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cowboyfromh3ll · 6 months

Note

Hcs for how each of the boys to react to "I'm pregnant"?

Any of them that you want to write for :)

So excited

English not my first language. Sorry

Van Der Linde Gang's Boys' Reactions To "I'm pregnant" (And Eagle Flies)

Hehehe this was so cute and also I didn't edit this ❤️

Warnings: none

Arthur Morgan

He'd be so fucking happy

Probably in disbelief at first but oh my God he'd be overjoyed

Ask you if you're serious over and over

Once he's convinced he's gonna ask all these questions about your physical and mental wellbeing

Celebrates with you (whatever that entails wink wink)

In his elated haze he's gonna wanna ask all these questions about your future together as parents

Is aware the gang ain't the best place to raise a kid but he'll reassure you that you'll have the whole gangs support

John Marston

Oh god

Let's just say he wouldn't be the most elated parent 😭💀

He's already got Jack and now he needs to take care of another?

If this were a revelation that came earlier in the game he's gonna be very irresponsible but I feel like he wouldn't deny that the kid was his

So at that point he's sort of forced to actually give a damn about him

And believe me he'd try but he wouldn't be the best at it, would need guidance

If this came later in the game like epilogue he'd probably be WAY more happier.

Your lives are finally settled and you can afford to have a kid

He'd be the happiest and more supportive husband and dad

Still wouldn't be sure about all the ropes but he'd try

Dutch Van Der Linde

He'd be SO happy

Like genuinely he'd shower you with gifts and praise and reassurance

I feel like part of it would be a power thing for him because not only can he lead a gang, but now he can lead a family

Also some sort of weird power symbol for him. Idk how, but it is

Wouldn't let you lift a finger

Would probably keep you in his tent to rest 24/7 and only allows a few people (Grimshaw, Hosea) to see you

He's going to hope and pray it's a boy

Charles Smith

HE'D BE IN SO MUCH SHOCK AND FEEL SM HAPPINESS IT'D BE SO CUTE

You sorta have to repeat the news to him a few times for him to fully absorb it

Literally a dream of his to start a family one day so now that he has it he's ecstatic

Probably incentive to leave the gang though, doesn't want his child growing up in that environment

Would prefer if you sit back and rest but won't hold you back if you don't want to

Javier Escuella

This is cause to celebrate

Takes you into town on a date

Offers you massages, foot rubs, hand massages

Sings to you to calm you

Holds your hair when you throw up (true love)

Buys you clothes to accomodate to your changing body

Kieran Duffy

THE SWEETEST REACTION

I feel like he'd start crying

Asks to touch your belly and would speak to it

That night he'd fall asleep while holding it

Wakes up the next morning and remembers you're pregnant and his day is already off to an amazing start

Get drunk while celebrating it and he'd boast to everyone about how he's gonna be a dad

Sean Macguire

He'd say some stupid shit I already know it

Probably crack a sex joke

He's getting stupid, fucking drunk. I'm talking black out

He's probably gonna wanna celebrate if you catch my drift HAHAHA

He'd forget to be gentle sometimes out of excitement, like carrying you around and cheering

Refuses to let you do any work

In private I feel like he'd cry

Lenny Summers

He'd probably panic a bit at first

Ask all these questions about how you guys are gonna be parents and if you're even ready

Once the two of you talk through it a little more he'll calm down and his nerves turn to excitement

I'm assuming y'all would be real young so he'd seek for a lot of guidance in the others

Constantly asks you questions about what you want and need

Bill Williamson

He'd be so flustered and nervous

Probably in disbelief for a while and asks if you're serious

I wouldn't blame you for thinking he's upset with the news at first

But he just needs time to process how his life's about to change!

He becomes even more gentle with you, more than he already is

Will argue with Miss Grimshaw about letting you rest/lightening your work load

And let's be real, she would lower your work load but he'd insist it stops altogether

Micah Bell

He'd be in disbelief, but bad disbelief

That or the sleaziest reaction

I'm leaning more towards sleazy reaction

Talks about how he's gonna raise the bravest kid and he's constantly gonna reference to the kid as he because I'm convinced he wants a boy

Brags to the others

Don't get me wrong the gang's happy for you but the way Micah uses it as a point of elevation is IRRITATING

Hosea Matthews

He's the cutest like seriously

He'd be sooo happy

Probably in disbelief that he even managed to get you pregnant

I believe he'd cry, and openly, he's not ashamed! He's happy!

Announces it to the whole gang, means for celebration

Takes you on dates to buy cute little baby items ahhh

Eagle Flies

HE'D FREAK THE FUCK OUT

Pace around the room asking if you're for real, contemplates his entire life, curses himself for cumming inside

You'd have to calm him down and talk him through it

It'd be a super emotional moment for the two of you, eventually he'd realize he's fine with the idea of kids and he's just nervous!

Would ask his dad and a lot of tribe members for advice

Over time he'd get way more excited and bring up the topic more often

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queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

Note

I 've recently found your writing and I'm so glad I did!! You're incredible, and I absolutely love the way you write Arthur in an established relationship. There's so much fic about the excitement and will-they-wont-they of a new relationship, but it's so sweet to see a dynamic with Arthur and someone who just knows him so well. New love is fun and world shifting, but there's nothing like the old comfort of a love that it backed by time <3 Idk if you still take requests but consider this one!

A/N: I wasn’t too sure if this was what you meant or not, but I did an established relationship with Arthur. This is just fluffy morning softness with him. If this isn’t what you meant and I completely got it wrong, please let me know! I’ll definitely get to work on a new one! It won’t hurt my feelings at all if I did interpret it the wrong way and you would like another one! (I love writing for Arthur he makes me happy)

***

The sun was just beginning to shine through the thick treetops that surrounded Horseshoe Overlook. Birds chirped in the trees and a few squirrels scurried around just to your left in the bushes.

You sat at a table with a cup of coffee and one of your favorite books in hand. It was early in the morning, far too early for most of the camp to be up but a few of the older members such as Mrs. Grimshaw and Herr Strauss were awake.

Over the years, you’d grown accustomed to waking up bright and early with Arthur Morgan. You liked to see him off on his busy days when Dutch or Hosea had him running half away across the state for a job. And on the days where he wasn’t needed immediately, you enjoyed sitting with him for breakfast or coffee.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Hosea greeted you as he passed by your table to get to the pot of coffee.

“Morning, Hosea.” You gave him a smile.

He migrated back to his tent, choosing to sit at the table nearest to the tent while he looked over a map. You silently wondered if whatever it was he was planning would involve Arthur.

The sudden feeling of something big behind you almost made you jump. But the hands on your shoulders let you know exactly who it was. He rubbed circles into your shoulders with his thumbs, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

“Mmhm. Your hair smells good.” Arthur hummed.

You tilted your head back to look at him, a smile coming to your lips.

“Good morning, handsome.”

“Good mornin’, pumpkin.” He dipped his head down to kiss between your brows. “How’s the coffee today?”

Arthur began to reach for your cup of coffee sitting on the table.

“You won’t like that.” You tried to warn him, but he was already taking a drink of the hot beverage.

He cringed, placing the cup back on the table and bringing the back of his hand to his mouth.

“Now you know very well that you wouldn’t like that, Arthur.” You looked up at him. “I put sugar in mine.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t like sugar.” He muttered, pulling a chair around the table so he could sit closer to you. “I was hopin’ after all these years you’d come to your senses.”

“And drink that bitter shit you drink? No thank you.” You giggled. “You want me to get you a cup?”

“I’ll get one here in a second.” Arthur shook his head, looking around camp. “Who’s awake?”

“Strauss and Susan are up and chatting over by the cliff.” You nodded towards the north end of camp. “Hosea’s over there at the table and earlier I saw Dutch come out of his tent for a minute but I think he must’ve gone back to sleep. It’s been pretty still all morning.”

Arthur nodded.

“You didn’t sleep much last night.” He spoke quietly, leaning forward on his elbows. This put him closer to you.

“Tossed and turned a lot.” You closed your book and picked up your coffee.

“I know. I could feel the bed move every time you threw yourself around.” He chuckled a little. “What kept you up?”

You shook your head, not wanting to bother him with your worries.

He reached over to take your coffee from you, gently prying it out of your hands.

“Come on, pumpkin. What was it?”

“You know how I get.” You shrugged your shoulders. “When Dutch mentions his ideas and plans at night, I don’t sleep. Don’t think neither of us really do but I…. I just…. Since Blackwater, I haven’t been able to sleep.”

Arthur’s brows were furrowed together softly as he looked at you.

“I’m worried about us, Arthur.” You admitted.

He stayed silent, lips pressed together in a line.

“I got a bad feelin’ in my stomach. Blackwater was bad, Arthur.”

He nodded a little and reached over to take one of your hands away from your coffee. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles, eyes focusing on a scar that ran across the back of your hand.

“Blackwater went sour, but sometimes that happens, pumpkin. Sometimes jobs don’t go how we planned. You remember that job we did back in Montana in ‘82?”

A small smile crept on to your lips.

“That was ages ago.”

“Sure feels like it.” Arthur chuckled. “We found a rancher to steal from.”

“If I remember correctly, I found a rancher to steal it from. You messed it up.” You poked his chest, your tone teasing.

“I know. I know.” Arthur muttered, adjusting his hat. “Just ‘cause you had to flirt with the old bastard didn’t mean I was gonna sit by and let him about you like you were some saloon girl.”

You spent a week flirting your way into the pocket of a rich rancher in Montana while Arthur played an up and coming rancher from out of town. On the night that you were supposed to rob the mark, Arthur went out for drinks with the rancher and you while you accompanied the rancher as his date. Soon, the rancher and his friends were drunk and their gentlemanly charm had vanished. The second they started practically harassing you, Arthur dropped the act and start throwing his fists.

“You walked out of there with a broken nose” You reached over to cup his face, brushing your thumb along the bridge of his nose.

“And somehow, you managed to get that scar on the back of your hand and another on your arm.” Arthur sighed. “Didn’t mean for it to happen like that, but sometimes jobs go sideways and we can’t always see it until it happens.”

“But Arthur, that was back when it was just us and Hosea and Dutch. Now we have three times that many people to worry about and look after.” You furrowed your brows together. “Dutch has got to see it ain’t all about the money. Sure some of us may not have much more time left on the clock, but we got some young people too. Jack, Tilly, Mary-Beth, Lenny, Karen, Sean, and now Kieran too…. We need to think about how what we do will affect them in the long run.”

Arthur chuckled softly, looking down for a moment.

“What are you laughin’ at, Arthur Morgan?”

“You, pumpkin. I think it’s adorable when you play mother hen.” He kissed your forehead. “Pumpkin, they’re young but they are grown ass people. They can make their own decisions.”

“Just like you did when you were their age?” You raised your brows. “Look where it’s gotten you, Mr. Morgan. Sitting in a bum camp living like someone who ain’t got nothin’ to live for.”

“And look who’s sittin’ right beside me in this bum camp.” He tapped the outsides of your thighs. You laughed softly, knowing you walked straight into that one.

“I’m sittin’ here ‘cause I followed some fool with blue eyes and a heart of gold all the way from out west” You muttered. “Ended up findin’ the love of my life too.”

Arthur gazed at you for a few moments, his chest warming up with your words.

“Anyways, I wouldn’t change any of the choices that I made when I was their age.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his nose and crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah?” You stood up to get him a cup of coffee. “Why not?”

“‘Cause I found the biggest pain in my ass in the whole damn country when I was their age.” His eyes followed you.

You handed him the cup of coffee, warning him that it was still pretty warm. Before you could move back to your seat, his hand took yours, keeping you by his chair.

“My pumpkin….” His eyes focused on that scar on the back of your hand again. “She’s been with me through thick and thin, and even when I haven’t been so kind to her.”

“We all make mistakes, Arthur.” You reminded him. You knew he was talking about the few times you two had broken up and he started a relationship with Mary Linton. “Only thing that matters is you came back to me.”

You took his hat off of his head so you could kiss his forehead.

“Love you, pumpkin.” He spoke quietly, letting your hand go so you could return to your seat.

“Love you more, Arthur.” You gave him a smile, replacing his hat on his head.

You sat down and picked up your cup of coffee to take a sip.

Arthur’s eyes flickered over to Dutch’s tent. Molly was pinning the lapels back, meaning that the two were waking up.

“We’re gonna be just fine, pumpkin.” Arthur told you, nodding his head a little.

“I know. We always are. Just doesn’t come easy sometimes.”

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

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

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fluff #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan fluffy fic #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan ask #kacey answers

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the-bee-graveyard · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 100 followers!!! How about kitty?

Thank you Fae ❤️

I’m sorry this took so long, I’m lazy

Requests are still open, go here for more details

Alright I call this one Windows, it’s inspired by the scene in Riverdale where Kevin and Betty are talking about Archie because it’s the one thing I remember about that show and it fits:

Twin sisters can be a lot of things. They can be best friends, forever companions. They can also be clingy, and nosy, and they can scare the shit out of you when they sneak into your room unannounced and you look up from looking out your window to see her standing next to you smiling like she was about to commit a murder.

“Shit Livvy!” Ty exclaimed, jumping back. His cat, Irene, hissed and leaped off his bed, coming to rub herself up against Livvy.

“What are we looking at?” Livvy asked, punching Ty on the arm playfully. It didn’t hurt but he flinched, and she moved herself to make sure she wasn’t touching him.

“Nothing,” Ty said quickly, trying to think of a way to close the blinds on his window without Livvy noticing. As if she could read his mind Livvy looked out the window and let out a loud gasp.

“Oh my god,” she exclaimed. “Kit got hot.”

Kit Herondale had been their neighbor since the fifth grade when the nice couple next door Tessa and Jem adopted him. He’d been friends with the Blackthorn’s since the sixth. Ty had a huge crush on him since the seventh, Livvy found out about it in the eighth, Kit went to visit family in England at the end of the ninth for the summer, and now they were all back here at the beginning of tenth grade, Kit looking like a whole Greek god.

Ty peeled out the window again. Kit had his window open (he always did) and he sat on his bed shirtless, looking down at his phone. He looked up for a second and Livvy waved. Kit smiles and waved back before looking down at his phone again.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ty hissed. “Now he’s going to know we were watching him, and he’s going to think we’re creeps, and he’s going to tell everyone we’re creeps, and we’ll forever be known as the creepy stalker twins next door.”

“Can’t be worse than Mark being known as ‘strawberry boy’,” Livvy shrugged, referring to when their older brother went to a restaurant and ordered a plate of strawberries.

“It’s a lot worse than strawberry boy.”

“None of that is going to happen, I was just waving hello. We’ve all waved below a hundred times from this window. You need to calm down.” Ty fought the urge to throw a shoe at his sister. Calm down? How the hell was he supposed to calm down? Why don’t they all just start freaking meditating, because apparently, he was the one who needed to calm down. “He stares at you to you know, which means two things. One, the two of you need to start closing your blinds. Two, he totally likes you back.” Ty blushed.

“No he doesn’t,” Ty said. “Now promise me you won’t get involved.” Livvy stayed silent. “Livia Blackthorn, promise me.”

“Fine, fine,” Livvy sighed. “I promise.”

“Good,” Ty said cheerily, off to go find his bee plushie before bed, he’d let Tavvy borrow it, and Tavvy had a horrible habit of not returning things to their rightful spot.

*Time jump to the morning*

“Ty, please get the door!” His mother, Eleanor called (Author’s Note: Eleanor’s alive because I said so) Ty opened their from door to reveal Kit standing there, a grin that should look ridiculous plastered on his face, but Ty found it cute.

“How’s my favorite Blackthorn doing?” Kit asked.

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking Christopher,” Ty’s little sister, Dru said as she walked by them.

“I see you still have an attitude problem,” Kit said.

“How was England?” Dru asked. “Are you as big an asshole to the British as you are to the Americans?”

“Drusilla Blackthorn, we don’t fucking swear in my damn house.” Kit gave a dramatic gasp. Ty was pretty sure he was being sarcastic, Kit was good at that. “Shit! And yes, Christopher Jonathan Herondale doesn't discriminate, he’s an asshole to all.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” Ty frowned, making Kit’s smile widened. He lost the frown, it was hard to frown when Kit smiled like that. Ty cursed his heart slamming in his chest, he swore everyone else could hear it.

“Is Livvy walking with us?” Kit asked. They’d agreed before Kit left that summer to walk together for the first day of school, and Ty was touched Kit didn’t forget. He certainly hadn’t, he’d been waiting every day since Kit left to see him again.

“Livvy will not be walking to school with you,” Livvy said from the stairs. “Livvy’s getting a ride with Julian and Emma, it’s too hot to walk. Livvy will also stop talking it the third person, it’s fucking annoying.” Bullshit, Ty thought. Livvy’d rather walk through the desert than ride with Julian and Emma, she always complained about their obnoxious amount of PDA. And if Livvy went with Julian and Emma then he’d be stuck all alone with Kit and things would get awkward and Kit would find out about Ty’s crush and he’d hate Ty and Ty would have to flee the country to avoid seeing him every day.

Ty was about to tell his sister to suck it up and grab her backpack when his mother walked into the room. “Kit! Hello!” Eleanor said, waving enthusiastically with one hand, the other hand fiddling with a pipe cleaner.

“Hi Mrs. Bla- Eleanor,” Kit said. Eleanor insisted no one called her Mrs. Blackthorn, she said it sounded too formal and it made her feel old.

“I just came to tell you to have a good first day Ty,” Eleanor said. She came over a kissed her son on the forehead, slipping his fidget toy in his pocket quickly before heading back to the kitchen. “I love you!” She called.

“Should we get going then?” Kit asked. Ty nodded and wrapped his backpack, putting his hands in his pockets so they wouldn’t flap so much. Kit said it many times before he liked it when Ty flapped his hands, but Ty was just used to hiding it.

“I thought of you all summer,” Kit said as soon as they walked far from the Blackthorn house. “I missed you so much. You’re so much better than Tessa’s Aunt Harriet.”

“At least you got to go abroad,” Ty sighed. “All I got was listening to Livvy complain about the heat and Dru ranting about the new season of some horror show she watches.”

“Mark and Helen came home though, didn’t he?” Mark went to college in New York with his boyfriend Kieran and girlfriend Cristina, and Helen and her wife Aline both had high paying jobs as lawyers in New York too,

“Yeah, Helen and Aline came for a week and then Mark came for two,” Ty explained. “Helen brought me a keychain for my bag, and she brought me a copy of A Study In Scarlet. Of course, I already own it, but this one was a different edition.” Ty paused. “Am I boring you?”

“Never,” Kit replied. Ty looked at the other boy and saw the other boy staring at him. Kit then whispered something, so quietly Ty almost didn’t here him, “I love you Ty, I love you.” Ty stood still, his body refusing to move. Plenty of people said I love you, but those were just words. And even if Kit did mean them, that didn’t mean he meant them in a romantic way.

By the time Ty came out of his frozen state Kit had already turned and begun to run in the other direction. Kit was fast, but Ty was faster. He caught up to Kit in no time even though the other boy had a head start and grabbed his wrist. Kit spun around, his eyes filled with tears that hadn’t fell yet.

