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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xiv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | chapter summary: The final chapter pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 9.2k (I love being insane) chapter warnings: SMUT (18+only) - unprotected sex. Insecurity/Jealousy. Angst/arguments. Discussions of death, blood and injuries. Alcohol & Marijuana use. Fluff. Bisexual reader (happy pride ya'll!). As always please dm for more specifics. a/n: This could probs use another round of proofreading but it would've delayed this even longer sooooo.... Here we go! I feel pretty emo right now and I might make a more in-depth post about my thoughts at a later date bc I just finished writing this in a hot daze so I can't put all my thoughts coherently together. But I just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported and gave love to this story. This is by far the most popular fic I've ever written, and I don't really know how? Or what I did to deserve all the love but I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for sticking with me through all the angst and delayed updates and everything. I'll never forget you and I'll never forget Joel x Reader!! Thank you so much, I hope the finale lives up to your expectations! ❤️

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I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize I seem to lean on old familiar ways….

-May 16, 2024-

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave you here alone?”

Ethan’s voice jolts you out of a daze, and you blink your eyes open, realizing that you’d dozed off while sitting upright in a patio chair, the cheesy romance novel you’d been reading still lying open on your lap. Turning to look over your shoulder, you find him standing with one foot on the deck, and one foot still inside, cut in half by the sliding glass door.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and nod. “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan studies you carefully, like he’s not entirely convinced. He’s been hesitant to leave you alone unless it’s absolutely necessary – only stepping away from the house to go on patrol shifts and to bring home meals from the mess hall. Recovery has made you feel like a burden to him – to all your friends in the community, really. Everyone….well, almost everyone, has been supportive, but you’ve never been comfortable being openly vulnerable.

Unfortunately, it’s too hard to deny the pain that you’ve been in since the accident, the trouble you have getting around, the exhaustion that clings no matter how many long naps and twelve-hour nights of sleep you get. According to the doctors, being so tired is just part of recovery – rest is important, but the concoction of pain medication you’ve been prescribed only makes your drowsiness and confusion worse. It had been a big deal that tonight you’d mustered the energy to drag yourself outside to sit in the fresh air.

“I’m fine,” you assure Ethan, once again. “Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not really a date,” he says, almost a little too quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” you say, matter-of-factly. “Do I know who this person is?”

Ethan looks at his feet. “You remember the day this shit happened?” he asks, gesturing towards you. “Before you left on patrol, the girl that said hi to me? It’s her. Her name is Alex.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, give him a small smile. “She was cute. How’d you ask her out?”

“Well,” he begins, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have…uh, gotten some advice.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?” you’re able to muster up a small smile.

“I would’ve, I just…..” he shakes his head. “It seemed stupid…with everything you have going on.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, feeling a wave of guilt. Even though he’s the one looking after you, you haven’t spoken to him much about anything going on in his life. In fact, you haven’t really spoken to anyone in a long time, beyond thank you’s and blanket statements like I’m doing better. You feel disconnected, and more lonely than ever. If you ever get enough energy to leave your house, you expect most of the people in the community to have forgotten you exist. “Who’d you ask?”

“Uhm….” Ethan runs a hand through his long dark hair, shifts his weight. “….I’ve been assigned on patrol with Joel Miller a lot lately….so….”

You almost laugh when he uses Joel’s full name. Joel has been such a huge part of your life – sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain – that you don’t need to hear his last name to know who Ethan’s talking about. You could know a thousand Joel’s, and he’d still be the first person that came to mind. But Joel is still a sore subject, and Ethan knows it, which is why you suspect he’s avoided telling you this in the first place. You feel your eyebrows knit together, only able to let out an unenthused. “Oh.”

“I just, you know….he’s a guy. And it sounds like you even liked him at one point so….he must know something, right?”

“That was a long time ago,” you say quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s right.

It’s probably not fair to blame Joel for everything that has happened to you. You know this, deep down. But you’ve been so helpless and isolated since you’ve woken up in that hospital bed that you’re desperate to find someone to hold accountable. And Joel hadn’t visited you in the hospital once. By this point, he’s abandoned you so many times that your resentment feels justified, even if your current state is not directly his fault. Because it was you, after all, who had walked into the path of those men, too angry to think clearly, too weak to take them down alone. The only person you can blame is yourself, and you really don’t want to.

“Did he tell you to take her out on patrol, make her cry, and almost get her killed?”

Ethan clicks his tongue, looks down, almost ashamed. “No. He did not.”

“You should be careful with Joel,” you warn.

“I was…” Ethan says. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he’s actually alright.”

“So you’re friends with him now,” you state, hoping he refutes. But instead, he looks up at you, frowns, and lifts his chin.

“What happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened. And yeah, maybe you think he’s the reason you almost died…. I don’t know the specifics so you can believe whatever you want. But I know that he’s the reason you’re still alive.” Ethan’s voice breaks, and you feel tears brimming your eyes before he continues. “He brought you back here, he donated his blood, he-”

“What?” you cut him off.

“What do you mean, what?” Ethan asks. “He was the only person there who had your blood type. You would’ve died if he didn’t. They didn’t tell you this?”

“Whatever it took to make him feel less guilty, sounds like,” you say, dismissively.

Something hot burns in your veins, something that must have always been there since you woke up, but you’re only feeling it now. It’s unsettling, Joel being a part of you that way. Your lives had already seemed intertwined enough already. But now, he’s inescapable.

“Well, he stayed by your side every night while you were asleep. Fuck, I mean, he was probably there just as often as I was. He made sure I ate, and slept and showered and… and he never once asked for anything in return. He cares about you as much as I do, clearly, so I don’t think it’s wrong to think he’s a good guy….”

You must not care about me that much, you want to say, but you stop yourself. Because it’s not true, and you’d only be saying it to hurt him. You have nothing to defend yourself with, no way to convince him otherwise, and so you just stare at him until he shakes his head and slips back inside.

Ethan is stubborn, he always has been. And it’s a special kind of stubbornness, fueled by anger – so common in most of the young people you meet these days. You understand why they’re all like this. When you’re robbed of your childhood – you get stuck there….waiting….. Like someday you’ll have a chance to do it all over again, regardless of how obvious it is that you won’t.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 25, 2024-

Things get better, albeit slowly. You begin to wean off the pain medication, which makes you more alert. It’s still difficult to leave your house, but you can move around it more easily, and you don’t spend all your days sleeping. Luckily, you aren’t as stir-crazy as you’d been expecting.

One afternoon, Ellie Williams shows up on your doorstep with a bag full of groceries.

“Maria wanted me to bring these to you,” she says when you open the door. “She told me to tell you she’ll be over tomorrow, but she wanted me to give you these to tide you over.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for bringing them to me,” you try to take the bag from her hands, but she steps back just a little, like she’s unsure if you should be carrying anything. You let your hands drop to your sides. “Would you like to come in?”

Ellie hesitates for a split second, adjusting the bag in her arms, and then nods. “Sure.”

Stepping to the side, you allow her into the home. Because of how warm it is outside, you’ve opened all the windows to let the breeze through.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say, Ellie following you into the living room. There are stacks of books and pill bottles with instructions scattered on your countertop. You haven’t swept the floors in awhile and all the hard surfaces are covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s not really that bad, but you don’t have the energy or strength to be on your feet for long – let alone to clean the house.

“I don’t mind,” Ellie says. “It’s not even that bad. I don’t know why older people worry about leaving your house messy and shit….no offense.”

“There was a time it used to matter,” you tell her. “And I see where you’re coming from, but my thing is – if you’re going to live somewhere, you should do what you can to make yourself feel comfortable.”

Ellie purses her lips, as if you’ve made a good point but she doesn’t know how to answer. Instead, you continue. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“No, I’m okay,” she puts the bag on your kitchen counter.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you tell her. “I just need a moment to put these away.”

When you walk into your living room a few minutes later, she’s hovering near your record player, looking through the vinyls. The turntable was already in the house when you’d arrived years ago, but it was buried in the closet and broken. Ethan had managed to fix it after a little troubleshooting and scavenging for parts. Now, you both were always looking for records to bring home, and had amassed quite the eclectic collection – jazz, funk, hip-hop, and everything in between.

“Wow,” Ellie says, running her fingers along the shelved records. “You found all these?”

“Some of them were already here. But yeah. Ethan and I are always on the lookout on patrol. I can play you something. What do you like?”

“Eighties, I think,” she says. “But…I also haven’t heard as much.”

“Well here,” you thumb through the records, pull out a worn copy of Speaking In Tongues. “How about some Talking Heads?”

You pass the record over to her, and she stares at you blankly. It’s only then that you realize — she’s never used a record player before. There’s a familiar pang of sadness before you show her how.

“Are you feeling better?” Ellie eyes you wearily once the music starts, and you settle onto the couch, feeling a little worn out after being on your feet.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m older now, so it seems like healing takes a lot more time.”

Ellie nods, then bobs her head to the music a little. “This is better than most of the stuff Joel likes.”

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, and instinctually, you recall his enthusiasm for all things old-school country. “I remember that,” you say softly.

With so much time on your hands lately, you’ve found yourself thinking of Joel a lot, reminiscing on the time you’d spent with him and Sarah. What Ethan had told you about him staying by your side was definitely making you reconsider your assessment of him, even if you were still hesitant. It was probably a trap to think you’d ever be able to feel those things with him again, but if remembering them brought you comfort, you weren’t going to resist it.

“You’re more than welcome to come over to listen anytime,” you offer, and she nods excitedly.

Ellie stays for longer than you expect. You talk a fair bit. She tells you about what she’s learning in school – but mostly how ‘fucking useless’ it is. She wanders around your living room and pokes through your stuff without asking, but you don’t think to stop her – you just answer her questions and let her be curious.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and she excuses herself to go home, insisting that Joel will ‘fucking kill her’ if she’s out too late. Even though you’re exhausted after entertaining her for a few hours, you find it feels nice. Being on house arrest, essentially, had left your starved for connection outside Maria and Ethan.

You see her out the door before returning to your refrigerator to look for something to eat. Ethan will be back from patrol any minute, so it may be nice to make him something even if you have almost no energy.

But when there’s another knock on your front door, you’re shocked to see who you find staring on your porch.

Joel.

You almost forget to speak at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since your accident and he might as well have moved away from Jackson since you hadn’t seen him at all.

“Hey,” you say, tentatively, taking him in. He seems preoccupied – cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, and out of breath, like he had run all the way to get here.

“Have you seen Ellie?” he asks, not even greeting you in return. “I’ve looked everywhere and I-

“You just missed her,” you cut him off, not because you’re trying to dismiss him, but because he's clearly distressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her on your way over.”

Joel sighs, eyes closing in relief. “Thank God.” For a second, you glimpse the frazzled and overworked father you used to know. “She stayed out too late, had me worried sick.”

“She’s fine,” you say. “Although she did say you might kill her if she didn’t get home soon.”

Joel gives you an almost imperceptible smile, but seems mostly irritated by Ellie’s suggestion. “I would do no such thing.” He shakes his head and takes two steps backwards. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to be a bother.”

Your mind floats to a memory of Joel on your front porch, late getting home from work and looking for Sarah, and you can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and longing for a simpler time, a surge of affection.

Joel is halfway down your front porch steps when you speak again. “You aren’t bothering me.”

He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, and you step outside, letting the door fall shut behind you and remaining huddled against the siding, and he turns to face you fully, sighing. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, actually….”

“Oh…really?” you can’t keep the surprise from your voice, and he notices.

“Yeah,” Joel rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit of his you know all too well. “Yeah. I- well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You’re so startled by the words you can’t answer right away. But the split second of hesitation causes Joel to continue, looking to fill the empty space.

“I’ve been waiting to find the right thing to say….but it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. I’m not even sure I know where to start.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage, still taken aback. The only thing that doesn’t surprise you about his admission is the sincerity. You could say a lot of things about Joel, but he isn’t a liar. He always tells the truth. Maybe it’s why he pulled away from you to begin with. It’s easier than the alternative – spending time with you, which would force him to be honest. For how much you’ve changed, you’d probably do the same.

But the thing with Joel is that you’re exhausted. You’re tired of the back and forth, of the push and pull, of the constant struggle to hold your care over each other's head, hoping the other will break first. Maybe this is a fresh start.

You step closer to him, and you see him study the way you move. Of course, you’re trying to look strong, but he can surely sense the weakness. He’d always been good at that, better than any of the others. Your hand comes to rest on the porch railing for support.

But…..

There’s that voice in the back of your head, the one that tells you this is a mistake. The one that reminds of the pain you’ve often earned through vulnerability. It likes to think it’s served you, protected you, and it has. But it’s not always right.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, too,” you say. “At the very least I should thank you for what you did.”

Joel shakes his head, dismissively, but looks to where your hand rests on the porch railing, looks back up to you as he reaches out. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

His hand clasps over yours, and to anyone else, this might be nothing. It’s so innocent, unassuming. But the effect it has on you is palpable. He squeezes once, and you flip your hand over, squeezing his back, giving him a gentle smile. “I am too.”

Joel’s eyes fill with a warmth you haven’t seen in twenty years, and your stomach flutters, your heart races. A part of yourself that you’d considered long dead seems to rouse.“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I told Ellie we’d go to the mess hall together,” Joel says. “Otherwise I would.”

You blink once, and Joel sees it, immediately continuing on. “But maybe Ellie and I can come another time, join you and Ethan?”

“Yeah. He’d like that,” you say. “That might be nice.” ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 20, 2024-

You think that at the end of a long winter, bears must hate coming out of hibernation.

It must suck. They spend months sleeping, doing almost nothing, and then suddenly they’re forced to function again – to hunt, to eat, to roam, to survive and socialize. You imagine there has to be a learning curve, a desire to crawl back into their den and never leave again.

Or maybe you could be wrong, and they love it. And you’re just a wimp who hates feeling uncomfortable.

All you know is that you’re huddled in the back corner of the Tipsy Bison, nursing a whiskey – and it’s the last place you want to be.

You’re overwhelmed.

And despite the fact that you regularly used to attend community events, it’s been so long since you've been out in Jackson that you feel like you don’t belong. To some extent, you’ve always felt this – too hardened by the outside world to fully assimilate, especially when the town throws dances. But in the past, you at least attempted to convince yourself otherwise.

Two weeks back, the doctors had cleared you to go about your daily activities as normal – within reason, of course – but you hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. Tonight, Ethan had accused you of becoming ‘antisocial’ and ‘reclusive’. You had agreed to attend – but only to beat those allegations. So far, you are definitely not.

You scan the crowd, taking in the people spinning around the dance floor. Some of the women are wearing dresses. You can’t help but feel a little envious of how easily they’re able to perform femininity, which is something you’d given up on a while ago. It hadn’t exactly served you before arriving in Jackson, and you predict it would be humiliating to start trying now. After all the things you’d experienced, you were left marred with scars and wrinkles, stretch marks and loose skin. Since then, you’ve remained loyal to the combination of men’s denim and tank tops with flannel-button downs overtop.

It doesn’t always stop the men in the community from descending like vultures. You might be the last pick – there are plenty others who are younger and prettier – but you’re still an option. Bea, your old partner, had always theorized that some men were particularly drawn to sapphic women, that it was ‘the ultimate challenge’. Maybe there is some truth to her theory, but you like men….sometimes. So there is always a part of you that yearns for their validation, for as many times as you tell yourself you don’t want it. But it never feels good to get it after you’ve watched them exhaust all their other options.

It’s pathetic, but it makes you think of Joel. He and Ellie had been over to yours and Ethans last week for a nice dinner, and you had tried to gauge whether there was any romantic connection between you still. Occasionally, you’d caught him looking at you with a wistful smile, but he could have been lost in thought. It’s not like you needed that from him or anything, but it might be useful information. After all this time, Joel is still so handsome, and probably has an impressive selection of potential partners here in Jackson – women of all ages. You hope he’s not here tonight – you can’t see much besides the dance floor at this point – because the thought of him cozied up to anyone here, combined with the acrid taste of the drink in your hand, makes you want to gag.

