”

Kit winked at him and ran away.

Mark and Kieran found each other next. They both held their guns at each other – neither of them shooting.

“This is childish,” Kieran pointed out. “I’m already bored.”

“Wanna go sit on that tree and hang out with Cristina?” Mark winked.

Kieran grinned and the two of them ran away too.

Helen and Aline looked at them and shrugged.

“We could just live stream the whole thing,” Helen pointed out. “Lily would like to see this.”

“I don’t know what that means but if that’s what you want to do and that’s what we shall do,” Aline smiled and and kissed her wife.

“Clary,” Jace said in relief when he saw her. “Thank god! I thought someone-”

There was sudden pain in his chest and he looked down to notice the big green splotch on this t-shirt.

“You...You shot me,” Jace said, sounding hurt.

“Jace, I’ve already stabbed you in the past and you once set me on fire,” Clary rolled her eyes and ran away to find her next target. “Get with it!”

“JULIAN ATTICUS BLACKTHORN,” Emma yelled and ran towards him. “YOU’RE GOING DOWN.”

“Not today,” he winked at her.

Emma blushed furiously just before attacking him. It wasn’t easy. Emma was skilled at close range combat, but Julian knew all her weak spots. So, they were even.

They wrestled for a while before Julian pinned her to the ground. He was breathing hard, his pupils dialed.

“I’m sorry, but this is strictly business,” he shrugged with a mischievous grin.

“But we are still on for tonight, right?” Emma asked. “I finally got a reservation at that Italian place you like.”

Julian’s eyes softened a litte. “You did?”

“Yes,” Emma smiled and hooked her legs on his ankles and flipped them in the blink of an eye. She shot him on the stomach and kissed him on his lips. “See ya at seven!”

Unlike everyone else Isabelle was not going to be fooled or manipulated by her significant other. Thank the Angel Simon wasn’t a part of this. She really liked the feel of the paintball gun in her hands. It was huge, powerful, messy and colorful too. Her kind of weapon.

She ran around the park and took down the others mercilessly. There were only a few of them remaining now – everyone else had already been shot.

But not Isabelle.

She didn’t care about the coffee maker of course. The argument was a ridiculous one.

She just wanted to win.

In the distance, she saw Emma take down Kit and Diego shoot Ty. She was off to destroy the Inquisitor when she had a familiar cry.

“Baby,” she ran to him. “My little blueberry muffin. Are you okay?”

“I fell,” Max sobbed. “Somebody pushed me.”

“Tell me who did this and I will-”

“ISABELLE DON’T!” she heard Magnus yell.

But it was too late.

There was a giant blue splotch on her white blouse.

“Max?” she asked in betrayal.

The boy just giggled and ran away.

In this distance, she now saw Diego covered in red, with a very satisfied Rafael hanging upside down from a tree.

And then the rest of them went feral.

“Surrender, Alexander,” Magnus said an hour later, holding up his gun, which was covered in glitter. “Everyone on your team is down.”

“Well, I don’t see anyone from your team standing either,” Alec pointed out.

“I still am,” Magnus said.

“So am I,” Alec replied.

“Give it up, Alexander!”

“Never,” Alec said adamantly. “This is for the coffee maker. I loved it so much!”

“Then you shouldn’t have broken it,” Magnus argued.

“I didn’t!” Alec said in frustration. “I love it so much because…because that’s the first thing you bought for me.”

“Oh,” Magnus said, the grip on his gun softening lightly.

“I know you have bought me so many expensive gifts but the coffee maker…it’s always been my favorite. I remember walking into your apartment one day, we weren’t even properly back together then, and you just bought it for me.”

“Well, you drink a lot of coffee,” Magnus grumbled.

“Yeah and you noticed. And you got me something so I wouldn’t feel weird in your apartment. You bought it so make me so comfortable. That’s when I realized I really, really like you.”

Magnus blushed a little. “Well, then now it sounds stupid to think you broke the thing.”

“That’s because I didn’t, Magnus!”

“Well, I didn’t either!” Magnus put up his hands. “In fact, the day it broke, I wasn’t even home. I was in the spiral labyrinth all day.”

“I know! I wasn’t home either! I had to go to the Mexico institute for an emergency meeting, so I called Jace to babysit the ki-”

They both stared at each other.

“JACE LIGHTWOOD HERONDALE!” Magnus’ voice boomed across the park. “DID YOU BREAK ALEC’S COFFEE MAKER?”

Jace was sweating. “Listen, I was gonna say something and then y’all started fighting and it was very awkward, and I was looking for the right time and then Simon came up with this idea and I thought 'hey we haven’t done a fun group activity in a long time and so why not?', ya know?”

Magnus and Alec looked at each other.

“Everybody,” Alec called. “Change of plans. Attack my parabatai.”

“AND SHOW NO MERCY!” Magnus yelled.

#I don't know what I did but I did it :)#malec #malec fics #tsc fics #dani writes stuff #tmi #tda #tsc

126 notes · View notes

comfy-whumpee · 3 years

Text

Trust: Kieran and Izzy

Future DadJax fic ft @ashintheairlikesnow’s Izzy Fucking Gallagher (legal middle name pending deed poll). CW: referenced child abuse.

@iaminamoodymoodtoday, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektric-whump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @burtlederp, @rosesareviolentlyread, @eatyourdamnpears

He stands in the doorway, draped in a cardigan, with one hand dangling a tote bag of supplies. His voice is soft and fond. “You look like shit.”

“Feel like it too,” Jax says, letting go of the door handle to slump back against the hallway wall. His voice is stuffy and his face pale, with high red spots on his cheeks. “You gotta help me, Kie. She’s asking how much money she needs for flu meds.”

“Go back to bed.” Kieran smiles at the face poking out from the doorway at the far end of the hall, which stares for a moment longer, then disappears. “I’ll take it from here.”

Jax stumbles off while Kieran removes his shoes. He hears a soft, little-girl voice say, “Daddy, your bath.”

Jax half-laughs in reply, and that quickly turns into a coughing fit. When it stops, he croaks, “Thank you for the bath, kiddo, but I’m going back to bed.”

Perhaps the little girl would have replied, but the sound of eager little footsteps interrupts the conversation and moments later a toddler comes running into view with fuzzy brown hair in his dad’s shade, chubby cheeks, and mismatched dinosaur-and-penguin pyjamas that Kieran knows are there because she fuckin dressed him and got his breakfast and everything while I was still asleep.

Kieran drops the bag and to his knees to hold out two hands for a high ten, which makes the toddler’s face light up. He slaps Kieran’s hands with better enthusiasm than aim. “Hey!” Kieran greets him, and looks up to see the little girl watching again. “You guys must be Izzy and Jamie.”

“Me!” the toddler agrees vocally, “I’m Jamie, that’s me! An’ that’s Izzy-bella who is my sister.” He turns, leaning against Kieran’s knee to point up the hall.

Izzy is staring at her little brother with something like betrayal, but it vanishes when she sees Kieran looking, and her face folds into a mask of perfect solemnity. “I’m Izzy, yes. You’re dad’s friend.” She blinks. Her eyes are big and very brown. “Are you here for dinner?”

Kieran laughs internally. Dad’s friend. Has Jax been reticent to name their relationship to her, or does she prefer to deny it? “I am. Dad called me and said he was sick, so I’m here to help.”

There’s a longer pause from Izzy, who steps to the side to let Jamie run off again without comment. She thinks, and then she says, “I’m good at helping.”

“So I hear,” Kieran agrees easily. “Can you help me? I need to find some things in the kitchen and I don’t even know where the kitchen is.”

Again, Izzy watches him for a long moment, contemplative in a way very few children are. Kieran has met children like this before at work. He’s well-versed in children who learned to be careful in everything they do, because they know too well that the world is unsafe, and their wrong moves can lead to terrible things. He waits patiently.

Izzy nods after a moment and turns to lead the way. Kieran follows her with bag in hand. “I like your hair,” he tells her as they enter Alfie’s little kitchenette.

The little girl doesn’t reply. She climbs onto a step-stool that is clearly meant to be in the bathroom and gets a mug down from a cupboard she shouldn’t be able to reach. Very carefully, carrying it in both hands, she takes it to the kettle and puts a single teabag inside with the gravitas of a ceremony.

Kieran remembers Jax’s messages. She made me a cup of tea and I think she’s going to try for sandwiches next.

“Is that for your dad?” he asks her, while looking through the cupboards for pans.

“Yes,” Izzy says, picking up the kettle with both hands around the handle and conveying it to the sink. She puts it down on the draining rack and goes back for her stool. “Tea helps Dad when he is sick.”

“It does,” Kieran agrees, setting two large pans on the side. “I actually bought some special tea that will help him even more.” He picks up the tote bag and roots through it until he gets out a packet of lemon flu remedy. “Can we make this instead?”

Izzy sets down her stool and turns to look. Kieran watches her size up the packet, her mouth moving slightly as she sounds out L-E-M…

He brings it closer and points to a smaller word on the green label. “Flu, see?”

Fuh-ull-uh, Izzy mouths to herself, and then, fuh-ull-oo. Flu.

Her gaze returns to him, and there is a little hope in her eyes. “It won’t hurt him?”

Kieran shakes his head. His calm, professional smile doesn’t waver. He knows how to be safe to little children who know too well how dangerous adults can be. “It might taste funny, but it will help him. Not hurt him.”

He wants to promise, I will never do anything to hurt your Daddy or you or Jamie, never ever, cross my heart and hope to die, you have had far too many hurts already and I want to make sure they never happen again.

But he is a social worker, and he knows never to make promises. Something tells him that she won’t believe them. Like Jax, she doesn’t believe in words, or even in actions. She needs time, and she needs to see his good intentions.

Izzy considers the sachet again, the picture of the person with a red nose, and the picture of the steaming mug.

She looks back at him, and her eyes are very much like her father’s, hazel-brown and watchful, and carrying too many painful memories.

“Okay,” she says, and takes the packet from his hand. “I will make this tea for Daddy.”

Kieran watches her, but she really does seem to know what she’s doing, with the kettle held carefully until it can be put on its stand to boil, and placing the teabag back into the pot to replace it with the powder.

“And I will make us all a nice dinner,” he tells her, and she doesn’t reply, but something in her shoulders relaxes.

#sickfic #whump #recovery #abuse tw #my fic #jax #kieran #izzy fucking gallagher #trust #child whumpee

62 notes · View notes

cats-art-and-dinosaurs · 3 years

Text

Hello @annwritesallday I was your secret cupid for @rdr-secret-cupid :)

I apologise for the delay, my health kinda let me down and thus, I lost a lot of time.

I'm also more used to drawing, but your requests leaned more towards writing soooo... a chance to try something new, I guess? :)

English also isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes!

Characters: Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan

Themes: Friendship, Emotional Comfort I guess?

Warnings: Hints at animal cruelty, emotional abuse and not so healthy drinking behavior

Summary: Arthur drinks a bit too much and tells Charles about his feelings (friendship)

-----------

The sun had set hours ago at Clemens Point and by now, the lake was full of stars. It was a warm night, and in Charles opinion much more pleasent than the suffocating humid heat that lay over them during the days in this area.

He let out a sigh of relief as he sat down near the shore of the lake at the edge of camp. Drunken laughter and cheerful voices swept over to him, but they were dulled by the calm water in front of him.

Hosea had pulled of some kind of small scam today and had returned to camp with a crate of beer and a big smile on his face. One thing led to another and soon the overall interest in work and chores around camp had significantly lessened and rather turned towards storytelling, joking and singing.

And so, not much work got done that day, and though Charles did take over some of the other's chores, there was still plenty to do. But that had to wait until tomorrow. It had been a long day and he was glad to finally have a quiet moment for himself.

He had considered joining Kieran at the scout fire, but the latter had also been doing more work around camp today than usual and not being the most outgoing person, he was probably grateful to have some time alone.

And so Charles had found himself this little spot at the shore, but after a few minutes, he heard footsteps approaching him.

The person stumbled a few times, clearly having had a bit too much whiskey, but Charles still recognized the man without having to turn around.

"Arthur."

"Hello Charles", Arthur greeted him and giggled as he struggled to keep his balance while trying to sit down next to him.

Arthur hadn't been around camp for the past few days and had just come back this afternoon, a frown on his face and a distant look in his eyes. Something had definetly been on his mind and Charles wondered if Arthur had tried to wash it away with the alcohol. He hoped he was wrong.

His thoughts were interupted by Arthur's slighty slurred voice.

"Really nice. The lake, it's... is really nice. It's... so much calm water. I like it. I feel..."