“Can I-” Ty asked. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course,” Kit asked. Ty pressed his lips to Kit’s, and the kiss was everything Ty could have imagined. When they finally pulled apart Kit had the same ridiculous grin from earlier on his face.

“We’re going to be late to school,” Ty said.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Well it’s the truth.”

“Won’t be the first time.”

“For me it will be.”

“I forgot what a goody two-shoes you are.”

“Fuck you.” Ty took Kit’s hand and smiled as they finished their walk to school.

Maybe twin sisters weren’t so bad.

Ty’s phone buzzed.

Livvy: Get your mans bitch

He took it back, twin sisters were definitely that bad.

#ty blackthorn #kit herondale #kit x ty #kitty #the dark artifices #the 🧚fae🧚 tag #asks #Rory celebrates 100 followers #tsc

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meowdymista · 4 years

Text

Van der Driscoll

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Warnings; injury, Micah, angst

Part 2 & Masterlist

Redrafted and continuing on AO3

Notes: There hasn’t been an abundance of fic floating around (and what has been published is making my arthur head explode with love), so I figured I might as well throw out this old thing I thought I would finish but never went back to. I submitted a fic request to @the-awkward-outlaw who took a much less angsty approach. This is far from perfect, but eh

******

You swallow the blood filling your mouth, but it does nothing to wet your throat. A dozen faces have thrown you dirty looks mixed with confusion and apprehension. The cowboy that brought you here on the back of his horse has been retained in the large tent - which in turn is on the other side of the cart to where you’ve been bound.

You’ve been trying to eavesdrop, but all you’ve made out is bickering, scolding and multiple hushed insults aimed at you. Whenever Arthur begins to raise his voice, someone comes from around the cart to spit at you or kick your feet.

Closing your eyes does nothing to help your headache, nor the sting of the bullet wound in your side. Your tongue is repeatedly drawn to an unusual sharpness inside your cheek, making you wonder if the mexican broke a tooth when he smashed the handle of his gun into your face. Not that it matters. You were surprised you weren’t already dead, but still lacked any doubt of seeing another sunrise.

“What are you doing, O’Driscoll?”

You open your eyes in time to see a heavy bearded man grab a smaller man by the arm. The slosh of water hitting the grass is heaven, but also draws out the dire thirst in your throat as it's lost to the ground.

“N-nothin’, Bill.”

“Are you in on this? You set us up?”

“No! No, of course n-not! I’ve never even met her-”

“You gonna free her so she can slit our throats in the night?”

“No, sir! No! I was just-” He grunts as the man called Bill punches him in the stomach. A woman shouts and runs over, but Bill is stalking away into the trees, still growling threats at nobody in particular.

“I’m fine, Miss Gaskill," croaks the somewhat familiar man.

“Are you sure? He didn’t need to hit you!”

“I-I was comin’ over to see her. I jus’ wanted to know if she’s ok - bein’ tied to that tree, well, it ain’t no nice thing, Miss Gaskill.”

“I know, but Dutch is talkin’ with Arthur about it now. I don’t reckon they’ll keep a woman there as long as they did you.”

“I hope not.” The pair give you a forlorn look and disappear to the other side of the cart. You close your eyes again, trying to distract yourself from the memory of fresh cold water sliding down your throat.

You must fall asleep, because when the boots come into view your neck is stiff and the horizon is brightening the ink of the sky. You try to look up, but the muscles in your neck decide otherwise.

“What were you doing there?”

You try to speak but your throat is too dry to even cough. A hand reaches down and lifts your chin firmly. Arthur’s face is without humour, and his brow the lowest you’ve seen it. You inhale sharply as his lips thin with impatience.

“You been with’em this whole time?” You shake your head instinctively, but he catches your hesitation and releases your face with a grunt of disgust. “Shit.”

You close your eyes again, trying to ignore the crackle of his stubble as he rubs a hand along his jaw. A lump is rising in your throat, but you try to swallow it. Now is not the time to be showing weakness, but the deep sense of betrayal is suffocating you.

“You been-? Too?” you manage to choke.

“I been what?”

“Van der Linde,” you hiss, forcing your head up to glare at him.

He scoffs and shakes his head, turning on his heel and stalking away. You hear a frail voice call after him, but you don’t care anymore. The tall broad frame of Dutch Van der Linde himself is marching towards you with a thin frail frame of a man following closely behind.

“-be easy on him, Dutch. He thought he was doing the right thing.”

“You are both getting far too soft!” You yelp as Dutch pulls you to your feet, the restraints burning around your wrists. “Since when did Colm hire women to do his dirty work?” You snicker, but a slap across your face cuts it short.

“He’s always had working women in camp,” you manage to gasp through the blossoming stars. “Not like you, though. He doesn’t keep them round.”

“I mean as gunslingers. That’s what you are, ain’t it?”

“He doesn’t.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t?" he scoffs. "How’d you fall in with them?”

The thin man steps forward, scrutinising your mess of a face.“You a spy? A lookout of sorts?”

You force yourself to withhold the hysteria bubbling inside of you. “You think Colm has thought of using spies?”

“I think Colm is always thinking of ways to catch us out,” growls Dutch. “It’s more a matter of what we do with you now we have you.”

“Just kill me already.” After all, it would be easier. Arthur’s look of disgust turns your stomach and not just from guilt. If you had known, you would have steered clear or even shot him there and then.

You can almost hear the men musing in front of you. Bird song is beginning to erupt as well as life elsewhere in the camp.

“Is that what you want, Y/N?”

The sound of your name jolts through you. Your gang had never used it because you had never made it known to them. This was a man’s world, and the only way to protect yourself had been to become one.

So you had. You’d bound your chest, cut your hair and changed your clothes. Before the camp woke, you would use the ash from the fire to disguise your soft jaw and thicken your brows in addition to mascara from your past life. Escaping for a few days to hunt was an excuse to bathe and become yourself again. Packing your things into your saddle bag, you made a stop in a stream off the road to wash your face and change clothes. It was the only way you could guarantee yourself some solitude when O’Driscolls were so plentiful in the local area. Any enemies you had made would ride by you as you rested or hunted game.

It was after a bath you had first seen him. He had been trying to de-escalate an argument with the hotel owner - something about him beating a man who had hurt a friend of his. Seeing your wet hair curling over your shoulders, he had given you a nod.

“They run good baths here?” he asked.

“They run ‘em hot and private enough."

He had immediately set down a coin. “I’ll have what she had.” When advised of the wait, he had waved his hand. “If this lady reckons it’s worth it, I can wait.”

That had been weeks ago. It felt a lot longer, but multiple brushes with death every day made everything count that much more. You had brushed off rumours of Van der Lindes in the area. How bad could they be compared with the headless chickens you ran around with? After riding out with Colm to scope a new camp, you had returned to Cumberland Forest to find everyone slaughtered. Any stragglers were shot on sight. How could they be any worse than what you were already with?

“I don’t know, Dutch. She’s a woman.”

“She’s an O’Driscoll!” Your body was too tired to flinch as he got up in your face, trying to intimidate you. “Whether Colm knew it or not.”

“What do you want to do with her? We can’t let her go, not now.”

“Suppose we could always kill her. Or better yet, get Kieran to do it.”

Hosea shakes his head. “I don’t think that will go down too well.”

“How else are we supposed to deal with her? We already have enough mouths to feed, plus another O’Driscoll in camp is begging for trouble.”

Your mind wanders back to Arthur’s look of disdain. The hatred was on a different spectrum to the crinkle of his eyes when he had found you again in the saloon. The cold that rolled off him was nothing like the heat of his hand when it had brushed yours on the ledge overlooking Valentine. You’re too angry with yourself to worry about the outcome. Even if they let you go, Colm will make sure you’re strung up for deceiving them. All your things are back at camp, and you know you won’t be able to bind your chest again for another few weeks with the wound in your side.

You lean your head back against the trunk and close your eyes again, ignoring their chatter but still unable to stop a tear leak down your cheek as they walk away.

***

The smell of food makes your stomach growl, but you ignore it. A small boy walks past staring at you openly, but his mother ushers him away with an air of distrust. You can’t blame her; you know the O’Driscoll’s are nowhere near as reserved as this gang when it comes to robbing and killing. You had heard them boasting about a stage they’d intercepted, filled with women and children. Apparently they weren’t the first to stop them, but they were the first to go all out and rob them.

You knew at the retelling of the stories that it was best to remain a man.

“Who do we have here?” A sinister chuckle rolls you out of your thoughts. The first thing you notice is the thick handlebar moustache, followed by the thin curtains of blond curls from under his white hat. His sneer makes your blood run cold, and you are tied too tight to move your face out of his reach. His long fingers stroke along your jaw. “I gotta say, this set up?” He steps forward, his lips almost brushing your ear. “It’s working for me.”

You squeak as a knife thuds into the wood above your head. The stranger steps back, and scoffs.

“Didn't your daddy tell you not to play with knives, Morgan?” He reaches up and pulls it out, playing it between his fingers. His grey green gaze transfixing you, the cool blade touches your chin, forcing you to lift your head and expose your jugular. “Don’t want anyone to get hurt now, do we, cowpoke?”

The humour is replaced with irritation at the click of a gun being cocked. He lowers the knife, and you realise you had stopped breathing.

“Try me, Micah,” Arthur growls, his revolver pointing at his temples.

Chuckling, he steps back from you and approaches his new target. “Sorry, didn’t realise you was practising your white knight act with Guinevere, here.” He throws you a look over his shoulder, looking you up and down and licking his lips. “I’ll be back, princess. Save some for me, hey?”

A gunshot rips through the camp. You’re breathless, blinking rapidly trying to work out where the bullet has entered your body, if you’re still alive. It takes all of ten seconds for you to realise Arthur had fired his shot into the sky.

You feel the rope tying your wrists together tugging up and down as Dutch storms around the corner with his entourage.

“What in God’s name are you playing at?” he spits as your hands suddenly fall free.

Arthur has already gripped your arm and is dragging you away from the crowd. You stumble, your legs having forgotten how to move themselves after days. You are dumbstruck as he reties your hands in front of you and hoists you onto a cart.

"I didn't bring her here for her to be Micah's plaything."

"What are you talking about, Arthur?" Dutch splutters. "Micah has been back all of two minutes-"

"I know I ain't put y'all in the easiest position bringing her back here, so jus' lemme take care of it, aight?"

Hosea walks forward, surveying you gently. "She can't go free. Not with the Pinkertons after us."

"I know," he growls, retying your hands to your legs to prevent you running off despite your lack of effort. “Don’t I goddamn know it...”

The old man reaches out to touch his arm. "Stay safe, Arthur.”

“Not you again!” you had teased as he waved a lazy salute in your direction.

“Any recommendations?” he asked, nodding at your plate. You shrugged and he ordered the same, bringing you over a fresh beer and sitting at your table.

“Fancy seeing you here, Mr Morgan.”

He smiled and removed his hat, running his hands through his hair. "I'm always in here, me."

"How odd… I seem to remember you getting barred for life a few weeks ago?"

"Ah, well. The bartender's a reasonable man." He shrugged, embarrassed as you laughed at him. "Can't say the same for that Tommy guy."

The sparkle in his eye has long gone. Not that you're looking at him, you're too busy trying to take in the smell of the trees and the birdsong, trying to ignore the fear in your thoughts. Who knows how he intends to kill you? Or where he will dump your body afterwards. What does it matter - no one is going to come looking for you. The O'Driscoll's mind their own and even if they did recognise you, you'd be strong up for treason. If the law recognise your identity, they'll consider it a blessing. You are on your own, restrained in a caravan with your captor.

"Why didn't you let your friends kill me?" you hear yourself ask.

His silence is stoic. You begin to wonder if you didn't say it out loud after all when he finally clears his throat.

"I couldn't."

"Why not?" You laugh, looking around. "Would've been easier than killing me out here - at least at my camp I was just another body from a gang fight. Out here you'll start a murder investigation."

"I ain't killin' yer." He throws you a sideways glance as you blink in disbelief. "Not yet at least."

"You just said-"

"What does it matter what I said?" He scoffs. "Like you're one to talk, Y/N."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You can feel the heat growing in your ears as you scowl.

"What do you think it means?" he snaps. Flicking the reins, he takes a steadying breath. "Why were you running with the O'Driscolls?"

"Why are you running with Dutch Van der Linde?"

"Tha's different!"

"Why?"

"Because I've spent my life runnin' with him an' the same can't be said for you if Colm doesn't know he's running with a woman yet." He scoffs. "He ain't ever taken kindly to surprises."

"You talk like you know him."

"I did for a while." He shoots you a look. "Way back when. How long you been runnin' with them? Since you don't know the history and you ain't been found out yet, I reckon five, six months?"

"Seven," you hiss. His brooding has relented enough to exude smugness and it's grating on you that he is still damn attractive.

"You gonna tell me why? Coz I ain't askin' a third time."

"Why does anyone become an outlaw? I needed money. It was only gonna be temporary but my cousin got shot up in that Blackwater massacre so I had to stay."

"Your cousin?"

"Yeah, Heidi. Your ol' Dutch should know her well."

#rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fic #arthur x female reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur Morgan #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x O'Driscoll

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neon-junkie · 4 years

Text

Spit It Out - Female Version

Summary: The Van Der Linde Gang captured you up in the snowy mountains of the Grizzlies. You’re now tied to a tree, thurver south, being threatened multiple times a day for information but you haven’t got anything to give. Until a blonde man appears and gets you talking with just the use of his fingers.

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: 2049

Rating: NSFW

Tags: 'Torture’, Slight humiliation, Fingering, Dirty talking, Hickeys.

Notes: Basically inspired by the idea of you replacing Kieran (sorry Kieran i love u lots.) And ofc, rat man had to be involved.

MALE VERSION

"Well well well, look what we've got here." You were captured by Dutch's gang a week back, the lot of them keeping you captive in hopes of spilling some form of information out of you. Unfortunately for them, you didn't have much to tell. You'd accepted that this was a death sentence the second that Morgan man managed to lasso you off your horse. And now here you are, cold and starving, tied to what's left of a tree near a cliff south of Valentine.

It's the dead of night and you're unable to sleep. You've seen the odd person walk past on guard duty but they don't bother you much, barely even noticing your presence.

The camps dark where you are, no lanterns nearby, giving this man the perfect opportunity to sneak up on you.

This blonde man had been eyeing you up the last week, watching you from afar, studying you maybe? The camp didn't seem to like him much, tutting and shushing him whenever he opened his mouth. He appeared to prey on the weaker members of the camp, so that'd explain why he's approached you.

His eyes are glued to you as he comes into your line of sight. You want to be scared but your guts not telling you to. Something feels... odd about him.

"You may not wanna talk for the others, but I have my ways in makin' pretty women like you talk."

Oh, here we go. He's another member of the camp hoping to squeeze some information out of you to impress their leader. You'd had a few of them approach you, threatening you in their own way but you told the same story to everyone. You weren't going to treat this man any different.

"I can tell you're hidin' something. Come on, spit it out," He instructs you.

"I've already told you lot over and over. I don't know shit," you sigh.

"Suuuuuure you don't," he shakes his head, stopping in front of you. "These men clearly ain't been torturing you right," he says as he rests his hands on his gunbelt.

"Torturing?" you question.

Sure, you'd received countless death threats, along with threats of actual torture, but nobody had brought any harm to you. Why would this man decide to harm you now? In the dead of night? All he'd do is wake the others up. Idiot.

"Now, not in the way you're thinkin'," the ratty looking man explains, raising his hands up innocently. "Like I said, I've got my own personal ways of makin' pretty women talk."

The stranger takes a step closer to you, bridging the gap. His eyes are staring into yours, but your gaze moves down as he begins to undo the buttons on your pants, slowly moving them down to your thighs, leaving you exposed.

Surely this man wasn't going to force anything? If he was, you could just start screaming, and you were certain the camp would chuck him off the cliff for doing such a thing. He clearly wasn't else he would have at least made an attempt to cover your mouth before initiating this.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," he orders you. Your gaze moves back to him, though you'd much rather be watching where his hand is going.

You soon find out when you feel his rough finger slowly glide over your slit, chuckling to himself as he feels the slight dampness to your folds. He rubs small, slow circles over your clit, pressing firmly but not enough to make you squirm.

He knows he's getting to you from the sharp exhale you let out. He watches you closely, your eyes flicking from his hand to him. Eventually, a finger finds its way slowly sliding inside of you.

His mouth parts as you let out a mix between a sigh and a moan. "Good girl," he praises.

You have no idea where this is heading. Why would this man show you pleasure when all he wants is information? Maybe he gets off on this? Maybe he's trying to break you down so you'll let some information slip out? Maybe he's just prepping you so he can slip his cock inside?

"When are you gonna tell us what we wanna hear?" he asks. Ugh, not this again.

"How many times have I gotta say it? I don't know shit," you sigh, shaking your head a little.

"That so?" he asks, sliding his finger out half way so another can slide in alongside it. You moan as he pushes his fingers knuckle deep, lightly chucking, enjoying the way your mouth falls open.

Is this meant to be torture? Isn't torture meant to be painful? Maybe this man picked up the wrong memo.

He picks up his pace, clearly enjoying the way you're squirming for him. You can't help but moan as his fingers move at just the right angle, brushing against that soft spot inside of you.

"Keep quiet, doll. Unless you want the rest of the camp to wake up and find you squirmin' on my fingers," he threatens, speaking quietly into your ear with his rough voice.

You try your best to keep the volume down, biting your lip and tongue. It's hard, he's far too good.

"Bet Colm's real proud of ya. I ain't too sure why he'd have a woman in his gang. His own pleasure, maybe?" He questions you. All you can do is shake your head in disagreement, eyes meeting his. He studies your expression, hungrily watching you attempt to hold back on your moans.

"You a fighter then?" He askes. You shake your head in disagreement again, finally managing to speak through your moans.

"I just work in the stables," you tell him. "Bottom of the ladder."

The man lets out a long laugh, his other hand coming to rest on the tree trunk above your head, looking down at you with a feral gaze.

"We're in need of a camp whore, and you seem like a suitable fit," he tells you. His fingers pick up the pace. You can hear the sound of your own juices, making that squelchy sound every time he thrusts his fingers into you.

He fucks you for a little longer, never taking his gaze off you. You can't really see his face from under the brim of his hat, but you can feel his eyes on you.

All of a sudden, he pulls out of you. "That's enough," he says.

"What? What're you doin'?" you sigh, your cunt aching for more.

"If you ain't got nothin' to give then why should I bother?" He shrugs. He's got a point.

You pause for a few moments, trying to think of anything. Anything! The only thing that comes to mind is a hideout that Colm often uses, not too far from here. It's not much but it's better than nothing.

"I got somethin' I can tell you... It ain't much but it's somethin'," you beg.

"And you promise to tell us the next time we ask for it?" He threatens. You nod as you bite your lip. He lets out a deep breath, eyes meeting yours as he decides on what to do. "Fine, I'll finish you off, but you gotta make one more deal with me, alright?"