You take another look around the room. Eugene, your partner in crime – quite literally – is walking towards you, which helps quell your spiraling mind . If you talk to him, say hello to Tommy and Maria, maybe Ethan will see the effort you’re making and you can sneak out without having to deal with anyone. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot. The sooner you can get home tonight, the better.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel can’t stop staring.

He knows it’s impolite. He knows that he’s not being subtle. He knows that if any other person in this bar followed his eyeline, they’d pick up on what he was doing in an instant. But every minute he doesn’t get called out for it, he becomes more and more emboldened.

It’s the first dance he’s ever been to in Jackson, and the only reason he’s here is to placate Ellie and Tommy. But even they have abandoned him in favor of better companions – his brother is deep in conversation with Maria, sitting across from him in a booth, and Ellie is out on the dance floor dancing with one of her new friends, Dina.

Joel just can’t help himself. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but he can’t shake the feeling of a soft hand clasped within his own – the first time he’d felt any semblance of hope since arriving here. Tommy and Maria had already slyly let him know about all the women who were interested, but he couldn’t bring himself to entertain their advances. There’s only one he wants, and she won’t even look in his direction.

When he’d first noticed you, you were whispering with Eugene on the opposite side of the dance floor. According to Tommy, you spend a fair bit of your time with the old man, which Joel initially thought to mean that you had some sort of entanglement. At first, Joel thought that couldn’t be possible. But you were deep in focus as you listened to Eugene’s words, nodding and leaning in closer and closer, and Joel thinks Tommy might be right. He wants to understand what you see in this man – tall and unkempt, covered in tattoos with long, graying hair and a beard to match. But Joel catches himself in his judgment, he’s probably just as unappealing – not just because of how he’s aged, but because of how horrible he’s been to you in general.

The next time Joel sees you, you’re at the bar, chatting with a man who Maria had introduced him to not long ago, a resident who is new in town. Joel had been too busy focusing on the fact that he’d been in Jackson long enough to not be its newest resident that he couldn’t remember his name. He wishes he had, so he could keep tabs on him. Of course, he can’t blame the man for being drawn to you – Joel knows very well that you’re hard to miss in a crowd.

Still, Joel bristles when you both step away from the bar, and the man’s hand lands just above your sacrum. He actually finds himself tensing up, resisting the urge to intervene, because it’d likely only make you angry. Plus, maybe you are interested. That question is answered quickly when you reach behind your to clasp the man's hand and place it back at his side. Where it belongs, he thinks.

“Joel!”

He snaps his attention to what’s in front of him – interrupted, and probably for good measure, lest he get himself too worked up. Ethan approaches with a girl his age, her arm linked through his. Joel stands to greet them.

The terse understanding between himself and Ethan while you were still in the hospital had somehow turned into a friendship, especially after they’d begun getting paired up on patrol. Ethan reaches out for Joel’s hand to dap him up, slinging an arm briefly over his shoulder.

“How’s it going, kid?”

“Good, good,” Ethan nods, pulling back, and gestures to the girl next to him. “Joel, this is Alex.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Ethan’s told me all about you.”

“Really?” Joel asks, feeling a little bewildered.

“Only good things,” Alex says quickly, as if she senses his apprehension. Ethan puts his arm around her waist. Joel recalls a few weeks back when he’d asked for advice on how to ask out a girl. Joel hadn’t pried at the time, but now he seems to understand, and is surprised by the swell of pride he feels. “Ethan says you’re a fucking badass,”she giggles after she swears.

Joel looks over at Ethan. “I don’t know about that.”

He shrugs, changes the subject. “Since when do you come to these things?” Ethan asks.

“Ellie dragged me out,” Joel answers.

“I did the same with my aunt,” Ethan chuckles. “But now I can’t find her, and I’m pretty sure she’s escaped.”

“Oh, is she here?” Joel plays dumb, like he hasn’t been aware of exactly where you have been all night. “I haven’t seen her.”

“I think she was with Eugene earlier,” Alex has to stand on her toes to speak into Ethan’s ear. Joel watches Ethan’s nose wrinkle.

“Do you know Eugene at all?” Ethan turns to Joel. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on there, but she won’t say anything.”

Joel wishes that he had more information. “Tommy says they seem close.”

“I know that,” Ethan says. “I wish she would just be honest with me. It’s not like I would be mad. Whatever,” he shakes his head. “We can talk about it another time. I just want to find her so I can introduce her to Alex.”

“We should say hi to Tommy and Maria first,” Alex says, and Ethan nods in agreement before saying goodbye to him. Joel claps a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he moves past him, and Alex gives him a shy smile in acknowledgement.

Focusing back on the crowd, Joel realizes that you’ve vanished in the short span of his last interaction. Maybe you’d rejected that guy, and then he’d retaliated. Maybe you’d gone home with Eugene. Joel shakes his hand. It’s none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved. It’s not his job to look after you, regardless of how much better he feels when he does. Old instincts. He can’t help himself.

He settles on watching Ellie and Dina spin each other around on the dance floor. Eventually, Tommy and Maria, then Ethan and Alex all trickle out of the booth to go get another round or head to dance. Joel stands to release the booth to someone who actually needs it – and is left in the corner, nursing a nearly empty beer that’s now flat and warm. He looks towards his family and friends, but for some reason, he still feels alone.

Joel isn’t sure how long he stands sulking, but he starts when someone approaches from behind.

“Having fun?”

You’re a pace or two back, one thumb hooked through a belt loop, a whiskey in your opposite hand. Joel looks back at the crowd a moment, then at the ground. “No.”

“Neither am I,” you commiserate, stepping alongside him.

Joel considers offering that Ethan was looking for you, but selfishly does not want to give you a reason to leave, so he stays quiet. You observe the dance floor like he is, smiling slightly at the sight of Ethan and Alex dancing. The flannel you’re wearing over a gray tank hangs loosely off one shoulder, and Joel wants to reach out and touch the exposed skin. You take your last sip of whiskey, bring a finger to swipe under your bottom lip, and Joel wishes he knew what you might taste like right now. He scolds himself for fantasizing.

You don’t speak either, and you stand in silence for a while, until you eventually pop your hip, shifting closer to him. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re already standing so close that your arm gets pressed up against his. Neither of you acknowledge the contact, but Joel is acutely aware of how your skin burns hot against his own. He feels comforted by the affection, even if it’s unintentional.

“Want to leave?” Joel asks, and can hardly believe that the words came out of his mouth, even if he wanted them to.

You look over at him, not bothering to hide your surprise, but your expression evens out quickly, and you give him a single nod. “Yeah.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s still not convinced this is real. It feels too much like a dream, the weather outside is so pleasantly warm it feels like he’s floating as you walk down the street. He had never expected you to agree to leave with him, and now he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say.

The greater distance you put between yourselves and the bar, the quieter the town is. Most of Jackson’s residents are at the dance, save for the guards at the front gate and the handful of people that had been mingling just outside.

He heads in the general direction of the neighborhood, even though he lives on a different street.

“What are we supposed to do now?” you wonder out loud, and you sound a little incredulous, like you’re equally as shocked to find yourself beside him. The question carries a bit more weight than it would have coming from anyone else.

Joel contemplates. He’s not sure what he wants from you – there are a lot of things, actually – but he doesn’t know if he really deserves any of them. For now, your companionship is more than enough.

“You’re welcome to come back to mine,” he offers. “But if you’re looking to keep drinking, all the booze is back at the bar.”

“I’m good.” You shake your head like you’re uninterested, but look over at him with a sparkle in your eye. “I have something better….”

You reach into the pocket of your flannel and produce a rolled joint between two fingers, looking over your shoulder. “Those dances are usually terrible, so I always come prepared.”

Joel can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and the sheepish grin he gets in return makes his cheeks feel warm. “Where’d you even get that?”

“You’ve never been on patrol with Eugene, have you?” you ask. “He has a place just out of town where he grows it. I’ve been helping him since we first got paired up, and in exchange, I get to sample the supply.”

Of course. Joel would’ve never imagined that was the reason you were so close with Eugene, but it suddenly makes incredible sense. He shakes his head in a combination of relief and amusement. “You really haven’t changed.”

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” you answer, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground. “But of course I haven’t shaken all my bad habits.”

“That’s not true,” Joel mutters.

“Well, you haven’t changed either, for as much as you’ve tried to convince me,” you nudge him gently, offering him the joint. “What do you think?”

Joel plucks it from between your fingers and puts it between his lips. “I think I have a lighter at home.”

“Sounds perfect.”

In the front hallway of his house, you slip out of your tennis shoes, shuffling behind him in your socks, pausing occasionally to study some of the doodles that Ellie had drawn and hung on the walls – it wasn’t exactly a priority to decorate these days, but they certainly livened up the place. He knows how much Ellie likes you, despite the fact that she doesn’t gush, but the odd comment here and there says as much. Joel remembers how difficult it had been to keep Sarah away, and Ellie now is no different. He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, either.

You sit next to Joel on his wicker couch, curling your feet up under you as he lights the joint and study him while he takes the first few puffs. He does it without thinking. That’s how soft Jackson has made him. Normally, he’d be too stressed about being out of his wits. But he can’t see how hypervigilance has served him since settling down. He feels safe here, and somehow especially because he’s with you.

When he passes the joint your way, you look at him wistfully. “Old times,” you say with a grin.

Joel nods as he exhales, coughing. “Old times.”

“Oh yeah,” you say, as if you just remembered something. “You can’t tell Ethan about this. He doesn’t know, and he will give me shit about it. I need him to take me seriously.”

Joel shakes his head. “Well, you know, it sounds like he and Tommy both think you and Eugene are together.”

“What?” your head jerks forward in shock, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, no. Do people think that?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel wants to mention how he had seen you whispering to each other at the bar earlier, but then realizes it’d give a bit too much away. “That’s what they think.”

“Well....historically speaking I might’ve liked older men…. but not that old.”

Joel purses his lips. “You’ve lived here awhile, huh?” When you nod, he continues. “Has no one caught your eye?”

“Uhm….not really. But….” you trail off, looking into Joel’s backyard. “To be completely honest, I don't think about that much these days. I guess I feel like I have a lot to be grateful for. I don’t want to push it.”

Joel understands, and nods pensively.

“What about you?” you ask.

“I guess I feel the same.”

That causes you to smile a little bit, look over at him. “I bet you already know this. But the women here would line up down the block for you.”

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes, though he wonders if you would, too. Even if you did like him, that didn’t seem like your style.

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the things they whisper behind your back. All their fantasies about you are pretty creative...”

“Fantasies?” He grimaces. He imagines none of them know anything about who he really is. You’re the closest thing, and all he’s done is hurt you. “I’m sure you were quick to set them straight.”

“I don’t say anything,” you say, then continue on, a little quieter, looking at him from under your lashes. “I like to keep you to myself.”

Joel isn’t sure how to respond to that. You have every right to tell all of them that you were once together, and all the ways he’s hurt you since. Yet for some reason, you’ve chosen to protect him.

“So….all this time….” you wonder. “You had to have been with other people, right?”

Joel doesn’t think to hold back. “I had a partner for a long time. Tess. First, it was all business, I helped her smuggle things in and out of the Boston QZ…and then, I don’t know….we got along, we trusted each other and…” Joel trails off, hoping you’d put together the rest before he has to go into too much detail. “She was real fuckin’ tough. Scared me a little at first. You would’ve liked her.”

“Well, we already have one thing in common. What happened?”

“She’s the whole reason I ended up out here….with Ellie,” Joel explains. “But I lost her a little over a year ago.”

He hopes you don’t ask how. Maybe someday he’d be willing to go into detail, but talking about it generally is hard enough as it is. But fortunately, you seem to pick up on his hesitance. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. To her. I should've....after Sarah died I didn’t want to get attached, so I kept her at arms length and I... I wished I hadn’t in the end. It only made things worse.”

“Yeah,” you nod, look down. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Joel doesn’t want to linger any longer on the memory. “What about you? Were you with anyone?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you fidget, looking uncomfortable. “I had a partner….for like ten years."

Ten years? He had been with Tess for more, but something about that information feels jarring. He’s shocked Tommy never told him this. Did Tommy even know? Suddenly, it dawns on Joel everything that could’ve happened to you since you’ve been apart. Entire lifetimes. And he’d said such horrible things when you’d fought. He remembers your face when he’d told you that you didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. Maybe you had. He’d been so cruel and inconsiderate just because he was uncomfortable.

His throat feels tight, almost scared to learn anymore. “What…what was his name?”

“Well, Bea….was her name.”

Joel is sure he doesn't hide the shock well. “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I did either. Well, I sort of did, but I was too young I think when I first realized to make any sense of it, but…. I met her and…yeah,” then, you smirk. “I mean, I went to an all-girls school and I had a really bad relationship with my dad so…it definitely makes sense. ”

Joel considers this, smiles along with you. “But anyways. Her and I met shortly after my brother died and it was kind of the same. We kept each other alive, things developed from there. We ended up getting involved with this group who lived in the middle of nowhere. That’s a whole other story, but…” you wave your hand. “I loved her, and I lost her right before Ethan and I got here.”

Joel sees all the pain in your eyes, and wishes he could say something to take it all away. He knows he can’t. You look back out into the woods in his backyard, take a deep breath, and reach back towards the joint that you had put out not long before, lighting it again. Joel gets the sense that both of you had done the most amount of sharing possible for the time being.

“Look at us,” you take another drag before passing it over. “Old times.”

“Old times,” he repeats, a smile working its way onto his face.

“This used to be my favorite thing to do with you.”

“It was nice,” Joel agrees….hesitates before continuing. “But I can think of some things I liked better.” He gives you a knowing look, and you roll your eyes, laughing easily at his joke. It feels so good to make you laugh, to see you smile. Why had he spent so much time resisting?

“Touche.”

What happens next spills out of Joel so quickly he doesn’t think to stop it. “I tried to look for you….after all this happened. I didn’t have Sarah anymore, and I thought maybe….I don’t know. It was the only thing that kept me going for a while.”

“I did too,” you confess. “But…I was with Vincent and Ethan, and I felt like I couldn’t leave them alone for something that might just be…. I always hoped you both made it. And I’m so sorry she’s gone. I really did love her.”

“I know you did,” Joel reaches out to take your hand. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I’m still not sure why you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” you shift so that you’re closer to him. “You waited around for me back then. It’s only fair that I’d wait around for you now. I want you in my life. I don’t care what that looks like. But it’s too hard to forget about a person that you loved.”

Joel wants as much from you as you’re willing to give, and he can’t tear his gaze away from you. But he wants you to see him, all of him, before he takes it.

“I’ve let a lot of people down. I’ve done a lot of h-horrible things,” his voice cracks, and tears well in his eyes.

“I have, too, you know? Those things still live with me. But I think what matters is who we are now,” you reach out, fingertips brushing the scar on his temple, and Joel swears that even if you don’t know the story behind it, you can see right through him. “And I know who you are.”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

“You won’t,” you say. “No more than anyone else has. And if it makes you feel better…when people hurt me, I’ve gotten pretty good at hurting them back.”

“If I do, I’d hope you would.”

“I will. I promise,” your thumb strokes his cheek, marveling at him. “I would suggest a blood oath or something but….I heard we kind of already did that…”

He’s given you every warning, every barrier, and you’re still here. He can’t believe it, and he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. “Come here.”

He kisses you. He wishes that he could be slow and tender and gentle like he used to be – and certainly he’s still capable, but he realizes that he’s been depriving himself of something he wanted for so long, and can’t seem to control himself.

Your hands land on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Maybe you’re somewhat taken aback by his urgency, you hum against his lips, but you don’t resist at all. Joel maneuvers you so you’re straddling his thighs, and he grips your hips, your ass, coasts his hands up your side. Your lips part in a moan, and he slips his tongue into your mouth.