There was a shift in his voice and he paused.

Charles turned his head to look at Arthur, trying to figure out what was bothering him. But Arthur didn't even seem to know himself as he gestured with his hands, triyng to find the right words, which appearently was made more difficult by the alcohol in his veins.

"I... I just... feel awful."

It was a miserabel sight, really. Usually Arthur was well aware of the intimidating effect his size and appearance could have on others. He didn't even have to do much, just stand tall, maybe cross his arms and put on a mean face.

But the man who now sat next to Charles on the dirty ground was nothing like that. He was slumped over, suddenly appearing much smaller than he actually was, not even trying to hide the emotions displayed on his face.

"Why? Arthur, did something happen?"

"Well, yeah... I think, I... There was this man and his - his horse... he said it died and he asked me to give him a ride."

Arthur paused for a moment, letting out a defeated sigh, "I wanted to help him but it was a stupid... stupid trap an' he'd killed the horse himself to make it look real and... and I jus' wanted to help."

He stopped once again, but this time, a small sob escaped Arthur. And Charles was glad the other man had to pause, as he himself also needed a moment to let it sink in.

It seemed so small and insignificant compared to other acts of violence he had witnessed over the years, and maybe that was why it wasn't easy to understand. Killing a horse so you had the element of surprise while attempting to rob someone, not even knowing if they had any money at all? It didn't make sense.

Next to him, Arthur was failing to keep his tears in check, so Charles carefully put his hand on his shoulder.

Arthur's body tensed up for a moment and Charles felt a wave of disappointment rush through him, afraid that now Arthur would turn away and never open up to him ever again.

But after a few seconds, Arthur relaxed and continued to talk, "I thought I knew what I was doing. Jus' wanted to do something right, as in... do the right thing. And I don't know why it's so... so hard for me."

No matter how tough and dense Arthur sometimes acted, Charles knew there was more to him. He wasn't quite sure yet what exactly, but people were complicated after all. However, some seemed to be more complicated than others. And seeing Arthur so hurt and confused? Somehow, it confused Charles too.

Arthur sniffed and finally turned his gaze to the younger outlaw, "It's so easy for you and I just... don't even understand what's right and what's wrong. Always have to think about it. I think I'm jealous... because you just... you just do what's right without wondering what the right thing is. And I don't even know what's right. I don't even know why I don't know. No idea what I'm doing. I just - "

"Arthur, stop that."

"What?"

"Talking like that. It's nonsense."

While Arthur had been rambling on, Charles had recognized one of the emotions that was growing stronger within him right now. With every single word Arthur got out with shaky breaths, his anger grew. It wasn't directed at Arthur, but rather at the situation. And he had to do something about it.

Arthur didn't try to back away, his eyes were fixed on his face, probably stunned by his sudden change of tone.

With his hand still firmly on Arthur's shoulder, Charles continued, "I don't know where you're getting these ideas from, but it's not true."

"I..."

"Arthur, I know you've probably had one or two beer too many. But don't think I didn't notice that you're always putting yourself down, wether you're sober or not."

Arthur blinked a few times, looking almost offended, "I'm not drunk, just..."

"Just a little bit drunk, I know", a small smile escaped him at Arthur's blatant lie and his tone softened, "Can you just... listen to me for a moment?"

Arthur still looked somewhat unsure, but still gave him an hesitant nod.

"I don't always know what's right. And if there's someone who claims they always do, they're lying. And whoever put those ideas in your head is also a liar."

There was a flash of realization in the teary eyes of the older outlaw and he slowly turned his head away. Someone had obviously come to Arthur's mind.

Charles had a feeling who it was and maybe Arthur was even thinking of more than one person.

But whatever the case was, given Arthur's reaction, Charles had definetly hit a nerve.

Now that he had, Charles almost felt a bit guilty. Almost.

He pushed those feelings away and instead focused on Arthur again, gesturing towards the camp behind them with his free hand, "Look, all those people... The girls all had their share of... bad experiences, and they trust you. They're not naïve."

"I would never-"

"No, of course not, because you know it's wrong and given your reaction, you never even thought of it in the first place."

Arthur shook his head, a grossed out expression all over his face.

"I've seen the way you laugh together. They care about you", Charles paused at the disbelieving look Arthur gave him and rolled his eyes in response, "Don't look at me like that, they DO. You're like... this grumpy, big brother. If you don't belive me, I'll go and get them to come over so they can tell you yourself. You want me to do that?"

It was an attempt at humor, but it completly went over Arthur's head, "No, I don't want them to see me like... well..."

He tried to wipe the tears from his face, but his red eyes and nose were not easy to miss, even though the only source of light were the fires and lanterns from the nearby camp and the moon in the night sky above them.

Charles moved his hand from Arthur's shoulder to his back, carefully patting him as the other man continued to rub at his face, "It's okay Arthur. It's alright. Nothing wrong with having emotions."

He could have sworn to have heard a soft laugh from Arthur at that, and as he looked a bit closer, there actually seemed to be a genuine smile on his face.

"I mean it. There are people who go through life and don't seem to think about how what they're doing affects others at all. Like that guy who killed his horse. And even if they do, I doubt they care to much. But you obviously do care. That's a good thing."

"But?"

"But please... stop comparing yourself to me as if I'd know everything and never make mistakes. You have to think and decide for yourself."

"Hosea told me the same", there was a smile in Arthu's voice now and this time, it was mirrored by his face. Charles returned the smile, but raised his eyebrows in a manner of faked disbelief.

Arthur laughed at that and raised his finger in a scolding gesture, "Oh don't you look at me that. I'm afraid I'm not drunk enough to forget about this conversation once I'm sober again... I'm sorry, I... I guess the drink loosened the tongue... damn..."

"Well, I sure am glad it did. Someone had to... well, at least try to talk some sense into you."

But Arthur didn't respond to the teasing this time, and instead seemed to struggle to find the right words once again.

"I'm...", Arthur paused, then laid his hand on Charle's shoulder the same way the younger outlaw had done before, "Thank you. For... this, for beeing honest and... listening and... For beeing my friend."

Charles nodded, glad that he appearently had gotten through some of the self-doubt that occupied Arthur's mind.

"Charles, if... if there's ever something you'd like to talk about... I care about you, too. And if you need to talk, I'll be there too, okay?"

"I know."

#rdr secret cupid 2021 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #charles smith #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fandom

37 notes · View notes

irishmacguirefucker · 4 years

Text

Why and how did the gang start a ranch?

(So this got long as FUCK but please read it because oh my god i'm so so proud of it ok? Big thank you to @awesomeundertalelover3 for proofreading and editing this for me, especially since I'm incoherent when I type.) The choice to start the ranch and stop being a “gang” was the result of a few things. First, it was the botched job in Blackwater. Dutch killed innocent Heidi McCourt, planting the first seed of distrust within the gang. Then in the escape, they lost Sean and the gravely injured Mac, and John, Davey and Jenny were both injured. Then Jenny died, of course, followed by Davey. The next big push into the decision was the time spent in the mountains. The cold and the difficulty of survival made many members of the gang think long and hard about their life as gang members, especially now that Hosea and Dutch seem to be fighting over whether or not Dutches plans will work out.

At this point they are cold, they are tired, and they have lost what they assume is 4 members of their family. But they kept on. They gained Sadie Adler due to Micah’s stupidity and they gained Kieran. You all know how things go until they get to Horseshoe Valley. But this is where things start to change in my AU.

Horseshoe Valley is good for everyone, they continue to commit crimes as usual. But Hosea is contacted by the elder brother of his late wife Bessie. He wrote that he feared he would die soon, and his property would be sold to the government since he had no other family left in the area. His daughter lives in new york and she doesn’t want it. He’s going to go live with his daughter and get to know his grandchildren before he passes. But he doesn’t want the ranch he and Bessie grew up on in anyone else’s possession so he asks Hosea to do what Bessie would do. Who Bessie would give the farm to.

The deed was to 55 Acres of land in New Austin. A beautiful 3 story ranch house with all the facilities to keep cattle, chickens, pigs, sheep, and horses. The man had sold all his livestock so that he could make it to see his family and then give the money to his daughter as a gift for letting him live with her. Hosea never told anyone, he was going to keep the deed for a while and sell it when the gang was in need.

The Van Der Linde gang was being hunted and they all knew it. However, they tried to ignore it and tried to believe in Dutch. But with the unfortunate loss of so many members of their family at once was weighing on them. They were having trouble getting money and getting food, and they knew that gangs all over America were being wiped out around them. Arthur and Hosea would talk about how bad it was getting, and more than once members of the gang would tell Hosea that they just want to be loyal. They want to be safe again but they would never leave their family. The final straw was at the fault of Micah.

When Arthur went to retrieve Micah in Strawberry he ended up discussing the jailed outlaw with the sheriff. He was going to get the man drunk and then get Micah out Hosea style, but when he spoke to that drunk sheriff he learned a lot. The sheriff revealed that the Pinkertons had been by and spoke with him and that he was part of a famous gang. With further prompting, the sheriff dropped the bomb that Micah was a rat. The Pinkertons had come to Strawberry to take Micah away because they knew who he was but offered him a deal. They would let him wait here to be saved and then continue feeding Pinkertons information, or they could haul him off to Siska and hang him before the gang even noticed he was gone. And so Arthur thanked the wasted lawman for his time and left Strawberry without the rat.

When he got back and talked to Dutch and Hosea, he shared that Micah had told the law everything he knew and planned to come back as a rat. They knew very well that Micah knew far too much and finally Hosea knew what he was going to do with that land. With Dutch and Arthur there, he explained everything about his brother in law, and then he let them know *his* plan.

Hosea wanted the gang safe, even if that meant not being a gang anymore. He had been the shoulder to cry on for Lenny, who missed young Jenny. For Karen, who drunkenly admitted that she might be in love with Sean but never told him. For Tilly, who was terrified her old gang would find her again and she would be back where she was when she was 12. And for many others, who felt so broken by the last few months. His plan was to start collecting as much money as they can and use it to pay off their bounties and move to the ranch. To buy a few heads of cattle, take their chicken, buy some pigs and sheep, and start that ranch up again.

Dutch thought it was crazy. Arthur agreed, but the look of hope in the blonde’s eyes was enough to see what he really thought. Dutch was angry, he was so so angry that Hosea would suggest this after everything they had been through. He even threw it back in Hosea’s face that he had tried to live the regular life, that Hosea couldn’t do it. That insult was the last straw.

He told Dutch that if he didn’t do this, he was going to die alone on a hill made from the bodies of this gang. People were going to leave him behind because they all know that the age of gangs and crime is over. Or worse, they would be loyal to him and they would die for it. Dutch would be responsible for the deaths of everyone in this camp. And with Dutch still stunned by the older man’s outburst, Arthur spoke up. He thought they could do it, and he would follow Hosea if that’s what would secure the safety of his new family. That’s what finally drilled it into Dutch’s head that this is the only option. His orphan son, who he had rescued off the streets at fourteen, was willing to leave him behind for this new plan.

The first person they let into the new plan was surprisingly Strauss. While Hosea was sure they could figure it out, he needed to know just how realistic he was being here. He knew they would need to figure out what their collective bounties were and how they were going to pay that off. Strauss did a little math and a little research. Dutch himself had a $5000 bounty in New Austin. Hosea had around $2000 on his head, and everyone else (including Arthur) altogether was around $2000 max. They were lucky that many of the members were unidentified, meaning they were without bounties. Strauss told them they would need to get around $9000 dollars, and then another $500-$1000 to get the ranch started based on his estimations.

Getting the money would be hard if they kept the plan to themselves. The next people the three men told were Susan and John. They would need to start brainstorming ideas on how to get the money. Arthur was going to enlist the help of Javier and Charles to track down every treasure hidden across the map. John would start asking around towns for small jobs, legal ones. People who needed help building things, finding people, etc. Susan would have the girls get as much information as they could about possible leads with fake stories about their deadbeat husbands needing jobs to support their children or stories about wanting honest work for themselves to avoid becoming a prostitute. Everyone would have to pitch in, the only issue with this is that they couldn’t tell everyone yet, lest something go wrong and they can’t do it.

As they were collecting the money and saving, the gang was beginning to get suspicious. They were all working far harder and far more than usual for no apparent reason. Dutch was sending them to do legal work which was extremely odd, and the money they were earning was just sitting around waiting to be spent. Dutch knew he would have to tell them what was happening eventually, but he didn’t know how. He would have to tell the gang that they were no longer going to be a gang. That he was ending the life of crime they knew but expecting them to follow him into a new one.