"Go on," you sigh, his fingers brushing back over your entrance, rubbing over your clit every so often but not hard enough to give you the pleasure you're aching for. His other hand moves off the tree to cup your cheeks, squeezing them together lightly in a slightly humiliating way. He holds your head still as he talks down to you.

"When you cum, you gotta call me by my name, alright? I want you to thank me, Micah Bell, for lettin' you cum on my fingers. And if this lot decide to keep you, then you'll be my personal whore. Mine only. You got that?"

"That was two deals," you correct him. He rolls his eyes at you.

"I don't care! You goin' through with it or not?" He grunts.

"Yes... Micah," you nod at the same time. A wicked grin creeps across Micahs face as he lets out another long laugh, his voice kept somewhat quiet to not alert the others.

"Good. Real good. Guess I'll keep to my side of the bargain then," Micah replies as he finally slides his fingers back in, picking up from where he left you off.

You can feel your knees attempting to collapse, forcing yourself upright as Micah fucks his fingers into you. He knows exactly what he's doing, moving his hand off your cheeks to rest above your head once more.

Micah's really close to you. You can feel his breaths hitting your skin, the curve of his belly pressed against your hips. His eyes glide down from your face to admire the skin that's peeking out from your shirt, noticing your nipples pressed against the fabric.

You can't hold on any longer. Your head falls forward to lean on Micah's shoulder, panting heavily against the leather of his coat. He seems to enjoy seeing you fall apart, chuckling softly as he continues fingering you. Micah's thumb finds your clit again and your body decides that that's the final straw.

"Shit, oh! Micah!" You moan against him. Micah moves his arm from the tree trunk to lift your head off his shoulder, keeping your head pressed back against the trunk as his hand settles around your throat.

He's clearly done this before, choking you perfectly. A rush of blood hits your temples just as your orgasm hits you, forcing you to shut your eyes as you moan a little louder than you wanted to.

"Micah! Oh, fuck! Oh thank you Mister Bell," you sigh as you cum. He milks you a little bit, loving your over-sensitivity and the way your body shakes every time his thumb rubs over your clit.

"That's real good, darlin'," Micah praises you, eventually slipping his fingers out. "You hungry?" He asks, lightening the pressure of his hand on your throat but not moving it away.

You know exactly what Micah wants you to do. You open your mouth, your tongue sticking out slightly. Micah feels his cock twitch, grinning as he slides his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck your own juices off him.

Micah lets go of your throat, tilting your head to the side so he can mark you as his own. His fingers remain in your mouth, enjoying the feeling of your tongue running in between them.

Micah bite's down on your neck. Hard. He chuckles as he hears you whimper, sucking as your skin, his mustache scraping against it. He leaves a large hickey on the side of your neck, high enough to not be hidden by the collar of your shirt. As Micah moves away, his mustache scrapes over the mark, making you whimper once more. Each of the hairs feeling like tiny cat scratches against that sensitive area.

"Now they're gonna know you're all mine," Micah tells you as he pulls his fingers out from your mouth. He wipes them off on his pants before buttoning yours back up.

"You've done good, girl. I'll let Dutch know that you're ready to talk. You better have that pussy ready for me cause as soon as you've proven your worth, I'm gonna be all over you," Micah tells you.

"Yes, Mister Bell," you respond, eyes meeting his.

"Mhmm. I enjoy you callin' me that far too much," Micah speaks slowly, emphasizing how much he enjoys it. "Shame I can't use your pretty holes right now. I'm aching to pump my load inside of ya." Micah moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head to the side to admire his mark, the skin slowly turning purple.

"I could stand here and gaze at that all night," Micah chuckles. "You be good now, girl. Be ready to talk."

"Of course, Mister Bell."

Micah gives you one last look before heading off into the night, disappearing through the trees of the camp, probably going to let off some steam. Your head rolls back to lie against the trunk, overlooking the camp, distracted by the aching feeling on your neck.

What have you gotten yourself into?

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agent-hood · 4 years

Text

@the-roanoke-society

Nervous energy radiated from Carter’s every molecule, forcing Parker into a near-meditative stillness just to bring balance to the situation. Carter had been getting sent on more and more dangerous missions and wanted to seek some formal training for the particular brand of magic he possessed. So they sought help.

Kieran had been all too happy to direct them to Robin Goodfellow, who in turn got them in contact with his cousin, Fionn. The man agreed to meet with Carter to test his skill, but the twins had learned a bit too late that Fionn was the leader of the Brightguard, the only martial group the Seelie court held. So meeting them was a big deal. Like a child on their school’s yearbook committee landing an interview with the panel responsible in determining who to award the Nobel Peace Prize.

It had planted a seed in Carter which Parker thought him previously incapable of growing- insecurity. She already knew that there wasn’t anything this Fionn could do that her brother couldn’t, but seeing him daunted turned what would have been polite cordiality into a contrarian indifference. She didn’t care if he was the most powerful being in all the universes, so long as his existence made Carter feel bad then in her eyes he was less important than the dirt beneath her heel.

“Maybe we shouldn’t meet with them.” He started as they walked ever closer to the agreed meeting spot. “We can say I came down with the flu or something and couldn’t make it- I’m sure they’d understand.”

Parker sighed and stopped them. They were just about to the edge of the clearing and definitely past the point of no return.

“Carter, you know I’ll back you up whatever you decide, but you wanted to do this to help take some of the work off dad’s plate. It’s gotten a little over our heads I’ll admit but we shouldn’t lose focus just because there’s some uppity knight who thinks he can talk to trees better than you can.”

“Who’s uppity?” Came a robust voice only a few yards ahead of them. Parker was proud of herself for not jumping right out of her skin in surprise, but she put that aside to reach for Carter’s hand when she noticed he had grown pale in response.

Before them were four figures (each she learned through research was a ‘general’ of the guard and a master of a respective elemental magic). The one who spoke, who she could only assume was Fionn, was a near-perfect physical specimen, if your type was golden and sculpted. The other man hung towards the back, also handsome and tall, but with darker features and enormous wings. He looked like someone took an angel and gave him levels of romanticized angst that teenagers could only dream about.

The other two were women, and couldn’t look more different if they tried. One stood rigidly at Fionn’s side, a statuesque beauty but looking like she’d rather be anywhere else. And the other was slight, possibly even shorter than Parker, with almond eyes and a bright smile as she waved at them both.

“I think she’s talking about you of course.” The smaller one said, giving Fionn an impish grin.

“...she wouldn’t necessarily be wrong.” The other woman said (making Parker immediately like her).

“Fionn.” He said, stepping forward to introduce himself, hand extended and grin that said he was entirely too sure of himself. They shook politely.

“I’m Parker and this is my brother, Carter. I trust Robin informed you of our situation?”

“He did yeah...” he said, rubbing his chin casually (and setting off Parker’s internal alarm bells that he was set on toying with them). “But the thing is, I’m a very busy man. There are plenty of full-blooded fae out there who would swim through a river of silver to have me show them the ropes.”

Parker glanced at Carter and nearly saw red. his eyes were fixed on the ground and he was biting his lip; He wasn’t pale and nervous anymore, he was ashamed. As much as she wanted to walk away or chew him out right there, this was still a high-ranking member of the Seelie court and the cousin of their father’s friend. If she was going to get an apology from him (and she would), then it had to be worked for.

“You doubt his ability?”

“I just need a demonstration to see where we need to start from is all- I said I would assist and I’m a man of my word.”

“Almost too many...” Parker muttered darkly, words slipping out before she could catch them.

“What was that?”

Shit.

“Well, you said a lot about your time and importance, but how do we know you’re in a position to train Carter?”

“I’ll have you know I have mastered complete command of all botanical and earth-related magic for longer than your ancestors have been around.”

“And I’ll have you know that my brother is more talented than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m sure he is talented as much as he can be, but let’s face it- you are just a human so how much can you have seen?”

“You know what- you seem so sure in this-“ “I am.” “So it would be no issue for you to prove it.” “None at all.” “So what do you say to a friendly spar?” “Oh please-“ “and if I win, you have to take back what you said.” “You!? Well IF you can land any hit I’d be glad to do so. But what do I get out of this?” “Well IF you’re able to prove to me you’re just as powerful as you say you are- I’d be happy to admit you’re the better fae.”

With that same smug grin as before, he extended his hand in acceptance. As Parker reached to shake it, Carter and the other’s voices rang out to try and stop them; saying that they were being immature/had nothing to prove.

“STAY OUT OF THIS.” They both yelled in unison before snapping their attention back to each other as they shook hands in agreement. Parker walked a ways away (to what she assumed would be the edge of their ‘arena’) and collected her thoughts.

She had been trained for this- not just taking down guys four times her size (thanks to Joe for insisting on a combat-focused regimen), but taking down their power.

Remembering her training with Louise and Rae, she calmed her heart rate, stilled her breath, found where her own power lay within her (dormant and hungry and so different and misplaced compared to anything else), and reached.

It was satisfyingly easy, to feel Fionn’s own power (vibrant and green- he wasn’t boasting about how powerful he was), and to cloak it. Like snuffing out a candle from a person who thought it was the sun. So long as she maintained focus on that, she’d have the upper hand.

‘Alright, hard part over.’ She thought as she moved into a defensive stance, telegraphing that he would have to make the first move in this fight. And he did, coming at her slow and obvious- letting her know that she wasn’t even worth the effort of pretending he wasn’t taking it easy. Parker just added that to the pile of mistakes and assumptions he was making.

It was an easy strike to deflect and even easier to move away from. She debated the risk of continuing on with this pattern until he grew tired, but something told her his stamina would outlast hers. No she would need to end this soon.

She was quick, but Fionn was able to keep up. Parrying every potential hit with an ease that came from centuries of practice, and always gentle. Batting her fists away like they were flies, redirecting any kick like they were dancing. He might have been able to physically keep time with her, his patience couldnt.

She saw the exact moment when it happened- when Fionn attempted to use his powers and couldn’t. A look, half wild panic and half unfiltered rage, clouded his blue eyes as he realized exactly who was responsible and what she was capable of.

‘Perfect- now we can finally start.’

He came at her then, no longer holding back or staying still, and a terrible and deep part of Parker was thrilled at it. At finally being challenged, at reaching that point where it was all instinct; where she got her best results.

Soon enough they were both heaving and dizzy from the effort- but still without a clear winner. Parker had taken a few blows, but that was expected, and nothing that had made her yield.

Finally, she saw an opening- after stepping to the side he didn’t follow fast enough and his back was to her. She seized the opportunity and made to strike, but realized too late that it was exactly what he wanted her to do.

Before she could blink, Parker found herself pinned to the ground, winded from the force of it. But if he expected her to admit defeat at this point then that would be his mistake. Just because she couldn’t move her limbs did not mean she couldn’t win.

Thrusting her head forward she was able to catch him off guard with a headbutt, unfortunately her angle wasn’t perfect and a balloon of pain burst across her face where she was sure she had broken her nose. Thankfully, her gambit had paid off and Fionn had fallen back in a daze.

For a long moment nothing happened, with both of them holding their faces in an attempt to regain their bearings.

“Okay...” Fionn said, voice sounding tired but not nearly as winded or hurt as Parker hoped. “I yield. You made your point and got a solid hit in... I’m sorry.”

“Yeah...” She sighed in agreement. “I yield too. Although I’m not apologizing.”

“You don’t need to.” He groaned as he pulled her up to stand. “I am fully able to admit I was in the wrong here. I took your lineage as an indicator for talent and made assumptions.”

Parker was suddenly swept up in a crushing hug as Carter finally reached her.

“Dammit Park, dont ever do something like that again no matter how badass it is! Just look at your nose- what is dad going to say?”

“Whatever he’d like, but I think he’s going to be more preoccupied with the news that Carter is going to get the training he needs.” Fionn jumped in, clapping a friendly hand on Carter’s shoulder, The ‘cocky asshole’ impression now fully gone. “You’ve gotta let me in on how you were able to override my power. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“Oh well Parker can nullify fae-magic. It’s her own special ‘thing’.” Carter offered as everyone else drew closer, speaking to them as if they were new friends. It brought Parker back to when they were in highschool and her twin was able to fit in wherever he went, able to make everyone feel like they were part of the ‘cool kids’.

“Nah, I felt that immediately. I’m talking about when halfway through and it slipped- I still tried to reach out. I commanded the trees to intervene and restrain her but... nothing.”

“Oh!” Carter began to look sheepish at that. “I, uh, kinda asked them not to? It’s just- I really wanted Parker to win.”

The surprised and silent smiles that each of them grew made the fight (and broken nose) absolutely worth it to Parker. Granted she hadn’t been aware her control had slipped, but having Carter there more than made up for it.

“Carter... it is going to be a genuine honor to train you.”

#agent hood #agent thorn #fionn #the roanoke society #//in which parker is smol and full of rage #//and its the first time officially meeting fionn

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have-some-gotdamn-faith · 5 years

Note

Okay you. -rubs hands together- I told you I was going to make a request today. So here's my request: I want silly, drunken mishaps, where things go wrong. Something silly and lighthearted, any character of your choice. Go.

AWW YISS, I’ve been toying with what to write for you if you ended up forgetting to ask. But this? This I can do.

And, because it’s your special day, you get multiple characters B)

Drunken Shenanigans

-- Arthur --

he’s a silly drunk when he’s around the right company

which is exactly what happens when he and a few of the boys ride out to Valentine with the express purpose of getting absolutely shit-faced

the expectation usually placed on Arthur is that of a buffer---he’s the one who magically fixes any problems that might arise---but tonight his inhibitions are put on hold for a good night

once the beer and liquor start flowing, that’s when the night properly gets into swing

it starts out innocently enough around the piano, where the gentleman playing at the keys provides some jaunty tunes

those that know the words sing along slurredly; those that don’t just kinda mumble their way through it til they’re able to belt what words they do know

somehow it goes from tinkeringly-happy singalongs to Arthur trying (and failing, spectacularly) to coach some gentlemen through their poker game

oh dear, suddenly he’s flat on his back in the mud

the other boys are positively guffawing

and so is Arthur

“Guess’hey ain’t want to win their game! Aw, hell, let’em lose, gimme another round!”

-- Sean --

already an uproarious character, Sean is damn near intolerable when he’s gotten a few in him

of course, he’s just getting started

around camp, he’s stumbling and singing happily, and has more than once fallen into the laps of at least one of the ladies

is entirely unfazed when he’s shoved away, and eventually makes another circuit before trying again with a different woman

let one of them actually allow him to stay awhile, and she’ll be met with an onslaught of bad pickup lines that err so deeply into cheesy territory you’d need chips to go with it

send him away again for some fresh air and to spare yourself the impending flirtatious cuddles, and he just goes to refill himself on the camp’s alcohol supply

will likely instigate a fight with Bill or Micah

he’s surprisingly coordinated in a fight while inebriated, but only because he wants the bragging rights

will absolutely pick on Kieran until otherwise distracted, or reprimanded

-- Kieran --

one (1) precious man, and somehow elevated to higher levels of sweetness when inebriated

is a little on the somber side when drinking, and self-depreciating, but around good company he’s much more at ease

is quick to dole out compliments and his everlasting appreciation to Dutch for taking him in

hyper-aware of the condition of the camp’s horses, and will consistently excuse himself from the party or merriment to check on the Babies(tm)

baby talks them

loudly

if he can manage the dexterity to pick a multitude of flowers, he will gift them all to whomever will let him tuck one in their hair, or simply place it in their laps

he gets one, too

#bheithann #red dead imagine #BIRTHDAY ASK BIRTHDAY ASK BIRTHDAY ASK BIRTH--#enjoy these drunken men yesgood #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #sean macguire #sean macguire x reader #kieran duffy #kieran duffy x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead writing #now i need to go to bed cause i gotta wake up at early as fuck o'clock

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rcris123 · 5 years

Text

“Did you see that kid Kieran?” Arthur asks Dutch next day; asked the others too, no one knew a damn thing, but all of ‘em said something of Kieran being scared the O’Driscolls been stalking him.

And there’s an idea already forming...

“No.” Dutch replies, then, letting his book down: “Why do you care?”

Kieran van Der Linde is what that boy said once when the three of ‘em went fishing, but there’s more than just mere sympathy:

“If the O’Driscolls took ‘im then they know we’re here and they’re gonna blast us all to hell.”

“You really believe he ain’t just run off?”

“If he ain’t run off ‘till now, why’d he do it?” A pace away. He’s trying to convince Dutch go let them have a look – or maybe he ain’t needing no permission; him and Sebastian are enough to take down the lot of ‘em. “Besides he was still a prisoner.”

Dutch laughed: “Where you even getting these ideas from, my friend?”

Arthur shakes his head, scoffs: “Well... thanks anyway...”

“I need you to stay strong, Arthur.”

More and more those words feel somehow empty, like he’s bringing them up just so he has the last word. But Dutch’s always been like this, why is he only now taking notice of it? Was it Blackwater? Was it Isaac? Was it Sebastian and Isaac? Who the hell knows... But this doubt’s starting to itch inside him and more and more he’s feeling like he’s tearing this place apart and the reasoning behind it is as vague as a pang inside his chest and a ‘It ain’t right’ dangling inside his skull. It feels like it’s all become a chore, suffocating like this goddamn swamp and how goddamn good it felt to get out and do fishing with the kid, Sebastian. What fun they had catching that monster o’a sturgeon.

A sigh, ‘cause he’s still wanting to find out what the hell happened to that Kieran boy. He loves these people, Dutch, Hosea, John, Charles, Lenny, Sean, the women, everyone. He always did it all for them. Why stop now?... And he’d mount up, but instead just ends up giving scratches to Ghost. The bullet wound doesn’t seem to bother her all that much anymore.

If he were to go, Isaac’ll have to come with him.

“You know I saw a couple of them O’Driscoll Boys runnin’ around.” That’s Sadie’s voice.

“Oh, really?” Arthur turns around

“Yeah.” She even climbs in the saddle. “No one seems to care when I get out of camp so I followed them around a bit. Seems they’re holed up in some abandoned town in Lemoyne.”

His face lights up.

“Can you tells us-”

“I’m riding with you, Arthur. I can’t forgive them, you know that.”

“And Kieran?”

“Boy’s harmless. A bit whiny, but harmless.”

“Okay.” Arthur rubs his chin. “ ‘kay. You wait here, I’m gonna get some people.”

“The two of us is all we need.”

“I know, but my heart ain’t letting me.”

Sadie snorts: “You’re one sappy old man.”

“Very funny.” Arthur beckons as he gets back upstairs; Sadie’s got her charm about her, never once sounding truly mean spirited.

Inside Sebastian was still asleep; man barely got any rest last night, tossing and turning, breaking into cold sweat. He even managed somehow to scratch a scab away. It bled. Isaac found himself something to read, legs to chest, on the floor against the dresser by the bedside.

“Mornin’.”

“Mornin’.” His son greets back with a thin smile.

“Got any breakfast?”

Isaac shakes his head and places the book on the dresser behind him.

“Get downstairs and eat somethin’, Isaac. Pack some for the road too.”

Boy gets up: “Where we headed?”

“Getting that kid Kieran back.”

Isaac’s eyes grew wide: “Ain’t that official business?”