For a while, he stays there, savors the taste of you, whiskey and smoke still lingering on your lips. His hands cup your jaw, feel your body, grip and squeeze and stroke and you let him, continue to let him. He tries everything, wondering if you’ll tell him to stop, if you’ll decide you’ve had too much, but you don’t. Then again, he should know by now that you’re a woman who knows what she wants. He just finds it’s hard to believe that he’s the thing you want.

You break away from him, just a little, and Joel presses his nose to your neck, kisses your pulse point.

“Should we go upstairs?” your voice is raspy and breathless. “Will Ellie be home soon?”

“Probably not for a while. We can be quick.”

“Hopefully not too quick,” you raise your eyebrows. Joel can’t help but laugh a little. He relishes in the way your hands rake up and down his arms, exploring him, touching him. Of course he wants you, but even just this would be enough. He’d be content with less, he hadn’t realized how starved of affection he’d been.

You’re able to pry yourselves off one another to make it up the stairs, and Joel guides you with a hand to the small of your back. When you get to his bedroom, he opens the door, but stops you before you go inside.

“Hold on,” Joel mutters, winding one arm around your waist, the other behind your knee.

“Joel, what-no, you’ll–” he pulls you into his arms.

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” you chuckle as he carries you over the threshold and into the bedroom, breath puffing against him before he lays you down on the bed.

When he hovers over you, your fingers wind into his hair, nails raking against his scalp. He savors every sweet sigh he’s able to pull from you, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips. You’re so pliant and open beneath his body, it makes it easier to not feel guilty about what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, you’ve said as much, but it might take some time before the feeling will die completely. Hopefully, he has enough time with you to see it off completely.

Clothes are removed quickly, intentionally, as you both bare more and more of yourself to each other. And while he wishes he could’ve been there to see the ways in which your body has changed, you’re still as beautiful as ever.

Joel, however, is hesitant to give himself away completely. When you tug at the hem of his shirt, he hesitates.

“I don’t know if-” he pauses. “If you want to see all that.”

“Joel,” you stare at him knowingly, kneeling across from him as he stands at the edge of the bed. “I do.”

So he releases your hand, and lets you pull it over his head. Carefully, you study him, his body littered with scars. He knows he’s not as in shape as you remember. These days, he hardly can look at himself in the mirror after a shower. He expects you to be disgusted, or at least see it flit across your face before you compose yourself, but you don’t. Your fingertips drag through the smattering of hair on his chest and down his torso, tracing several prominent scars – each one with a story – but you linger on the one at his abdomen, frowning.

He sees the question on your face, but you don’t ask it. Instead, you return to press yourself against him. “I’m so glad you’re still here….”

You kiss him, then, and Joel can only kiss you back.

Joel isn’t the only one with battle scars. Some of them he feels are his fault, but you seem less self-concious about them, which gives him a surprising amount of confidence. Maybe it’s just a reality of what happens when you make it this long.

When you’re finally bare beneath him, he admires how you look, stretched out and waiting, chest heaving and shivering with anticipation. He slides his hand between your legs – feels you already wet and warm, sinking two fingers inside. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, back arcing off the bed when you sigh out his name. Joel.

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to hear that.

Joel is already thinking about what he’d like to do to you next time. He’d be more careful, more patient. He’d bury his face between your thighs to see if you tasted as good as he remembers, he’d let your fingers curl into his hair. But right now you both seem desperate for the same thing.

He pumps his cock a few times with his hand, he can’t remember the last time he’d been this hard – the last time he’s wanted anyone this badly. Even with Tess, it had always felt like the both of them were hurrying to scratch an itch, her eyes would wander like she was thinking of other people, and maybe he was, too.

Joel lines himself up with your slick cunt, teases you a little, and you roll your body down to meet him, gasping when his blunt head slides in – just a little.

He can’t hold back. You practically suck him in, so tight and hot around him he finds it immediately overwhelming, but he doesn’t even think to pull out. Only when he’s fully seated inside you, and given you a chance to adjust, does he start to move.

It’s euphoric. You’re both older now, more mature, but he still remembers all the things you liked, even if it takes a moment for him to find the spot inside you that makes you cry out, legs wrapping around his hips.

Unlike before, you don’t bother trying to hide from him. You kiss him, hold him, touch him, look him in the eyes, tell him how good he feels – you don’t hold back. Joel relishes every word you say, clings to the praise and gives it back. Your lashes flutter when he tells you how pretty you look.

He can think of nothing else other than bringing you pleasure, can tell you’re getting close when you begin to rut against him, and he reaches down to let the pads of his fingers slide over your clit.

When you come, you whine his name, lock your lips with his own and he swallows your moans. The feeling of you so impossibly tight and wet and pulsing and squeezing him so tightly has him following closely after.

His head is still buried in the crook of your neck when you speak again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The second Joel pulls out, he starts missing how close he felt to you. But you fix that by rolling over onto your stomach, curling up at his side, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach.

“Joel. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He’s far from it. But he’s starting to think if you say it enough, maybe he’ll start to believe it. He turns his head to kiss you gently, slowly. “So are you.”

“We can do this again, right?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we can.”

“Good,” you settle back against him, and very slowly, he dozes off with you right beside him. He doesn’t want to sleep alone again, and luckily, he doesn’t have to.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-December 4th, 2026-

When you return home from patrol, you find Joel in his living room – boots off and socked feet propped on the arm of the couch. You don’t notice his eyes are closed, that he’s asleep, until you get closer, see the book he’d been reading resting on his chest as he snores lightly. You can’t help but feel for him – he’s probably exhausted from constant patrols, so he must be tired.

But mostly, you’re just overwhelmed by the love you feel for him, catching him in a quiet moment of vulnerability. Hesitantly, you reach out and squeeze his foot. It’s gentle and tender enough that he blinks his eyes open and looks around, taking in his surroundings, rather than jolting awake like he often does. When he sees you on the opposite end of the couch, he melts back into the pillow he’s propped against.

“Hey, stud,” you lean against the arm of the couch.

“Hey,” Joel answers, voice still gruff with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just got in.”

“Hmm,” Joel closes his eyes again, folds his hands across his stomach.

“You’re wearing the glasses I got you,” you point out. They’re simple. Rectangular black frames. You’d found them on patrol, and brought them home after Joel had been complaining that he could barely see when he read before bed. But he’d tried them on and insisted he hated the way they looked, so you’d ended up using them most of the time.

“They do work,” he grumbles, like he’s ashamed to admit it. “But I still think they look stupid.”

“You look like a sexy librarian,” Joel rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s suppressing a grin. There’s always a bit of defiance about him, he can’t fully admit how you get him so flustered even after you’ve spent so much time together. You press your thumb into the arch of his foot and he groans. “That feel good?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“Whatcha reading?” You gesture towards the book.

“Some book about the moon landing,” Joel lifts it off of his chest, where it lay face down and open, looks at the back cover. “For Ellie.”

“How sweet.”

“It’s a little dry,” he deadpans. “But she likes this stuff.”

You shift your massage to his other foot. Joel stretches, his arms lifting above his head, the shirt he’s wearing rides up just so, so you see a sliver of his lower belly before it disappears again, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Are you tired?” you ask.

“Always,” he says through a yawn.

“Me too,” you yawn along with him, since they’re contagious. He pulls the glasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose and shuts the book, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him. You take your hands off his feet and he sits up a little straighter, holding out his hand.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, and you do.

He grunts as you settle into his arms, head nestled against his chest, sprawling out almost on top of him, the only way you both can fit like this on the couch.

“You’re so warm,” you say softly, letting him wrap his arms around you.

“You’re cold. Your hands are freezing,” he holds them in his own.

“It’s cold out.”

“Don’t know why you left today.”

“Obligations. Patrol.”

“Fuck that.”

You laugh into his chest, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I think we might be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, we don’t really leave the house. We spend all day reading. And we’re old.”

“We’re not that old.”

“But we’re getting up there.”

“Sure, but…” Joel trails off.

“Everything’s so quiet, so calm.”

“I think that’s what most people would describe as content.”

“Are you content?” you ask, lifting your head to look him in the eyes.

“I’m happy,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then don’t worry about the rest.”

“Okay,” you settle back against your husband's chest, feel his lips brush your forehead.

His fingers search absentmindedly for the ring on your finger he’d found while clearing out a pawn shop not too long ago. The one he wore looked nothing like your own. But the marriage had been long overdue, and neither of you cared what the rings actually looked like.

Nowadays, you split your time between his place with Ellie, and your own with Ethan, but end up in his bed every night. At this point, you don’t think you could sleep without him.

Years ago, another lifetime, you’d had a conversation underneath a sky full of stars. You’d told him that for you, good things had never lasted. Joel had made a promise.

This will.

It took time. There was a lot of pain. But in the end, he had told you the truth.

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avatarfan11 · 19 days

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Day 16 injury recovery

Zuko: *groans*

Katara: *healing* i know it hurts but its just been a few short months since the agni kai i wish i could help you more.

Zuko: i know but you already do. I get to wake up and look at that beautiful face everyday.

Katara: *blushing and grabs zuko's chin* always the sweet talker *kisses zuko*

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chaos-company · 1 year

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Angstpril 2023

Hi everyone!

It’s that time of year again! We are excited to announce that we are hosting the event again this year!

All prompts, FAQs and rules can be found in the graphics and below the cut!

1. Liar

2. Invisible Wounds

3. No Escape

4. "Why Did You Leave?”

5. Crisis

6. Abandoned

7. Sleepless Nights

8. Mind Games

9. Devastation

10. Sacrifice

11. Self-Sabotage

12. Confessions

13. Recovery

14. Cruelty

15. Lost In My Mind

16. "You Have To Let Me Go”

17. Running Away

18. Exhausted

19. Breaking Down

20. "I Can’t Go Back”

21. “You’re On Your Own, Kid”

22. Shadow Of Former Self

23. Failure

24. "I Was Wrong About You”

25. Nothing Lasts Forever

26. Storm

27. Heated Argument

28. Loss

29. Cast Away

30. Lost Hope

ALTERNATIVE PROMPTS

1. Til Death Do Us Part

2. “I Can’t”

3. Inner Demons

4. No Good Dead Goes Unpunished

5. Serious Injury

6. Trust Issues

7. Loss of Control

8. Trauma

9. Memories Feel Like Weapons

10. Mistake

FAQs

“Do I have to create for all thirty days?”

- Not at all! Feel free to jump in whenever you’d like. This is a creation event, so create as much or as little as you want! However, if you want to be entered in the shout out post, you must participate in all 30 days.

“Can I post a creation after the day has already passed?”

- Yes! You’re welcome to post for a prompt day even after the date, just be sure to tag with which day and prompt you’ve created for! You will only be eligibile for the shoutout post if you complete all 30 days within the month of April.

“What if I don’t understand/like a prompt?”

- We have a list of 10 alt prompts for you to choose from if you don’t like the main 30. Feel free to use our alternate prompts for any day, and if there’s any confusion send us an ask!

#angstpril2023 #rules #master post #star wars #marvel #mcu #dcu #star trek #game of thrones #house of the dragon #harry potter #avatar the last airbender #the legend of korra #supernatural #writing prompts

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jrow · 18 days

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May Prompts (16)

Day 15 here. Day 17 here.

Experiment

“It’ll be an experiment!”

He grimaces. Linda’s over-the-top cheeriness hardly breeds confidence, but she is his favourite nurse so he’ll give her a bit of leeway.

His recovery is going decently well, but his amnesia around the evening of the fall persists. It’s hardly surprising or worrying—these things take time his doctors keep saying, and it’s only been a couple days. But, his inability to remember what happened is eating away at him. He knows Sherlock isn’t sharing the full story.

He had mentioned his frustration to Linda and her eyes had lit up. She claimed to have had some success with helping patients with memory through guided visualization and said she would be happy to help John.

It’s funny that her calling it an experiment is what got John to finally agree. It reminded him of the type of argument Sherlock would make (although he would be far less peppy).

Linda lowers the lights before asking John to close his eyes and focus on his last memory from before waking up in hospital.

“I said goodbye to the staff at the nursery and Rosie and I started towards the tube.”

“Good, good. Tell me about what you remember about that moment.”

“The street was busy.”

“With who?”

“Oh loads of people. Looks like people going home from work.”

“Good, good. What’s the weather like?”

“Fine.”

“You can do better than that, John.”

A sigh. “It’s chilly, of course, but no wind. There hasn’t been a cloud in the sky all day. It’s nice…good weather. I hoped it would stay like that.”

“Why did you want it to stay like that?”

“Why wouldn’t …” A pause. “I’m nervous about rain.”

“Why, John?”

His heart starts racing. “If it rains, or god forbid snows, it’ll take longer to get to Baker Street. I don’t want to be late.”

“Late for what?”

“Meeting Sherlock for his birthday.” He tries to push ahead in the day, tries to remember meeting Sherlock, but he can’t. He hates it.

“Stay there, John. I can see you’re getting frustrated but it’ll come. You’re doing great. Just focus on getting to the tube.”

“I need to wrap his present before I go,” he blurts out without thinking. “Oh god.” He opens his eyes. “Sherlock’s birthday gift.”

“Are you okay?” Linda asks, gently, reaching out and gently touching his shoulder.

“Yeah, I just …” John says before trailing off. “I just remembered something,” he adds after a pause.

Before collecting Rosie he hadn’t been sure he’d have the balls to give Sherlock the gift, but in that moment he had decided. And once John Watson was sure of something … well nothing could have stopped him.

Nothing except a fall off a roof possibly. Possibly?

But, Sherlock said they met at the flat before heading out for cake. Which means John must have brought the gift. Which means …

There’s no way Sherlock opened it before John fell because they didn’t have cake. Gifts after cake, that’s the rule. So, either Sherlock opened it sometime in the last couple days and or it’s sitting unopened in the flat.

Either way Sherlock hasn’t mentioned it. That can’t be good, right?

“Why don’t you rest,” Linda says, interrupting his thoughts, knitting her brow.

“No, no, let’s keep going!” he says, closing his eyes tight. He needs to remember!

Linda chuckles. “Not now. Sadly, I do have other patients. And you should rest. I promise rest will make it easier.”

He huffs, but doesn’t argue. He opens his eyes and Linda gives him a smile before opening the door.

The constable who’s standing guard outside the room—he’s there on Greg’s orders officially, although everyone knows Mycroft is pulling the strings—pops his head in. “How are you doing, Mr. Watson?”

“Fine.”

Linda tsks. “Better than fine, I’d say. He is starting remember a bit. Not the events before the fall, but it’ come.”

“Oh?” Says the constable, eyes darting around the room. The man is visibly surprised and wonders what Greg has been telling the Yard about his injuries.

Linda smiles wide. “Only a matter of time.”

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @quimerasyutopias @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty

#johnlock #WIP #may prompts 2024

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penvisions · 4 months

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the melting point {chapter 16}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: In the aftermath of a rather eventful and terrifying last summer farmer's market, you try to find a semblance of normalcy as best you can. Meanwhile, Frankie is up to something that is beginning to cause you to worry about the burden you've become in your recovery.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: medical jargon, mild language, emotional monologues, internal monologue, negative feelings, negative thoughts, ptsd symptoms, pining, emotional pining, depressive thoughts, description of pain and injuries, blood, descriptions of post shooting chaos, panic attacks, notions of death, hospital setting, mentions of needles and iv's, mentions of narcotics, use of prescription narcotics, feelings of inadequacy, angst

A/N: um, so it's been four months since i've touched this fic, then i woke up yesterday morning and just began writing like nothing. takes breaks when you need to, don't force things and it'll all work out. please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“C’mon, hang on for me baby, please, don’t-don’t close your eyes.”

“Mantequilla, everything is gonna be okay, I promise, we’re all here for you, please know that everything is going to be okay.”

“We’ve got you, you did so good, you saved my little girl, you did, you saved her.”