When they found Sean again, alive, spirits were high. They had his welcome home party and everyone celebrated. But Dutch was the first to see the toll that months of time spent with the bounty hunters had done to the man. He had new scars that he was hiding from his family, he was missing a tooth that he definitely had when he left. He had been tortured for months, and no matter how well he hid it, Dutch knew it was time for his gang to be safe again.

Not long after the welcome party, many of the individual members knew. Charles learned from Arthur, Sean overheard a discussion between Hosea and Arthur and eventually told Karen, Susan learned from Dutch, etc. Soon Dutch was ready to tell the gang. And then Arthur ran into the Pinkertons when he was fishing with Jack and it really was the right time to say it. They moved to the new spot near Rhodes at Dutch’s insistence, if it were up to Hosea they would have up and left for the ranch instead but there were still a few things to be finalized. Once they were safe once more, Dutch made a speech. Arthur had let everyone know that Mac was dead, but hadn’t ratted them out and that Micah was dead too and he had been a rat, not long after he found out. And then he nudged Dutch forward to tell everyone what their new life could be.

Dutch told them the whole plan, told them that they would be safer and they would be happier, but they had to trust him. And if they couldn’t trust him, they could trust Hosea. The gang is loyal, many of them were saved by Dutch and even with their uncertainty, they chose to go with him to this new life. And so in the next 2 months or so, they had enough money to pay their bounties. The Pinkertons would have to leave them alone, provided they played by the law. So they all travelled to New Austin to live on a ranch, and become more of a family than a gang. Bill was there for a while, until one night he wasn’t. There was a note in his room claiming that they had all turned into a bunch of soft bellied do gooders and he was going to start his own gang. Nobody searched for him.

138 notes · View notes

thiscompletemess · 3 years

Text

Hey my dudes! My mental health has been in the pits as of late, and I’m sure a lot of you are in the same boat, thanks to the global pandemic of it all. I don’t know a single person that is genuinely doing alright.

Anyway, I’ve been reading a lot of fantasy books because I don’t have the mental capacity to handle the hard hitting literature on my TBR, much to my dismay.

I thought y’all might want some good fantasy recs in the meantime if what I’ve read and enjoyed this year as well as what’s on my TBR that is fantasy:

The Grishaverse (trilogy) and Six of Crows (duology) by Leigh Bardugo - I mean, if you’ve followed me at all this year you know I’m obsessed and you’ve likely read these already, but on the off chance you haven’t, check them out! I read them back in January in the midst of really bad PPD and these books genuinely were my safety net. They’ll always have a soft spot in my heart and I loved the Netflix adaption. Season 2 can’t come soon enough!

A Court of Thorns and Roses (series) by Sarah J Maas - So, these are apparently really controversial books. I mentioned them to one of my mutuals and the poor girl got bombarded with anons giving opinions all over the place about them. So, big yikes there. BUT. I fucking ADORED these books. They took me for a journey like never before and made me feel such a range of deep emotions that I had chills and tears in my eyes multiple times and screeched like an unholy demon more times than I can count. These books have me in a chokehold and I’m perfectly ok with that. There is supposedly going to be a Hulu series but tbh I don’t want it because I just don’t think it can live up to what’s in my head.

From Blood and Ash (series) by Jennifer L Armentrout - Ok, so I’ll be the first to admit the third book in the series is a little repetitive. I mean, if I have to hear Kieran make one more joke about Poppy asking too many questions, I’m going to crawl into the book and stab him myself. That aside, the world building is fascinating, and the twists these books take have had me shook thus far. The ending of the third book was such a cliffhanger it left me screeching. The heroin is a spitfire badass after my Daenerys Targaryen loving heart. It’s quite literally been healing for me to read her story and to see a man simp so hard for her like she deserves. PoppyCas is delightful.

Caraval (trilogy) by Stephanie Garber - the MAGIC. The ROMANCE. The INTRIGUE. This woman’s imagination astounds me. The pictures she paints are enthralling and captivating and you slip right into the world that is so rich with color and magic and you never wanna leave. These books have such an AESTHETIC I tell you. The romance in the first book is lovely, but the romances in the second and third? I can’t begin to tell you how much fun they are. I was absolutely feral over the love triangle.

Current read: The Bridge Kingdom (duology) by Danielle L Jensen - This is enemies to lovers with a cunning female protagonist, banter, and smut. I’m having a damn good time so far with the first book and have the second one staring at me excitedly. It’s a tropey dream and I can honestly say I think anyone who follows me would dig it.

I’ve got a ton of stuff on my TBR in the fantasy genre as well as some of the deeper novels and I’ll do a rundown and recommendation of them at a later date when I’ve finished a few more!

#book recommendations #personal #fantasy books

1 note · View note

sadaboutniall · 4 years

Photo

something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Seven. November, 2008, continued.

It’s 25 minutes before kickoff when Niall realizes that being on the starting squad for the football team isn’t all glory and excitement. On the contrary, it’s fucking terrifying.

He’s feeling off-kilter, a little queasy, head all over the place, heart in his throat. His teammates are hyping up, jumping around the locker room and shouting good-naturedly at one another, but Niall can’t get out of his head enough to join them. He’s half there, half on the pitch, watching himself make a total bollocks of the match, ruin everything, become a laughing stock. He can’t shake it, this feeling that he gets sometimes, as if something is about to go horribly wrong and there’s nothing he can do to prevent it. It comes out of nowhere and makes him jittery and scared and he doesn’t understand it, can’t put his finger on what the feeling actually is or why he gets this way. He remembers being a child, his stomach feeling knotty before the first day of school. This feeling is not that far off. Sometimes he just feels so far away.

When they make it out onto the pitch, Niall tries to pretend this is just a regular kick about in the park—something he can handle, something free from pressure, but that’s hard too. It’s a freezing cold Friday night but there’s not much else to do in Mullingar when you’re under 18 and it feels like half the village is here tonight, shouting in the stands, making their presence known. It makes Niall feel like he could hurl.

Colm is the team captain and Niall finds it hard to listen to him without wanting to punch him in the face even on the best of days. But tonight it’s worse than usual: he’s confident and cocky, bearing his teeth and flexing his muscles as he calls the team in for a huddle. His pre-game hype speech is over the top and stupid, as if this match against Castletown Geoghegan is more important than teenagers from two neighboring villages kicking a ball through mud and grass for something to do on a Friday night. He talks like this is a national championship, a moment to defend Mullingar’s pride, to prove its worth.

Niall loses interest midway through Colm’s speech, his eyes wandering toward the stands, lit up against the dark sky by floodlights. He scans the crowd for his mates and finds them in their usual spot: Nicky, Deo and Deo’s older brothers Willie and Martin, Gilly, Mully, Emilia next to Mully, and, then, sitting next to Emilia in a familiar grey Derby jumper, Isla.

Niall’s heart kicks up a notch again as he fully drowns out everything Colm is saying. Half his mind tells him Isla could be here for any reason at all: most of the village is here tonight, it’s a big game, it’s something fun to do. But then there’s the other half: the fact that she’s sitting with his friends, wearing his hoodie. The fact that she stopped coming to football games a long time ago, after everything that happened with her and Colm. The fact that she’s waving at him, a soft smile on her face, a shy look in her eyes. Her cheeks are flushed red—from the cold, Niall’s sure—and she’s clutching a styrofoam cup of something warm in her free hand, and Niall’s spinning, totally distracted, his mind a million miles away.

He raises his hand to wave back, his smile growing, and then the whistle blows, Colm shouts, and the match is underway.

Five minutes stoppage time.

Niall’s fucking exhausted, hardly able to keep up anymore. He’s sweating, but freezing cold, and his lungs burn every time he takes another sharp inhale of the frigid air. They’re tied 2-2 and it feels impossible, like he’s running into a brick wall over and over again, like he’s pushing something he knows will never move.

In the 94th minute, it moves.

Colm sets it up. He passes it to Kieran Flannery who passes it to Jamie Duffy who passes it to Niall. And all of a sudden Niall isn’t tired anymore. He’s got a clear shot. He can move. He pushes forward a few feet, dodges the two Castletown Geoghegan players in front of him and then he takes the shot. It’s a pretty one, too—the ball sails through the air and lands in the back of the net with a satisfying woosh and then it’s all over, the whistle is blowing, the crowd is screaming, and his teammates are piling on top of him, shouting in his ear, slapping his back over and over. He’s pulled along for the ride, ushered through a sea of teammates and friends who’ve run down to celebrate on the field, to congratulate him. They’re calling his name from all sides but he can’t figure out who’s saying what, who wants his attention when, where his friends have gone. Everything is happening all at once, and it hits Niall that this might end up being one of the best moments of his life, one of the most important things he ever does. This’ll be something he thinks about forever, a story he tells his grandkids. Right now, he’s the most important person in all of Mullingar.

All he wants to do is find Isla.

They celebrate in the locker rooms too, shouting, reliving the match, laughing at the memory of the look on Castletown Geoghegan’s keeper’s face when Niall scored. Niall is the man of the hour but all he wants to do is get out, get back onto the pitch and into the stands before his friends leave, before Isla goes.

By the time he manages to sneak out of the locker room and back onto the pitch, things are quiet. The lights are off and Niall can’t see much of anything beyond his own breath, curling in the air in front of him as he jogs toward the stands. The grass crunches underneath his trainers and everything else is still and silent, a million miles away.

He’s in the middle of the pitch when Isla calls his name.

‘Isla,’ he can’t hide the happiness, the relief, in his voice. He doesn’t even bother. ‘You’re still here.’

‘My dad is on his way to pick me up,’ she’s making her way toward him through the dark. When she gets close enough for him to see her, she’s smiling, cheeks still red, lips a little chapped from the cold. ‘I thought I would wait over here instead of by the street, but then they turned off the lights.’

‘I’ll wait with you,’ Niall says, as if there’s anywhere on Earth he’d rather be, anything else he’d rather do. ‘You shouldn’t be alone in the dark.’

‘I’m alright,’ Isla says softly, but they can both tell she doesn’t want him to go. ‘Congratulations, by the way.’

‘Cheers,’ Niall feels like he’s buzzing, desperate to reach out and touch her. ‘Thanks for coming.’

‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ Isla wraps her arms around her middle as a gust of wind rolls over the pitch. ‘You were brilliant.’

‘You’re cold again,’ Niall’s voice catches in his throat, comes out a little gravelly. In the dark, Isla’s eyes flicker to his lips.

‘Ah, I’m always cold.’

‘Come here,’ Niall reaches his arms out and Isla doesn’t need to be asked twice. It’s just two steps before she’s pressed against his chest and he can wrap her up in his arms. He rubs her back to warm her up and she buries her face in his jersey, breathing deep even though he’s sure he’s sweaty and smelly and too bony to be comfortable. Niall tucks his chin against the top of her head and they still like that, hearts pressed together, the dark night settling around them.

He’s about to open his mouth to speak, to thank her again for coming, to ask if she wants to hang out tomorrow, just the two of them, when her phone chirps in the pocket of her jeans and reverberates through the heavy night. She lifts her head to meet Niall’s eyes, a regretful look creeping across her face.

‘That’s my dad,’ she says, softly. ‘He must be here.’

‘Okay,’ Niall whispers, even though it’s not.

‘Can I just,’ Isla’s still looking up at him, big brown eyes, chest heaving. ‘One more thing?’

‘Anything.’

And then she’s kissing him. That easy.

She’s up on her tippy toes and her lips are freezing cold and a little chapped against Niall’s and for a second he can’t breathe, eyes wide open, frozen to the spot. But then one of her hands slides up Niall’s chest and his brain reboots and he’s there too, tilting his head to catch her at the right angle, pressing his tongue forward a little bit so she parts her lips. He shuts his eyes and tries not to think about the fact that this is his first kiss, about all the ways he could be messing it up.

He cups her cheek, his hand big and shaking and freezing cold and Isla sighs into his mouth, fists her hand in his jersey, as he runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek. Niall feels like he’s on fire all over, burning up everywhere his body touches hers, freezing to death everywhere he doesn’t, and he knows without having to think about it that he’s chasing something he’ll never get enough of, that by kissing Isla he’s just fundamentally altered his life, his body, his DNA, in a way that he’ll never be able to repair. They’re tangled up now, the two of them, a part of each other that can’t go away.