A look at him, a sigh: “No.”

It’s a bit too much o’a request for a boy like Isaac but his childhood’s fast coming to an end and no matter how much he tried keeping him clean from outlawing and gunslinging, the noose’s getting tighter by the day and he’s much rather know his son can fight than lose him ‘cause he ain’t been enough a man to teach him.

Maybe he ain’t ever been much of a man to begin with, all queer like he is – he heard Tilly insulting Bill like that once. She knew, they all knew, and now Arthur ain’t no different.

“Okay.” But his son still trusts him; and that’s enough.

Arthur sits on the edge of the bed, compelled to run a hand through the rough hair on the side of Sebastian’s head, lean in, whisper something for good morning.

“Good mornin’, you stubborn ol’ buck.” He did just that in the end.

“I’m middle-aged.” Sebastian muses, a smile drawing on thin lips.

“And I’m a grandparent.”

A snort. A flutter of brown doe eyes, then an inhale as Sebastian tries to turn on the other side:

“Good morning to you too.” A stretch, then a grunt and the man rolls back to face Arthur: “What you up to?”

“Finding that boy Kieran. I want you to ride with me.”

“Always.” It’s soft the way he says that and once more Arthur finds himself running fingers through the rough hair on the side of the man’s head.

“Managed to catch some sleep?”

As hand threatens to let go Sebastian catches it into his own; holds it.

“Not really...”

“What kept you up?” A sigh; he looks away and Arthur squeezes his hand. “Talk to me, would you...”

A huff, a tug of the arm closer: “I’m afraid... That they gonna take it all- and then I remember I have nothing left anyway...”

“That ain’t it, Sebastian.”

“If this counts-“ another tug of the arm. “If this is me having something how do I know it ain’t gonna end up the same. You. The kid. Why are these fucking things up again-” He growls, suppresses a sob, the closes his eyes and exhales with difficulty.

“Sebastian...” And the man draws him closer in. “You gotta trust ye’rself. And you gotta trust this poor ol’ fool’s luck, ‘cause he ain’t died just yet.” It’s absent minded again how he touches the medallion, ‘cause it dangles heavy from the neck, and Sebastian catches that.

Looping an arm around Arthur’s back the man props himself up with yet another groan.

“I ain’t seen anyone more stubborn than you.” Arthur speaks up again.

“Yeah. Me either...”

He liked that: looking at him. He’s handsome and not deserving the shit this world gave him.

“Now let’s get that kid Kieran.”

“Yeah.” Determination grows on Sebastian’s features.

Downstairs they couldn’t help running into Sean; boy’s been frantic trying his best to keep up with camp chores and whatnot, but somehow still ended up sleeping somewhere in some uncomfortable pose. He ain’t gonna question that. And maybe that was for the worst ‘cause now Sean tagged along with them and the moment he saw Isaac there lad knit his eyebrows and felt like he swore on Christ and the Virgin Mary not to let any harm come to the boy. And that’s just hoping trouble ain’t finding Sean first.

But Sadie ain’t protested so it’s the 4 of them and the kid that set out and for now he ain’t as scared as he could be.

The road takes them past Caliga Hall, towards the Kamassa River, they follow the water’s bend, until he recognizes the Eris Fields to their left, and further up ahead he remembers that bridge: took towards the Marshes, Bluewater were they called? Sadie rode hard the entire time. Sean tried talking, maybe ‘cause he ain’t doing good in the silence, but silence’s what he got.

“If we’re lookin’ for a spooky place that one’s pretty much fittin’ the description.” Sean spoke again.

It looked like an abandoned town. He’s passed here before, he remembers that collapsed church, the graves. Isaac read them all –all died 1893, just a month after it was all built. And at that moment Isaac looked at him:

“Ain’t this?-”

Sadie jumped down from saddle: “We take it from foot here.” She took her gun.

“We sure there’s O’Driscoll’s there?” Sean wasn’t all convinced. “It’s lookin’ pretty quiet for the lot of ‘em if you ask me.”

“There still looks to be guards out.” Sebastian intervened. “Look. There.”

A man in the characteristic green, slumped over with what looked like a riffle for support. He ain’t looking at all lively. Something felt off.

“Me and Sadie go up ahead.” Arthur said. “Sean, Sebastian, you hang back for support in case there’s more o’em coming from behind-” Sean almost protested. “Don’t want a word of it, Sean. Isaac, you too, go with ‘em.”

His son picked out the riffle that was now stored on Big Sir – it previously belonged on Ghost.

No turning back now; Sadie already went up ahead. It’s with big steps that Arthur follows behind, one pat on the revolver’s bed, synching his movement for a quick draw. Hands quickly return to holding the Repeater.

It’s Sadie that shoots first; there was no opposition from that guard except one panicked jerk up. Body falls. She rushes inside. Arthur takes one more glance back at the other three before heading in himself. There’s already gunshots. A scream from Sadie. Guns blazing, there’s already 2 dead inside. Arthur adds another to the count.

“There’s more in the other room!” Sadie shouts, and indeed O’Driscolls pour out.

One’s shot right in the doorframe; the one behind stumbles over it. He meets the same crude fate with a bullet to the head. Arthur took care of the 2 other left in that main room.

There’s gunshots outside now too. And a muffled scream for below the floorboards. Kieran? Sadie caught that too: her gaze darts downwards.

“Guess he’s in the cellar-” Arthur speaks but he ain’t getting to finish that.

Sadie rushes by him joining the gunfight outside. A peak out: there’s at least 13 of them. But he ain’t sure about the rest of ‘em.

They gotta hold out.

“Com’on.” Arthur psyches himself up while darting past the battlefield.

There’s a few stray bullets that try to get a hold of him. Better luck next time. He searches for the entrance to the cellar- Another O’Driscoll jumps out, knife in hand. Arthur darts back; the tip of the blade cut his vest. Arthur ducks and tackles the other with force to the ground. Man swats the knife, before dropping it on impact. Fists come raining and the O’Driscoll ain’t moving soon, face a pool of blood.

It’s only now he notices the rashes on the man’s skin. The fact that he had a gun he ain’t used... Heart sinks. He turns the downed O’Driscoll’s face with the tip of his boot as he stood up, the sin looked like that of a carcass and that can’t all be his doing...

He gotta find that Kieran soon, that if these bastards ain’t eaten him alive, or worse yet, left the job half finished.

There’s the cellar. He blasts the lock open with the sawed-off shotgun and dashes inside. There ain’t no light down there and Arthur’s feelin’ like it takes too goddamn long until he fumbles the lantern alight. There’s growling around him.

And when he shines light into the room he sees no less than three O’Driscolls drooling and clattering their teeth, hogtied with rope, as if they belonged in an insane asylum. And then there’s Kieran, bound and gagged with an arm bleeding. When seeing Arthur boy struggles against the restraints.

“I gotchu now, stay calm.” Kieran relaxes onto the chair as he goes to cut off the rope and take the gag out.

One glance is spared for that wounded arm: someone gnawed at it. Jesus Christ! Poor bastard... And as soon as he’s free Kieran clutches that arm against his chest with his other one. A hand on the back to guide him out. The gunshots stopped.

“Th-thank you, Arthur.” Kieran mutters on the stairs.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout it.”

“Y-you saved my life...”

“You saved mine once before, it’s the least I could do.”

“I... Thank you.”

Arthur pats the boy on the back: “It’s okay, kid.”

“Arthur!” That’s Sean calling, he came running. “Sebastian’s calling for ya’.”

Arthur strides forward, letting go of Kieran, then before he forgot turns to them: “Sean, help him up on Big Sir, would you.”

“Sure.”

When he reaches around the house, Sebastian was buzzing from place to place like an angry hornet while Sadie stared at the barn doors. They were sealed shut and it read: STAY OUT PLAGUE. A hand rushes up to cover his mouth and rub his beard. Christ. So a plague is what caused them undead.

He goes to meet Sebastian, whose head was in the ground, deep in thought; man wanted to shake Arthur off when he put his hands on his shoulders.

“Look at me.” Arthur tells him quietly. “Sebastian-”

“That Cajun was right.” Sebastian growls, muscles releasing the tension they were holding before. “If only I was here back then-” Arthur holds him firmer. “Joseph might still be-”

“Shshsh...” Hand switch from cupping the man’s shoulders to cupping his face, but Sebastian grits his teeth and grips Arthur’s collar between his fists.

“You don’t get it. I let this happen. It’s my fault-”

“You ain’t lettin’ it happen again.” His voice raises only to meet Sebastian’s volume.

“PA!” Isaac shouts from somewhere, and his attention’s fully focused on that now; and so’s Sebastian. “Com’ere a moment!”

They both rush to do so.

There’s more writing on the walls of that home: BEWARE RUVIC, though he ain’t sure if that’s an C or a K ‘cause half of it is missing’, the other smudged off at the corner. He also ain’t sure if RUVIC’s two words or one. Arthur takes out his journal and the engraved pen from his satchel to start drawing it. The blue lines hold out better.

“You think that’s a name?” Isaac asks.

“Could be.” Sebastian muses. “Or some abreviation.”

“From what?”

“Don’t know.”

“We gonna find that out.” Arthur scratches his beard again, “But first we gotta take Kieran back. Those undead took a bite outta him.”

Isaac’s mouth hangs open, while Sebastian’s scrunches shut.

“He’s on your horse, Isaac, you can go on ahead.”

Boy nods, springs up and sprints away.

Sadie hands back and so does Sean:

“So what the hell’s this all about?” Sean speaks up.

“It’s some disease.” Sebastian says, mounting up. “It turns people idiots and deranged.”

Isaac’s off already, Kieran holding onto the boy for dear life ‘cause Big Sir sprung straight to a swift gallop.

“So they lose the ability to speak and go wild like animals?” Sadie asks.

“Pretty much.” Arthur chimes in. “Saw a couple of ‘em chained up in the basement next to Kieran.”

“And they gain a taste for human flesh.” Sebastian elaborate further.

“Jesus!” Sean and Sadie alike.

“Ain’t sounding like it’s anythin’ natural.” Sean throws out his opinion.

“Are people even capable of doing that?” Sadie ain’t fully convinced.

“If RUVIC’s anything to go by,” Sebastian starts. “I’d say it’s a human. Or a bunch o’em.”

Sadie sighed: “Then it’s a good thing we got rid of ‘em, I say.”

“Yeah.” Sean chimed in.

The road back feels faster, mind’s a’gallop, runnin’ to catch some coherence before it goes entirely insane. It ain’t no wonder such things are making Sebastian toss at night. They tortured him once before and now came for seconds. And for that man’s sanity and the hope that the world ain’t entirely gone to shit they gotta find some reason to this – the man, or men, behind it all.

And for that they gotta set out again.

Only their welcome back ain’t one reserved for victors.

“What you done now, Morgan...” Micah cackles from where he was leaned on a tree, sharpening something with a knife.

He ain’t replied, but Dutch glared at him as if he just murdered a gang member. He can’t stand it, and soon neither can Dutch:

“Did I tell you you can go fetch him, Arthur?” Tone’s low and scolding.

“I told you why.”

“Not that you were actually going through with it?” Dutch stepped forward, eyebrows drawn together. Arthur squared his shoulders. “What the hell happened to you, Arthur?...”

“Could ask the same of you, Dutch...” They’re measuring each other up with glances. “What happened to taking care of folk?”

“And what happened to loyalty, son?...”

“Been loyal, Dutch. Always.”

Dutch slowly backs away as if he’s letting Arthur have this, but no, now he spoke louder: “Then don’t you trust my judgment!?”

“Well, me and Sadie felt different.” Arthur retorts.

“Then what next!? You gonna feel different and put a gun to my head, Arthur?”

“Now that ain’t true.” Sean butts in. “Ain’t you heard him, he cares for folk. It’s why we all went to get that other Irish bastard. Can’t stand the focker but I ain’t standing Micah either ‘n Arthur busted that walkin’ shite outta prison anyway.”

Dutch’s scowl could have murdered on its own. Arthur holds Sean back before either of ‘em draw or throw a punch.

And in all o’ this Hosea was quiet. But Sadie wasn’t:

“Unless you wanted to fight diseased, half dead, feral O’Driscolls I’d say we did you a favor.”

“The what?...” Now Hosea spoke up.

“Yeah.” Sadie continued. “The bastards that came and took Kieran were more dead than alive.”

“Found 3 of ‘em chained up in the basement growling and drooling like animals.” Isaac chimes in.

Dutch’s eyes grow wide.

“Ain’t you seen the bastards bit chunks of that boy’s arm off?” Sadie continues.

“... I guess in that case... thank you.” Hosea at least had the dignity to accept defeat. Dutch didn’t, just stood quiet where he was. “Arthur... Maybe you should keep an eye out for that.”

“Already on it, me an’ Sebastian. Found this person, RUVIC, his name on the walls where Kieran was held.”

“Okay...” Hosea sounded half terrified. “I’ll see if I can poke my nose into it too.”

“Thank you, Hosea.”

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 tag #rdr2 fanfic #kieran duffy #isaac morgan #sebastian castellanos #sebthur #and zombies #and :3c ruvic

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tsc-living · 5 years

Text

Ty needs Magnus’s help (pt 8)

(Masterlist of the other parts here)

Kit knew that what he was feeling was shock, but it was still bizarre to feel like you were floating. He had a stuffed penguin on his lap, one he had bought for Tessa and Jem’s unborn child and had named Penny. He was just looking down at it, his fingers clenching the soft toy and then relaxing again over and over. When he had bought it he had imagined giving it to the baby, talking in a baby voice as the infant grew older and made them laugh. He had thought about all the things he could do as a big brother and all the things he could teach them. His new friend, a Shadowhunter girl who lived on the property next door, had rolled her eyes and called him a softie as he had handed the money over and he had just bumped her with his hip in response and made her laugh. He’d also seen the shared smile between Jem and Tessa when he had come into the living room with it after being in town all day. He’d made a home here, a family and a friend who wasn’t just a friend because he had been thrown into her midst, a friend who knew what it was like to lose everything and still want to live for the new life. You don’t have to die for Ty. You don’t have to die for Ty. You don’t have to die for Ty. Tessa had said the words only once, but they were playing on a loop in his mind. Not because he needed to remind himself that he didn’t have to die for Ty, it was more like he couldn’t quite believe that Ty was in danger. Tessa had made it pretty clear that it was one or the other. Kit or Ty. It had once been Kit and Ty. If one of them did something stupid, then both of them did. If one of them was going to die, then they both were. Yet, Kit had the chance to save Ty now. It wasn’t Kit and Ty anymore, it wasn’t even Kit or Ty, it was just Kit and he knew what he had to do.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The voice was soft, sympathetic, and familiar. He looked up to see Livvy semi-standing and semi-floating next to the desk in his room.

“I guess that’s because I have.” He said, surprised that his voice sounded as steady as it did. She smiled at him, but it was clear she was feeling a little worn out emotionally.

“I heard Magnus on the phone to Tessa.” She said, “He kept looking up to see if Ty was eavesdropping, but he couldn’t see me.” She sounded part embarrassed and part proud, but Livvy had become a sort of gossip since becoming an invisible ghost.

“So you know what the situation is?” He asked and she nodded, floating closer.

“A bit of a shit one,” She admitted and sat down beside him.

“Have you come to ask me to do it?” He asked, “To sacrifice myself for Ty?” Livvy took a sharp intake of breath and when he glanced at her he saw that she was close to tears.

“No, I’m not. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” She said, pulling her knees to her chest.

“Then why are you here?”

“To see if you were okay, to see if you wanted to talk.” She replied and he hugged the penguin to his stomach and nodded at her.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t have anything to talk about; I’ve already made up my mind.” He told her, “I know what I am doing.” He added. She closed her eyes as if his words were hurting her, and he was surprised that for a ghost she was giving off a lot of nervous energy. He knew she wanted to ask what the choice was, but he wasn’t going to tell her until she did, in fact, ask. So they sat there for a couple of minutes, one hugging a soft toy that didn’t belong to them and the other hugging their semi-corporeal knees.

“What did you choose?” She whispered against her knees, something that would have been muffled if she was still alive, but sounded normal under the circumstances.

“I am not proud of many of the decisions that I have made in my life, not all of them. This, this I can do right.” He said, “I’m going to help Ty.” He was again surprised that his voice didn’t shake. He looked at her again and she had her eyes closed, head resting against the wall behind them.

“What do you think it will feel like?” She asked and gave her a sceptical look and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“No offence or anything Liv, but you already know what it feels like to die.” He said and she shot him a scathing look before sighing.

“I died when the fragment pierced my heart, I didn’t bleed out.” She said and her words made Kit shudder.

“It looked like you bled out, there was a lot of it.” He said, “But I think I would rather die beforehand and then let Magnus drain my blood. I have already sent Jace a fire message asking what it feels like to get stabbed, he’s had that happen a few times. Besides, I figured I couldn’t OD because that would pollute my blood or something.” He admitted, swallowing against the brutal reality of his words.

“More noble too, more poetic… nobody could call you a coward.” She said, but she looked as if she was holding something back before she sighed in resignation, “Ty was reading the book that had the spell in it and… the blood needs to come from a living source. Kieran is sending his tomorrow.”

“I have to be alive when I am bled out?” He asked, finally his voice catching. She nodded and he closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall like she had been before. He hadn’t actually accounted for that, he had thought he would be dead first.

“Why are you going to do this?” She whispered and he smiled, keeping his eyes closed.

“My mum died because of her blood, everyone before me, before her… died because of our blood. They were murdered, by the Riders though. It only seems fair that I die for it too, but at least this is on my terms and-” his voice choked and he swallowed, “And there is no better reason to die than to save someone you…” He trailed off, unsure if he was even morally allowed to tell Ty’s twin sister who he had once kissed.

“Someone you love?” She suggested and he felt his cheeks go red which he knew was ridiculous with the bigger picture.

“No better reason to die than to save someone you love.” He agreed and when he opened his eyes he saw silver glistening on her cheeks and a small smile on her lips. She nodded at him, whether in support of his feelings or perhaps just in agreement of the sentiment he wasn’t sure. He didn’t have time to ask either.

“Spoken like a true Herondale.” A voice said from the doorway and when Kit looked over he saw Jace standing there with his arms and ankles crossed, leaning against the door frame, “Although who are you talking to?” He asked. Kit glanced at Livvy and she waved before fading into oblivion like the ghost she was.

“What are you doing here?” Kit asked instead of answering.

“When my only living relative asks me what it feels like to get stabbed and die, I tend to want to check in on them.” Jace replied and came into the room, closing the door behind him, “Do you want to tell me what is going on?”

“Do I have a choice?” Kit asked and Jace shook his head almost imperceptibly, and there was an unmistakable clench of anxiety to his jaw. “Then sit down.” Kit said and Jace sat heavily on the swivel desk chair, facing Kit with the back of the chair between them. Kit took a deep breath and told Jace everything. Every single thing, except that Ty tried and partly succeeded in bringing Livvy back and that was why he was cursed. Jace didn’t say a word, he stayed relatively still and stared directly at Kit as he spoke.