“Honey, we all love you so much, please stay strong, I’ll hold your hand the entire way there.”

“Let’s get you turned over, ma’am, c’mon. There we go, you’re doing amazing.”

“Santi, she-she-“

“Papa!! Papa, please help her, I love her! Tio Santi, do something!!”

“Merde, that’s so much blood, Frankie you’ve gotta focus, you’ve gotta calm her down. Get her home safe, to your mother’s, somewhere safe.”

“Will!! They got her, call Morgan! She went missing the second things got crazy.”

“Has anyone seen Benny?”

“They’re transporting her now, rushing her to surgery the second the get there.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, any donations with the same blood type would be appreciated. Who here is a positive?”

“Sweet girl, please, you’ve got to pull through, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

“No response, it’s been how many days now?”

“She’s being rushed into another surgery, she keeps clotting. They can’t figure out why.”

“Fransico Morales? You’re next of kin?”

“No, no, but we’re all she has. Her family is flying out, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Taylor, take a moment, it’s…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Daddy, why is tia all tangled in those machines, she’s going to be okay, right?”

“This is my son, he wanted to come and cheer her up because she always did the same for him when he was sick.”

“Please, mi amor, please, you have to make it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Fractered memories played over each other, words echoing and bouncing off of each other through the fog that was all you knew. You couldn’t feel anything, all of your senses stripped away, and you were nothing more than a half-conscious mind tunneling in and out of suspended darkness.

Beeping, an even beeping was the only steady thing you could make out. Sense of environment completely gone and sense of awareness slowly trickling in. Your eyes hurt as you slowly blinked them open, the faint lights around you too bright and you clenched them shut with a huff that pulled at your lungs. The stillness of where you were was shattered as the clattering of a chair sounded, followed by a pair of hands tightening around yours that were settled over your middle. A hushed order to go fetch someone and then a deep voice was rumbling close. You turned your head toward the presence hovering close to your left side, drawn to whoever it was.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, sweet girl.”

A grunt sounded from deep in your chest as you tried to open your mouth and respond. Then a gasp when pain reverberated from the same spot. You tried to shift your legs, hips feeling oddly numb but you couldn’t quite feel them. It was as if they were asleep, but… you cracked your eyes open a second time, squinting down the length of the bed you were in. Your legs were there, obvious underneath the thin, knit, scratchy blankets that only a hospital possessed. You tried to shift again, but even your hips didn’t feel like a part of your body. Your eyes flew open completely, tearing up at the brightness of the room.

Shuddering breaths pulled deep hurt, but you tried to shift again and again but there was no movement underneath the blanket. None.

“Okay, alright, querida, please. Take a deep breath, it’s-it’s gonna be okay.” Frankie. It had been Frankie speaking to you, close to you. His hands reached out for your own, where you had pried them from him to try and prop yourself up, wires and tubes pulling, clattering against each other and making your head swim. “The doctors-“

“I know this must be quite a shock, but it’s good that you’re awake!” A white coat, thrown over a modest skirt and blouse, blonde hair. A kind face, pinched. A furrowed brow. Bad news on the tip of her tongue.

You tried to speak, demand why you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. But you could only croak out the faintest notions of words. Everything was a blur, the hospital room you were in a mess of blue and white, the beeping of machines hurting your ears. Nothing made any sense, confusion coloring every thought as to how you got here and why.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, your body is pretty weak right now. Can I get a level two meal delivered to room thirteen eighty-nine, please?” She turned to address someone who had been hidden behind her, a nurse in teal scrubs.

“Tell me.” You managed to croak out, eyes fixated on her pinched ones.

“I would really prefer to get you a little acclimated.”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered toward Frankie, as if in a silent plea to get him to calm you down and put you at ease however little he could manage. But you ignored the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder, eyes trained on the doctor in front of you as you tried to find more strength to speak around the dry cotton feel of your mouth, the panging hunger that was present in your stomach, the lack of control over your body.

She sighed, arms holding the clipboard in front her in an imitation of a fig leave over her hips.

“We had you in a medically induced coma for the last two weeks. I’m not sure all of what you remember, the brain is fickle that way, pushing things and events out in response to trauma.” She didn’t look from you as the sound of fast steps approached the door, nor when a large figure moved passed her and came straight to your right side. It was Taylor. Both of the most important men in your life on your sides. He was quiet, but you could see the evidence of tears in the puffiness of his eyes, the lack of a smile on his face as he hovered close.

“You were hit in the sacrum and coccyx region, paralyzing you from the waist down. We performed three surgeries to remove the bullet shards and repair as much of the damage as possible. Your blood flow and reflex reactions have improved but we had no way of knowing if anything truly worked until you woke. A week has passed since we stopped inducing you, we were beginning to think you might not wake up.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, medical terms floating heavy in the air of the room. Daunting, terrifying, life altering. You didn’t think you could handle another life altering event of this caliber. But it didn’t look like you had to traverse it alone. You teared up once the doctor left the room, offering to come back and talk to you once visiting hours were over, though she had mildly glared at both men as she said it. But knowing them both, they had been alternating staying the night to watch over you past the set hours that allowed for them to be present.

You had two wonderful men who were willing to do anything for you, one with a friend group who would follow his lead and the other who had given you so much already. You hoped it wouldn’t be too much, taking what they were willing to give.

“It’s a lot,” Taylor’s voice broke, his words spoken through eyes glittering with tears. His hands tight around yours as he leaned his forehead against yours, completely in your personal space. “But we’ve done somethin’ like this before and we can do it again. We can do it again.”

You could only nod, throat and voice still weak from weeks of disuse.

He walked closer to the side of the bed, the man’s large build shadowing over you in the dimmer setting of the lights you had requested. The full effect of them too bright for you eyes after being unconscious for so long. You reached out to him, urging him to sit atop it as best he could as you all but threw yourself at him. He let you, aware of Frankie standing close to the other side, eyes watering as he heard the cries that began to bubble up from you.

“I-I-“

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re both here.” Taylor murmured, as he wrapped his own arms around you to pull you close. He smelled like your apartment, a mix of faint buttercream and the rose perfume you favored all rolled into one comforting scent. His own masked by the time he had been in town. “Alfred was here too, but he had to be taken back for school. He sat with you every day for that first week and read to you. He was so worried about you, mami. He kept talking with you like he always does, hoping you would wake up and respond.”

Frankie excused himself, his phone beeping in his pocket and the sound of you crying too much for him to handle all at once. You watched him leave the room, his shadow visible through the blinds in the window looking into the room as he paced up and down the hallway just outside. His voice a low murmur as he spoke with whoever had been trying to contact him.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…or you. I’m so sorry, that call – it must’ve been so terrifying.” You hiccupped into his chest, unable to stop the tears and emotions from flowing all at once, overwhelmed and completely at a loss of how to respond to anything at the moment.

Hushed words eradicated any ill thoughts you were having of yourself, comforting in their genuine indication. He assured you he had been able to handle it, that he was able to handle the hard things that came along with being bonded with someone for life, for knowing someone for so long. For having already done something similar before. But yeah, that it had been scary but Frankie had been as detailed and direct as he needed to be, levelheaded in his description of what had happened and what immediately happened afterwards.

Frankie came up to you both as he entered back into the room, a hand on both your shoulders to get your equal attention. You looked up at him with watery eyes, feeling so proud of how everyone was trying to keep it together for you but guilty at the same time since it had been something they had been dealing with for weeks now.

“That was the airline, they need someone to come in and take over a few tours for double pay. I wouldn’t normally turn them down and I will if you need me here. You’re awake now and I want to be here with you.”

“Y-you should go, if you want to, if you need to.” Scratchy words spoken with what little conviction you could muster. He was conflicted, worried about making the wrong decision.

“You need me here.” He didn’t argue so much as read the thoughts in your mind as clearly as if you had displayed for him to see. “You want me here.”

“Yes, but….money is money, Frankie. For your house, for your daughter, for everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’m gonna run and get a coffee before you head out, I’ll stay the night, okay?” Taylor announced before he pressed a kiss to your temple and stood. Leaving you and Frankie truly alone for the first time since you woke up. You reached out to the man, gripping his open flannel shirt and lightly pulling him toward you. But he didn’t budge, his feet stable on the ground and his back not leaning to meet you. He wasn’t looking quite at you, but just beyond you. His eyes a little distant.

“I’m sorry.” Pulling your hands back to rest in your lap, you began to twiddle your fingers, unsure of what to do, unsure of why he was acting so weird and distant. Maybe he was just exhausted, mentally wiped out from waiting and waiting for you to wake up. Maybe…he was rethinking everything he’s once promised you…

“Hey, no, you don’t have to be sorry.” His eyes caught your own, his hands reaching out to hold your own as he kneeled down to be at your eye level. Emotions you couldn’t read swirling behind them. “I just- It’s just… you’re awake. And I’m so scared I’m going to open my eyes or wake up and you’ll still be unconscious…or passed.”

“I am awake.” You insisted, worried about this being an elaborate dream all the same. Some made up fantasy your brain concocted in its last moments and none of it was real, that you weren’t real anymore.

“I want to stay,” He pleaded with you, desperate for you to understand how hard it is for him to make the decision to leave, to heed the call of an entire week’s worth of pay in just a few days. But he had a plan and he had to stick with it, it would be for the best in the long run.

“C-can you stay tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweet girl. I promise. I just- this is important. For the both of us. I swear.”

“I believe you, Frankie. I love you.” You lifted your intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles. He repeated the words before he shrugged his jacket on and bid you goodnight. He didn’t kiss you back, instead squeezing your hands twice in farewell.

“Hermosa, I-I just-“ Frankie hung his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees the next evening.

He had gone home to change and get a little sleep after a hectic two days of back to back tours. A touch restful now that he knew you were awake, but still fleeting. His thoughts had been a jumble as his mind flashed your unconscious form across the backs of his eyelids. Bleeding, hyperventilating, being rushed into emergency surgery not once but three times. Of you completely still save for the slight rise and fall of your chest laid out in the hospital bed. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing or diminish anything but- just thank you.”

“You saved her, at such a great risk to yourself. But you did, you saved my little girl when I couldn’t. I have endless love and admiration for you, querida. Please, I am here for you. I will help you with whatever you need or want. And not just because of this, but…but until you don’t want that anymore. You’ve got me, sweet girl. I promise.”

The conviction in his tone was strong despite the way his words were pushed out with deep breaths, trying to keep his composure. His shoulders were quaking with the effort he was holding back another wave of tears. Too many emotions for him to handle since the second you had rushed in front of that gun aimed at his daughter.

“Come here,” You softly compelled him, trying to shuffle atop the bed. Feeling still numb below the tops of your thighs, only some control over your legs that you were trying not to dissect. Going over your charts and test results had helped a little, compartmentalizing that it was happening to you and mind working to help solve and reason the things you read as if it was a patient of your own. Work. And a lot of it was ahead of you.

Frankie shuffled up and out of his shoes, choosing to urge you forward softly so he could be the one resting against the back of the angled bed. He helped to situate you against his chest, his arms coming around you in a warm embrace, the smell of his cologne and body wash puffing up and surrounding you in a comforting way. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head, nose shuffling in your hair and making you sigh out at the human contact.

“I would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even knowing what would happen.”

“Te amo. Te tango mucho amor ti, querida.” He whispered hoarsely in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. All you could do was repeat the words to him, meaning them with everything in your very being. Bringing his hands up to rest over your heart, palms flat over your chest, you both just laid there soaking up each other’s company.

His thoughts took over as you felt your breathing even, reaching over to silence the television that had been playing quietly in the corner where it was installed high on the wall.

‘Everything was so loud, a cacophony of too sharp frequencies grating on his ears as he watched the way your body fell to the ground. The man with the gun fleeing from the scene as soon as the gun had fired, steps heavy as he ran as fast as he could. Pope taking off immediately after him, his own gun pulled from the holster attached to his belt. Permission to carry it around off the clock from one of the local military bases where he worked as a freelance advisor.

Frankie was rushing too, toward you. Toward his daughter. Toward you both. There was a pool of blood forming beneath you, having twisted yourself to prevent from falling on top of Alexia’s smaller frame. She was kneeling beside you, tears running down her cheeks as you reached up to cup her face. A pinched expression on your features and blood blooming dark low on your front. His little girl turned to him as he crashed to his knees behind her and brought her in a crushing embrace to his chest, hearing the hum of the crowd that had begun to form all around.

Shouts to call 911 and responses that more than one person was already speaking with officers, telling them of what had just happened.

She begged him to help you.

She begged him to save you.

Shouting at him in her small voice that she loved you and she knew he loved you too.

She buried her face in his chest as he leaned forward to try and get your eyes to focus on him, but you were barely able to keep them open. Lashes fluttering as your breath became labored. He was speaking, words falling from him as he fell back on years of training. Pinging questions off one after the other, getting no response from you for even one. Unresponsive in the worst way, body completely laid out before him and eyes now completely closed. You could’ve been sleeping, as you were still for a fleeting moment.

But then you started to convulse, body fighting against the bullets that had landed deep in your body. He tried to tilt your head toward him, to avoid you biting on your tongue or choking on your own breath.

A new set of hands was taking over, gently ushering him away as paramedics appeared on the scene.

He could only hold tight to his sobbing daughter as he watched the two technicians tend to you. Your chest ceasing heaving at an alarming rate, your breath almost rattling as your lungs desperately tried to keep working.

Blinking rapidly, Frankie focused his eyes on his hands curled over the controls in front of him. He was flying, the landscape of the city and surrounding greenery, the ocean all laid out before him. He was okay, you were okay. Alexia was okay.

He was at work. He was okay.

His fingers twitched at the clueless ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the tourists clamoring for views outside the windows. Their voices coming in clear through the headsets they wore to match his own. Completely in their own world and no problems plaguing them. Carefree.

He was at work. He wasn’t okay.

He should’ve stayed with you.

He should’ve turned down the offer.

But he had run at the first opportunity. Unable to stop the events from replaying in his mind on a loop.

Preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from being able to look at you half the time. Seeing you as you had looked right after the attack, seeing you as they rushed you onto the ambulance, seeing you as your chest went completely still once loaded up. The way your body didn’t respond to the attempts of resuscitation.

Mind torturing him by projecting you laid out in an open coffin. Copper hair resting around your lifeless frame, beautiful face covered in the wrong shade of makeup, hiding the freckles that dotted your face from him. Forever closed eyelids hiding your bright eyes from him. Black dress hiding your soft skin from his twitching fingers, itching to trace the delicate ink that decorated your skin. A masterpiece taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

Shaking his head minutely, he shoved the fake notions out of his head and pivoted the helicopter toward the coast. Following and announcing the route for the tour that the people sat behind him had requested.

He was at work and he didn’t think he’d ever be okay again. But he would try for you, because you were awake and waiting for him to return to you.

He pulled his sunglasses from where the frames were hanging from his collar and covered his reddening eyes.’

“Come on, two more steps and we’re home free.” The physical therapist was encouraging in the most grating of ways. Your normally polite and civil personality being shattered by the turn of events your life had taken. It was a lot of work now, but it had been a lot of work to initially discover that you had only minimal feeling and control over your lower half. Hips sore no matter how much medicine was added to your IV, legs numb and unresponsive more often than not.

But that didn’t stop the doctor from putting you on a physical therapy track of two appointments per week. Something you had thought was a lot right off the bat but not wanting to argue. Just as angered by the quick pace as you were determined to stick to it. It was the second week since waking up, discharge looming like a storm over the horizon, visible but not yet tangible.

There had been talk about Taylor renting a home to move into for the duration of your recovery. His son being taken care of by his co-parent back home with school having started. But Frankie had offered up his own home, a flush to his caramel skin as he did so. Not having wanted to ask you to move in under such dire circumstances. But he would be lying if he said the thought of offering you a space in his home hadn’t been on his mind lately.