It’s not a perfect kiss but Isla’s a great teacher, guiding him along, not pulling away when their teeth clash or when he bites her lip a little too hard. When she pulls away to take a breath he doesn’t think twice about ducking his head down and pressing his lips to her neck, wet against her pulse point, laving his tongue against a vein. She tangles her hands up in his hair, dry from the bleach and the frozen sweat, and lets him have at it, gentle kisses while she scratches the top of his head in a way that shoots electricity through his entire body. He pulls his hips back and away from her, just in case.

He’s just coming back up to her lips when he phone chimes again and they both sigh, Niall’s eyes falling shut in defeat. Isla giggles, reaches up to touch his face gently, running her thumb over his swollen lips. ‘I have to go,’ she sounds regretful, and she makes no moves to untangle herself from him.

‘You could stay,’ he tries as he opens his eyes, and Isla laughs again, shaking her head. This time, she does pull away, shoving her hands into her pockets.

‘Congratulations again,’ she tells him. Her lips are so red and he can hardly think of anything else.

‘Can we,’ embarrassed, he scratches at the back of his neck. ‘Could we… do that again?’

Isla laughs, louder this time. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth as she says, ‘I’d love to, yeah.’

‘Brilliant. I… I’d been thinking about that for a long time.’

‘Me too,’ says Isla, as her phone goes off a third time. She gives Niall an apologetic look and he pulls her in quickly, one last hug, one more gentle press of his lips to hers.

‘I’ll call you?’ He asks. ‘Tomorrow, maybe?’

‘Tomorrow,’ echoes Isla. ‘We’ll talk then.’

####

taglist: @stylishmuser @thicksniall @stayclose-holdsteady @niallhoranruinsme @ajayque @halfpinthoran @flickerswinehouse @1dfangirls35 @crocodileniall

join the taglist here

#one direction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan imagine #niall #something about you #It HAPPENED lads #thank you to rand!! for helping me with the soccer stuff

64 notes · View notes

the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

could you maybe write something about Arthur falling in love with a rival gang member? like a bit like romeo and juliet or something, you can choose the ending, thx :)

I tried to keep this one short but then I puked out like thirteen pages, so have fun, Anon! Thanks for sending this in!

You’ve been running with the O’Driscolls for many years. Most of your life, really. Ever since you were a young teen. You’d been living with your parents and older sister in a cabin on the border of Ambarino and New Hanover. When you were thirteen, you had a habit of dressing like a boy even though you’re a girl. You just preferred the more comfortable, free moving clothing that boys wore and you kept your hair short to spite your mother. She’d been trying to push the woman’s lifestyle on you and you were just not having it. In order to rebel against her, you cut your hair so it was only a few inches long.

Your father didn’t care how you looked or dressed, he thought you should do what felt right. He taught you how to hunt and shoot a gun when you were young, and he did this with your older sister as well. She didn’t take to it as well as you did as she didn’t like getting her hands dirty. She was too much like your mother and you were like your father. He was the one who bought you pants and button-down shirts to wear and a hat to shelter your eyes and head.

It was the combination of your clothes, hair and that you always seemed to be covered in earth or dust from the road that saved your life. At the age of fourteen, the O’Driscolls came to your cabin one night. It was only a small group of them, but Colm O’Driscoll heard a rumor that your father was wealthy and just pretended to be poor for the sake of appearances.

This was true as your grandfather had been a railway magnate until he’d been forced out of his business and decided on a simpler, less stressful life. He’d left his fortune to your father, who decided to hide his inheritance. Your family lived on a small ranch, which made it easy to pretend like you had just enough to get by. But somehow word had slipped out about your family’s money and Colm came to steal it.

Colm and seven of his men barged their way into your cabin. They shot your father only seconds after breaking the door down, then your mother. Colm’s men grabbed your sister and dragged her off into the night. You never saw her again, though you still sometimes hear her screams when trying to sleep. Colm looked hard at you and thought, because of your appearance, that you were a boy.

“You’re gonna be one of us, boy,” he said in his oddly soft voice. “You’re gonna be one of us or end up like your daddy.”

You just nodded and went with them. You were forced to join the gang but you knew the consequences for trying to run. Of course, you also continued to dress like a boy. As you grew, you started growing your hair out to respect your mother in her death. Luckily plenty of Colm’s men had longer hair, so they suspected nothing. That changed when you started to grow older and parts of your body visibly changed. You had to wear a tight wrap around your chest, but there was nothing you could do about your wider hips. You managed to threaten a tailor to make a duster with padded shoulders to make them look bigger and hide your feminine figure.

Years passed from when Colm destroyed your family and you stayed in his gang. You would have left when you were close to twenty, but you knew what would happen if you deserted. One boy made this mistake and Colm hunted him down and within days of him leaving, Colm killed him. The matter of his death was neither easy or quick, so you knew if you left, the same thing would happen to you.

Of course it wasn’t easy being in Colm’s gang. Since you were smaller than most the others, you got picked on a lot and you got stuck with some of the more unpleasant tasks, like shoveling horse shit and cleaning up after the others.

Shortly after you were incorporated into the gang, you’d heard of Dutch Van der Linde and his boys. You only knew his name and that he and Colm were rivals. Every once in a while, you’d hear about them interfering with one another’s work, but whenever you asked why Colm had such a fury towards Dutch, the others would just tell you to shut up. You thought for a long time that Colm detested this Dutch just because he was another gang leader and they happened to cross one another frequently.

You’ve been in the gang more than ten years now. Ten long, miserable years. You want nothing more than to get out, but to do so means your inevitable death. You also know it can take mere seconds for Colm to figure out you’re a woman. He doesn’t like women in the gang, says they only slow the gang down. If and when he finds out, he’ll happily put a bullet in your head.

Colm has never liked you much. You think the only reason he brought you into the gang was because you were a child. Maybe Colm has something against killing kids or maybe he just thought you might have potential. You don’t take his malcontent personally. He doesn’t like most the men he runs with, only keeps them around because they’re good with guns and sometimes manage to pull a score successfully.

You’ve climbed up in his ranks though. You had no choice. In order to survive and to hide your gender, you learned quickly. Even though you knew how to shoot a pistol and a varmint rifle, you had to learn how to shoot a bigger gun. So you taught yourself. Colm’s boys taught you the craft of acting mean, targeting people and robbing them. You were good too. Perhaps it was just your feminine intuition on how to play people since you couldn’t physically fight too well because of your size, but you had a knack for tricking people and robbing them blind. Colm appreciated this and you moved up quickly.

You hate him though. No matter what he does or how much money you get through him, you hate him. You’d like nothing more than to slit his throat while he sleeps. But you’re afraid of him too. The first time you’d ever seen him was putting a bullet in your father and then killing your mother. You know he had something to do with your sister and there’s little doubt in your mind he ravaged her and then killed her too. Only a monster could be capable of that, to orphan a child and then force them to work for the one who killed their family.

You walk into the bar in Valentine, thirsty and sore. The past few days have been hell. For some dumb reason, Colm decided a couple weeks back to move the gang up to some fallen apart town near Colter. Then you all got trapped there during a blizzard. He’d been out with some of his boys when the blizzard hit. He came back with his right hand man, a fat man with a bushy beard named Hoskins. The others never returned, but Colm figured the idiots had gotten lost and died in the snow.

He told you and some of the other higher ups that you were all up here to rob a train owned by Leviticus Cornwall. You’d heard the name of course. He was a big, but impossible target. Cornwall was known to go after any idiot who robbed him with a vengeance. Colm told you all to stay up here for another couple of days before the robbery. Then he sent one of the newer members, some fidgety nervous guy named Kieran, out to scout for the train. He left and told you and some of the others to go hunt some game to keep everyone fed.

You split off from the others and managed to find a deer grazing out in the frozen wilderness, but when you came back to the hideout, it was littered with corpses. Only a few men were left standing. When Colm returned and found out the plans for the train robbery had been stolen, he lost it. He hit one of the other men right in the face. Only you seemed to notice that the kid, Kieran, hadn’t returned, but you said nothing.

Colm set his hands on the back of a rickety chair and glared into a lamp.

“There’s only one fella stupid enough and bold enough to steal a score from me. Goddamn Van der Linde. Well, I have a surprise for him. This is the last time he steals from me. I heard he and his bunch are wanted in Blackwater. Hoskins, you’ll help me find a way to get him.”

You rarely saw Colm after that, but he moved the gang to Hanging Dog Ranch in Big Valley. He ordered you and the others to hunt for new scores and for the whereabouts of Dutch and his boys.

You’ve been riding for days with hardly any sign of either gang. That’s why you’re in this shit hole of a town Valentine. Always muddy, always smelling of shit. You rap on the bar and order a beer. You’re in need of a bath, but you need to go back to camp tomorrow. You’ve been gone long enough and they might start to think you’ve deserted. Despite your hatred towards Colm, you do feel a strange sense of obligation towards him. Despite him having destroyed your family and livelihood, he taught you how to fight, how to rob and how to get away with it. Perhaps that’s just a lie you tell yourself. Maybe the only reason you’re loyal to him is because you’ve been part of his gang most your life.

Just as you’re finishing your beer, the doors swing open and a man walks in. You only glance at him for a second and spot his leather hat and blue shirt. He stalks towards the barber’s seat and gets his hair and beard trimmed. After he’s done, he comes and leans on the bar not too far from you. He orders a beer as well.

Something about him intrigues you. It’s rare for you to take an interest in men, and in this town he’s not out of style. Hell, he’s covered in dirt and his clothes are years old, from the looks of them. Still, he has this force and presence that drags your attention to him. You study him for a moment.

He glances over at you and your eyes meet. He’s got stunning blue eyes. You blink and look away. You both ignore each other and buy a few more drinks. After your third, you decide that’s enough and start to head out. Just as you leave the bar, you collide with the man.

“Sorry,” you say, forgetting in that split second to make your voice sound deep and gravelly. You’re usually so careful, but when you’re not around the gang, it’s harder to maintain.

The man lowers his brow, clearly confused. “It’s alright, mi… well, can I call ya miss?”

He looks you up and down, clearly confused. After all, your disguise is very convincing.

“Sure,” you say. “Long as you don’t tell no one else.”

He huffs a small laugh. “And who’d I tell that I met a young woman who looked just like a young, very small man?”

You smile. “I guess no one.”

He tips his hat. “You have a fine day, sir.” He gets on his horse and rides off.

************************

You’ve bumped into this man a few more times since that first meeting. You found a mutilated corpse under the railroad and he did too at pretty much the same time. Another day, you stumbled upon a strange rock carving near the Cumberland River and he showed up only seconds later. Another time, you were just heading back to Hanging Dog Ranch and you saw him in the big meadow skinning a pronghorn. You’ve never crossed paths with a stranger so often.

You’re in Valentine again and just heading over to the train station. A couple months back, you bumped into some annoying feller who offered you money for bundles of cigarette cards, and you’ve finally found enough that they might be worth something. Hopefully this idiot wasn’t pulling your leg. Just as you’re about to reach the doors, they open and the man you’ve met a handful of times comes out.

“Excuse me, sir,” he says, then stops. His eyes rake over you and he smiles. “Again? How many times you and I gonna cross paths?”

You smile. “Don’t get the impression that I’m following you, that’s not what’s happening.”

He smiles back. “Course not. Well, don’t let me keep ya.”

You’ve never been a big believer in fate or destiny, but the fact that you’ve run into this man so often has got to be more than mere coincidence. As he starts walking over to his horse, you turn.

“Sir, we keep bumping into each other. Now I don’t believe in divine interference when it comes to people and their lives, but… there’s gotta be a reason we keep running into each other. Let me buy you a beer.”

He grins. “That’s awful kind o’ ya, miss. Guess I can grab a drink. Though not Smithfield’s. Bar owner ain’t too keen on me right now.”

You agree and go to the smaller, quieter saloon in Valentine. You make good on your promise and buy him a drink. There, you both get to talking and introduce yourselves properly (though not entirely honestly).

“So tell me,” Arthur says, setting his bottle down. “Why’s a girl like you dressin’ like a man? Judgin’ by how well you do it, my guess is you’ve done it a long time.”

You sigh. “It’s…. It’s a long, boring story. Let’s just say it’s safer for me to dress like this than a woman. No offence, but men have a disgusting habit of targeting women because we’re the weaker sex.”

He smiles a bit. “Yes we certainly have a habit of doin’ that. However, I know you’re leavin’ somethin’ out.”

“How would you know?”

“Because,” he says, “you’re way too vague and you’re the only woman I seen dressed like this. So what’s the real story?”

You know you can’t tell him about Colm’s gang, but perhaps you can just tell him a vague bit of the truth.