“And this boy, Ty Blackthorn, you love him?” Jace asked when Kit had finished. Kit, who had spent months pretending he didn’t care at all for Ty, was having some issues with the amount of times loving Ty had been brought up in a short amount of time.

“Does that bother you?” Kit asked, unable to meet his gaze. Jace laughed, although Kit hadn’t been expecting that.

“My parabatai is Consul Lightwood-Bane, and his husband has saved all of our asses more than once. Of course it doesn’t bother me.” Jace replied.

“Does it bother you that I am only sixteen and saying it?”

“No, I am not one to talk. I would have died for Clary when we were sixteen, and I tried to.” Jace admitted, “Doesn’t mean I want you to go through with it.” He added, rubbing his face.

“Well I mean, that’s fair… doesn’t mean I am not going to go through with it.” Kit replied. Jace nodded slowly, surveying Kit slowly.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asked. Kit felt a little taken aback by this and had to think about it for a moment.

“I don’t know when it is going to happen…” He began.

“You can call me when it is, and I will come immediately.” Jace interrupted, “But I wouldn’t recommend a sword.”

“Doesn’t matter…” Kit said, “I have to bleed out alive.” He explained. Jace shuddered visibly by that.

“I’ll still come kid, I’ll be there.” He said. Kit found himself nodding without meaning too. He knew he didn’t want Tessa or Jem to be there, and he didn’t particularly want Ty there either, but Jace could handle it and he was family.

“Yes.” He said, surprised at how small his voice was. Jace reached out and put his hand on Kit’s shoulder firmly. “I can’t believe I am doing this.” Jace squeezed his shoulder and sighed.

“I can Christopher. You’re a Herondale.”

#kit herondale #ghost!livvy #livvy blackthorn #jace herondale #tsc #tda #twp #tid #tmi #fanfic #one shot #part 8

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zcvczx · 4 years

Text

𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐳𝐨.

*/ EMILY RATAJKOWSKI , 23 , CIS FEMALE , SHE/HER . i just watched dean matthews pull zoyenka voznesensky into his office. maybe it has something to do with them being a member of phi alpha phi. yeah, i spoke to zo a few times. they’re a senior studying business administration. apparently they’re from new york city, new york. maybe that’s why they’re so vexing and audacious, i don’t know, man. all i know is they’re always listening to needed me by rihanna. / jocey , 23, est, she/her .

ayyyye ya girl is back with her second bby, zo. apologizing in advance for the terror that is zoyenka. she is truly the worst™. hit that like button & i’ll slide into dem dms real quick.

name : zoyenka voznesensky ( will not acknowledge you if you can’t pronounce her name. true story. ) nickname : zo age : twenty-three sexuality : pansexual hometown : new york city, new york chapter : phi alpha phi major : business administration extracurriculars : cheerleading ( base ), dance team, mock trial

━ the voznesensky’s didn’t always have a net worth of millions. with humble beginnings in saint petersburg, russia, the family moved to america a couple generations ago to expand their distillery business. it was only then did the family-run business grow by producing, shipping and selling their premium vodka brand and maybe some other less than legal products too. eventually they got into the nightlife entertainment business as well, through acquiring and running several bars, clubs and lounges on the east coast.

━ as the second and youngest child born to dimitri and natalia, it was never in the books for zoyenka to take over the family business. a traditional man, her father had always groomed her older brother, alek, to be his successor. her father’s bias always left her feeling bitter and resentful, and only drove her ambitions and determination to prove him wrong. the more he kept her at arm’s length, the more driven she was to find an in.

━ unfortunately, her mother, a socialite/philanthropist herself, also had different plans for her - something along the lines of debutante and her daughter following in her footsteps. from being forced into piano lessons, ballet and etiquette classes, zo absolutely despised the person her family wanted to mold her into. the only things she didn’t mind as much were the gymnastics and language lessons ( russian, french, spanish & italian ). both stubborn in wanting to get their way, their differences pulled their mother-daughter relationship further and further apart.

━ even her mom’s passing when she was 12 did little to change zo’s opinion in the matter. she didn’t care about the woman’s death, nor did it affect her whatsoever, and she will gladly tell anyone that. but the fact that she accepted her offer at NEU and pledged phi alpha, her mom’s sorority, may hint at something different. despite now being a part of greek life, she still doesn’t buy into any of the sisterhood crap and thinks it’s all just a load of BS. but of course, that didn’t stop her from wanting to be president, if only for the power.

━ a hustler with an alpha bitch mentality, she’s always outsmarting people and outsmarting the system to get things to work in her favour. and when that didn’t work, no one could ever say no to a big fat wad of cash. because zoyenka voznesensky never loses. she doesn’t just play the game, she owns it, makes the rules and wins. every. damn. time. does she think she’s better than everyone? without a doubt.

━ zo swears by the belief that playing by the rules was for suckers and if you weren’t the best, then you were nothing at all. and sometimes being the best required playing dirty. if she has to ruin someone else’s life to get her way, then she will gladly pour a jug of gasoline, light a match and enjoy watching it go up in flames. hell, sometimes she’ll do that just purely for her own enjoyment.

━ with that mentality, it’s no surprise that zo was on track to becoming phi alpha’s president. but it was also her ambition that screwed herself over in the end. last year, an all too eager zo wanted a quick loophole to move from vice president to president because she just didn’t want to wait another year. so, she framed the then-president for stealing funds from the sorority, but was consequently busted, removed as VP and put on probation.

━ after that debacle, zo decided to do an exchange program in france for a semester, as a way to escape the aftermath. now she’s back with her head held high, still one month on probation, and ready to move on. but then again, why take the high road when the low road is so much more chaotic and fun? her presidency was already taken from her, so what else was there to lose?

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

BEST FRIEND ━ someone who can put up with zo’s awfulness, or maybe they’re just as awful as she is. this is probably one of the few people she’s actually relatively soft for ( not that she’d ever admit it ) and will always have their back. possibly even one of the few people she’ll ever let her guard down for. gimme some soft bestie feels for this cold bitch. taken by minka kellar ( little ), kieran rhodes, alana brooks SISTERS, I GUESS ━ zo really does not give af about all this sisterhood crap and she just doesn’t buy into any of it. but there’s bound to be a couple of phi alpha girls who have grown on her over time. perhaps someone she pledged with? she’d never admit it, but she would give a bitch the smackdown if they tried to mess with them. taken by hannah maddison MORAL CONSCIENCE ━ does zo even have a moral compass? your guess is as good as mine. this is someone she is more likely to listen to and could try to sway her from doing, y’know, ~*just zo things*~. kind of the angel on her shoulder? often tries to get her to be nicer and overall be a decent human being. taken by garrett shepherd BAD INFLUENCE ━ i’m sure even satan has a little devil on his shoulder, so zo needs one too. though more likely than not, zo’s that little devil. basically they like to stir up all kinds of trouble together, either with her egging the other person on or they both fuel each other’s bad habits. taken by lennon winter, kamelya tansel EXES ━ either she dumped him/her, or she was dumped ( in which case, rip my friend ). maybe there are some lingering feelings. maybe she’s still hella soft for them. could be interesting if they’re very different from zo and that’s why it didn’t work out despite the chemistry or whatever. and/or the relationship ended when she abruptly left for her exchange program. ENEMIES ━ ho’boy. homegirl can piss off a lot of people just for shits and giggles, nor does she care to be likeable and personable, so i’m sure she’s got a hella long list of enemies/people she rubs the wrong way. also people she’s sabotaged, fucked over and manipulated to get her way? plz. taken by leticia viterra CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ━ pretty self-explanatory. they’ve known each other since they were kids and their parents are likely friends. maybe their moms were in phi alpha together. they can be close, or not get along at all, or maybe even an ex-friend situation. taken by alexandria boss UNWANTED CHILD ━ zo somehow ended up being this person’s very reluctant mom friend. she hates it, she does not want to deal with them, and yet she’ll still go pick up their drunk ass at 4am. she’s all about tough love, so while she may be super harsh and hard on them, she does it out of love and because she cares. not that she’d ever actually admit to caring. taken by noelle faust UNLIKELY/ACCIDENTAL FRIENDS ━ they shouldn’t get along, but somehow, they just do and their friendship works. not typically someone zo would see herself being friends with, but somehow an accidental friendship of sorts developed. taken by lincoln hayes MUTUAL ANNOYANCE ━ they annoy each other to no end and just live for pushing each other’s buttons. not quite a hatred, but some days, it’s pretty darn close. maybe there’s some sexual tension involved cuz that’s always the good shiet. taken by sydney marco ( roommate ), zane wancosh HOOK-UPS/FLINGS/FWBS ━ self-explanatory. a girl’s got needs. whether she actually likes you as a person or not, if you’re hot, then you’ll do the job. rip why is she like this. we can make it angsty or not because tbh zo can be pretty possessive sometimes, so y’knOW.

okay, that’s all i can think of off the top of my head. some plots i’m open for multiple characters to fill, unless it has been crossed out. and ofc, i’m always open to new ideas too!

#neu.intro #intro. ( zo voznesensky. )

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tcswritings · 5 years

Text

family ties.

Malachy. The O’Connells have to face the worst moments of their lives.

(...)

So, the day was July 22nd 2016 and it was, I dunno, the later part of the evening. Mal was working late and it happened on his way home. His car got hit by a truck on the drivers’ side. The truck driver didn’t pay attention, he was tired after a long week and fell asleep momentarily. It’s not a real consolation but Mal didn’t suffer, in fact he didn’t even realise what was happening. He just saw the huge lights, so close to him, and then nothing.

Chloe was at home, tidying up the house a bit and getting slightly mad at her hubby for not coming home at the time he promised. He wanted to bring their dinner after all. She checked her watch, only to check it again five minutes later and she had been doing that the entire evening. Sam was staying at a friend’s house and Rory wasn’t feeling well so he already went to sleep.

“Screw you, O’Connell. You could at least give me a damn call?!” she murmured to herself. “Instead you’re making me starve, I can’t believe it. You’re so not gonna get laid tonight.” She stopped and scratched her head. “Who am I even talking to? My god, I’m going insane.” Chloe scoffed at herself, and she grabbed her book and was just about to make herself comfy on her couch when her phone buzzed.

“There you go.” she sighed, reaching for her phone. It wasn’t Malachy, though. It was Sarah who didn’t even bother to wait for Chloe to say anything.

“This is it, Chloe. Ye can tell yer dear husband that I’ve had it with him.”

“Sarah.” Chloe answered reluctantly and she frowned. “What’s goin’ on?”

“He didn’t even call, he just didn’t show up. He promised to stop by at seven and now it’s almost ten. Not that he didn’t even bother to call us, he won’t pick up his phone either. Tell him to get lost, that’s not how ye treat your ma and pa?!”

“Sarah-”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t get that people at a certain age rather spend time with their significant other,” - she emphasised those last few words and Chloe smiled to herself at the mocking tone of it -, “than their parents but dammit, I gave birth to this little fucker! Twenty-one hours of labor and I’m not even worth a call?!”

Despite Sarah’s rage that she, being a mother herself, could very well understand, Chloe had to chuckle. “I’m sorry. He’s a despicable human being and I’m gonna tell him.”

“Tell him he’s an ungrateful little shit, too.”

“Of course. Will do once he gets home, I promise.”

“Wait, what? He isn’t even home yet?”

“Nah, I was just about-”

The doorbell rang. Still holding the cell phone to her ear, Chloe hurried to the entrance hall. Peeking through the door’s window, she saw two men clad in dark blue uniforms. “Sarah, I’m sorry, I’m gonna call you back, okay?” she mumbled into the phone, startled at the sight of the two Gardai on her front porch. Chloe put her phone in her pocket and then she opened the door.

To this day, she can’t really recall that particular evening. Looking back, it felt like she left her body in that moment and watched the events of the evening through someone else’s eyes and with a certain distance. There was a lot of “We’re sorry.” and “Do you need us to do anything else, Mrs O’Connell?” and she remembers this really insane moment when her only thought was that Malachy was supposed to get them dinner and that she was still starving.

She felt a bit like what she supposed a robot to feel like - she merely functioned and did what had to be done. She woke up Rory and called the parents of the friend Sam was staying at, giving them a quick update on what happened and that she’d appreciate it if they could help Sam to get ready so she can pick him up in about twenty minutes.

She also called Sarah back, asking her to tell Declan and Orla and she called Kieran on his cell phone before she made her way to the hospital to see her husband for what she feared would be the last time.

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

Sarah just stood there, frozen on the spot, not quite believing what her daughter in law had just told her. She dropped her phone on the couch, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

This could not be true. It was impossible.

“Sarah. Darling, what is it?” Sean asked again, sounding alarmed and squeezing his wife’s upper arm a little, to make her snap back to reality.

“Malachy. There was-” Sarah took another breath. “There was - he had an accident.”

Sean felt his guts turn to ice. “An accident. Dear lord. But he’s… he’s alright, isn’t he?” He could feel his voice shaking.

“We have to get going, Sean, and we have to get a hold of Orla and Declan. I mean, where are these two, anyway?” Sarah hissed and hastily looked for her phone, remembering that she had just dropped it on the couch a minute ago. “Chloe was about to call Kieran just now and-”

“Sarah.” Sean insisted and grabbed his wife by her shoulders. “Sarah, darling, talk to me. Is Malachy alright?”

Sarah looked her husband in the eyes and that was when Sean knew. He just knew by seeing his wife’s expression. He nodded and swallowed.

“Where did they take him?” he merely asked.

“University hospital.”

Sean nodded again and he was about to go and get his things when Sarah held him back.

“Sean? Our boy is there. In some dark and cold room. All alone.” she said sternly, but her voice cracked. Sean could tell she was fighting hard to hold it all back.

He couldn’t help but admire her.

“Not for very much longer.” Sean assured his wife. “We’ll be there in less than ten minutes. You call the twins, I’ll get everything ready and I’ll wait outside in the car for you.”

Sarah nodded, touching Sean’s cheek.

“Hurry.”

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

Kieran sat at his desk in the bureau and he had been battling a few stacks of paper for a while. It has been an unusually quiet day at the bureau and he had spent all day here, catching up on a few things and doing some dreaded paperwork.

“Fuckin’ Friday night and I got nothin’ better to do than this. That’s it, I’m officially pathetic.” he murmured, highlighting another line in that report in front of him.

“I’m impressed by your work ethic. It’s not like you have to do this? Everyone else went home already. Not you though?” his new colleague, Evelyn, responded cheerfully.

Kieran looked up from his paper and gave her a dry laugh. “Yeah, rub it in. I like that.”

“Nah I didn’t mean it in a weird way?”

“This isn’t about work ethic, it’s really just about me having nothin’ else to do today.” Kieran replied wearily.

“Aw, come on, I can’t believe that a guy like you doesn’t have someone waitin’ for him somewhere.”

“You’re not makin’ this any better, Ev.” Highlighting another line at the bottom of his paper, Kieran now lazily turned the page. He frowned. “This is bullshit, I don’t even know what I’m reading here.” he mumbled and tossed the paper a few inches away from him.

“Wow, you’re crabby today. It sounds like there is someone after all, though?”

“No, that’s not what I said? There isn’t.” Kieran sighed. “I mean, not… not really.”

Evelyn put her pen away and leaned back in her chair. “Do tell. And don’t even try to change the subject… I’ve studied human behaviour long enough to be able to tell that somethin’s been weighing on your mind for a while and I’ve been in love long enough to link that particular circumstance to what you just said.” she concluded with a firm nod.

Kieran raised an eyebrow. “You… only talk so you can listen to yourself talkin’, right?”

“Sometimes, yeah. Not this time, though. Come on, tell me about it. Who is she? Or he?”

Kieran gave her another sigh but the prospect of just talking to someone unrelated about it actually was strangely tempting.

“It’s not like it matters anyway. She’s… in Boston, y’know. And I’m here. Doin’ fuckin’ paperwork on a Friday night.”

“Boston, huh? How would you end up with a girl in Boston anyway?”

“We didn’t end up - I just, I dunno, I go there a few times a year. Great city. Met her years ago already and, well-”

Kieran’s phone started buzzing. Startled by the sound of it, he looked at the caller’s ID.

“Chloe?” he muttered, confused.

“So her name’s Chloe?” Evelyn asked.

Kieran made a little gesture with his hand to shut Evelyn off and he picked up his phone. He didn’t really know where the feeling came from but having his sister in law call him at eleven in the night was highly unusual and he felt his stomach turn.

“Chloe? Yeah, of course it’s me… what is it?”

Evelyn watched Kieran’s expression turning to stone. “Uh-oh.” she thought.

“How… when?” Kieran let out a heavy breath. “I’m at work. I’ll be there - no I’ll be there, okay? I’ll be there in a few hours. Chloe, listen - I’ll be there. I’ll get into my car in five seconds and I’ll be there. There’s no way I’m stayin’ here, alright? Gimme a few hours. Okay. Okay! We’re wasting time… yeah, okay. Do what you gotta do, tell the others that I’m on my way, okay? Yeah. I will. Bye.”

“Oh my god, what was that?” Evelyn asked carefully.

“I gotta go. I can’t explain. I, I - I gotta go, Ev. I’m sorry.” Kieran stammered, grabbing together his belongings and without any further word, he left the office.

“Of course…” she nodded. “Go! Wherever you go, drive carefully?” she called after him.

“Oh, the irony.” Kieran thought to himself while he was rushing out of the building. He felt his heart racing while he ran to the bureau’s parking lot and when he eventually got to his car, he flung its door open, threw his jacket on the passengers’ seat and got into the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Fag. Now.” he thought and frantically searched the pockets of his jacket for the little package, as well as the glovebox. He couldn’t find anything.

“Oh fuckin’ HELL, it was there earlier?!” Kieran cursed to himself and he felt devastation, anger and helplessness rising up inside him. He slumped back into the driver’s seat in frustration and realised only now that he was shaking like a leaf. He gripped the steering wheel with both of his hands. “Focus, O’Connell. Calm down. You can’t go anywhere like this.” he thought to himself. Taking a few firm breaths, he calmed down enough to remember that he had put his cigarettes into the pocket of his jeans. He shifted a bit on the seat and pulled them out, opening the car’s door again.

Kieran lit the cigarette up and took a first pull, inhaling deeply. His breath was still shaky. Leaning back into the seat again, he closed his eyes and swallowed down a sob. He was in no way ready for this. He wasn’t ready to start the engine, to leave Dublin, to enter a world that Malachy O’Connell was no longer a part of. If he just stayed here, in his car, in the parking lot, he could just pretend for another little while that it wasn’t true. It was a childish thought, he knew it. Childish but very, very tempting.

A few minutes later Kieran had gathered himself together enough to take the dreaded way home. He left his best friend Rachel a text message, “Won’t be home for a few days. I’ll call you as soon as I can.” and left the parking lot, driving off into the unknown.

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

“Alright, lads and ladies - last call for today!” Rosamund called. The pub was already empty, except for a few older guys sitting in the corner at the window and her young (and secret favourite) guests who had occupied the seats at the bar around her.

“Nah, way too soon!” Mick exclaimed indignantly. “Discussion ain’t over yet, no one goes anywhere until we settled this.”