Taylor had offered to split his time between Frankie’s and the apartment above the shop. An outpouring of love from the community delivered to the shop and hospital in overwhelmingly equal parts. Baskets of treats, flowers, cards, vouchers for services from all around the city and local vendors. Everything was being toted back between the two spaces that were now yours.

Lex indulging in the treats as she sat with you in the afternoons after school. Homework laid out before her atop the bed as you helped her with her math and writing. Different people picking her up while Frankie returned to work, determined to put in as many hours before he took two whole weeks off to help you transition to being home once you were discharged.

But right now, you were stood on shaking legs, arms braced heavily on the bars on either side of you as you stood between the set up of the parallel bars. Sweat dripping from your hair thrown up in a haphazard bun, skin sallow from the medication you were on a strict rotation of. You had forgone shoes, insistent that you wanted to be able to feel anything should it come back to you while practicing.

Your arms were shaking, holding up the entirety of your body weight on them, muscles straining and tattoos looking distorted with the flex of them. With a huff, you shifted your hips, right leg lifting slightly and managed to shuffle it about a foot before placing your foot down flat and tipping forward to even your weight with the new stance.

“Alright, you did it!” The nurse was a kindly young man, his arms hovering behind you as he waited for you to tap out. But you sucked in a deep breath and concentrated. Shifting your left foot ahead in the same manner before a spike of pain shot up from the arch of it as you settled it flat on the mat.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, I’m out. That’s all I got.” You wavered, arms shaking and legs beginning to tingle where you could feel them.

“That’s okay, you did good today. Four steps is progress.” The nurse helped you, gathering your form in his arms and lifting to get the pressure off your aching shoulders.

Santi was in the room when you were wheeled back, no sign of Taylor or Frankie. He informed you that they were both taking care of something for you which made you feel a little uneasy that they hadn’t told you themselves the night before that they wouldn’t be in to see you today. The nurse let the man take over with helping you get back into the bed, knowing you’d rather it be someone who you knew handling you for something a little more intimate of a move.

The man’s broad shoulders tensed as he supported your nearly dead weight, completely at a loss of energy from the days activities.

“Did they say where they were going?” You inquired, voice soft as you nuzzled your face into the man’s neck. He smelled so good and you were just in a very physically affectionate mood in wake of not getting any direct attention from Frankie in the way you were too hesitant to ask for.

“Mante, you know I would tell you if I knew, but they were like school boys, shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact. I’m sure it’s just a surprise for you, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, allowing the man to situate your aching legs as best he could and covering you up with the blankets that had been brought from your apartment. He busied himself with getting a take out bag unpacked and placing containers over the collapsable table attached to the bed for you. A cup of coffee that smelled of caramel and foamed milk pressed gently into your reaching hands. He was so diligent, the soft curls of his graying hair falling over his forehead as he focused. When everything was set up, he settled into the chair beside the bed with his own container and began to dig in.

But you were still, only a sip taken from the hot coffee handed to you.

“Santi…”

“What is it, hermosa?” He looked up from his food, utensils loaded up and a bite halfway to his lips. “I get the wrong thing?”

“No,” A small smile offered to him as your heart fluttered in your chest, unsure of how to even broach the concerns that were crashing over you in overwhelming waves. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

The man watched you, eyes scanning your face as you averted your eyes. He let out a quiet sigh and set down his utensils completely, asking you to tell him what was really on your mind.

“Frankie…he, um, he-“ You felt like a complete idiot as your face heated up, tears welling in your eyes unbidden. Foolish question, it was such a foolish thing to be worried about when the man’s words were nothing but reassuring and loving. “Why won’t he kiss me, Santi?”

“Is that what you need right now?”

You warbled out an affirmative. Feeling for all the world like a pathetic lovesick fool even surrounded by everyone who you could possibly need in your life right now, everyone working together to help you in any way possible.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A shake of your head was all the answer you could muster up.

“He’s probably just trying to respect you, not wanting to put pressure on you to be that way with him if you’re too overwhelmed.” Santi went on to explain that his best friend had trouble with stuff like this, showing his affection and feelings in wake of traumatic events.

That you should try not to worry too much, though he knew that was easier said than done. To not take it personally, but he admitted to knowing that might be hard to do as well, everything so much at the moment. He reminded you that you could reach out to you with anything at any time. He would try his best to be there for you in any way that he could. Even jokingly offering to pepper kisses over your face and approaching you with overly pursed lips until you erupted into a laughing fit at how ridiculous he looked as he loomed closer. He sealed the conversation with a genuine press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hands cradling your face in their warmth before he moved back to his seat and ordered you to eat.

Across town, Taylor and Frankie had a similar conversation as a bell dinged above them where it was nestled in the doorway to a shop front. The two men determined to surprise you with something that Frankie had quietly brought up one night following your first rush into emergency surgery. An approval of sorts he had been seeking after was granted instantaneously with a smile and words of encouragement from the only other man he felt like he could share the conversation with at the moment.

“Discharge papers should be processed by end of day, looks like you’ll be spending the night in your own bed.” The doctor offered you a small smile. She had been worried about having you under her care when she found out you were a once trained medical technician, knowing how bad of a patient she was when sick herself. But you had surprised her, not talking over her or voicing opinions on what needed to be done. It had been another week, progress made in physical therapy.

You were able to walk the length of the parallel bars, slowly and with a lot of huffing and puffing. But it cleared you for outpatient treatment. The feeling in your legs was spotty, coming to you mostly in the mornings when you first woke up and at the end of the day after resting for a few hours. Something she was only mildly worried about, muscle atrophy from being unconscious for so long lingering even now.

But she had been confident that the feeling would come back completely, though she was honest when she said she was worried about numbness flaring up.

That’s how you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck as he pulled into the drive of his house. He was waiting for the garage to open, in order to make it easier for you to walk straight into the laundry room instead of having to attempt to tackle the stairs to the front door. Everyone would be over tomorrow, to celebrate your release. Giving you a free night to settle in and mentally deal with the shift in environments. Lex would be at her grandparents so Frankie could focus on getting you settled.

“One moment, just…want to get something set up before I help you out, okay?” His earnest gaze widened his beautiful eyes, watching you and making sure you were alright to be left alone for a moment. He was through the door and back in the garage in a matter of minutes, a shy smile aimed at you as he helped you down and got a walked ready for you. It had a cushioned seat in the middle, in case you needed to take any breaks when trying to move about. Something you wanted to argue but didn’t have a good one against.

You felt…weird. Having to rely on him so much, but extremely grateful that he was willing to. You’d seen friendships and relationships fall apart with this much stress and similar situations. Both as a professional and a civilian, as a friend. You only hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last things he did for you before telling you it was too much, that you were too much. Love could only encompass so much before it wasn’t enough to hold two individuals together.

Melancholic and depressive thoughts abundant as you tried to come to terms with what the near future would hold for an unknowable amount of time. There was no timeline with things like this and that’s what worried you the most. What if you had flares of numbness for the rest of your life, what if he began to see you as a burden, as work he had to come back to after doing his shifts at the mechanics and his flying tours. What if all your progress was meaningless and you woke up one day with no feeling at all?

He had hushed you on more than one occasion with soft words, promises he wouldn’t do that. Promises that he was yours, that you were his, that you were in this together. But doubt crept in regardless. Even more so in the realization that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. He was quick to dodge your advances, placing placating touches of his lips to your hair instead; of pulling you tighter to his body instead. Almost as if he was hesitant to show you affection in that way and it was hard to handle when all you wanted was that type of comfort from the man you loved so completely.

His hands were warm as he supported your weight, but he didn’t shift you down to the ground completely, instead he pulled you flush against him. Your own arms tightened around his neck, feet barely touching the ground as he ducked his head to kiss you fully for the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed. You melted into him even more, welcoming his lips against yours reverently, desperately.

The plush give of them against your own feeling like a true welcome home.

Shifting your hands up into his soft hair, you knocked the cap clear of his head as you parted your lips for him. He held you tight, not risking you putting too much weight on your own feet for even a second as he kissed you again and again, lips meeting yours in a dizzying display of his unfettered affection. Pulling at his curls, you pivoted his head to deepen another kiss, desperate for his touch and his taste. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes slowly, watching the way his face was completely relaxed. The lines of his age smoothed out slightly as he moved to peck one last kiss to your slick lips.

He had set the table up before picking you up, at home during the day as he had received your hopeful text about the paperwork this morning. But he had run inside to pull everything from where it was keeping warm in the oven, lighting twin tapers set in the middle of the dining table. You tried to hide the squeal of surprise as he lifted you up completely, choosing to carry you bridal style over the threshold of the house and through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

“Frankie, you didn’t have to do all this.” You placed a kiss to his cheek as he carefully set you down into a chair, making sure your legs were situated how you wanted them. “I woulda been happy with a fast-food drive thru, you know that.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.” He moved over to the closest chair, settling down into it with a sigh. He looked nervous, you realized as you took in the dinner had had made before picking you up. One of your favorite dishes filling the kitchen with its tantalizing scent. The boys had snuck in food from time to time, but it had mostly been bland hospital food for a majority of the last three weeks.

Frankie cleared his throat, your eyes lifting from the items on the table and toward him.

In his hands was an emerald velvet box, open to reveal a simple gold band with a sparkling rhombus diamond in the middle.

Your lips parted, a gasp falling from them as your heart stuttered hard in your chest. Hands dropping the utensils you had just picked up clattered to the table and you stared across the table at him. At a complete loss for words as he nervously shifted in his seat and leaned closer toward you to take your hands in his own, the small box set down gently beside your plate. His hands were shaking slightly, his nerves obvious as he bared his soul to you with his next words.

“Sweet girl, I know things are going to be touch and go for a long while,” He took a deep breath, chest pulling the fabric of his shirt taut with the action. His tongue peaked between his lips, a habit you noticed when he had a lot on his mind, and he was trying to sort through everything. “But I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with us, with you and me. You have me, you have me until the moment you decide you don’t anymore. I hope you don’t ever change your mind because I’ve been gone on you since the second you aimed that glare in my direction all those months ago. Will- will you do the honor of marrying me?”

Tears welled up the longer you looked at him, his eyes so wide and open, his voice cradling you with his earnest words. All you could do was nod, voice caught in your throat.

He let out a deep exhale, pulling a giggle from you when he broke out into the widest, goofy smile you had seen on him yet. You mirrored him, lips pulling as you squeezed his hands and leaned forward to rest your forehead against them clasped together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Fransisco. Of course.” You kissed the tops of his hands, one and then the other before you were pushing yourself up slightly, tentatively placing weight on your legs and surging forward to kiss him.

He only let you get away with one before he was standing from his seat and kneeling in front of you with the box in his hands. He carefully removed the ring from its spot nestled safely inside the velvet cushion and you held out your left hand for him. It took a second for him to place it securely on your ring finger, snug and perfect against your skin. It glittered in the candlelight and you felt a tear run down your cheek.

Frankie’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips connecting with yours as he chuckled breathlessly at having managed to pull out the surprise proposal. At your resounding yes. At the prospect of a concrete future with you.

“I love you so much, thank you for...for everything.”

“I love you too, you dork,” Your laugh sparkled against his parted lips. “I can’t believe you just thanked me for agreeing to marry you.”

“Well, you could’ve said no.”

“Not in a million years.”

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taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

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destieltropecollection · 1 year

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DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 10 | Canon Divergent

Sleepy Angel Kisses | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,255 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, Affectionate Dean, Falling angel Castiel, Crack Treated Seriously, Prankster Dean, Fluff and Crack Summary: Cas keeps falling asleep when low on grace. Dean takes advantage of that. Just some harmless pranks… right?

An Account of Consequences | @moustiel

Rating: General Word Count: 1,530 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, post season 12 finale, spn rewrite, canon divergence, whump, heavy corpse description Summary: Castiel is the once and former God. There are consequences for trying to be The Most High. Isaiah 14:16-14:20

No Peace Held In Death | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,265 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s07e04 Defending Your Life, Angst, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Castiel (Supernatural), canon compliant? more like canon complaint Summary: Sammy’s out doing his Sam-thing, trying to take down Osiris with Bobby on the other end of the phone. Dean’s hanging out in their motel room, waiting. He fucking hopes it’s Jo. Which means it’s gonna be Cas.

a corruption cleared | @demonmary

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,774 Main Tags/Warnings: Demon Cure, Demon Dean Winchester, Demon True Forms, Angelic Grace, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst Summary: When Castiel had healed him in the past, it was from the outside in. HIs hands would come to rest on Dean’s injured flesh, his grace would pulse through them like electricity, and the connection would stop when Cas pulled away. But this - this was more pure. This wasn’t Castiel’s touch, this was Castiel. This was Castiel, healing him from the inside out. _____ demon cure but make it horny grace drinking.

thank god for bruce campbell's abs | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,408 Main Tags/Warnings: canon divergent, season 9, human castiel in the bunker, Summary: Dean decides to expose Cas to horror movies. In the process, he learns some startling things about his best friend.

I need to say something | @destiel-wings

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,861 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Castiel/Dean Winchester in Purgatory, Love confessions, Angst, Romance, POV Castiel, Dean Winchester uses actual words, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Summary: What if Dean had confessed in Purgatory, after his prayer? When Dean said "Cas, I need to say something," Castiel stopped him. But what if he hadn't?

Murder the World | @thisisapaige

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10,162 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Canon Divergent after s10e22 The Prisoner, Demon Dean Winchester, the Castiel and Colette parallel, Switch Castiel/Switch Dean Winchester, Hopeful Ending, Porn With Plot Summary: Castiel said he would be the one to watch Dean murder the world. Now he has a chance to prove it.

This Isn't Where We Intended To Be | @porcupine-girl

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 14,094 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel in the Bunker, Human Castiel, Fallen Castiel, Post-Episode: s10e14 The Executioner's Song, Pining Castiel, First Kiss, First Time, Bunker Fic, Light Masochism, Meddling Sam, Emotionally Repressed Dean, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Bondage Summary: This time, he wakes up to the aftermath: Metatron and Crowley both dead. Dean lying nearby, unconscious and a bit bloody but free of the Mark. Sam mother hen-ing back and forth between them, trying to make sure they're both alive, assessing them for injuries, shifting them into the recovery position. He is hungry, cold, and weak. But he is not alone, and that makes all the difference in the world. Fallen, Castiel struggles to figure out where he fits in the human world—and in Dean's life.

The Parts You Keep Hidden | @skybird87

Rating: Mature Word Count: 16,035 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s14e10 Nihilism, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Bad Parent John Winchester, Dean Winchester is Loved, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: In an attempt to free Dean from Michael, Cas and Sam journey deep into Dean's mind. Unfortunately, they find themselves stuck in an endless void of darkness, with only Dean's worst memories to guide their way.

Everything I Possess | @krexhatespushups-blog

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 19,023 Main Tags/Warnings: Archive Warning: Major Character Death Tags: Canon-Divergent AU, Pre-season one Canon divergent, Mentions of drug use and addiction, consequences of drug use, child neglect/child abuse, emotional manipulation, child abandonment, Mentions of PTSD, John Winchesters A+ Parenting, drug use by a minor, Dean/Cas established relationship, Blow jobs, car sex, public sex, references to physical abuse, praise kink, Temporary Death, VERY TEMPORARY MCD, grieving, dealing with grief, hunters funeral, non-con branding, non-con body modification, misuse of angelic grace as lube Summary: Dean had been fighting all kinds of supernatural beings from the time he could hold a gun, but he never expected angels to be real, So when he met Rhonda Hurley at nineteen in a tiny town in Colorado, the last thing he expected was that her sister had been miraculously saved by an angel. Nineteen years later, Dean and Cas are searching for God and their paths cross with a familiar angel who knows about Rhonda and reveals a secret - a pink satin-y panty shaped secret - that Dean has been hiding.