“I run with a bunch of boys who aren’t too keen on runnin’ with women. Guess they don’t really like us, I don’t know. In order to keep on runnin’ with ‘em, I dress like this. They buy it well enough.”

“Don’t seem like a particularly good bunch if they can’t handle you bein’ a lady. Why don’t you just leave?”

“It’s… it’s complicated,” you say, hiding your eyes beneath your hat. “Let’s just say they ain’t keen on people abandoning them.”

He doesn’t press further and then he thanks you for the drink. You kind of hope you don’t see him again, he already knows too much about you for your own safety.

Just as you’re leaving Valentine, Colm and Hoskins bump into you.

“There you are, you son of a bitch,” Colm snarls when he sees you. This is a usual greeting so you think nothing of it. “Saddle up, boy. We gotta go to Six Point.”

“Why?” you say, mounting up on your horse.

“I left Lowman and McCann up there with some of the others. They were supposed to stash the money from that stage robbery and meet us at Hangin’ Dog. I ain’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em. Little bastards better not be dead drunk.”

You ride with the two to the cabin Colm sometimes uses as a hideout. You find the other men scattered around, dead but not drunk. Colm’s furious again and he kicks a bucket halfway across the site. He investigates the cabin and finds the money gone, as well as a double-barrelled shotgun he had mounted up on the chimney.

“You, boy,” he points at you. “You stay here. Get this shit cleaned up, and stay here until I come for you in case the shits who did this come back.”

“You want me here alone in case a possible group of expert gunman come back?” you say, not liking the odds.

“Yeah, don’t be yella. Just do what you’re told. I’ll come get ya in a few days.”

***********************

What Colm said would be a few days has turned into a few weeks. He’s had you stake out places like this before, so you know the drill: sniff out any possible leads from the closest town. While you’ve been trying to dig up clues, you bump into that Arthur Morgan time and time again.

The first time you did since buying him a drink, he offered to buy you one. After that, whenever you meet, you both go for drinks and get to know one another a little better. It isn’t long before you start to feel a sense of friendship towards him. He’s just as vague on his lifestyle as you are, but you don’t push out of respect. Before long, Arthur asks you to meet him in places to go hunting. He seems to like the company.

After one particularly long day, you part his company in Valentine and return to Six Point. You spend the next couple of days missing him. You miss him more than anyone else you’ve ever known and that’s when you’re hit with it: you like him.

The next time you meet, you try to keep things cool between you and him, but you can’t help but stare at him. He is handsome after all. Plus you know that while his temper can be quick to flare up, he can be incredibly gentle and caring. There was one time you both stumbled into a cabin where the occupants had died due to a fire. The cabin was relatively intact and it looked like they’d died from the gas. Arthur picked up a pen and a children’s book. When you questioned him on this, he just smiled.

“I have a couple of friends who mentioned they wanted a pen and a book like this.”

“Ah, so if I was to ask you to fetch me somethin’, would you get it?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

“Of course. Anythin’ in mind?”

You were almost surprised, but happy. “Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind a watch. I accidentally dropped mine and it broke a couple days back. Haven’t had the chance to replace it.”

He smiled and promised to bring you one. The next time you saw him, he had it. When your fingers brushed his, he blushed. Was it possible he had something for you too?

From then on, your relationship with Arthur changed. There was just a sense of electricity between you both, like you were magnetized. You went from purposefully bumping your hand into his to touching his upper arms and shoulders to brushing his hair when he had his hat off. It wasn’t long after that when you had your first kiss. It had taken you completely by surprise.

You’d both been drinking heavily that night and you were doing everything to control yourself with him. You’d been more attracted to him than ever, but you weren’t sure if he liked you too. However, in your drunken phase, the candlelight hit him just right and you just leaned over and kissed him. He was taken by surprise, but when you started to pull away, he stopped you and crashed his lips to yours.

After that night, the two of you met almost daily, even if it was just for five minutes. Arthur kissed you as often as he could. It didn’t take long before the two of you finally made love. You’d been out hunting and it rained hard, chilling you both to the bone. You were both forced to strip down to your undergarments as your clothes had been soaked. You nestled close to one another and one thing led to another and you ended up sleeping with him. Arthur was more than satisfactory in bed, he knew how to push buttons you weren’t even aware existed. He seemed pleased with your performance as well.

After having sex with him, you start to feel guilty for hiding so much from him. You’ve made love to him several times now and you feel incredibly close to him. More than anyone else you’ve known. He makes you feel like you don’t have to hide, you can be yourself. Perhaps now is the time you open up about your past.

You meet Arthur in the saloon, where you always arrange to meet. You’ve made up your mind when you walk up to him. He smiles when he sees you and wraps an arm around you. He kisses you softly, not caring who might be around to see.

“Well, should we go off huntin’ or do you wanna hit the hotel first and have a little fun?” he asks with a small growl.

You blush a bit. “I’d love to go have some fun, but… we need to talk first.”

His smile fades, but he nods. You feel even more guilty, the poor man probably thinks you’re going to break up with him. You take his hand and lead him outside to your horses and mount up. You lead him away from the town where you won’t be overheard.

You dismount and Arthur follows suit. He walks over but doesn’t touch you, clearly under the impression you’re going to end things.

“Arthur I… I feel I owe you an explanation,” you say, looking at your feet. “I haven’t been honest with you. Most of the things I’ve said have been little less than lies.”

He furrows his brow, clearly taken aback by this. You look up at him.

“I don’t want to lie anymore, Arthur. I’m….” you prepare yourself for the worst. Most men you can think of would be upset at dating an outlaw. “I’m an outlaw. The boys I run with are a gang.”

He sighs and smiles. “Jesus, darlin’! You nearly scared me to death!”

You look at him in shock. “What?”

“Honey, I don’t care that you’re an outlaw. You wanna hear one of my secrets?” He grabs your hands and leans in. “I’m an outlaw too. I run with a gang. Men, women, even a kid. Not my kid, course, but he’s a good boy.”

You smile up at him, your gut feeling considerably lighter. “Oh thank God. Can I ask which gang?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I run with Dutch Van der Linde.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Van der Linde?” you say.

He nods. “Somethin’ wrong?”

You swallow. “Possibly. Arthur, I… I run with the O’Driscolls.”

He lowers his brow and his eyes widen. His hands let go of yours. “The O’Driscolls? You run with those assholes?”

“Arthur, I can explain. It wasn’t really my decision and-”

“Save it,” he growls. “Your gang has caused nothin’ but heartbreak and anger for my gang. Van der Linde is like a father to me and Colm killed his girl.”

“And Van der Linde killed his brother!” you say. You’re not really sure why you’re getting defensive, but you know one thing: Arthur has a huge problem with your truth.

“Word is Colm hated his brother more than anyone else,” Arthur snarls. “But he killed Dutch’s girl. They were gonna get married! And you run with those fools? I can’t even tell ya how much trouble you’re bunch has caused us?”

You blink away some tears. “I thought… Arthur, I thought you wouldn’t care. Just because I run with them doesn’t mean I’m like them. I hate Colm more than you can know, but I can’t get out.”

“No one’s forced to do nothin’. You can leave whenever you want. But I’m gonna tell ya somethin’, Y/N.” His eyes darken and he squares his jaw. “If you choose to stay with them, you and I can’t be together no more. I refuse to be associated with a goddamn O’Driscoll.”

You lower your head and look down. You want nothing more than to leave, but if you do, Colm will butcher you. “I want nothing more than to run away from him, Arthur. But… he’ll kill me.”

He sighs heavily. “So you’re gonna choose to be a coward. Well, forget about things with me then, Y/N. I refuse to waste my time on an O’Driscoll.”

His words sting and he marches over to his horse, mounting up and leaves. Out of all the things that could have happened when you decided to come clean, this was not it. Your chest suddenly tightens painfully and your stomach just feels like it’s gone. You take a step over to the cliff’s edge and sit down. You’ve never despised your gang more. They’ve taken everything from you. Your family, your freedom, and now your lover. You can’t say you blame Arthur for leaving and you can understand his loyalty to his gang. He’s also right about you and you feel like a coward.

After a bit, you get yourself up and ride off to Six Point. When you get there, you finally let yourself cry. How can you go on with your gang now? You’d been so happy with Arthur, happier than you’ve been in years, and now it’s gone. Life with your gang seems even darker than before.

*************************

The next day, Colm comes, but he doesn’t want you to return to the gang’s hideout yet.

“Turns out Van der Linde was behind the massacre here,” he says. “Only one way he could’ve known about this place. That coward Kieran must’ve been behind this. I also heard a rumor.” He glares at you. “One of my boys said he saw you talkin’ with a fella named Arthur Morgan. You know he’s one of Dutch’s boys, right?”

You swallow. “Yes. I was merely telling him this is our turf and he should get lost.”

“I see, though I doubt it. From what my boy was tellin’, you looked like you were friendly with him. More than friendly even. I can handle one of my men feelin’ attracted to other men, as long as they don’t act on it. But I will not accept anyone falling for a Van der Linde, you got me, boy?”

You nod your head. “Yes, sir. I am not attracted to Morgan, but I understand.”

“You always was a bad liar. Now I need to go somewhere for a few more days, but when I come back, you’re comin’ with me. Now if I hear you’re fraternizing with any more of Dutch’s boys, you ain’t gonna like what I do to ya.”

With that, Colm stomps out of the cabin and rides off. You’re left shaken. “Goddamn it, Arthur,” you say quietly. “Why must you be… you?”

****************************

Two days later, you’re still at Six Point. You haven’t left the cabin since Colm threatened you. You’re sure he’s staked out some of his men in Valentine to keep an eye on you. As far as Arthur goes, you’ve heard and seen nothing. You miss him more than you care to admit, but you’ve already given up on ever seeing him again. He made it perfectly clear how he feels about you.

You’re beginning to wonder if running and taking your chances would be worth staying with Colm. After all, it’s not like you get much money from his jobs and you’re no more safer staying than you are running. He’s turned around and shot his men several times over stupid things. You weren’t one of them out of mere chance. More than that though, you’re tired of hiding. Hiding who you are and what you look like.

Just as you’re beginning to think of a plan of escape, where you’ll go and what you’ll do, a knock comes on the door of Six Point. It’s not Colm. He never knocks. Perhaps it’s just a weary traveller in need of shelter from the torrential rain outside. You readjust your high bun and put your hat back on, pulling the masculine disguise back together.

When you open the door, you don’t find a traveller. Arthur’s standing on the porch, his hat in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” you say quietly, trying to cover your emotions. Your voice is surprisingly steady. You fold your arms around yourself, waiting for his anger.

“I came to apologize for the things I said, Y/N,” he says softly. “I know I made some assumptions without botherin’ to ask you if they’re true. I know you ain’t runnin’ with Colm out of affection. He’s the reason you gotta dress like a man, I’m guessing.”

You nod and take your hat off. “Yes. If he ever finds out, I’m dead.”

Arthur purses his lips a bit. “Well, darlin’, I… I’m wonderin’ if I can propose somethin’ to ya.” He waits for you to respond. When you don’t, he goes on. “I was thinkin’ you could abandon Colm, come with me into my gang. You’d be the safest there.”

You look up at Arthur. “Does Dutch know? Does he know that I’m an O’Driscoll?”

He sighs. “I told him about ya. He knows. He… weren’t too happy when I told him how I feel about ya. But I told him you’re little more than a prisoner with Colm. You’re only loyal out of fear.”

You sigh and turn around to face the interior of the cabin. “I’m guessing it’s not enough to convince this Dutch to let me in. He’ll probably question my loyalty to him as well.” You turn and look at Arthur. “If I stay here, I’ll remain a prisoner. But if I go with you, I’ll still be a prisoner. Arthur, I’m trapped no matter what I do.”

He walks in after you. “Not if I have anythin’ to say about it. It ain’t like I’m bringin’ ya in against your will. I got a lot of weight in my gang, Y/N. If I say you’re stayin’ and you’re alright, Dutch will listen to me. It’ll help a lot when he sees how useful you are to have around. Just help with the work and you’ll be accepted soon enough. I ain’t sayin’ it’ll be easy, but it might be the best chance you have.”

He waits for you to respond. He’s right, of course. You know you’re already walking a thin line with Colm and it’s only going to get thinner. Arthur may very well be your salvation and, like he said, within the ranks of Colm’s greatest enemies is where you’ll be safest.

“Do I have to keep on disguising myself?” you ask.

Arthur smiles. “Absolutely not. We got plenty o’ women in camp and none of ‘em are ashamed of looking like women.”