“What did he say?” Rosamund hissed, turning to Orla and Jessie. “I swear, any time this kid opens his mouth I only hear gibberish!”

“Don’t look at me.” Jessie held up her hands in defense, “I don’t speak O’Loughlin. She does, though.” She pointed to Orla.

Orla nodded enthusiastically. “I do and I don’t quite believe I’m sayin’ this but he has a point.”

“I love how y’all talkin’ about me as if I wasn’t there.” Declan now chimed in. “I’ll have another half pint, Rose. Please.”

“How polite.” Rosamund chuckled. “Samantha likes ‘em polite.”

“Not you, too. Gosh! Stop talking about me already?”

“As if you don’t like being talked about?” Jessie scoffed.

“When I’m not there, sure?! You guys are discussing my love life-”

“Lack thereof.” Mick interrupted.

“- or the lack thereof while I am here, though.” Declan now turned to his best friend, crossing his arms. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, which side are you on after all?”

“On yours! Always was, always will be. I say - ask her out. I mean, where’s the harm in tryin’ after all? She likes ya.”

“I can’t ask a woman out who’s ten years older. Besides, I don’t even like her… y’know, that way but for some reason no one believes me anyway. Thanks.” he added when Rosamund handed him his half pint. “Also, she has a kid.”

“So do you.” Orla frowned.

“That’s different.”

“How’s that different?”

Rolling his eyes, Declan groaned, as if Orla was just dense for missing his point. “It just is.”

“Aw man, we all just want you to be happy, Dipso.” Jessie laughed and she reached out to pat Declan’s cheek but he was having none of it and briskly pushed her hand away.

“Now ya made him mad, Jess.” Mick said, just lighting himself another cigarette, when all of a sudden his phone in front of him started buzzing. “What the fuck. Not now.” he murmured and picked the phone up. Turning away from the group a bit, he looked at the caller’s ID, frowned a little and answered the call.

“I’m not mad, I’m not frustrated and I am not in love, alright?” Declan went on. “It’s about time you guys get that into your heads. Can’t we just make fun of someone else now? Look, Mick’s talking to someone on the phone. Let’s tease him. I hope it’s the concert lady from two weeks ago, that would have teasing potential.”

“Actually…it’s for you.” Mick had just turned around on his seat again, looking clearly confused. “Any of you two.” He looked at Declan, then at Orla, holding his phone out to them. “It’s Sarah and she sounds upset.”

Not quite understanding the situation, Declan made a face. “What? Sarah? Our mother Sarah?”

“Aye.” Mick gave a little nod, looking at the phone and up again, indicating that Declan should take it.

“What the-”

“Take it already.” Orla urged him.

“Okay, okay.” Declan took the phone and held it up to his ear. “Ma, what’s up? Don’t have my phone with me today, sorry. So, you wanna take part in the discussion about my poor love life? You’re gonna love it, it’s- what? Come again? … oh my god.” He looked up at Orla, waving her over to him.

“What’s going on?” Orla whispered impatiently but Declan only pulled her closer to his side, gripping her upper arm tightly. “Ow, Dec, what-”

“No, we’re on our way. Yeah. No, we’ll get a cab or somethin’, ya’ll stay where you are. Yeah, see you in a bit.” He hung up and gave Mick his phone back. He then turned to his sister, reaching up and holding her face in both of his hands. “We gotta go. Now.”

“Declan, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” Orla inquired, already feeling slightly nauseous.

“Mal had an accident… earlier this evening.” Declan’s voice broke and breathed out. “He - he didn’t make it.” It almost sounded like a question.

“What?” Orla muttered, her voice soft, and she looked at her brother, utterly confused, her blue eyes huge and Declan’s heart broke a little further at the sight of her expression.

“Cab me arse, I’ll drive.” Mick took a last pull of his cigarette and flicked it away. “C’mon!” he called, already making his way outside the pub.

“You want me to- I don’t know what to say, I-” Jessie stammered, looking like she got hit by a freight train and she was at a clear loss at what to do now. “I should probably pay our tab, though, I mean, we can’t just-”

“You kids leave. Screw the tab.” Rosamund interrupted her. “Just go! I’m closing NOW.” she called into the direction where the older guys were still sitting. “The three of you get out already! I mean it, forget the tab!”

“Let’s go. C’mon.” Declan nudged Orla, who just kept wiping her silent tears away, and took Jessie’s hand and they all followed Mick outside.

He drove them to the hospital, and no one said a single word. Declan and Orla had taken the backseat, holding on to each other and Jessie had taken the passengers’ seat, reaching out her hand (in a rather uncomfortable way but she didn’t care) to Declan and Orla behind her who both had taken it. She looked over to Mick who just seemed to concentrate on the traffic but she knew he was shaken. She would take care of him once they dropped the twins off at the hospital.

When they did, Orla turned around one last time, sniffing slightly. “Thank you. I’ll call you guys once I- once I can.”

“Go!” Jessie hushed her and her and Mick watched the two hurrying into the building.

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

So, that’s how everyone got notified and the hospital got filled with O’Connells and they all were in this really weird state in which you can’t really wrap your head around what had just happened. They all knew it was huge but none of them could even begin to think of the impact the incident would have on their lives.

Everyone was tired and worn out and just there, trying to keep going, supporting each other, not really knowing where else to go and not really knowing what they were waiting for either since there was nothing that could be done for Malachy. None of them really wanted to leave him there all alone just yet, though, and if that meant that they had to stay in that hospital corridor until someone would finally tell them to go, they would do it. The nurses on the floor were really nice and understanding, though, providing them a free room with a few beds so at least Chloe, Sam and Rory could get a bit of rest.

Declan didn’t say a single word the entire night, he just responded by nodding or shaking his head but apart from that, his mind was somewhere else, far from everyone else. Orla couldn’t stop crying, the sleeves of her shirt were soaked and she made sure to get a hug every ten or so minutes. Kieran was busy functioning, just like Chloe. He was the one who talked to the nurses and who even joked with them, not really knowing how to channel his emotions. He even felt strangely alright and he didn’t know at this point that it would hit him a few days later, without mercy and with full force, at work in the restroom.

They all experienced for the first time what it feels like when there’s absolutely nothing left to say. It’s what all of them had in common that night, each of them dealing with it in their very own way.

At some point they all decided that it was time to leave, though. Sarah and Sean accompanied Chloe and the boys home and stayed with them and Kieran took the twins to his parents’ house.

“I don’t wanna sleep in my old room. I don’t wanna sleep at all. Not yet.”

It was the first thing Declan had said ever since he got the news. He kicked off his shoes in the hallway and went straight to the living room, starting to take the cushions off the furniture, throwing them right in front of the fireplace.

“What are you doing?” Orla asked, confused, once again sniffing a little. She felt a bit better but the tears just kept coming back and she no longer cared about hiding them.

Kieran had picked up Declan’s thoughts, though, and he smiled. “Come on.” He gently took Orla’s arm and took her with him. He went over to the large cupboard and pulled a few drawers open. He took out a blanket and tossed it at her. “Catch!”

“Have you two lost your mind?” she asked, barely catching the blanket she now saw flying into her direction. “HEY!”

“Maybe we have lost our minds.” Declan began and gave his sister a surprise hug from behind. “This is a bit of a tough situation though and I know you know what those call for.”

“A contemplation castle!” Orla gasped, finally getting what her brothers were up to.

“That was the idea.”

They had done that as kids in the past every so often. Whenever something happened that needed a bit of thinking or whenever they had to come up with a plan for whatever the issue was or whenever they were just sad or moody, Orla and Declan had built themselves a pillow fort. Teenage Kieran had often lovingly mocked their forts, “Don’t bother looking for Orla and Declan, they’re stuck in contemplation castle.”, but he had found himself sitting with the two sometimes, bringing them sweets and, as their older, more experienced brother, trying to give some insight on the situation they were facing. His troubled seventeen year old self even sat in one of their forts all alone for a little while, after the twins had already left it. He didn’t really believe it but he hoped that the fort would have a reassuring effect on him as well and to this day he feels that it somehow did.

So the three grown up O’Connell siblings built themselves what would probably be their last fort and they crawled into it, laying down next to each other, Orla in the middle. She took her brothers’ hands and they would just lay there and talk nonsense and share silly anecdotes, even laughing heartily at things every so often.

“You know what? We’re all gonna have terrible back aches when we wake up tomorrow.” Orla said eventually. “Ugh, I already feel it.”

“I know. I don’t mind.” Kieran replied.

“Me neither.” Declan agreed.

None of them dared to speak on what they all had in their minds in this very moment, though: that this was probably their last cheerful moment together for a long while and that their backaches would be nothing compared to their heartaches.

When Sarah and Sean came home the next morning and found their three grown up kids peacefully sleeping next to each other on the living room’s floor, Sarah burst out crying. She was incredibly touched to see what the three had done and she was proud to be their mom and at the same time it had just hit her that it would never ever be like this again. Their lives had just been shaken to the core and they all would get pulled back into reality really soon. Sean held his sobbing wife close to him but she recovered pretty quickly.

“I don’t know how, darling, but we’ll make this.” Sean whispered into her ear, standing behind her and gently rubbing her upper arms.

“Sean O’Connell, the cheerful optimist.” Sarah smiled wearily, not knowing at this point whether she really believed him.

“Cheerful? Not so much, I’m afraid.”

They stood there for a moment, silently, letting their words sink in.

“I want everyone here today, Sean.” Sarah now suggested, reaching for the coffee can.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m gonna make coffee and then we wake up the kids. We can all rest a bit but I want everyone to come over to our house today. Chloe and the boys - oh, we should probably call Father Moore - “

“Sarah, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Sean interrupted her and shook his head. “This hardly calls for a party after all-”

“Oh don’t gimme that crap now, O’Connell.” Sarah snapped. “Ya think I don’t know what just happened? This ain’t gonna be a party? Ya think I’m gonna shout it from the rooftops? Ya think I’m gonna invite old widow Clarke and her fucking little shit of a barking mutt?”

“You… better not?”

“I want Chloe and the boys here. Father Moore, if he can make it. Jessica and Michael. Lauren and Ash. They all deserve to be here, Sean. I don’t wanna pretend to have a jolly good time, I want the whole family around. I am not ready to deal with this on my own yet.” Sarah could feel her voice shaking again.

“You won’t have to?”

“Ye know what I mean.” Sarah pouted and crossed her arms.

If the situation hadn’t been so tense, Sean would have laughed at his wife’s reaction. It wasn’t funny at all, though, and he chose his next words carefully. “I’m not saying we can’t do this, I just don’t want to watch you denying-”

“One last day. That’s all I ask for.”

“One last day?”

“I mean, Kieran has to go back to Dublin anyway, he can’t just stay here for weeks, to support his ma and pa. I want one last day before the lights go off, Sean.”

Knowing too well what his wife was referring to, Sean nodded eventually. “Go and make coffee. I’ll wake the mob.”

***

#malachy

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authorellenmint · 6 years

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“Kieran!”

My voice didn’t have a hope to rise above the cacophony of children bleeding into the orchard. An entire mass of them moved like locusts descending upon the feast, their parents long since left behind to trudge up the hill.

Only my son glanced back, the sea of taller children threatening to consume him. While I hoped he’d wait, the allure proved too much. In an instant, he turned on his heels and scampered towards a tree. Three other children flocked the branches, most taller than my boy. Kieran ducked down and scampered closer to the trunk, his hands scrabbling for the blushing apples hidden amongst the leaves.

“Your father is acquiring a bucket right now,” I sighed, glancing towards the twisting line of parents left to pay for the privilege of bringing in the farmer’s crop. A rather satisfying deal on their end.

A giggle of joy drew me from the manure-stench of the barn to gaze upon an unending field of apple trees. They fanned out like autumn’s army waiting for orders to march upon the winter forest. My boy’s hands cupped to his chest, a red apple bigger than both his palms cradled safely. The exuberant eyes of an ever distracted seven-year-old shattered expectations by honing upon the apple and refusing to lift. As Kieran laughed again, I accepted that the long drive, the trek out to some bird-woman’s farm, and the threat of tick embedding was worth it for his smile.

I let my eyes drift off Kieran, about to look for his father, when a hand whipped through the air and plunged greedy fingers to his apple. “Hey!” Kieran shouted, trying to protect his get while the larger boy puffed himself up.

“Gimme that! It’s mine.”

“Is not. I found it,” my son shouted, trying to tuck the apple in safer to his chest. Which was when the bully slapped at his hand. Still Kieran wouldn’t acquiesce, even with a pink handprint rising from where that monster struck my son. My gait elongated, thunderstorms trailing my steps towards the children.

“Give it now!” the cretin shrieked. Greedy fingers dug into both the flesh of the apple and my son’s. It proved too much as Kieran cried, the sound rattling my soul, and he released the apple into the bully’s hands.

“Ha!” the child crowed, holding aloft his prize as if he earned it. Piggish eyes narrowed upon my boy and the bully yanked his hand back to slap Kieran once more.

My fingers snaked around the child’s wrist, holding it tight above his head. He screamed as if my grip was lava. How I wished it were so, but aside from keeping the monster from doing as he wanted, I caused him no harm.

I stared into the black eyes of the child, chaos and cruelty already sewn into the makeup of someone not yet ten. “Do not hit my son or you shall suffer beyond imagination.” My tone must have punctured through even that Dunning-Krueger armor as the child nodded dumbly. “And return that which you stole.”

The bully glanced towards Kieran, who held both his hands out, but he flinched from doing the right thing. With a sigh, I plucked the apple free and held it far above the child’s head. “You should be punished for such atrocities,” I muttered, releasing the boy’s arm.

“Oi! Let go of ‘im!”

My eyes rolled at the voice ordering me to do that which I already did. Turning, I spotted a mass of a man stumbling towards me. He wore all his strength in his gut, as if he’d swallowed every ego-boosting lie, every assurance from society that he was important, and honestly believed them. His legs hustled up the hill as I folded my arms, the apple tucked safely in my palm. I shifted to hide Kieran from view as the creator of the child bully thundered towards us.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch my kid!” he shrieked.

“Perhaps you should try parenting your child, then the rest of us wouldn’t need to bother.”

Red splotches formed over his face like mold sporing upon a film of fat. He tried to puff his deflated chest out as if I’d be either impressed or scared. Knowing what was to come, I turned to Kieran and told him, “Go and pick some more apples.”

“Yes, Mummy,” he mumbled, shuffling away from both me and the man who should be shooting steam from his nose. I maintained my typical cool-exterior which was only enflaming him more.

“Hey! Hey, get him back here! Your snotty brat stole from my kid!”

The kid in that situation fell silent, no longer wishing to use either his words or fists. No, it was all on the father, the larger copy as it were, to attempt to browbeat me into giving him what he wanted.

“You mean this apple that my child in fact picked and your son then hit mine in order to thieve away?” I lofted the apple before the man’s face, his eyes bulging as I didn’t cower and plead for him to forgive me. Men of his ilk feasted upon women who shackled themselves to the cult of nice. Against me, he had no power. Not that he had any to begin with.

His lip curled, as if the man intended to rip my throat out with his teeth. “Bitch whore, dressed like a slut. You aren’t gonna tell me a fucking thing.”

“As it would be a waste of both our time,” I responded, eyeing up the man. Whether he caught the barb or was simply upset that I continued to have a voice it was difficult to discern. What was not was how his rage threatened to spew out of his ears.

“You!” He turned on his son, cuffing the boy by the arm and dragging him closer. “Is this yours?” He jabbed at the apple I kept in my hand. The boy mumbled, his eyes shifting over the trampled ground. “I said did this she-bitch steal it from you?”

“Mmyes,” the child fumbled, flinching at both the lie and the fear of retaliation if he told the truth.

“Fucking finally,” the man cursed, releasing his hold on the boy. He extended the no doubt sticky fingers flat and cocked his head. “Well…”

“Well what?” I asked.

“Shit you’re dumb. Give it over before I get the cops involved.”

I snickered at the threat, though he did look like a man who’d call the police if a trashcan fell over in his driveway all while never having to worry about the mountain of dirt hidden under his rugs. My body didn’t shift, the apple held tight in my fingers as I stared around the teeming orchard. A few of the other adults drifted closer at the screaming, but once they spotted a man harassing a woman they all vanished behind trees.

There were certainly enough apples to go around. No reason to fight over one when it was easy to give in to the whims of a bully. Which was precisely the wrong message to teach my son. I lifted the apple into the air, twisting it between my fingers. “It’s not yours, you cretin.”

“Bitch!” he lashed out, fingers clamping to my wrist. The grip suckered to my skin, a thousand times tighter than what I did to his son. I shifted, prepared to teach the man just how much damage a steel-tipped boot can do to external genitals, when I caught what made my son pick this apple in the first place.

As my leg lowered to the ground, the bully snatched away the coveted apple. He released my hand, red welts rising from his grip, but I only stared back. My cold eyes burned into both his meaty face and the fruit he stole from a child. With a laugh, he placed the apple to his teeth and took a massive bite.

Which was when a warm smile wormed up my lips. I paid no heed to the pain he caused to my arm, only grinned at the man who flinched against the abyss. “Come on,” he shoved at his son, scampering away from me. But, he made certain to take another bite of the stolen apple.

“Mummy!” Tiny hands overladen with fruit bumped into my back. Keiran’s exuberant eyes warmed my heart, his full arms cinched tight as I swiped back a lock of his fallen hair. “Look at all the apples I got!”

“I see. You did an excellent job.”

My son smiled at the praise, his chin rising higher until he spotted the two generations of bullies walking down the lane. The father stopped and seemed to be staring harder at what he bit into. “Is that my apple?”

“Yes.”

My little entomologist scrunched up his nose. “Does he know it’s got a worm in it?”

A retching noise broke through the idyllic farm, the bully bent over to try and no doubt vomit up half of an eaten caterpillar. “He does now,” I said with a chuckle. “Come on,” I shook away the monster who tried to ruin our day and rubbed Kieran’s shoulders, “let’s find you another caterpillar.”

As my son led me into the trees, my ears listened to the blustering blather of a man choking upon his own comeuppance.

#morrigan #kieran #apple picking #dragon age autumn

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meowdymista · 4 years

Text

Van der Driscoll Pt5

Warnings: Micah, violence

Part 4 & Masterlist

Part 6

Truth be told, after a week of being shunned by everybody except Arthur, you were starting to miss life as an O’Driscoll. Sure, they were slimy and smelly and brash and cruel, but they would at least excrete some sense of comradery alongside the shit they gave you.

You were used to being an oddball. Mocked for your smooth face, you insisted on a past life as a talented barber. If anyone cracked a shot at your wide hips, you placed a precise amount of lead in a non vital limb as warning to copycats. The terror of being discovered earned you a streak of being ruthless, which is how you climbed the ranks and managed to squeeze out regular breaks every few weeks.

The Van der Linde crap was something else though. The women pressing their lips together, the men spitting threats when Arthur’s out of earshot… Everybody was giving the two of you a wide berth and Arthur’s heavy sigh whenever he noticed someone acting colder than they had before didn’t do much to comfort you. This hurt on a personal level. You were the talk of this small town, but there was no house to take refuge in and no brick walls to keep the whispers out. Instead, you were sat on display with a billowing cotton sheet for privacy at best.