Mr&Mr Smith (WIP) | @malicmalic

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55,512 Main Tags/Warnings: Cannon divergent, established relationship, angst, miscommunication, hurt, apocalypse is upon us, anal sex, oral sex, smut, loads of plot, happy ending. Summary: Castiel and Dean Smith are a regular married couple, living in a little suburban town and working ordinary, uninteresting jobs. However, each of them is concealing a secret: Castiel was once a mighty seraph, an angel of the Lord who decided to fall for human kind and walk among them as their equal. Dean on the other hand is a retired hunter of the supernatural, trying to let go of his past and find a better life after having ended the demon who killed his mother. When a nice, blond, cookie-selling girl scout knocks on their door and unleashes the entire hell on them, the life shattering secrets can no longer stay hidden. Exposed to each other’s worlds, Cas and Dean have to fight to save it from the appending apocalypse, but the insecurities and miscommunication might lead them to lose one another in the process.

I Will Be Your Message From God | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 32,415 Main Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger - The Crypt Scene, Winged Castiel (Supernatural), John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Angst and Feels, Non-Linear Narrative, Castiel-centric (Supernatural), Episode: s01e12 Faith, Episode: s02e13 Houses of the Holy, Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin, Episode: s06e20 The Man Who Would Be King, Time Travel Summary: When Castiel touches the Angel Tablet and it frees him from Naomi's clutches at last, the only thing in his field of vision - both literally and psychologically - is Dean Winchester. He realizes none of this should've been necessary at all. And now, with Naomi chasing him in search of the Tablet, Castiel can only draw one conclusion. He must undo all of this, everything he's done wrong, on Dean's behalf. But his pitfalls are still there. He'll relentlessly pursue his goal at whatever cost, and left to face his own arrogance comes to understand that in reality he has no way to proceed. In addition to Naomi something else seems to be hunting him, something much more powerful and dangerous. And so Castiel can only land briefly before fleeing again, over and over, making an even bigger mess while trying to construct a solution to his past mistakes.

The Resting Place | @5x04dean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 49,481 Main Tags/Warnings: Temporary Minor Character Death, Body Horror, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Horror, Pet Sematary AU Summary: When Sam, Dean, and Castiel head out to investigate a case, they assume nothing is out of the ordinary. But as Dean and Castiel continue to dance around one another's affections, they find that the small town holds deadly secrets—secrets that are far more sinister than any of them would have ever believed. Written for the 2021 DeanCas BigBang.

A Midwinter's Dream | @li-izumi

Rating: Mature Word Count: 53,245 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergence Season/Series 09, Season/Series 10, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dean Winchester works through his trauma, Minor Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester, Kevin Tran Lives (Supernatural), Charlie Bradbury Lives, Dreams and Nightmares, Christmas, Angst with a Happy Ending, Advent Calendar Challenge Summary: Christmas is fast approaching, but Dean doesn’t feel like celebrating--he’s too busy hunting for that sort of thing. Though he promises to get Cas back in time for the epic Christmas party Sam’s been planning, Dean has no intention of staying himself. That may be another promise Dean can’t keep when the hunt goes wrong, trapping Dean and Cas far from civilization. Worse, Dean is plagued by unrelenting nightmares of his time with the Mark of Cain and is gripped by a lingering anger that he can’t seem to escape. Back at the Bunker, Sam and the others are working a little Christmas magic they hope will show Dean the light in the dark—and prove to him that the holiday spirit isn’t something he needs to hunt.

When Tomorrow Comes | @trenchcoatparadigm

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 78,994 Main Tags/Warnings: Fix-It, Season 15 rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst, Family Loss, First Time, Love Confessions, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Castiel's Loss of Angelic Grace, First Kiss, Happy Ending Summary: When hunting for the Leviathan blossom, Castiel gets taken. Tired, desperate and wanting to tell him all the things left unsaid before it’s too late, Dean prays to him. But he realises... standing there, in the grey hellish landscape, the portal home flickering just beside them with seconds left on the timer, they already were too late. Running himself ragged fuelled solely by caffeine, whisky, and that trademark Winchester determination, he will find a way to stop Chuck and to save Cas. However, this isn't the blaze of glory Dean had always envisioned going out in. But, deep down, he would go out swinging to save a loved one. Those bright shining penetrating tear-soaked eyes are the last thing he sees before his vision is marred, the desperate plea of his name dampened by the black ooze filling his eardrums as the essence of the Empty wraps around him and pulls him pulled from existence into the dark. All because of that simple prayer, the ending Chuck had always planned was rewritten. With a fallen angel purged of happiness, a brother in mourning and a Nephilim-shaped timebomb the only ones left to Carry On on this desolate planet… What happens when tomorrow comes?

Do You Know What That's Worth? | @norahastuff

Rating: Mature Word Count: 92,212 Main Tags/Warnings: Cas POV, Canon divergent from 9x06, Cas is pretty damn competent, Slow Burn, brief non-explicit Cas/OFC, brief non-explicit Cas/OMC Summary: After Dean leaves him at the Gas N' Sip in Rexford, Castiel realises that he needs to get back in the game. However, that's easier said than done, and instead he finds himself working in a Target-style superstore in Boulder as he tries to figure out his new human life. He makes friends, starts hunting, even has a couple of hook-ups, but when Dean unexpectedly returns, Castiel has to re-evaluate where Dean fits in to this new life he has built for himself, and what it is they need from each other. And while Castiel may have had his grace stripped from him, he still possesses certain angelic sensibilities that may be the key to fixing some of the damage Metatron has wrought. With some creativity, teamwork, and a dash of hope, maybe he can discover just how much he's really capable of. (An alternate season 9 from Cas' POV.)

Eighteen (I've Got to Get Away) | @motherofdragonflies

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 122,569 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, Series typical violence, pre-canon, abusive John Winchester, young Dean Winchester, Season One Re-Write, Season Two Re-Write Summary: "Dad always said that family was important. They didn’t have a lot of family, the Winchester men, so they had to stick together. That was part of the rules Dean lived his life by: shoot first, ask questions later. Watch out for Sammy. Winchesters had to stick together. But what about when the rules contradicted each other? Which rule was more important: family sticking together or watching out for Sam?" When Dean turns eighteen, he’s forced to make a decision that will change the course of Sam and Dean’s life.

an empty house is not a home | @hawkland

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 143,247 Main Tags/Warnings: alternative season 13, alternative season 14, time traveling Castiel, switching Dean/Cas, Godstiel Summary: Jack’s grace is gone, and so is Dean—lost to the Michael of the Apocalypse World, and Cas despairs there may be no way to get him back. Not with his limited powers and only Sam and the other hunters to help avert this next apocalypse. Cas can think of only one being who might be powerful enough to stop Michael. But to summon him means a trip back in time to recruit none other than himself, from when he believed he could become the new God. And if called into the future, how will “Godstiel” react to what Cas has become and the existence of Jack…and will he agree to eventually going back? This story reimagines the events from Jack’s birth up through Dean’s possession by Michael with one major change: What if Dean had expressed his true feelings as soon as Cas returned from the Empty? How might their bond, strengthened by love and a more open understanding of each other, have changed the course of all that followed?

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2023 #destiel #fanfic #canon divergent #day 10

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homeagainrose · 15 days

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Alright so I'm three behind. I still got this.

Day 16: Injury Recovery

Katara gets hurt taking out an assassin after Zuko. Turns out she can heal most things, just not her own head.

@zutaramonth

#zutara month 2024 #zutara #zuko x katara #new chapter

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moeitsu · 6 days

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 15 - When Up The Hilly Slope We Climbed

Summary: Arthur struggles to adjust to his new disabilities. Meanwhile Kate finds a job outside of camp for them, providing a few days respite and some much needed alone time. Arthur finally reveals his feelings.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter /

A/N: Sorry this one has taken me a bit long folks! I've been super busy w/ work and moving into a new apartment. This chapter was supposed to be broken up into two days, but it's super long already (12.5k words). So day 2 will be apart of chapter 16.

TW: Slight nsfw, some steamy moments and kissing but nothing graphic. Implied ptsd and anxiety, night terrors.

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

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

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

Wide open plains stretched out as far as the eye could see, a sea of golden grasses swaying gently in the breeze. The cool wind rustled through Arthur's hair, carrying with it the scents of earth and freedom. Beneath him, the powerful, rhythmic breathing of his horse was a comforting constant, each hoofbeat a reminder of the boundless horizon that beckoned. The cold iron on his hip, always loaded and ready, was a familiar weight, a testament to the life he had chosen—a life of danger and defiance, a bandit perpetually on the run from the law. His deadeye and quickdraw ability were crucial in these untamed wild lands.

Nights were always spent around a crackling campfire, the warm smell of fresh meat sizzling over the flames mingling with the rich, smoky aroma of burning wood. Somewhere deep in the heartlands, under a blanket of swirling, twinkling stars, the heavens seemed to watch over them with a knowing smile. A beautiful woman sat by Arthur's side, her voice a soothing melody that wove through the night air, her eyes reflecting the flickering firelight with a bright, mesmerizing glow.

These were the moments Arthur cherished, the simple yet profound pleasures of a life lived on the edge. It was not a perfect life, but it was his, and he owned every moment of it. This was the life Arthur had always known—a life that now is nothing more than a distant dream.

—

It had been over a month since the day he was bushwhacked by Colm’s men, a day that had shattered the illusion of invincibility he had once held. The wounds on his body mirrored the scars on his spirit, each one a reminder of a brutal reality that had forever altered his existence.

Arthur’s fever broke shortly before the last of the antibiotics ran out, a small victory that brought a wave of relief. The gang, though worn down by worry, had always believed in Arthur’s resilience. His recovery, quicker than anyone expected, seemed almost miraculous. Kate remained by his side those crucial first few days after he woke up. She helped him walk on his injured ankle, offering a steady arm for support, and guided him through exercises for his left shoulder, her presence a constant source of encouragement. To her, Arthur was nothing short of a miracle. To Arthur, however, it felt more like a punishment. If not a death sentence for his sins, then a disability.

The feeling in his hand gradually returned, but a persistent dull ache haunted his arm whenever he moved his shoulder too much. And a warm throbbing often emitted from the site where the bullet had lodged into his flesh. On particularly strenuous days, an obnoxious tingling in his fingers, as if millions of tiny pins were stabbing into his skin, tormented him. Despite Kate’s efforts with physical therapy, he found himself unable to lift his arm above his head. No matter how hard he tried, his arm would tremble with the strain of effort. Kate assured him that it might improve with time, but Arthur was already swirling in doubt.

From the moment he woke up, Arthur insisted on being up and about. Having spent too much time confined to his cot, he longed to feel useful again and be a part of the group. Kate warned him that he still needed time to rest his ankle, but Arthur didn’t listen. Determined to regain his independence, he pushed himself to move around the camp. Kate, seeing his stubbornness, fashioned a crutch for him to use when he wanted to walk.

Arthur ignored the throbbing pain shooting up his leg for as long as he could. The first few days were the hardest, each step sending jolts of agony through his body. He clenched his teeth, determined not to let anyone see how much he was hurting. The gang watched him with a mix of admiration and concern, most of them offering support whenever they could.

Yet, the pain never seemed to cease. It became like a parasite gnawing away at his resolve. Whether it was the persistent dull ache of his shoulder and arm or the splintering agony in his ankle, Arthur’s body was never granted a moment's rest, not even in sleep. His nights were fragmented by vivid nightmares, a cruel reminder of the torture that had shattered his once peaceful evenings. Sleep, when it came, was fitful and brief, leaving him exhausted and irritable.

Arthur’s misery seemed to contrast sharply with the relief of the other gang members. They commended his survival, their laughter and cheer as a stark reminder of how isolated he felt. He knew he should be grateful, but instead, he felt like a different man—a shell of his former self. The transformation turned him into a frustrated grouch, snapping at those who simply wanted to help him.

Every attempt to regain his independence was met with well-meaning interference. “Let me get that for you,” someone would say, whether he was trying to fix a meal, complete a chore, or simply light a cigarette. Each offer of assistance, though kindly intended, only deepened his sense of uselessness.

Arthur now sat alone, perched upon a wooden chair outside his tent, nursing a cup of bitter hot coffee. The morning air was refreshing, the brief release before the dry heat of Lemoyne settled in for the day. The sounds of mourning doves waking up mixed with the usual clatter of morning camp activities, as everyone gathered for breakfast and prepared for the long day ahead. Arthur watched them move about from beneath the brim of his hat, its shade shielding his eyes from the bright golden sun. He idly flexed his left hand and rolled his wrist, a new habit he had formed to find some relief from the constant tingling sensation in his fingers.

The camp buzzed with familiar routines. He watched the girls collecting laundry and bringing heavy baskets to the water's edge. Javier and Lenny were engaged in a lively game of dominos, their laughter punctuating the morning air. Behind them, Pearson hummed softly to himself as he cracked eggs over a pan, the aroma of cooking breakfast wafting through the camp. In the distance, Bill’s voice could be heard taunting Kieran as he tended to the horses. Everything was as it should be, exactly how Arthur remembered it. But now, instead of being a part of it, he simply watched with growing envy.

Arthur was so deeply lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the sound of Kate returning to camp. She had been gone with Charles and Sadie, hunting together for nearly three days. He missed her presence dearly; she was one of the few people he could tolerate amidst his pain. Arthur knew of the sacrifices she made for him, and continued to make. He could only hope to be given half the chance to repay his gratitude. She had become a constant source of relief and comfort. Kate’s brief absence had left a void, one that he felt acutely every day.

Kate approached quietly, taking in the sight of Arthur sitting alone. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he flexed his recovering hand, and her heart ached for him. She knew how hard it was for him to feel sidelined, to watch life go on without him being able to fully participate. But she couldn't help but feel immensely relieved with each passing day, Arthur was alive after all. A testament to his spirit, as well as her own dedication.

“Good morning,” Kate called out softly, her voice a gentle intrusion into Arthur’s trance.

Arthur’s gaze was distant, his side profile illuminated by the golden morning sun. He seemed lost in thought, his mind wandering far beyond the bustling camp around him.

“Arthur,” she repeated, closing the distance between them. This time, he looked up, surprise and relief washing over his features.

“Kate,” he greeted, his voice still hoarse and groggy from a restless night. “Didn’t hear ya come in. How was the hunt?” He lifted his silver cup of coffee to his lips, the steam mingling with the crisp morning air.

Kate took a seat on the trunk at the end of Arthur’s cot, a gesture that brought him a sense of comfort. Her presence calmed his troubled mind. “It went well. We brought back plenty of game. Charles and Sadie are already getting it sorted with Pearson.”

Arthur nodded, his eyes drifting back to the camp. “M’glad you’re back. Place felt emptier without you.”

Kate chuckled, a light, melodic sound that filled the space between them. “I’m sure it did. How’ve you been holding up?” she inquired, her tone gentle but probing. She had been reluctant to leave for the hunt, worried about how Arthur’s condition was affecting him mentally.

Arthur sighed, leaning back in his chair, his tired eyes meeting hers. The vibrant blue of his irises had returned, a sight Kate had dearly missed. “Same as always. Though I haven't moved much from this spot,” he gestured with a shrug of his hand. “Seems like I can’t even pour my own cup of coffee nowadays,” he added with a hint of mockery and sarcasm, his frustration evident.

Kate hummed in acknowledgment, pulling a small folded piece of paper from her pocket. “I’ve got a job for us,” she said finally, not commenting on Arthur’s supposed helplessness.

Arthur perked up slightly in his chair, curiosity lighting up his features. “Really? Doin’ what?” he asked, trying to bite back the eagerness in his voice. He longed to be back in the saddle, away from the confines of camp.

“Seamus sent me a telegram. His broodmare is going into labor soon, and his family is going to be out of town for a few days. He asked me to watch the place for him and keep an eye on her, in case she has the baby.” Kate smiled, hoping the task would give Arthur a sense of purpose and a much-needed break from camp life. She harbored a silent hope that it would also give Arthur a glimpse of what his life could look like, if he abandoned his title as an outlaw.