You smile and reach up, undoing your bun. It feels good to let your hair flow down just past your collarbones. You run a hand through it, aware you need a shower. You quickly change into a set of more feminine clothes, which you bought with Arthur a few weeks back. After washing your face, you look hardly recognizable from the man the O’Driscolls think you are. You’ll be able to slip past them easily enough.

“Okay, Mr. Morgan,” you say. “Take me to Van der Linde.”

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female #awkward asks

21 notes · View notes

the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years

Text

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like... (part two)

A/N: Back to Benjamin. No golden rings for Day 5 of the 12 Days of Christmas Fics, sorry. Have some golden biscuits instead. And a dose of sweetness. And also some truth.

Word Count: 3,144

Prompt from: @malionnes

"Flour and sugar is a good look for you.”

Benjamin had been watching you from the doorway to the kitchen as you pressed hard into the dough you were working, the wooden rolling pin flattening it out over the flour-sprinkled counter top. A few strands of your hair had fallen free of the loose ponytail you’d gathered it in, framing your face and catching the sunlight through the window. Stunning. “Flour and sugar is a good look for you.”

With a smudge of flour streaked across your nose, you looked up at the sound of his voice. You blew the hair away from your eyes and it fluttered gently back down as you smirked at him. “Oh come off it, I’m a mess.” You rolled your eyes as he stepped away from the door frame, unable to keep himself from filling his hands with you any longer. Letting go of the rolling pin, you allowed him to pull you away from the counter, revealing more flour smears and streaks running down your thighs. You used the back of one powder caked hand to swat your hair away, leaving a new smudge on your forehead.

You are a mess. Benjamin reached for your hip with one hand, slowly bringing the other up to wipe the newest mark away from your hairline with his thumb. He let his fingers comb through your hair, brushing the strays back behind your ear and out of your face. “Not to me.” He’d seen you with plaster in your hair, with paint stains on your jeans, with ink and dye and bronze polish underneath your fingernails after a long day of work. “I’ll take you dunked in flour and rolled in sugar any day.”

You let out a loud burst of laughter, your eyes warm atop your rosy cheeks as you fell against his chest and wrapped your arms around him, surely leaving white hand prints on the back of his sweater. I don’t care. “Well, you’re in luck then,” you said, your words slightly muffled as you spoke into the soft green fabric. I sure am. He pressed you closer, smiling at the way it felt to have you in his arms as his lips found a sugary spot near your eyebrow.

It was different, holding you, than it had been with anyone before, even Julia. Especially Julia. He’d never felt so sure in his bones as he had with you, never felt like he had to be anyone other than himself. With his ex-wife, he was constantly challenged to prove himself- prove that he was more than his shortcomings and less than the malicious intentions that Julia’s oldest son Patrick refused to let go of. With Allie there was a never ending race to prove that he’d be able to give her more. What next, what else, what then- she was never happy enough with him to spend a single minute in the moment, always looking for more, which she eventually found in someone else. But with you, he felt relaxed for the first time in decades. With you, he thought that maybe there was a chance that he could tell you everything, open up all the closets and free the skeletons he’d conditioned himself to hide. Right after the holidays. No need to ruin Christmas.

You sighed, giving him a squeeze before unwinding yourself from around him. Reluctantly, he loosened his hold on you, palms sliding down your arms to stay connected as long as possible. You rose on your toes to press a quick kiss to the birthmark beneath his eye, a habit you’d formed that made him feel known on a level he’d never felt before. Flattening your feet back out, you returned to your normal height before turning back to your biscuit making, moving the pin aside and picking up a snowflake shaped cutter. “Did you finish what you needed to?” You asked, pushing the metal form into the gingerbread dough.

“I did.” Benjamin leaned back against the counter, crossing his ankles and gripping the edge of the granite. “I’m all yours until after Christmas.” He’d been waking up early to get his work done so that he’d have the day free to help you with the cooking, baking, wrapping and everything else that comes with hosting family members for the holidays. Classes had finished the week prior, but Benjamin had been given a work-study position with the head of the History department. Dr. Kesting was writing a new book on the Russian Revolution, and he was in need of a research assistant to fact check and compile lists of dates and references. Benjamin had been all too eager to accept the position, as it was the only way he had been able to resume work towards his Masters degree once the Julia Day Scholarship was no more. He’d taken two semesters off following the divorce, and was starting to lose hope of ever being able to continue his education and the subsequent debt that it would put him further into. He admired Dr. Kesting, and though he didn’t talk about it much, he hoped to continue on the path to his Doctorate, so getting to work closely with his mentor was a gift in more ways than one.

“That’s great,” you paused halfway through pressing the snowflake into the last inch of usable dough and looked up at him. “You should be proud of yourself, I hope you are.” You finished cutting the shape and then worked your fingertips beneath the excess dough to lift it away, leaving a dozen or so perfectly cut snowflakes behind. With the same careful precision that he’d seen you use to peel back layers of paint or plaster with a spade, you slid a thin spatula under each shape and gingerly transferred them onto a waiting parchment lined tray “I am.”

Before his heart could swell at your words of encouragement, he felt his insides twist. Will you still be proud when you know everything? Do I deserve you to be? He tried to assure himself that you would understand, that you wouldn’t blame him for the cards that he kept close to the vest. Hi, I’m Benjamin. I did time in a juvenile detention center for a murder that I covered up for my older brother, and then I changed my name, moved away and pretended that I had no family. Not exactly the greatest conversation starter. He tried to tell himself that it wouldn’t make you love him less, and perhaps more importantly, that it wouldn’t make you trust him less. But despite the fact that he was sure that he wanted- no, needed- you to know everything, he found himself afraid to actually bring it all up. His phone vibrated in his pocket and brought him back to the kitchen and back to your flour streaked cheeks and the smile you were treating him to.

You smashed the excess dough between your hands, combining it all to be rolled out again for another round of snowflakes, your brow furrowed at his lack of a response. “Benjamin?” You smacked the ball of dough again before dropping it back on the counter and wiping your hands on your pants. “What’s wrong?” Your frown took the light right out of your eyes.

He shook his head and pushed off from the counter, reaching for your forehead to smooth the worry lines back out. “Nothing. Nothing at all, love.” Yet. “I’m... sorry, I was distracted.” He felt you relax under his touch, your lips falling into a more neutral set. “My phone went off and I was thinking about…” He shook his head again. “Never mind.” Picking up the ball of dough and the rolling pin, he turned to face the counter top where you’d been working. “Should I..?”

You nodded. “Yeah, sure, if you want.”

“I want to help you,” He insisted, leaning in to kiss your nose. When he pulled back, all the signs of worry were gone from your face, and you smiled again.

“Alright then, roll away.” You grabbed the full tray of unbaked cookies and turned your back to him to open the pre-heated oven. “I’ll get this batch in, and then we can-” When you turned back around, he was leaning on the counter again, his phone in his hand. “Benjamin.” You let the oven snap closed, the sound drawing his attention to you. “What’s going on? You’re...something’s up.”

Shit. He gaped at the screen in his hand and then back up at you. Shit, shit, shit. “It’s…” he pointed to the phone. “It was an email from Dr. Kesting...I figured it was just him thanking me for the notes that I sent over this morning.”

“But it wasn’t?” You asked. He shook his head. “Okay...well, what was it about then?” You set the timer on the oven before swiveling to face him, crossing your arms over your chest.

Benjamin took three deep breaths through his nose to combat the dizzy, tingling sensation that was creeping into his brain. He rubbed his fingers against his sweaty palms, thinking about how to answer you. It had been an email from Kesting, that was true. And he had thanked Benjamin for the notes, as he always did. But he’d also let Benjamin know that he’d gotten a phone call from a man claiming to be his brother, asking how to get in contact with him. Goddamnit Kieran, can’t you let me have a life? He hadn’t noticed that his hands had started to shake, but you had. You took them between yours and he looked down at you, wide-eyed.

“Benjamin,” you said his name softly, trying to coax some words out of him. “Hey, come on, you’re scaring me here. Spit it out, what happened?”

Okay. Now or never. He recalled the way that Julia looked at him when she found out the truth about Kieran, about him; utter distrust and a hint of betrayal. No, she’s not like Julia. It will be different. Closing his eyes he swallowed the dry lump that had formed in his throat, blowing out a breath when he opened them again. You were waiting patiently, your hands still around his, your thumbs caressing the cup of his palm soothingly. “I really didn’t want you to find out this way, I-” He pulled one of his hands free from yours to drag it over his mouth and chin leaving his beard dusted with white from the flour. “Have you ever had a secret that just...that just got so big it became a part of you?”

You pressed your lips together, confusion etched into your face again. “Sure, I mean, everyone has secrets…” You shrugged. “But what-”

“I need to tell you something. Now. Right now. Because I should have told you already, and now I…” That dizzy feeling was coming back, but he fought it by focusing on your eyes. “Just promise me it isn’t too late. It can’t be…”

“Benjamin...it’s not. Whatever it is, it’s not too late.”

“I just… I don’t want you to...Look. There are things that you don’t know about me. Bad things. Things I don’t...like to think about, or...or tell people, because it’s better for everyone if I don’t.” Shit, this is not how I… “I waited too long to tell Julia these things, and it made me look like I was lying to her, that I was purposely keeping things from her, and with her son already in her ear about me, it almost...we almost didn’t go through with the wedding because of it...and we shouldn’t have, because she never really trusted me afterwards and I just…” He paused, taking a breath and reaching for you, pulling you tightly to his chest without warning. “I can’t let that happen again. Not with you. I can’t lose you for him, I won’t.” He stroked your hair and spoke quietly into your ear before leaving a kiss there and pulling back just as abruptly as he’d gathered you up.

“Who, Benjamin? What are you..?”

“I have a brother. Half-brother, really, our mum she… well she wasn’t around much, she’d rather be out with her,” his lip curled as he thought about the men his mother used to bring home, and you moved to sit on the counter while he continued. “Her boyfriends. And she’d leave Kieran and I alone alot. We grew up looking after each other and… and, well I guess that was a good thing because she…” He sniffed, looking away for the briefest of moments. “She died young, left us on our own. We were hard, but we were just kids. Couldn’t stay fed off Kieran’s job at the petrol station, so he had this...this idea that we could knock over a corner store. You know, grab all the cash and run. He’d staked it out, checked, made sure there weren’t cameras. It was before everyone’s mobile could record, so he figured what could go wrong, right?”

He looked at you, quietly sitting amongst the mess, Christmas lights twinkling from the next room and the smell of baking gingerbread wafting through the air. This is not at all how I saw the day going. You looked sympathetic, concerned, saddened for the lost little boys in the story he was telling, but you kept listening, you didn’t run, didn’t tell him to get out or start throwing things around the room. You sat there, waiting for the rest.

With a sigh, he continued. “Keiran told me he’d take care of the shop owner and that I should wait outside, keep an eye out for the police or...or anyone. He said he was just going to knock the guy out and that he’d wake back up before we got home. He said…” Chest going hollow, he remembered the look of fear on his brother’s face when he ran out of the store, wads of quid stuffed in his pockets, grabbing him by the arm and urging him to run. He looked up at you to see that your mouth had fallen open, one hand suspended midway to covering it. You know where this is going, don’t you. He knew you did. You were smart. “The man...the shop owner...he didn’t wake up. He...Keiran didn’t mean to...but he…”

“He killed him.” Your voice was paper thin.

Benjamin nodded, trying with everything in him to keep tears from his eyes. “He killed him.” He echoed your words, their truth scratching at his throat on the way out of his mouth. “He was already 19, but I was a few years younger...young enough just to get juvenile punishment, so…” He let the sentence trail off with the lift of one hand.

“Oh, Benjamin...you…”

“Yeah… so…” He rid his lungs of air with a huff. “So when I got out, I…” He stepped closer to you. “I changed my name. My name’s not really Benjamin it’s...It’s Sean. Or it was...I” It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t know if Sean still existed, if there was any piece of that person left inside of him. “I changed my name and moved...put all of that behind me and...and I just… I invented a life for myself. One that I would have wanted if I could have it...and…” He looked at you again, a wave of nausea rolling through his belly. “Can you say something, please?”

You sighed, sliding from the countertop and taking a few steps toward him. Your arms came around his neck and you pulled him against your body. “I’m so sorry, Benjamin.” Your fingers threaded through his hair, nails slowly scratching his scalp. He closed his eyes and finally lost his battle, tears slipping silently from under his lids. “I wish I could take that from you.” Your other hand came behind his neck as you pressed your lips to the exposed skin above the collar of his sweater. “I understand why you didn’t tell me sooner, I do…” You do? “But I’m glad you told me now.” You...are? Pulling back, you used the bent crook of your finger to rid his cheek of the single salty drop that was falling down. “I want you to be able to tell me anything, Benjamin. I love you,” his heart stopped as you said the word, starting back up again with a different rhythm. You still… “I love you, and I want us to be a team.”