“They’ll get over it,” Arthur assures you daily. “They did with Kieran.”

Kieran Duffy - his whole corpse shook like the last leaf in autumn during a tornado. If your pulse was personified it would shake less, even when someone throws out a casual threat. Your feelings towards the man vary from disgust of his betrayal to rabid jealousy of him being able to live a life here without a bodyguard. As much as you appreciate your lover’s constant presence dissuading others from picking a fight, his protective streak was growing old.

Eventually, Hosea intervenes Arthur on his return coffee trip. Judging from Arthur’s glare, and the way he keeps looking back to you, it’s about a job that needs to be done. You know for a fact that money is thin on the ground - you’ve heard Miss Grimshaw berating the other men in camp about it, hissing with venum whenever they dare complain about picking up the slack.

After returning from another vain bathroom break (despite having little to no weight to push on your bladder, somehow your ability to retain liquids has diminished to that of a newborn yourself), you find Arthur gathering supplies.

“Won’t be long,” he assures you, a gentle kiss on your lips, squeezing your hand as he picks up his satchel. “Some feller other side of Valentine owes us money. I gotta go deal with him, but when I get back I was thinkin’ we could get outta here, do some huntin’ or somethin’, what you reckon?”

“Sounds great!” You force yourself to grin despite your stomach sinking faster than a wounded elk. Something in his eyes betrays his own attempt at make believe, jovially mounting his mare and galloping away with a small wave.

“New to camp?”

You look up as threateningly as you can. A man with sharp cheekbones and a thick dark beard is grinning at you jovially.

“Don’t get ya knickers in a twist - I ain’t gonna stab you or nuttin.” He holds out a grubby hand. “Name’s Peader.”

“Peter?” you repeat.

His eyes crumple with his chuckle. “Aye, if that’s easier for youse.”

You swear as you stick your thumb with the needle. You were better at gutting fish than needlework, and no one ate the fish you gutted. Seemingly tired of washing out more bloodstains, Miss Grimshaw calls you over to a wash basin to begin laundry.

“No heavy liftin’!” she snaps as you kneel on the ground beside the tub. “If you need somethin’ heavy movin’, you shout someone, y’hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply. You’ve overheard the other women in camp complaining about how bossy she is, but you find comfort in it - no matter how stern she can be, she never treats you differently for your time with Colm. For that, no matter how small, you can’t help but be grateful.

“It’s nice not to be the youngest for once.”

You stiffen. “What are you talking about?”

“I know I’m a hairy one for fifteen but-” Peter rubs the hair of his jaw pointedly and it knocks you sick. Two hours into this crazy life and you’re already found. What will they do to you now?

“Fifteen?” you repeat incredulously.

A belly laugh bubbles from his mouth. “Aye. Me balls dropped before I was walkin’, unlike youse. How old are you anyways, Thomas?”

“Fourteen,” you blurt out, your stomach dropping with every lie. At least you have a comrade to hide behind now. After all, this works better than the truth, and should hopefully buy you time until Heidi gets here.

You get to work, hating how the detergent creates a thick layer of slime over your skin. Even as your knuckles protest, you scrub until your arms ache, working out your frustrations against the ridges of the washer board. You keep your eyes down, your ears perked for any hint of ambush - but it still takes you by surprise when a pair of spurs stop too close for comfort.

“Ahh, Guinevere! We meet again!”

If anyone is hurt because of your actions, I’ll put a bullet in you.

You bite your tongue, wringing out a pair of Dutch’s trousers. You can feel the dead grey stare boring it’s way into your head before slowly sweeping over your body.

“Heard Ol’ Morgan’s knocked you up.” Micah chuckles, stepping forward to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear, but you flinch at the contact. “But I ain't above tryin' again.”

Blood is roaring in your ears as your body tries to decide between fight and flight. Somewhere you can hear someone shouting, but it’s lost to the ripple of goosebumps up your back as he closes in on you.

“Whaddaya say, hmm?”

“I said leave her alone, dammit!”

“Oh, Miss Roberts,” he purrs, finally stepping back. “Of course you may join us. We were thinking about making it a party. Mom’s club, right? I mean, John and Arthur ain’t here, and since Jenny coulda been carrying Micah Bell IV, I guess it’s only fair I play the part of Daddy.”

You try to continue with the washing, but Abigail is tugging you to your feet by the back of your dress.

“In your dreams, Micah,” she snarls, pushing you to her tent where young Jack is drawing in the dirt with a stick. “Arthur’s gonna kick your ass from here to California if you keep hasslin’ her.”

“No need to get jealous, Abigail. I know it’s been a while since John’s taken to you. Where is he anyhow? Has he found himself a new whore to impregnate?”

“Piss off!”

He tuts, moustache twitching. “Now, that ain’t nice. I mean, can’t be worse than an O’Driscoll, can it? Poor Morgan. Just when you think he’s hit rock bottom, he just keeps rollin’, doesn’t he?”

“Bell!”

He turns into Arthur’s fist with a crunch. His horse is trotting away from the ruckus, the other men in camp hurrying over as Arthur straddles his swollen stomach and begins pummelling him with his fists.

“MR MORGAN!” cries Dutch, moustache twitching with fury. “What is going on?”

Bill tries to pull him off, but Charles pushes him aside, wrapping his arms around his middle and hoisting him to his feet.

“He’s not worth it,” Charles murmurs softly as he sets him down facing the other way.

“If you have somethin’ to say to her, you can say it to my face!” Arthur spits over his shoulder, fists still clenched, his breathing heavy although calming energy is flooding him from Charles’ touch.

“What has gotten into you?” demands Dutch, striding up with Hosea at his side.

“I come back in, after leaving her for an hour and Micah’s already slimed over!”

“A pretty bird like that - you can’t know she’ll come back to you until you set her free,” says Micah thickly, holding his sleeve against his nose.

“You’re a damn cockroach!”

“Alright, alright, everyone calm down!” Dutch surveys the crowd. “Micah. A word? And Arthur - why are you back so soon?”

“Feller’s croaked.” He glares at Strauss who’s working nearby. “He needs to be more careful who he loans to. Got the impression I weren’t the first to demand payment. Bastard owes more than he could’ve ever paid up.”

Dutch breathes out hard through his nose. "Well you better find the money from somewhere, son."

Shrugging Charles off with mumbled excuses, he all but flies to your side. “Y’alright? He didn’t hurt either o’ you, did he?”

“You think he’d still be here if he had?” Miss Roberts rolls her eyes.

“Thank you, Abigail,” he mutters when he’s assured himself you are completely unscathed. “I appreciate it.”

“Thank you. He’s had it comin’ for god knows how many weeks - here’s hopin’ he don’t go forgetting his lesson too soon.”

"I mean… well you know what I mean." He gives you a squeeze before heading after Strauss. “Gimme five minutes, Y/N, and we’ll head out.”

“Alright,” you reply, brushing off your skirts with a hesitant look up to your saviour. “Thank you for… that.”

"You dont talk much do you?" Her blue eyes are sharp, squinting at you suspiciously when you shrug.

"Reckon it's better I keep my mouth shut," you admit.

She thinks about this before nodding in agreement. "For future reference, nobody is gonna think bad of you if you call Micah out on his crap. He ain't too popular round here."

"Ok."

"And another thing?" She checks Arthur is still busy with Strauss before leaning in closer. "If you hurt him, you'll be lucky if Micah gets to you first,” she hisses. “We clear?"

You nod as fervently as you can until she waves a hand to dismiss you.

"Enjoy your evening, Y/N."

****

Riding out with Arthur, the tension you hadn't realised was being contained in your shoulder muscles rolls off of your body. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, your cheek resting in the middle of his shoulders. He tilts his head back to touch more of you as you descend down the side of the hill towards West Elizabeth.

He insists on setting up camp whilst you start fishing in Dakota's River. Eventually he plonks himself on the bank beside you, a foot of space between your bodies as he also pulls out his rod and sets to baiting.

You sit in the quiet, enjoying each other's presence without complications.

"You, sir, are a fish!" he grins as he pulls in a fat bass.

"Do you always compliment your prey?"

"I pay compliments where they're due, beautiful."

You laugh, casting out again.

"How was it today? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Who? Micah?" You twitch the rod. "No. You came back before it got out of hand."

"Everyone treat you ok?"

You shrug. What is there to say? No one trusts you. Half would be happy if you were still bound to the trunk. In all honesty you can't blame them; you yourself are struggling to trust them and there are times when you would rather be tied to a tree so you don't have to watch your back.

"Listen. We got word that one of the fellers from the ferry is being moved outta state." He reels in another fish much to your dismay. "Javier and Charles have already headed down there to scope it out, but Dutch is wantin' me to go after them, check it's ok."

You say nothing, knowing he isn't finished yet.

"I'd be gone a couple days. Maybe more, but I doubt it. The boys should have done the leg work by now, so it should be a matter of grabbing him and getting gone."

"Do what you have to do." You give him a small smile. "Won't do us no good if they think I'm turning you against them."

"True, but that won’t stop me." He stares you out with his handsome gaze. "Say the word and I'll stay. They won’t miss me much, I'm just an extra gun."

"Take your guns and go stretch your legs. I can look after myself."

"And the baby?"

"I can care for the wee O'Driscoll wain, aye," you tease.

He chuckles. “You been listenin’ to Miss Molly?”

“More like I’ve been surrounded by all manner of irish men til you lifted me out of there.” You twitch your rod again, gasping joyfully as you feel a tug.

“You think they’re missin’ you? Them O’Driscoll boys?” he asks as you land an underwhelming pickeral.

“There were too many of us,” you admit with a shrug, offering him a small reassuring smile. “It’s not the first time I’ve ceased to exist to them. All those times you and I were together, none of ‘em recognised me for who I really was. They might comment, sure, but to be fair it’s real easy to lose track of who you have and haven’t seen. No one’s blown a whistle about Kieran going missing and he’s been with you how many weeks?”

He chuckles softly, eyes sad. “I didn’t mean missin’ you as a gun. You not make any friends?”

“It- It isn’t the same as what you’ve got.” You force yourself to swallow the lump in your throat as you cast out again with what you hope to be a more tempting chunk of cheese. “Most of them, the way they talk about women… it’s enough to know you’ve got a spare gun in a fight. No more.”

***

Arthur leaves early the following morning. He leaves a heavy kiss on your lips, his eyes burning into you, swearing an unspoken oath that if anything happens whilst he's away, the devil himself will not stomach the consequences.

As much as Hosea has accepted himself as your guardian, he is often guarding the rest of camp like some over tired dad. To avoid another Micah situation, if not separated in Arthur's tent, you hover near him or the other women despite their dirty looks. Abigail appears to tolerate you, but Mary Beth is the only other woman in camp actively throwing you a smile. The blonde - Mrs Adler - seems to hate you the most. If you get too close, her arms shake from clenching her fists so hard.

"Are you a real life O'Driscoll?"

Pulled from your thoughts, you find yourself eye to eye with the little boy who’s still sniffling after being sick a few weeks ago.

“How’d you mean?”

“Mama said Uncle Arthur brought another O’Driscoll back.”

You huff, uncomfortable of the gossip going around. “I was. I’m not now, though. I’m one of you now.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You look around for his mother but come up empty. “Because if I was, I’d still be tied to the tree.”

“But why?”

“Because the O’Driscolls and the Van der Lindes aren’t friends.”

“Why?”

You resist rolling your eyes and instead send a prayer up to the heavens, marking it as urgent before you throw this boy off the cliff. “Because Dutch wasn’t very nice to Colm, and when Colm wasn’t nice to Dutch, he didn’t like it, and they decided you had to be on one side or the other.”

“Which one are you?”

“I’m a Van der Linde now, like you.”

“But Mama said-”

“I mean, I live with you now. With Dutch. Not Colm.”

He thinks on that, and the moment’s reprise is heavenly. You begin to hum to yourself, but are quickly interrupted.

“Ma said you tricked Uncle Arthur.”

“Did she?” you ask, too tired to be disappointed.

“Yeah. She and him talked a long time when you came back.” He’s picking the bark of his branch, dropping splinters into your shoes. “Mama said you was bein’ sneaky, but Uncle Arthur told her to get lost.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Is it true you’re gonna have a baby?” he asks brightly,

“Hopefully…” He frowns, confusion dimpling between his eyebrows. You realise that he is still in a place of innocence that the world is black and white. You swallow a lungful of air, trying to think how best to explain. “Something could happen yet- things go wrong sometimes and-”

“What sorta things?”

You tuck your hair behind your ears, poking at your stitching, wondering where the hell his mother has got to. “Well, it might not grow properly yet. Usually ladies don’t tell anyone until a bit further along… if I get sick, or if the baby gets hurt it might not… you know. It might not make it to being outside my tummy.”

“When will you know?”

“When it gets here I suppose.” You look up at the boy’s thoughtful expression. “Why so many questions? You excited?”

“Yeah! Ima be an uncle!”

“You’re a little young to be an uncle, kid.” You can feel your mouth pulling into a smile despite yourself. “You’ll be cousins though, I guess. Your pa and Arthur are brothers, right?”

“Right! So this is gonna be my brother?”

You stifle a laugh of disbelief. “Well we don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet-”

“Do you got any brothers?”

“Jack! You playin’ hide and go seek again?”

“I’m here, Mama!”

Abigail rounds the tent, her expression darkening at the sight of you. You gulp, dropping your gaze back to your stitching, but the boy is already gushing about the new information you’ve taught him.

“Mama! She said she isn’t an O’Driscoll, so that means she can stay right?” He’s pulling on his mother’s skirts, pointing at you like you’re a bear behind bars. “I’m gonna be a big brother!”

“Maybe,” you remind him with a little more force than intended.

Her blue eyes flash with suspicion before the tug attracts her attention again. “Jack, honey, the baby’ll be a cousin to you. For you to be a big brother, me and your pa would have to have another one of you.”

“You can do that?”

She gapes, a fish out of water. It’s painful to watch.

“This baby can be your brother or sister,” you splutter, more to the mother than her son. “I mean, Arthur’s your pa’s big brother right? But they don’t have the same mom and dad so if you love them enough, I don’t see the harm.”

He’s looking up with his big eyes until Abigail offers you a half smile. “Right,” she confirms, crouching down and straightening his little coat. “You’re gonna be a big brother. Uncle Arthur’ll be mighty proud of you.”

“Can I go play?”

“Sure, Jack.” She watches as he runs off, dragging his stick behind him. Slowly she turns to you, arms folded across her chest. “He weren’t botherin’ you, was he?”

“No, no, of course not!” At least, he isn’t now.

“I- I’m sorry if he was bein’ nosy. It’s alright to tell him to butt outta your business if he gets a bit much. He heard me talkin’ with Arthur ‘bout it all-”

“Yeah he said,” you say as offhandedly as you can manage. You notice her teeth pulling on her lip out the corner of your eye, but you don’t react. Keep your hands clean, you tell yourself, tying a knot and cutting the thread. Keep your nose out. Wait for Arthur.

“How are you feelin’? About it all?”

You look up, surprised by her gentleness after the cold front that’s been hitting you on repeat from every member of camp. Exhaling thoughtfully, you shrug, not objecting as she pulls over a chair to sit down at the edge of the tent. “Alright, I guess. Gotta just… see what happens, I suppose.”

“That’s what Arthur said.” She offers you a small sympathetic smile. “He ain’t usually one for whistlin’, but he ain’t stopped since we got off them mountains. Thought it was the change of weather, but I suppose, looking back, it was meetin’ you.”

Colour blossoms in your cheeks as you look away. “I wouldn’t know. He hasn’t exactly been in the best of moods the past couple of weeks.”

“He’s pleased,” she assures you quietly, her eyes bright and earnest with honesty. “I think he’s just nervous like you are, that it might not work out, but I known him long enough to tell you I ain’t seen this side to him since Jack was first born.”

Your ears prick. “He isn’t-?”

“No! No, Jack is a Marston, I got no doubt at all about that. I just remember him bein’ real pleased when Jack was a baby. He- Being a father is something he- he’ll enjoy I’m sure.”

“I know about Isaac,” you breathe quietly and she lets out a big sigh of relief.

“Oh good! I was worried I’d said too much.”

“Don’t worry. He told me in the doctor’s when-” You shake your head of the memory. “Anyway. I know he’s not sure about it all.”

“He will be.” She gives you a sincere smile. “He’s a worrier, even if he tries not to show it. He’ll be better when it’s here, safe and sound. Anyways - I best leave you rest.”

“Sure.” You hesitate before calling out to her, making her turn back. “Thank you,” you call, not really sure how better to express yourself. She smiles and gives you a wave of understanding.

“I’ll see you around.”

#red dead fic #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x fem!reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #meowdymista #Arthur Morgan x O'Driscoll

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agent-hood · 5 years

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Support

@faegents

“You’re off your game today. Something is clearly on your mind.” Henry said, feigning disinterest as he drew another card from the draw pile.

“Yeah, who know I may even be so distracted that I’d let you win for once.” Parker joker, trying to deflect because yes- she did have something on her mind.

Her nightmares had been bad for the past few nights and she could feel a panic attack slowly building in the back of her mind, like a tsunami wave being held back by only a few rickety pieces of wood. Normally, just doing the exercises and methods Ivar had taught her was able to fix it enough to where she could distract away the rest with work or spending time with her family- but Ivar wasn’t here. And his absence made every effort... useless.

She wouldn’t say everything she was doing was useless, she loved her family too much for that, but it definitely felt hollow. Like there were too many pieces of the puzzle missing to enjoy the picture. Plus she was without her safety net- she had already had a meltdown before without him, months ago when she first learned of his accident. Kieran had only just been able to snap her back to this reality, but even that had been such a struggle for him. What if he wasn’t able to do it next time, what if he wasn’t around? She couldn’t ask anyone to take on the burdensome task of working through her ptsd to keep her grounded and functional- it was too much to ask, they were busy with their own lives and she had been dealing with this on her own for year. She should be able to handle it, she should be fine, she should-

“-ker? Hey Parker?! You okay? Do I need to call someone over?” Henry was calling, almost shouting as he reached over, hesitant to touch her but trying to get her attention.

“Wha- where am I?... Y-yeah... I’m, im okay.” She waved him away and rubbed at her eyes, hoping it would take away some of the tension. It only made things worse as tears now threatened to spill over.

“You’re not okay Parker, what’s going on?”

“No I’m fine I-... I’m not fine. I’m... it’s really really stupid but, I feel like I’m going to go away again and I should be able to handle this by now, but I can’t and I- I don’t know what to do.” She was fully crying now, face heated and wet with tears, she tried twisting it up in a futile attempt to staunch her crying but to no avail. At least she could say she tried.

“What do you mean? ‘Go away again’? Are you talking about the mind-witch? Because you killed her, she won’t ever-“

“No.” She interrupted, preferring not to think about that building full of smoke and dead bodies she and Ivar crawled out of, or how she held a knife to Henry’s throat, spitting those awful words at him as he knelt in front of her, sure that it was his moment to die (the same look she spared him for, because it looked so much like another set of familiar eyes as he told her around bruises ‘no it’s ok, I was just being a brat. He loves me really. He would never hurt me.’).