Arthur’s interest was piqued, and he leaned forward, the dull ache in his arm momentarily forgotten. “That sounds like somethin’ I can handle. When do we leave?”

Kate's smile widened, pleased to see a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes. “Let’s head out after breakfast.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Eager to leave, Arthur opted to skip breakfast. Determined to feel like his old self, he made his way to his mare, Belle, without hesitation. He could see her white coat gleaming in the distance, reflecting the golden rays of the morning sun. Abandoning the crutch Kate had made for him, he limped forward, gritting his teeth against the pain. He longed for normalcy, for the feeling of being whole and capable again. The next few days promised him the opportunity to work and contribute, and he was damned if he would spend more time resting when he could make himself useful.

Reaching Belle, Arthur whispered soft greetings to her, brushing her sleek coat with gentle strokes. The mare nickered softly, enjoying the attention. He snuck her a couple of oat crackers, watching with a small smile as she eagerly nibbled them from his hand. As he turned to gather his saddle, he heard footsteps approaching and glanced over his shoulder to see Kate.

“I was thinkin’ we’d take Lorena together,” she suggested kindly, her eyes filled with concern.

A twinge of disappointment shot through Arthur. He ached to ride, to feel that sense of freedom he had been missing. “M’fine, Kate. I can still ride,” he answered, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. He knew she was only concerned for his well-being, but the idea that he might not be able to ride terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Kate approached Arthur’s side, petting Belle affectionately. “I know you can,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s Belle I’m worried ‘bout. Kieran and I have tried to saddle her, but she’s still reluctant to leave the camp. I don’t wanna push her if she ain’t ready.”

Arthur gave her a sad but understanding look. He nuzzled Belle’s snout, whispering apologies to her as she nibbled at his hat affectionately. Her familiar warmth and the gentle nudge of her muzzle were comforting, yet a poignant reminder of the torment they shared.

Kate whistled for Lorena, who was only a few feet away, staying protectively close to her companion. “You wanna saddle her up for me?” she asked Arthur, her voice kind but encouraging.

“Sure,” Arthur nodded appreciatively, gathering Kate’s buckles and saddle bags from the hitching post.

Arthur worked quietly as he saddled the large black Hungarian horse. There were moments when he faltered, the weight too much for his weakened arm. But Kate never once interfered. He stumbled and cursed under his breath, frustration simmering beneath his determination. Each setback was met with another attempt, his resolve unwavering. It took him longer than he would have liked, but once Lorena was ready, he felt a small sense of victory.

Kate watched him work, her eyes filled with silent support. She knew better than to offer unsolicited help; Arthur needed to do this on his own. When he finally finished, he gave her a small nod, a flicker of pride in his eyes. Kate grabbed the reins and held them out to Arthur.

A moment of understanding passed between them as Arthur realized Kate was doing this for him. She was giving him the tools to be independent again, one small step at a time. His heart swelled with gratitude, and he couldn’t bite back the smile that spread across his cheeks.

He lifted himself onto the horse slowly from the right side, using his good arm to pull himself up. His ankle throbbed under the weight of his body, but he swallowed the pain. In moments, he was in position, like he had done so a million times before. Poised and ready to take off like a bandit in the night, he felt a spark of the old Arthur Morgan returning.

With his good arm, he reached out a hand to Kate, who accepted the kind gesture with a smile. She settled herself behind him, a stark difference from the last time they rode together, when Arthur’s blood had stained the cracks of her leather saddle. She pushed the haunting memory down and playfully patted Arthur’s thigh. The leather of his chaps was warm beneath her fingers from the summer morning sun.

“I’m ready when you are,” she said joyfully, her voice full of light. Arthur glanced back, flashing her a grin that made her heart skip a beat.

With a click of his tongue, they took off down the vibrant green path that led out of Clemens Point. The rhythmic thudding of Lorena's hooves was like a heartbeat, steady and strong. The morning sun cast long shadows over the landscape, the world awakening around them. Birds sang from the treetops, and the scent of blooming wildflowers filled the air.

Kate's arms wrapped securely around his waist, her presence comforting. The warmth of her touch seeped through his shirt, grounding him in the moment. Arthur felt the wind in his hair and the familiar weight of the reins in his hands. Each stride of the horse brought him a little closer to the man he used to be. The pain in his ankle and arm faded into the background as the thrill of the ride took over.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

They rode past fields of tall grass swaying in the breeze, the golden tips brushing against their legs as if nature itself was greeting them. The sunlight spread through the horizon, painting a warm glow over the countryside. They crossed a sparkling creek, the water bubbling merrily as it wound its way through the terrain, a glistening ribbon of life cutting through the earth. Arthur and Kate shared smiles and stolen glances, their anticipation for what lay ahead growing stronger with each passing mile.

Arthur felt the tension ease from his shoulders, the rhythmic motion of the horse beneath him a familiar sensation. He knew he had been petulant the past couple of weeks, his frustrations spilling over onto the camp members. Guilt gnawed at him, but at this moment, all he could think about was Kate.

Her voice was a soothing sound as she pointed out sights along the way, her laughter blending harmoniously with the hum of nature. It was a healing song to his soul, mending the frayed edges of his spirit in ways he could never have imagined. The warmth of her body pressed against his back, her fingers gently hugging his sides as she held onto him, brought a sense of belonging he had longed for.

For a while, they rode together in a comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft clop of Lorena’s hooves and the rustling of the wind through the grass. The landscape unfurled before them like a tapestry, each new vista more beautiful than the last. Arthur felt a boldness stir within him, a desire to express the gratitude and affection that had been building in his heart.

“Kate?” he called, gathering her attention from whatever had caught her eye in the fields. Her gaze shifted to him, a soft hum of acknowledgment escaping her lips.

“I’ve said it before, but—” Arthur breathed deeply, sincerity filling his tone. “Thank you. I know takin’ care of me wasn’t easy.”

Kate squeezed his thigh affectionately, her touch a gentle reassurance. “Nothing in life is easy, Arthur. But I would do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant you’d still be here,” she said softly.

Arthur let her words sink in. She wanted him around. There were days when Arthur thought he had nobody, that he was better off alone or even dead. To hear her say those words filled him with a sense of purpose, a reason to keep fighting. He recalled the night he stumbled upon her letter in his journal. The weight of her confession felt heavy in his satchel now, a constant reminder of the unspoken words between them. He had found the courage to write down his feelings next to hers, but some part of him still lacked the bravery to bring them to light.

“Still don’t think I deserved it,” Arthur mumbled, more to himself than to Kate. Self-doubt simmered beneath his appreciation, a constant shadow in his mind. “You’ll have to let me repay the kindness someday,” he admitted.

Kate smiled, her hand resting warmly on his thigh. “No need to repay it. You can lean on me when things get hard. That’s what friends are for,” she said softly, giving him a gentle squeeze from behind in the saddle.

Her words from the first night she stayed at camp echoed in his mind, the night he realized he was falling for this extraordinary woman. She had been quietly singing a lullaby to her horse, and unknowingly, to Arthur as well. It was the same night he received a troubling letter from Mary, his heart filled with confusion and ache. Yet her presence brought him a sense of truth he had been longing for.

Helping others isn’t a weakness, Kate had said, it’s a testament to our humanity.

Those words had struck a chord deep within him. Kate was the most human person Arthur had ever met. She embraced him as he was, with all his flaws and scars, and proved her loyalty and friendship time and time again. She had a way of making him feel seen, understood, and valued—something he rarely experienced in life.

“Can I ask ya for a favor?” he said suddenly, changing the subject.

Kate giggled, her laughter a sweet whisper on the open air. “Of course,” she breathed, curious about his request.

“Will ya sing me somethin’?” Arthur asked, a touch of bashfulness creeping into his tone. He was sure she would sing; Kate loved to sing, and Arthur loved to listen to her. Like the prettiest song bird he ever did hear.

Kate’s eyes sparkled with surprise and delight. She shifted slightly, tightening her hold around his waist, her breath close against his back. “I’d love to,” she whispered.

Arthur felt a shiver of anticipation as Kate began to sing, her voice soft and melodic. He could feel the breath in her lungs and the vibration of her vocals behind him. The song she chose was an old folk tune, one that was filled with love and sweetness. Her voice floated on the breeze, mingling with the rustling leaves and the distant call of birds. Each note wrapped around Arthur like a warm hug, soothing the lingering stress in his body and soul.

Give you my lovin', seven days a week

I'll be your honey, if you'll be sweet

I know, I'm the only one for you

I know that you think this is not true.

See you in places, I'm followin' you

You'll be upstairs, and I'll be there too

Everywhere you go, I will follow

I know it won't be the same tomorrow.

People give me warnings, to stay away from you

They say you'll hurt me, I don't think that's true

When I see you, I wanna kiss you

But I know that ain't right, so I ask if I can hold you.

Oh, honey, I need you so bad

Oh, honey, I only want to make you glad.

Arthur felt a fluttering in his chest at her choice of song. The lyrics felt personal, as if she were speaking directly to him. Her voice filled him with confidence and reassurance. At that moment, Arthur knew he would give her the letter when they arrived at Emerald Ranch. The very place where it all began, where their paths had crossed during their unlikely task.

“Gosh, woman,” Arthur mused with a playful smile, “I gotta get’chu a guitar or somethin’.”

Kate chuckled. “Can you imagine? I’d never shut up if I had one of my own!” She laughed out loud, unaware of how much Arthur longed to hear her sing, like a songbird perched outside his window every morning.

“That’s the dream, darlin’,” Arthur replied softly.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Taking a look around the inside of the little farmhouse, Arthur marveled at how cozy it was. From the outside, it looked like your typical run-down ranch house, weathered and unassuming. But on the inside, it was a warm and welcoming home, filled with the tangible essence of years of hard work and family moments. The walls were adorned with faded photographs and handmade decorations, each telling a story of its own. The wooden floors creaked with a comforting familiarity, and the scent of aged wood mixed with the faint aroma of bread lingering in the air.

Arthur had only ever known Seamus as a rancher who ran a side business as a merchant. He had never imagined the man’s home to be so inviting, so filled with life and history. The mismatched furniture added to the charm, each piece seemingly holding its own tales.

“So, this guy really trusts you to stay in his house for a few days?” Arthur asked skeptically, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “How’s he know you won’t rob ‘em?” he added incredulously.

Kate huffed a laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Cause I’m no thief,” she emphasized, her tone playful and firm. “Seamus is very good to his ranch-hands. They do a lot for him, and he always repays their honest work.” She gestured towards the kitchen table, a short letter indicating instructions for her while he was gone as well as a wad of cash. As if he already knew Kate would show up for the task. “Besides, his broodmare Dolly can be a real handful. But she always liked me,” she added with a playful wink, a hint of pride in her voice.

Arthur couldn't help but smile at her confidence and ease. She was a reliable, trustworthy woman. He followed her as she held open the front door, indicating she would give him a tour of the rest of the property.

Together they walked over to the barn, the familiar sounds of cows lowing and chickens clucking filling the air. The occasional whinny from a horse echoed in the distance. The barn itself was sturdy and well-kept, with bales of hay neatly stacked and the scent of fresh straw mingling with the earthy aroma of the animals.

Lorena was bareback in the pen, nibbling on the hay with the other horses. Her sleek black coat shone in the soft light, a picture of contentment. Arthur admired how the horses seemed at peace here, a reflection of the care and attention they received.

As they walked, Kate pointed out various aspects of the ranch, sharing anecdotes and bits of history. “Seamus built this barn himself, you know. Every plank and nail. Took him the better part of a year,” she said, voice filled with respect.

Arthur listened intently, appreciating the glimpse into a world so different from his own. “Seems like a good man,” he remarked, nodding thoughtfully.

“He is,” Kate agreed. “He’s one of the few who understands the value of hard work and loyalty. And the payoff of living an honest life.”

Arthur chuckled, “if my memory serves me right, he had me and Hosea rob his cousin a few months back.” He said scratching his chin.

Kate shot him a knowing grin, “oh I remember. I got stuck babysitting you morons,” she teased. In a more serious tone she added, “but he’s got a family to take care of. And life ain’t easy.”

They paused at the edge of the pen, watching the horses for a moment. The golden afternoon sun bathed the ranch in a warm glow, casting dark shadows and highlighting the beauty of the surroundings. Arthur felt a sense of peace here, a welcome relief from the chaos of their usual lives.

Kate turned to him, her eyes shining with a mix of pride and contentment. “Ready to meet Dolly?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

With a nod from Arthur, Kate led him to the back of the stables, where the broodmare was kept. The area was a safe distance from the other mares and stallions, ensuring a quiet and secure environment for the expectant mother. Dolly, a large dapple gray Andalusian with a white muzzle and a distinctive white stripe down her forehead, stood regally in her stall. She was too old to be working but too young to be retired, so she had become a mother to a handful of strong young fillies.

Kate had worked around Dolly for a few weeks and initially suffered accordingly. The mare had a reputation for being temperamental and unpredictable. Dolly had once nearly kicked Kate’s head off when she attempted to re-shoe her. She was the one horse that genuinely frightened Kate, which said a lot considering Lorena’s temper.

But like any challenge, Kate approached it with patience and conviction. She spent countless hours with Dolly, speaking to her softly and handling her with care. Gradually, the mare's wild eyes softened, and she began to form a bond of trust with Kate. Dolly acknowledged that Kate was the master, and she the hound. While Dolly remained fierce and powerful, Kate was the only one who could tame her.

Kate greeted the large mare warmly, her eyes softening at the sight of Dolly’s swollen, round belly. “Hey mama. Good lord girl, you are ready to pop!” she exclaimed, scratching under Dolly’s snout. The mare snorted and flicked her ears, reacting to Arthur’s unfamiliar scent in her territory.

“She’s a beauty,” Arthur remarked, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance.

Kate smiled, continuing to scratch Dolly’s favorite spot. “She is, isn’t she? Took some time, but we got to understand each other.” She glanced at Arthur, her eyes twinkling with pride and affection. “She’s still got some spirit in her, but she knows I’m here to help.”

Arthur admired the way she gently stroked her snout, “You’ve got a way with these animals, Kate. It’s somethin’ special.”

Kate’s smile widened, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Thanks, Arthur. That means a lot coming from you.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching as Dolly nuzzled Kate’s hand. The soft sounds of the other horses in the stables and the gentle rustling of hay created a peaceful atmosphere.

Kate turned to Arthur, her hand still resting on Dolly’s snout. “Wanna give it a try?” she asked, nodding toward the mare.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, but then he took a breath and stepped forward. He reached out slowly, allowing Dolly to catch his scent. The mare flicked her ears again but didn’t pull away. With a gentle touch, Arthur stroked her neck, feeling the warmth and strength beneath his fingers.

“She don’t seem so bad,” he muttered as her whiskers tickled his other hand, a tentative smile forming on his lips.

Suddenly, Dolly shrieked loudly and stomped her hooves, causing Arthur to jerk back slightly. Kate laughed, a sound like tinkling bells, and said, “Oh, stop it, you’re embarrassing me,” she spoke to the horse scoldingly. “He’s harmless,” she added softly, grabbing her reins and gently coaxing her back to Arthur’s presence.

Arthur watched in admiration as Kate handled the mare with such ease and gentleness. The way she treated Dolly, her own horse, and every beast with respect and concern showed a depth of compassion that extended far beyond human interactions. It was as if her love and care were boundless, touching every living thing she encountered.

The tempered mare approached reluctantly as Arthur pulled a peppermint from his satchel. He smiled to himself as Dolly hesitantly lowered her head again to accept the irresistible sweet treat. “You’re not the only one with a sweet tooth,” he muttered, popping one of the candies in his mouth and seizing the opportunity to pet her snout.

“Look at that, friends already,” Kate said, clasping her hands together with a look of satisfaction. She turned to Arthur, her gaze filled with anticipation. “You ready to get to work?”