He surged forward and kissed you then, taking your face between his palms and pouring every ounce of himself into that kiss, tilting your face to get a better angle and feeling like he could fly from the soft little moan that you let out against his lips. When he broke apart you were both gasping. “I love you.” He nodded, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip. “So much.”

You let out a burst of air that took the form of an emotional laugh. “So much.”

“I wanted to tell you...I was going to, after Christmas. I didn’t want to keep this from you...but I also…” He breathed your name. “I didn’t want this… Keiran, my past… I didn’t want any of that near you. Near us. But now…” he gestured at his phone and the email that Kesting had sent. “Now I guess he’s found me again… I couldn’t...I...you needed to know. I couldn’t risk him coming here or...or looking for you. Kesting didn’t give him my number or our address or anything, but...when Keiran wants to find someone, he does, and I didn’t want you to be caught off guard or...and I don’t want you to think I’m...It was starting to look like I was lying and...I’m not...there’s nothing else that you don’t know, now and…” he sighed. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Now?” You asked. Yes, please, I… “Right now?” He nodded. “Right now, Benjamin Greene, I think that I love you. I think that you’ve been through so many unfair situations. I think that you’ve come out on top of all of them, and I think…” You scooped up some powdered sugar from the bowl behind you before wiping both hands down the front of his shirt, pulling a genuine laugh of surprise from his heart. “I think that flour and sugar is a good look for you.”

How did I get so lucky? The thought melted into thin air as he held you down and rubbed his hands all through your hair, turning it white from the flour, turning your face red from your squirming laughter. By the time the day was done, the kitchen was a disaster, the biscuits had all been baked, and you knew the truth about him. And you loved him anyway.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @thesumofmychoices @gollyderek @malionnes @becs-bunker @warriorqueenofnarnia @elanor-of-imladris @traeumerinwitzhelden @songtoyou @michellemybelles-world @obscurilicious please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tags!

#benjamin greene #gold digger #gold digger fanfic #benjamin greene x you #benjamin greene x reader #the sugarplum gets sugary #12 days of christmas #12 days of christmas fics #it's beginning to look a lot like...#part 2 of 3

46 notes · View notes

shyeehaw · 5 years

Text

RDR - Awkward s/o

Request: Can you write some headcanons with Sean, Arthur, Kieran, Lenny, Javier, John, Charles and Dutch (hope that's not too much lol) having an awkward s/o?

Sean

Before meeting him, you thought no one would ever get you.

You were used to sympathy giggles, but Sean? He actually finds you funny!

And if you start laughing at inappropriate times, guess who will join you?

Also, sometimes you will just panic and start to giggle. Without any reason to.

“Y/N, when was the last time you made a donation to the box?”, Ms. Grimshaw asks.

And then you giggle, trying to hide it only makes it worse.

So Sean will save you, with his smoothness.

“Ms. Grimshaw! I was forgetting to give me share, but yer reminder is always on time! Let me tell ya how I got this and-“

There was this unspoken rule that everyone seemed to know about, but you.

It’s like at birth they got a book called “things not to do” and memorized it... You? You didn’t even know there was a book until it was too late.

Sean was not bothered by how you always seemed to have a quirky subject to talk about.

Or if your compliments sounded way weirder than they intended to.

“You have nice hands.”, you said once, admiring how slim and long were his fingers, but not actually explaining what made you think of that.

Karen snorted and even Uncle was puzzled by your weird ways.

But not Sean, he just gave you the biggest smile, happy to have anything complimented.

“Thanks! so do you, Y/N.”

You two make a pretty funny duo, you may say something awkward and Sean will turn into a joke.

And once he starts oversharing, telling the story of his life and mentioning his “da”, you do too!

Happy to have someone that will actually listen this time.

Arthur

“What a handsome man...”, you thought once you laid eyes on him.

That same night, around the fire, Arthur came to talk to you.

“It’s nice to meet you! I’m Y/N”, you said offering your hand for a handshake.

“I know... I was here last week remember?”, he said, laughing a bit.

“Oh! Yes! Right! I was only joking...”, you said, convincing a total amount of 0 (zero!) people.

But Arthur did not gave up on you, not on that occasion or in the many others that you were probably astonishing him with your oddness.

People may call you awkward, but to Arthur the things you do are unique.

And he loves your uniqueness.

It’s intriguing to him how differently you react than others.

He is a worried boyfriend, always protecting you from people’s mean reactions.

Won’t admit anyone making fun of you. And honestly? People will take one look at his frown and know better.

He will try to save the conversation when you ask him to help with your eyes.

In fact, you two now share a whole dialogue just with glances, it’s pretty handy.

You asked him to stop you before you can embarrass yourself.

But his soft spot for you makes it so hard to do so.

Kieran

It all started by observing Kieran, like a lion does to it’s prey.

You would watch him trying to bond with others and, usually, being unable to say the right things...

Ss you watched him do that, only one thought crossed your mind. “Yup! That’s me! I gotta talk to him!”

You would sit beside him and attempt to start a conversation.

“Hi, I’ve noticed you are uncomfortable around them...”, you said, looking for any response.

Getting none but a bug-eyed expression, you added: “I am too!”

Ever since you two started being a thing, it was much easier to say things without the fear of being judged.

Kieran even got a little bit more confident.

Together, you two make a pretty awkward couple, but at least you are not alone anymore.

Lenny

Lenny almost makes you forget about your social ineptitude.

You feel so insecure about it that you rarely try to interact with others and when you do...

You always end up saying the wrong things.

But Lenny doesn’t mind, he finds it cute even.

He will give you a confidence boost by saying that if people don’t get you is their loss

When you get stuck on your thoughts, brooding over why did you say such weird things, Lenny will gently bring you back to the present.

“They’ll probably forget about it, Y/N. It was not that bad.”

He has this magical way of always being able to comfort you.

Most of all, Lenny accepts you from who you are

Javier

You never know when people expect you to hug them or not.

So after a long trip, when Javier arrived at camp and waved, you got up and went for a big hug.

It’s safe to say he was not expecting it, given that you two only talked a few times.

When someone waves at you, it’s not expected to greet them back?

“I had no idea they were a thing.”, you heard Tilly whispering to Mary-Beth.

Oh no. What have you done?

But it was such a spontaneous hug, Javier didn’t mind. He was actually glad to be greeted like that.

You have no idea how, but it seemed that he actually liked you.

He said the first thing he noticed about you was your... odd fashion sense.

Javier admires you for your originality, you have no shame on being your weird self. He loves that.

Somehow, he asked you in a date. A fishing trip as an excuse to get out of camp. Just the two of you.

That means a lot of time alone, and much time to embarrassing things to happen.

Like falling in the water. Good thing you know how to laugh at yourself.

Well, it was not a date exactly, you found it out later. When you filled the silence with a kiss and he had a surprised look on his face.

“You are wild Y/N, I love that about you.”

He will shower you with compliments.

And how is one supposed to answer to that?

“Your smile, mi amor, és hermoso”

“I... uh. Thanks? I like to smile, so I’m glad you... like it?”

Ugh, way to ruin the mood.

But he founds it adorable, in fact, your guess is that he does that on purpose, just to see you all worked up about it.

His compliments are genuine, so after the initial awkwardness of receiving it, you feel pretty good about it.

John

John has that tough way of his, but deep down he is so head over heels about you. That tiny detail doesn’t bother him.

It seems like every time he’s around, embarrassing things are prone to happen.

That might be because you are nervous when John is watching you, which only leads to disastrous comments by you.

You thought it would be a good idea to tell him a joke, and oh god, he was so invested in it.

Halfway through you realized you didn’t know how it ended. No big deal, right? You just make up a new ending.

You could tell that his smile was forced, but you appreciated the effort.

“Look, Y/N, I ain’t gonna lie, you are very odd.”, he said, causing you to abandon all hope, “But I like you. Very much.”

It was the most sincere declaration, there was no walking around the fact that you were a bit of a social disaster.

Being in a relationship with John, took him time to get used to your weird conversation topics.

Like the time you helped Pearson chop vegetables, and he thanked you.

You were about to say “no problem” but it got mixed with “you’re welcome”.

It came out as “your problem”, you could swear you saw John shaking his head from where he was standing.

He loves you still, even when you say things that get him embarrassed on your behalf.

Charles

There are no awkward silences with Charles.

You know he appreciates not having small talks, so you don’t feel compelled to fill the silence with nonsense.

It’s much easier when the other person is not expecting to talk all the time.

Charles is so calm and nice with you it almost makes you act like that as well. Almost.

There’s no changing you from your clumsiness.

When you two were hunting together, Charles saved you from falling flat on your face after you tripped into a root. It could have been romantic if you hadn’t ruined the moment by commenting on how that always happened to you.

“No, not the part of being saved! That never happened before! I mean, why can’t I just walk without tripping on things? I’m sorry, I’m being a chatterbox, right? I’ve seen you talking to Uncle and I know you don't-“

“Y/N, it’s fine. I’m just glad you are alright.”

“I am... thanks to you.”, you said, measuring your words for once.

Charles has this thing which makes him like the role of protector. So a clumsy s/o is a perfect fit.

He is not bothered at all by your peculiar interactions with others.

Charles doesn’t feel the need to connect with the others. So if you find it embarrassing, he probably doesn’t think much of it, assuring you it’s fine.

You don’t mind getting teased, but you do hope people think twice before doing it in front of him.

He likes you for you, and awkwardness won’t change that.

Dutch

He is the closest thing you get of a “boss”.

So, of course, he makes you nervous!

When asked to come to his tent and listen about a job, you are unable to concentrate.

You have to remind yourself to maintain eye contact, or else you might seem rude.

“Get that, Y/N? It’s an easy in and out situation. No hostages.”

You nod, trying to recall a word he said before that.

“I’m terribly sorry Dutch. But I was trying to look you in the eye, and I focused so much in that... I didn’t heard a word you said.”

He appears surprised at first, probably no one dared to be this upfront with him before.

“Well, you do have nice eyes, Y/N”

INSTANT BLUSH!

You two orbit around each other, sharing glances that leave your legs feeling like butter.

You can’t describe how embarrassed you were when Dutch went to give you a hug and you offered a handshake.

He just laughed it off and asked what it would be.

It was such a simple gesture and yet made you feel much better.

He is a charmer, so he never fails to give you compliments.

“You look good today”

“Nice! Thanks!”

Let’s just establish that compliments make your awkwardness go through the roof. Like, what are you supposed to do?

Dating you is thrilling. At any time you can say something weird.

He admires how you don’t seem to have a filter, you just say whatever it feels right.

And honesty is a very important topic for Dutch.

Setting up a whole mood and taking you to Saint Denis on a date, Dutch professes his love for you.

It was too unexpected, a wave of feelings got ahold of you.

“I think I love you too”, was the only thing that you were able to say.

“You think?”, he said, raising his brow, “Then I’ll have to make you sure of it.”

It’s no secret that he loves to dance, his phonograph it’s the second thing he cherishes the most.

And you hate that damned thing because you have two left feet.

Your moves lack grace, and you can feel everyone looking at your poor excuse of a dance.

But it’s so worth it, to slowly sway along him.

He loves to dance with you, even if it means bruised feet the day after.

#arthur morgan #arthur x reader #sean macguire #sean x reader #kieran duffy #kieran duffy x reader #lenny summers #lenny summers x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #charles smith #charles x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #john marston #john marston x reader #rdr2 headcanons #writing requests <3

826 notes · View notes

anousiemay · 4 years

Text

The Angel & The Devil Ch. 3 The Golden Binoculars

It's been two weeks since that night on the roof of Gotham Courthouse and Anita has been no short of a mess. A certain Amazon decides to pay a visit to the clipped hero, hoping to set things on a better path for Anita and Jason. Gotta love google images ;) ----- Overtime Bar was packed for a Thursday night and Anita couldn't help but feel sick as she sat on the edge of the stage tuning her guitar. Fans of The Projects walked up and gushed as she smiled fondly at them all; signing whatever they wanted and giving hugs to people who had been listening to them way before they landed a permanent fixture there.