“No it’s... something that happened to me before I met you. I, uh, died... a lot.”

“What?! ...Were you brought back with necromancy or something?”

“No, uh, this was a lot more science-fiction than that. There was an accident and my consciousness was projected into multiple universes, right at the moment where I, or at least that world’s Parker would die. So I spent three months of my life, constantly dying.”

“That... sounds impossible but from what I hear your Roanoke regularly delves into that.”

“Yeah, yeah. This wasn’t them though, it was on a mission- some asshole built a reality warping gun and it misfired. Three million lived deaths later and I now can’t sleep at night and every few months or so I just completely lose my shit. So... sorry you had to see all this, I-... I shouldn’t be bringing all this negativity into your space while you’re dealing with your own shit. I promise I’ll have a better handle on myself next visit, yeah?”

Tentatively, like approaching a wounded animal (although who was what in that scenario could really be debated), Henry reached over and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. What was meant as a comforting embrace by someone who had only briefly heard of one.

It was perfect. Parker immediately shrunk in on herself, both to fit better into the hug and because she was so tired of even holding herself up. It was awkward and he didn’t know what exactly to do with his hands but it was a hug from her brother (a sign that he really was her brother), so it was perfect.

“I’m actually kind of glad I know about this now.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because now I know you can die and you do have a weakness that I can exploit.”

The laughter was sudden as it bubbled out of her, not expecting to find mirth in this moment but oh did she need it. She playfully, but gently, shoved him away- flashing the biggest grin and receiving his small, unsure one in return.

“You goon. If I wasn’t able to die the first three million times what makes you think you’d be able to do it?”

“As your brother I feel it’s my duty to try.”

#agent hood #the roanoke society #henry winslow #the things to come

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eyez-ff-blog · 7 years

Text

○○ eyez | forty-five

“You’re already getting huge, Nic. What has Ib been feeding you?” Beija chuckled a bit as she sat at her laptop, scrolling through her phone as she glanced up at the digital call. Nicole sat in her apartment as she rubbed her budding stomach, laughing a bit as she laid her head back against the pillows on her bed.

“Everything. He says he has to make sure the baby is strong. I think this is karma for all the times he teased Jermaine about being so protective. He won’t even let me get out of bed at times,” She shook her head.

“I told him laughing is catching, but he never listens,” Beija chuckled to herself before she pressed her lips together. “But how is everything? You are doing okay, right?”

“Yeah, I’m finally over the morning sickness and shit so now I’m just dealing with the body aches. It’s fun,” Nic chuckled at her own sarcasm before she ran a hand over her hair. “Oh! I saw the Fader interview—you guys looked amazing in those photos. I can’t wait until I have this baby already, because I need your diet,” She laughed.

“Girl, eat as best you can and exercise. When you’re chasing around your little one, you’ll shed those pounds,” Beija smiled a bit before she relaxed. “But speaking of little ones...Jermaine asked me about having another child,” She said.

“Oh...oh,” Nicole’s face seemed to soften in realization, and Beija issued a slow nod before sighing. “Well, what do you wanna do, love? You know it’s your final decision,” She reminded.

“I know. And I want to have more kids with him. That’s not the issue—I’m just scared. I really went through it when Janiya was born, and I’m afraid that it might happen again. I know I can’t control what happens in my womb for real, but it’s still frightening...sometimes I still think about it,” Beija huffed before she ran a hand through her hair. “What should I do, Nic? I just need a way to ease my mind, but I’m not sure what to do...”

“Well first, as I would tell your husband—calm down and don’t think too hard. Your mind can work against you sometimes,” Nicole began. “I won’t lie, I feel your fear. I think about it every day with my own baby. But I know that if I am doing the right thing, that’s all I can do. The body is a strange thing and doesn’t always do what we want to do. I just don’t want you to think that if something happens, it’s your fault. Not everything can be in our control,” She explained, and Beija nodded slowly.

“You’d think after years of hearing that, it would get through this head of mine. But I’m gonna think it over some more. He said if I don’t want to do it that way, there are other options. I’m sure we could either find a surrogate mother, or even adopt. There’s so much we can do...I just kinda feel bad because it’s not like I don’t want to give him more children. I’m just scared,” Beija admitted.

“And it’s okay to be scared! Just let youself feel. Then, come up with a game plan. I know you can do it, B. You always come up with a way to get it done,” Nic reassured her, and B smiled briefly.

“Thanks, Nic. I really appreciate it.”

“Mama!” Beija looked up as Janiya ran into the room, holding up a sheet of paper with a flurry of colorful scribbles. She held it out to Beija before holding up her arms, silently asking for a lift into the bed.

“Did you make this for me, baby?” Beija asked, and Niya nodded before the woman pulled the little girl into bed. “Well thank you! It’s beautiful,” She smiled before situating Niya upon her lap. “Look, it’s auntie Nicole.”

“Hi,” Niya waved at the camera.

“Hi sweetheart! Ugh, I swear she looks just like you, B. It’s so weird to see. Makes me wonder what mine is going to look like,” Nic laughed.

“Hopefully it won’t have Ib’s beady little eyes,” Nicole’s loud laugh in response only made Beija laugh even more.

“Leave my husband alone, okay? Remember, karma is a fickle thing—your next kid’s gonna get Jermaine’s big peepers,” Nic giggled as she shook her head.

“I hear y’all talking about me!” J’s voice could be heard before he walked into the bedroom.

“And they might get his big ol’ ears, too! Nosy self,” Nicole continued, just to further taunt her friend.

“Y’all be nice,” Beija giggled as he slid into the bed next to her. “But go ahead and get some rest, okay? I’ll talk to you later,” She said.

“Gotcha. See you later—bye J, bye Niy!” Nic waved.

“Alright, be ssafe,” J concluded before B hung up the call. “What were y’all gossiping about in here?” His question came off as a joke, watching as Niya crawled over into his lap.

“Same ol’ thing. Just laughing at how Ib has her damn near bed ridden already,” She laughed softly as she closed her laptop and sat it on the bedside table. “You guys were coloring?” She asked.

“Mhm. Did you show mama what you made?” J asked Niya, and she nodded as she pointed at the picture in Beija’s lap. “She’s getting good—I think we got an artist,” He watched as Niya continued to climb over his body. “Baby, what you doing?” He chuckled as he grabbed her, holding her up in the air as she started to laugh. “Spider monkey,” He teased.

“You got all her stuff packed for home?” She asked.

“Yeah—I just left her care stuff for you to do because you know that better than me,” He mumbled before he stuck his tongue out at Niya, who did it in return.

“Alright, well let me attend to that. That flight is early and we need to be in Charlotte on time,” Beija hopped out of bed before she walked towards the door. “And make sure you’re packed, too!” She called over her shoulder.

“Yes, woman. I got it,” J dramatically responded, and she rolled her eyes as she headed towards Niya’s room. She was sure he’d forget something, so she’d have to check to make sure he had all his stuff together later on.

July 4 – Houston, Texas

“Boo,” Niya pointed at the comfortable dress that Beija had laid out for her as they sat in her old bedroom, and she grabbed it before she tried to put it on. She didn’t get very far without it just sitting on top of her head.

“Wait a second,” Beija chuckled as she helped Niya into the loose fitting garment, nodding as she slipped on her socks and shoes. “There you go, pretty girl. We gonna go see your uncle now, you ready?” She asked, and Niya slowly climbed out of the bed before Beija stood up and picked her up off the ground.

The two headed downstairs to where the rest of the family were waiting. “Zo,” As soon as Niya saw Alonzo, she reached for the man—he took her into his arms before Beija shook her head.

“Yes, that’s uncle,” She responded before she shook her head, following him outside as they walked behind the rest of their family members. “Am I ever gonna get to hold my own baby?” She asked with a joking tone. It seemed like since she had arrived, Niya had been pretty much kidnapped by her brothers—out of all of them, though, Janiya had become very attached to Alonzo. She wasn’t surprised, since they had spent a lot of time together during the past wedding rehearsals.

“Probably not. Get over it, you get to have her the rest of the year,” Alonzo said softly before he chuckled to himself. “It’s payback anyway, since Logan has been fused to Jermaine since you two got here,” He nodded towards Logan, who had her uncle-in-law in a gridlocked discussion about which Marvel superhero was the best one.

“Fair enough, but I want her when we get there. If anyone is going to introduce her to Rashaad, it’s gonna be me.”

Beija, Jermaine, and Janiya rode with Alonzo, his wife, and Logan this year—the caravan seemed to be growing evermore, now that Kieran’s wife had finally had her baby, and Marquis’s fiancée had announced her pregnancy as well. By this time next year, the Demarco home would be filled with children again. Beija was almost certain that her parents loved the idea. But the accumulating members seemed to be seemed to almost be like a fruitless compensation for the loss. Shaad’s death was still felt; it would never not be felt. But it got a little easier as more family came about. They could lean on one another for support, because they knew that not every day would be easy. There were still days that Beija had her terrors, or days that seemed to drag without hearing her brother’s boisterous laugh or his smooth tones when he sang. It still felt eerie when Beija caught whiffs of the cologne Mekhi had given the boy when he turned 13; he swore he was the man back then, and would get all the girls. So many things still reminded her of the man he’d never get a chance to become, but maybe that was okay. He’d never have to experience the trials of life or the loss of innocence. He’d forever be as innocent as a child. When they arrived at the cemetery, everyone unloaded out of the car and visited the grave in groups as they always did. The last couple of times they had been home, Jermaine had gone to visit Shaad with her—he went alone this time, and she watched as he stayed there for a long while. When he returned, he seemed a bit more at peace when they arrived, but there was this layer of discomfort that she noticed; he didn’t like to deal with death or loss, even if it wasn’t his own. It was something he’d never tell her, but she picked up on it.

“Come on fatty. Let me introduce you to your uncle,” Beija pulled Niya out of the car seat, and the two of them walked together towards the grave. Beija was always the last to go for obvious reasons. Janiya tugged at Beija’s hand and pointed back at the cars in questioning. “No, baby. This is your other uncle.”

Once they arrived at the gravesite, Beija took a seat on the grass before she sat Niya on her lap. The grave was covered in relics, from fresh flowers to letters and cards that wouldn’t be opened. Every week, Mekhi came to the grave and took up the letters that middle school friends would leave behind, and take them home to Rashaad’s old room. He’d sit them within the drawer of Shaad’s desk for safe keeping.

“This is your uncle Rashaad,” Beija unlocked her phone and began to show Janiya old pictures of when she and Shaad were children.

“You?” Niya asked, pointing at the younger version of her mother. In that moment, Beija could see the striking resemblance between she and her daughter. Aside from the eyes that she inherited from Jermaine, the girl looked just like Beija.

“That’s me,” Beija laughed a bit as she scrolled through the pictures slowly. “Your uncle was so funny. He always joked around, and he loved to sing songs,” She explained. “You know what his favorite food was? Chicken,” She revealed.

“Kicken!” Niya bounced excitedly at the mention of the bird, and Beija laughed.

“Yeah! You like that too,” Beija kissed her daughter’s temple before she sighed. “He would have loved you to death, little girl. Y’all would have done nothing but annoy each other,” She laughed softly before she ran a hand over the cold cement of the tombstone. Her eyes welled with tears before she quickly blinked, feeling a few rolling down her face.

“No,” Niya whined, and she looked down as the girl frowned, reaching up to wipe her face.

“I know. Mommy shouldn’t cry. I’m okay, baby,” Beija chuckled as she noticed how concerned her child became, and she just knew it was a habit Janiya had picked up from her father. “Thank you. You’re so sweet,” She kissed the tip of her nose. “You wanna go now? We can eat when we get home and you can play outside,” Janiya heard the word ‘play,’ and the way she rose from Beija’s lap was all the confirmation the woman needed. Beija raised off of the ground before she took a deep breath, allowing the heavy press upon her chest to dissipate. “Come, say goodbye to uncle.”

“Bye-bye,” Janiya said softly, and she looked around in uncertainty of who she was bidding farewell to. Beija simply took the little girl’s hand and she walked with her back to the truck. Maybe this was something she feared more than a failed pregnancy—the loss of a sibling could cut so deep, and she wasn’t sure if she could put Janiya through the possibility. Maybe her mind was overworking itself; she had tried not to think about her constant back and forth about what she wanted to do about the desire for another child. She’d need more time to think, and that was for certain.

Once everyone returned to the house, the family took to the backyard to continue the rest of their festivities as they always did—Marquis took on the ‘job’ of playing with and watching over Logan and Janiya as Mekhi did his best to teach Jermaine some grilling skills. Beija and Alisha sat in the shade as they drank some wine coolers, talking casually.

“So mama...I was thinking,” Beija began, and Alisha glanced over in her direction to give her daughter full attention. “I wanted to do something...charitable. For Shaad’s memory,” She said. “I’ve been thinking about it for years, but I’m not sure how to start things off.”

“I think that would actually be a good idea,” Alisha agreed. “Me and Mekhi had been talking about possibly doing something, but we weren’t sure how you and the boys would feel. We know this is still pretty heavy...especially for you,” She said.

“Yeah. It still...it’s still a lot,” Beija ran a hand through her hair before she glanced up for a moment. “But I feel like this can help. If we can find a way to stop all this police violence crap, or at least slow it down—I will feel more at peace. Shaad deserved to live. But if he can’t do that, I want his name to live on instead,” She said.

“What ideas did you have, exactly?” Alisha asked.

“I want to make it a family thing. Maybe we start with a rally of some sort in the morning time. Something like a town hall where we sit down with officers and just...discuss, make a game plan, establish an understanding. We have to make these officers understand that our people aren’t criminals or villains. I want them to earn our trust again,” She began. “Then maybe, we could have a block party or festival type thing. Black owners can come and sell their wares: food, clothes, art, whatever it is. We can get local artists out here to give them exposure. Then towards the end of the day before the fireworks, we can release some red balloons for Shaad, and for any others like Shaad. Then whatever we charge for like...tickets, or whatever, can go to a certain charity. Maybe I can reach out to the Black Lives Matter organization...” She glanced over at Alisha before she bit into her lip. “I guess you can say I have been thinking about it a lot.”

“I can tell! But that actually sounds amazing, baby. I really like the idea,” Alisha smiled a bit as she sat up. “I think it can be done. If there’s anyone I know who can get a plan and execute it, it’s you,” She encouraged.

“I learned from the best,” Beija laughed softly before she nodded. “I think I’m gonna do it. That’s going to be my first big project. I’m excited now. I’m glad you’re being so supportive,” She smiled.

“Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a good cause, and it would make Shaad so happy. You know, he always did love being the guest of honor,” Alisha joked, and Beija let out a giggle before nodding in agreement. “I can’t wait to tell your father—he’s going to love it, too.”

“Baby!” Beija’s head shot up when she heard Jermaine’s excited tone, and she let out a loud laugh when he held up the plate as he approached her. “Taste this,” He seemed to glow as he spoke.

He sat the plate in front of her, and she noticed that it was a hamburger—he had even went as far as dressing it as she liked it. “Did you grill this?” She asked, and he nodded as he gazed at her in anticipation. She grabbed it and took a slow bite before she chewed slowly, and she furrowed her eyebrows slowly. “Baby...this is actually really good,” She complimented, and J’s smile melted her heart. He looked so childlike in his excitement and she couldn’t help but to be happy at his achievement.

“Pops seasoned the meat but I grilled it. I’m learning,” He proudly announced.

“You are! I’m proud of you, papa—now come get the prize,” She poked her lips out, and he chuckled as he leaned down and stole a kiss from her lips. “Go learn some more. Earn your right for me to make your plate later,” She chuckled.

“Wait until I learn the chicken. That’s all we’re having at home!” He called over his shoulder, and Beija laughed softly to herself before she took another bite of her burger.

“That boy is something else—you two are something else,” Alisha laughed, and Beija raised her eyebrows as she took a sip of her wine cooler. “It’s just so refreshing to see you so in love. It’s the cutest thing,” She teased.

“You tease me about this all the time,” Beija groaned as her mother laughed once more. “I still can’t believe you thought I was a lesbian. That blew me; imagine being 20 years old and having your mother give you that talk. It’s almost worse than the birds and bees one,” She remembered the conversation like it was yesterday. She was so appalled she laughed right in her mother’s face about it at the time.

“What? I mean, I would have loved you just the same if you were. I just thought maybe men didn’t interest you. You seemed so wrapped up in school and everything that I began to wonder. You’ve always been like that, too. So I thought I was missing something,” Alisha explained.

“Nope—I just wanted my life to be together before I relinquished my power to a man, mom. You taught me that,” Beija chuckled. “We’d be talking to each other in a way different setting if I had chased guys instead of trying to make sure my life was right. Imagine that; I would have never met Jermaine if so,” She said.

“Hm, that’s true. Maybe you would have been with that boy you dated...what was his name...Andre. Andre Bordeaux,” Alisha had a sharp memory, and Beija sometimes hated that. The woman could remember damn near everything Beija wanted to forget. “Whatever happened to him? He was such a nice boy.”

“That nice boy became a little pea brain after I gave him my virginity,” Beija rolled her eyes before taking another bite of the burger she was given. She shielded her mouth as she chewed, continuing her dishing. “Swore he was hot stuff—that’s why I dropped him. And good thing too; Lauren told me he’s on kid number four...with baby mom number three,” She explained.

“Oh...oh my,” Alisha started to laugh a bit. “Well I guess things happen for a reason. But I’m glad you did what you had to do. It makes me happy to know what I taught you was applied,” She paused before she mumbled. “Four kids...I’m still trying to wrap my head around the grandkids I have now. I don’t know if that many all at once would be that fun,” She chuckled.

“Probably not. But speaking of grandkids...I have been considering giving you another,” Beija said, and Alisha glanced over at her curiously.

“But?”

“You know what ‘but,’ ma. I’m terrified of going down that route again.”

“Well,” Alisha nodded. “I don’t want you to do anything on account of me, but I want you to at least go to a doctor, figure out what things will help you. I know you, you’re going to want a big family. So go get the information you need before you proceed,” She said.

“Yeah, that’s what my friend Nicole told me—then she told me to breathe and that I can’t control everything,” Beija let out a small huff. “Tch. Says who? I mean, I’m sure there’s a way I can ensure a healthy term and delivery, huh?”

“Not entirely, no,” Alisha said with a small chuckle. “You are bullheaded like your father, and it never fails to amuse me. You are not always going to have complete control, baby. Sometimes you gotta let God lead you. Not everything is the devil trying to harm you, but it’s God trying to teach you something,” She explained. “Just trust Him. Trust yourself, B...”

Beija nodded slowly before she watched Marquis roll around in the grass with the girls, and her eyes stayed transfixed on Janiya, who proceeded to climb all over him. She was the product of Beija not having control, ad she had to wonder if maybe, not having the steering wheel all the time was so bad.

#j cole fanfic #j cole fanfiction #j. cole fanfic #j. cole fanfiction #j. cole ff

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