Danny, her best friend and lead guitarist, had watched Anita's usually warm, energetic demeanour trip and fall dramatically over the past two weeks. Her and Jason had not spoken since their fight on the roof and the woman had been changing the set list to solemn heartbreak songs, much to their managers dismay. Even though she didn't want to admit it, she was looking out for Jason's familiar tuft of white hair in the crowd. They all were. "Anita, I think this one’s tuned enough." Danny said as he lifted her up from her spot on the stage. Anita, looking like she just woke from a daze, nodded and handed him the guitar. "Sorry. You're right." Danny scoffed, Anita never told him he was right. "Wow, Jason really has done a number on you." "Shut up, Danny." She punched his forearm lightly, beginning the walk backstage. Kieran and Sam were probably arguing as usual and she had taken the guitar out front to avoid it all. "You haven't even told me why you're mad at him." Danny pursed his lips. Anita, who was usually so easy to read, had thrown up a wall not even her best friend of 12 years could see over. How could he? Danny and the rest of the band had no idea about her double life as Guardian. To be honest, Anita was still wrapping her head around it all. Going from a lower-middle class law student and singer to the newest protector of Gotham was a big jump for her. The kidnapping, the wings, the newfound strength. It frightened her. "I told you, he lied to me about some stuff. I'm just trying to figure out what I want and he's giving me some space, is that so bad?" Anita spouted a little too fast and harsh for both their liking, but Danny let it slide. Entering the backstage area, Kieran and Sam quickly stopped practicing looking at the two with cautious glances. "But I don't think you want space, Anita. All I'm saying is, we can't keep singing Three Days Grace covers. We just released a new album. We gotta push it or Kristy will be on our asses." Danny looked at the guys for support who nodded in agreement. Anita huffed, taking a large swig of her Jack Daniel’s with coke and grabbing her microphone. "She always is. C'mon let's get ready to perform." The three boys watched Anita leave and call out to the now applauding crowd, Danny sighed deeply. 'Just what the hell happened?'

- - - - The show was a success, they always were. The drinks were flowing, people were dancing, and the DJ had now taken their spot on stage. Anita, Danny, Sam and Kieran all stood near the backstage door talking to fans and taking photos but couldn’t help but feel tired. "Thanks so much for coming guys. If you'll excuse us, we're gonna pack our stuff and join you for some drinks!" Danny enthused as he kept an arm around Anita's shoulders, trying to anchor her to this moment. Slowly, the crowd dissipated leaving a lone tall, red-headed woman in front of the band. Her black, sparkly dress made Kieran, ever the flirt, wink at the lady. "Wow, can I just say you look beautiful tonight." "Not interested." The woman shot back, looking at Anita who was hiding behind Danny. "May I have a moment alone with Anita?" Danny turned back to look at Anita for reassurance, she nodded, and the three boys went backstage. "Hello Artemis." Anita said, holding out her hand. The Amazonian took her hand with a firm grasp and shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jason has told me a lot about you. Especially your music." Anita couldn't help but blush, trying desperately to push away the butterflies in her stomach. "It's nice to meet you too, I'm guessing you're not here for a drink though." Artemis nodded, "You're right, he doesn't even know I'm here. I wanted to give you these." Rummaging through her bag, Artemis pulled out the gold binoculars Anita had shoved into Jason's arms before flying off that fateful night two weeks ago. Holding them in her hands felt natural, it felt right. The binoculars had been crafted by Roy and signed by the original Outlaw team. Their initials next to hers. Those were simpler times. But the most beautiful part was the message Jay had inscribed when Anita had donned the moniker of Guardian for the first time 'May you never get lost, my Angel. I hope you'll always look for me through these. J.T' "Did he..." Anita choked out, knowing if she looked up into Artemis’ eyes she’d cry. "Give them to me? No, he's been a mess. I'm not going to vouch for him, what he did was terrible, Anita. But I was hoping we could all work together. Help Gotham and other places that need the Outlaws." Artemis tried to be as soft as she could, it seemed to be enough because Anita wiped her eyes and looked up at her. A scowl on her face. "Of course, I want to help people. But how can I trust he won't use me again?" "Do you know him well?" It wasn’t a question; it was a challenge. "Of course I do. We're...well, dating." Anita slung the cord of the binoculars over her neck, feeling terrible for giving them away in the first place. They weren’t just from Jason; they were from Roy and Kori too. "So, you still love him." Another challenge. "Artemis." The woman in question smirked but pushed no further. “There's a job in Mexico, A local gang in Mèrida has been using something similar to fear toxin to extort money and sell children as young as 3. Jason wants to go but...I'd prefer he not go it alone. He's been reckless." Anita gaped, already enjoying the idea of crushing these bastards’ legs with her wings. But the idea of Jason being in danger made her worried, even if she didn’t want to admit it. "What kind of reckless?" "There's only one kind in vigilantism." Anita sighed and pulled out her phone, holding it out for Artemis to take: "Here, you got the information on you?" "Already sent it." The taller woman smiled sweetly, well as sweetly as an Amazon who could crush your skull with her bare hands could. "Of course you have. I'm guessing you'll tell him?" "No, I don't think I will. It was nice meeting you, Anita. I hope next time we’ll be fighting alongside one another.” With another firm handshake, Artemis turned and walked out of Overtime. The Amazon just hoped she had pushed things in the right direction.

#ao3 #red hood #Jason Todd #jason todd x oc #dc #fanfiction #oc #self insert

1 note · View note

comfy-whumpee · 3 years

Text

Kieran

TW: discussion of abuse (partner and child), slavery, inferred noncon.

Sequel to Ash’s post Queen of Underland, here. Savvie and Izzy are her characters. No extended Silver Chair metaphor in this one, sorry!

Dad Jax Taglist: @iaminamoodymoodtoday, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektricwhump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @burtlederp, @rosesareviolentlyread, @whumptywhumpdump, @eatyourdamnpears thank you all for the amazing commentary.

He’s not been around long, and Jax shouldn’t really, but fuck it. He needs someone. He needs to talk about this. And clearly… It’s going to be a thing, with him, going forwards. He needs to explain.

So he makes arrangements, and after the kids are in bed, he steps outside in his jacket and sees the simple silver car. After one glance up and down the street, and a check of both the number plate and driver, he gets in. He leans across the handbrake and drops a kiss on the waiting cheek of the man inside.

Kieran O’Leary-Ahmed is a gorgeous man. Jax loves the light tickle of his shaggy hair, the gentle softness to his smile and the light that sits in his eyes like a shaft of sunlight on a deep ocean floor. He always wears simple, loose clothing, like today: black hoodie, black T-shirt, back jeans; the only accessories are his watch and his septum ring. He’s perfect. Jax is nowhere near good enough for him.

But Kieran likes him anyway.

“Hey, love,” he greets Jax with a soft, slightly high voice, tinged with a Dublin childhood. “How’s things?”

Jax settles back into the car seat as Kieran pulls away, heading for one of his countless green spots around the edges of Manchester city. Jax doesn’t know where they’re going, and for once, doesn’t feel the need to find out in advance. He’s safe with this man.

“Some trouble at school today,” he says after a long moment. “Izzy apparently shouted her head off in class.”

Kieran’s eyebrows rise. “Izzy?”

“Right?” Jax agrees with his disbelief, chuckling weakly. “I don’t know what happened. Apparently one minute she was working as normal, teacher steps out, and when she comes back Izzy is swearing at this kid.”

Kieran doesn’t ask why his nine-year-old daughter knows how to swear. It’s obvious enough. “And…are we proud of her?”

Jax blinks, looking again to his boyfriend. It’s a good question. “Yeah, we are.”

“Good,” Kieran smiles. He knows, of course, how Izzy struggles with letting things out. Jax has talked about it before. He’s even met the little girl a few times.

But he doesn’t know the story.

“So, what happened? How did she get to that point?”

Jax sighs slowly, rubbing at one of the scars on the side of his thumb. Kieran pulls up at the edge of a car park, a tiny gravel affair with no marker lines, abandoned at this time of night. All around them are trees.

Quiet falls as the overhead light slowly dims itself to black. Leaves rustle softly outside, and there’s nothing else to disturb them.

He breaks the silence like a man stepping off a ledge. “You know their mother?”

“Of course.”

“And she was… She was abusive.”

“Mhmm.”

“I didn’t tell you much, I know, but… Well, she was – she wasn’t great to Izzy either. A lot of what she’s like…comes from being raised that way.”

Kieran turns to him in the evening light, resting his temple on the headrest. “That makes sense.”

“Yeah…” But that’s not the story. Jax looks down at his hands and rubs his thumb along his bare ring finger, remembering what sat there. Never again.

Kieran didn’t look him up. He said he wouldn’t, when Jax mentioned people had. He said he didn’t care about anything that didn’t come from Jax himself. Jax almost wishes now that he had.

Five years, and it didn’t get easier.

“When I was, uh… Twenty-one. I got abducted into modern slavery.”

Kieran doesn’t reply. Jax waits for the reaction, and all he gets is a slow nod.

“The guy who…sold me. Uh, I was – auctioned. My ex, she – her uncle bought me for her.”

There is, maybe, a soft inhale, hissing through Kieran’s teeth. He’s smart, smarter than Jax. The pieces come together quickly for him.

The words feel so small for how big it all was. They’re all he has. “For the first – the first time, I mostly cleaned, and… She treated me like a captive best friend. I got out, I – escaped, got a message to my dad… That’s when she went to prison. But after she got out, not long after, she – her family, they work as, as slave catchers. She had them take me back. And that time, she decided I-I was her – her t-true love.”

He can almost feel how much Kieran wants to touch him. He can imagine the hands moving towards him in the dark to rub circles on his back or take his hand. What Kieran actually does, though, is turn and look out of the windscreen at the shifting shapes of trees in the dark.

Jax glances to his side. The doors are locked. Safe.

“She kept me there for…years. With the, you’ve seen the…” he gestures at his neck. His hand is shaking. “…It was a shock collar. I couldn’t, if – if I left, she said she’d kill my dad, and I was still trying, but…”

It’s the most he’s talked about it since court. His heart is beating too fast for sitting in a car. The way the shadows move make his teeth itch and his mind spin shapes.

“Sh-she… She got pregnant,” he forces out, voice cracked.

Kieran breathes out, slowly, as if the breath he took had been trapped in his lungs.

“I couldn’t, after that, I couldn’t – I couldn’t. Maybe she would have – if I’d escaped, maybe she wouldn’t h-have kept it, but, but there was a – a chance she wouldn’t sh-she’d keep it as a-a punish-ment or t-to get m-me back—” He tries to inhale, and the air clogs in his throat. He jerks slightly, and it’s not quite a sob. It’s something mistakable for the shudder of an aftershock. They all are.

He covers his face with his hands, and Kieran doesn’t look. Not looking helps.

“When I… I saw how sh-she treated Izzy, I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave. And then Jamie… F-Four years, till I managed to get us out. And Izzy, she – I-I couldn’t keep her safe. She doesn’t kn-know how to be safe, really, even now, so…”

A really bad aftershock. Consistent tremors through him, twisting up his breaths. Kieran must be able to hear, but he just listens, nods occasionally, and lets Jax speak.

“Today,” Jax says, finding the point amongst all the chaos in his head, “t-today, she heard these boys talking about kissing a girl when – when she didn’t want to. And she’s s-seen that happen, to, t-to me."

The light that glimmers in Kieran’s eyes disappears as he closes them. He understands.

“And then they talked about me, and her, and her in prison and all of that and Iz yelled at them, and, so, I’m – I’m so fucking p-proud of her, b-but, she – she shouldn’t, sh-she shouldn’t have to do that, do a-any of it.”

He swallows. He needs a moment, needs a moment to breathe, he can feel it in the rising panic in his head and the tightness of his chest, even though nothing more is happening than words and glimpses of Savvie standing outside the car, pale skin and dark hair in moonlight, telling him that he’ll always be hers.

When the silence has stretched for minutes or more, Kieran opens his eyes and brushes a hand over his cheek. He turns his head back to Jax. His voice is the same steady, soft tone as before. “It’s not your fault.”

The words pierce straight to his heart, and finally, a sob breaks clear of his self-control. He buries his face back into his hands, and Kieran’s hand settles, finally, between his shoulder blades, and stays there, his anchor in the depths.

#comfort #recovery whump #past trauma #parent whumpee #whump #jax #kieran #izzy fucking gallagher #dad jax #trauma #flashbacks #enslavement #abuse tw #child abuse tw #(discussed)#intimate whumper #romantic whumper #what do we call it when someone finds out about the trauma??

60 notes · View notes