Arthur nodded and made a gesture with his hands, “Ready as the day is long,” he said with a smile. “What can I do?” he asked, looking around the barn, eager to contribute.

Kate placed a hand on her hip and followed his gaze, contemplating how they would split the work. She wanted to give him enough labor to make him feel useful, but nothing that would be too strenuous for him. Arthur glanced at her with a hint of amusement, appreciating her thoughtful consideration. In that moment, they weren’t just friends or potential lovers—they were simply a couple of ranch hands ready to tackle the day’s work together. She had a way about her that made him feel human again.

“Well,” Kate began, her eyes scanning the barn, “we need to muck out the stalls and make sure all the animals are fed and watered. After that, we can check on Dolly again and make sure she’s comfortable.”

Seamus usually had at least three to six ranch hands depending on the season. Most of them were his own kin, which meant they were short a few hands. The sun had begun its descent past its peak at noon, casting long shadows across the ranch. Only a handful of hours remained before dusk would creep in, and Kate estimated that their work would take them through the rest of the afternoon.

“Think you can start with the stalls?” Kate inquired, her mind already planning out the evening's tasks.

“Absolutely,” Arthur’s voice broke through her thoughts, filled with determination.

Kate nodded with a smile, slipping on a pair of leather gloves. “I’ll be around if you need me. Just holler,” she said, ready to tackle her own chores.

As she turned to leave, Arthur stopped her. “Hang on a moment.”

Kate paused, watching as Arthur pulled out a folded piece of paper tucked into his journal. His hand trembled slightly, whether from his injury or nerves, she couldn't tell.

Kate accepted the paper with a furrowed brow, her fingers itching to peek inside. “What’s thi–”

“Read it later,” Arthur blurted out, the words tumbling together like a stampede. “Please,” he added softly, trying to swallow the heat rising up his neck. He had never considered himself a ladies' man, and he wondered every day how he ever managed to catch the eye of a woman such as Kate. Writing in his journal was the purest way he could communicate his thoughts, and Kate had learned to understand his language, which still felt surreal to him.

Standing there like a proud young stallion, Arthur held his hat to his chest, an adorably sincere gesture he had done a few times around Kate. She knew then what the little paper contained within its folds. He was baring his heart to her in the best way he knew how.

She smiled warmly and tucked the confession into her breast pocket, close to her heart. “I’ll read it later, Arthur,” she promised.

Arthur headed to the stalls, grabbing a pitchfork and setting to work. Each movement, though painful, felt purposeful. He shoveled the muck with a steady rhythm, the repetitive task giving him time to reflect on the note he had given Kate. He wondered what she would think, how she would react, and hoped that his words would convey the depth of his feelings.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The hours passed by in a whirlwind of tasks. Kate tackled the heavy labor, her muscles straining with the effort as she moved bales of hay, repaired fencing, and carried buckets of water to the troughs. She welcomed the physical challenge, the work offered a familiar routine she had been missing. It kept her focused and grounded, and she found a certain satisfaction in the job.

Arthur, meanwhile, took care of the barn duties. He mucked out the stalls, cleaned the tack, and ensured the animals were comfortable. Every now and then, he would pause to stretch his sore shoulder or lean against the stable gate to rest his ankle. Despite the aches in his body, he felt a sense of accomplishment with each completed task. The familiar rhythm of ranch life created a comforting sense of normalcy. Unlike his usual work, it brought him domestic bliss. Something he had always longed for.

As the afternoon wore on, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long, golden shadows across the ranch. The air grew cooler, and a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. Kate paused to take in the moment, leaning against an upturned trough. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, her gaze drifting upward.

The sky had taken on a dramatic hue, the once bright blue now a tapestry of darkening clouds. The sun dipped on the horizon, creating a fiery glow that contrasted sharply with the ominous gray that was slowly overtaking it. The scent of rain was in the air, a fresh, earthy aroma.

The day's work had taken its toll, and she felt a pleasant exhaustion settling into her bones. She figured it was time to call it a day anyway; the approaching storm and the growl of her stomach made the decision an easy one.

Before they could retire for the night, one task remained on Kate’s mind. She sought out a secluded spot under a nearby tree, the gentle rustling of leaves providing a soothing backdrop. Kate tugged her gloves off with her teeth, simultaneously pulling the letter from her pocket. Her fingers traced the folds, her heart racing with anticipation and a twinge of uncertainty. Whatever lay within these pages would change their relationship forever; Kate fervently hoped it was a change for the better.

Feeling the weight of Arthur's words in her palm, she carefully unfolded the handful of papers. The edges were smooth yet serrated, as if he had meticulously torn them from his journal. The folds were straight and pressed, resembling the careful sealing of an envelope. Kate marveled at his genuine care for something so simple.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she filled her heart with clarity and began to read his words:

My darling Kate…

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

~ 3 days ago ~

In the depth of night, the moon had carved its way across the sky, a silent sentinel overseeing the world below. Even the creatures of the shadows were preparing to sleep, the sunrise just beyond the horizon. The sky was an inky black canvas, streaked with gray clouds, as the world beyond began to stir.

There were no stars that night, as if the universe mirrored Arthur's loneliness. Only the glowing black and red coals of a dying campfire kept the midnight chill from seeping into his bones. Despite the faint warmth, his hands felt as cold as his aching heart. He had woken from another restless sleep only hours ago, haunted by memories that burned in the back of his mind like a shot of whiskey, distorting his sense of reality.

It had gotten better with each passing day. Most nights, Arthur managed to talk himself out of his terror, reminding himself where he was, that he was not in danger, that the lives of the gang were not in danger.

But there were nights, like tonight, when Arthur would wake with a sense of urgency and panic. His sleepless, tormented mind was confused and afraid, desperately searching for a way out. Everything around him was shrouded in darkness, and he couldn't distinguish memory from reality. The ghosts of his past torment mingled with the shadows of his present, creating a suffocating void that threatened to swallow him whole.

On these nights, Kate was always there for him. Though these episodes were infrequent, she never failed to appear when his sense of panic neared the brink of danger, for himself or for others. With gentle coaxing, she would guide him to sit with her by the fire, her presence calming his frayed nerves. She would reassure him, answering any and all of his questions, no matter how many times he asked. Her voice, soothing and steady, became his anchor in the storm.

When Arthur finally calmed down, she would speak softly to him for hours until he was tired enough to return to sleep. Sometimes, they would sit in companionable silence until the first light of dawn broke through the horizon, the crackling of the fire and the quiet sounds of the night their only company.

But tonight, Kate wasn't there. She had left with Charles and Sadie at first light, eager to provide for the camp and savor the thrill of the hunt. Arthur remained behind, confined by his injuries. He knew it was ridiculous to feel jealous of their outing, but it wasn’t just the escape he longed for—it was Kate.

Her presence was a constant source of relief amidst his pain and frustrations. When Kate was with him, the burdens of his injuries and fears seemed to lift, carried away on the wind. It didn’t matter if she was idly chatting over breakfast, her laughter mingling with the morning light, or helping him with the simple tasks his injuries had made difficult. Her kindness and care infused every moment with warmth and comfort.

But now, in the stillness of the night, Arthur felt a deep, gnawing loneliness. His friends slept just ten feet away, their soft snores and shifting forms a reminder of their presence. Yet, he couldn’t stand the way they looked at him now, as if he were helpless and weak. They commended his strength and recovery, but there was a change in their demeanor, a subtle shift that made him feel more isolated than ever. They saw him in a different light, and he hated how it made him feel—like an outsider in his own family.

Arthur’s thoughts turned to his satchel, to the old leather journal tucked inside. He hadn’t so much as opened it since the day his heart was laid bare, his private words exposed in a way that felt humiliating. Those pages now seemed tainted, the words within soaked with memories he wished he could forget. The journal had once been a refuge, a place where he could pour out his soul, but now it felt like a canvas painted with malicious strokes of red ink.

Needing an outlet for his swirling thoughts, Arthur reluctantly opened the journal, the pages heavy with memories. He flipped through drawings, entries, and little notes, each one a fragment of his life. Portraits of Kate mingled with sketches of flowers and scenery, their delicate lines capturing moments of fleeting beauty.

His fingers paused on one particular page, the image stretching across both sides of the journal. On the left, a tender depiction of Kate laying in the grass, sleeping against her saddle. Her face was serene, her features softened by slumber. Lorena, her loyal mare, had her head nestled on Kate's chest, equally deep in sleep. The scene was a perfect snapshot of peace and companionship.

On the right side of the page, Arthur had sketched the familiar rocky shoreline of Clemens Point. The sun was setting, its rays kissing the horizon and casting a glow over the water. The waves lapped gently at the rocks, the rhythmic motion almost audible through the drawing.

In Arthur’s print, a simple note read: My world.

The words echoed in his mind, resonating with a profound truth. Kate was his world. She brought color to his sketches, life to his drawings, and hope to his weary soul. The two images revealed everything he held dear—the serenity of nature, the warmth of company, and the beauty of the young woman who had captured his heart.

He recalled the day with a light smile, the memory warming him from within. Arthur had been fishing, enjoying one of the rare days when he had time to himself. He had found a secluded spot hidden by a formation of rocks, where the world seemed to fall away. The afternoon and evening were spent indulging in the simple pleasure of fishing. Captivated by the scene around him, he captured the moment by sketching the view, the gentle ripples of the water, the play of light on the surface, and the dense trees framing the landscape.

Sometime later, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, Kate had wandered into the small clearing nearby. Unbeknownst to her, it was right behind Arthur’s fishing spot. He watched her quietly, drawn to the scene by the sound of her voice, a soft melody that carried on the gentle breeze. She was singing to her mare, Lorena, like she did most evenings. Her voice was tender, filled with a love that touched Arthur deeply.

Kate brushed Lorena’s coat with slow, deliberate strokes, her fingers combing through the mare’s mane with practiced ease. Arthur could see the bond between them, the trust and affection that had been built through countless moments like this. The sight was mesmerizing.

After a while, the soft singing ceased, replaced by the low hum of cicadas and the occasional chirp of tree frogs. The evening light cast a golden glow over the clearing, making it feel like a scene from a dream. He glanced back and saw Kate lying in the grass, sound asleep. Her chest rose and fell with the gentle rhythm of her breathing, and Lorena rested her head protectively near Kate's.

Without wasting a second, Arthur pulled out his journal and filled the blank page next to his first sketch. He captured the pleasant image of Kate and Lorena with delicate, careful strokes, the grass bending softly around them, the mare's head nestled close to her, the light framing them both in a warm embrace.

Arthur continued to flip through the pages of his journal, his breath catching at the jagged edges of a torn page. The memory of someone having taken one of his portraits of her resurfaced, a sting of loss mingling with shame. He swallowed the memory and continued flipping, searching for a blank page.

He paused when he reached an unfamiliar script. The handwriting was smooth and fine, the elegant cursive of someone properly educated. It was a woman's delicate handwriting. The heading caught his breath:

My dearest Arthur

The words swam through his mind as he took in each stroke of the pencil. His heart swelled with adoration and yearning, and his cheeks warmed with the emotion that welled up inside him. Kate’s words, tender and heartfelt, brought silent tears to his eyes. Arthur didn’t know what he had done to deserve such love, what higher power had put him through hell only to provide this light at the end.

The fear and doubt that had plagued him still lingered, but in this moment, Arthur knew he had to answer her letter. He felt an urgency, a need to reciprocate the love she had so freely given. For the rest of the evening, he put together his thoughts onto those pages;

My darling Kate,

Forgive me, if it seems cowardly, doing things this way. But I’m afraid it’s the only way I know how. It’s really hard for me to face you sometimes; I get choked up and the words don’t come out right. You smile, and my heart just leaps from me. Your company is a great comfort to me, more than you could ever know.

I’m not very good at all this—feelings, and just life in general. In my years I have only ever known mayhem. I was born with blood on my hands and I have never allowed myself a moment of peace. I’ve spent so much time living on the run, thinking only of survival and the next job. I was scared to live, and I was scared to die.

I never thought I would dream of a quiet life, a good life. But you’ve changed that, Kate. You’ve shown me a kindness and warmth I thought I’d never feel again. I don’t deserve it, and yet you’ve given me a reason to believe that maybe there’s more to this life than hurting and hiding.

When I look at you, I see a future I never dared to dream of. I see us together, building a life filled with simple joys and quiet moments. I see a place we can call home, where I can watch you shine and spread your wings like the angel you are.

I know I don't have much to offer you. My life has been a series of hard choices and rough roads, and I carry the weight of those years with me. But what I can offer you is my heart. My affection, my strength, my loyalty, and my love. It’s not much, but it’s yours. All of me is yours.

You’ve brought light into my life, Kate, and I want nothing more than to drown myself in the rays of your beauty. To be by your side is the greatest gift you could ever give me. I want to wake up each morning in our home and fill it with memories and laughter, to create a place where love and joy are as natural as the air we breathe.

I always worried that I may never live long enough to see the whole world, but now I’ve found that I already have. When I look into your eyes, I see everything I've ever searched for.

So, if you’ll have me, I’d love to chase that dream of a wooden house with you.

With all my heart,

Arthur

p.s - Your words make me forget the pains of my past. So, thank you, for healing that part of me too.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The winds picked up, carrying with them an electric scent that announced a coming storm. The smell of grass and hay mingled with the atmosphere, creating a heady mix that filled the air. The breeze swirled around Kate, shaking the leaves above her with a growing intensity. Her heart mirrored the uproar around her, a storm of emotions raging like a hurricane through the Midwest. The rumble of thunder echoed the drumming of her heart, each beat resonating with the power of the approaching storm.

Wiping her tears with a trembling hand, Kate gently folded the letter and placed it back in her breast pocket. The rain began to fall in gentle sputters, mingling with the warmth against her cheeks. Each drop felt like a kiss from the sky, a reminder of the heartfelt joy she hadn't felt since her old life—the life she had been forced to leave behind. She had once thought she might never reach such peace again, but here she was, on the brink of a new beginning.

Everything was going to change. Once again, fate had taken her life in a new direction, an unexpected but welcome turn amidst the troubles and turmoils she had experienced. Arthur was the beginning of a new life, a second chance at feeling whole again. His love was like a lantern, its warm glow guiding her through the darkness and giving her hope for a future she had only dared to dream of again.

The rain began to fall more steadily, each drop a mark on the story of her life. Kate’s mind raced with thoughts of Arthur, the man who had captured her heart with his quiet strength and unshakable loyalty. She felt a sudden sense of urgency, a desperate need to be with him.

She stood up, the wind tugging at her clothes as if urging her forward. The rain began to fall harder, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Arthur—his rugged handsomeness, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, the warmth of his touch.

With purposeful, quickened footsteps, Kate made her way to the barn in search of him. She noted how clean the stalls looked, the horses and barn animals contentedly eating their dinner and settling in for the night. Her heart pounded with each glance as she searched for him, her excitement building with every step.

Rounding the corner, she finally spotted him. Arthur had his back turned to her, his broad shoulders moving rhythmically as he spread hay through the birthing stall, preparing it meticulously for Dolly’s comfort. The muscles in his back and arms flexed with each movement, showcasing the strength and care he put into every task. The sight of him working with such dedication sent a thrill through her heart.

Kate quickened her pace, her feet barely touching the ground as she approached the stall gate. The soft jingle of the latch caught his attention, and he turned to greet her, his expression shifting from focused determination to warm surprise.

He rested his injured arm on the pitchfork, his eyes lighting up as they met hers. “What are you smiling at?” Arthur asked playfully, noting the tear-stained cheeks and the rosy hue that adorned her ear-to-ear smile. It was a sight that never got old to him. In that moment, he knew she had read his letter.

Kate giggled softly, her voice filled with joy. “For a mean, nasty outlaw, you sure can be pretty damn romantic,” she teased, her smile widening as she bit her bottom lip. She felt like a giddy teenager in his presence, her heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and love.

Arthur grinned, a bashful look crossing his face as he turned his head, scratching his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout romance, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with self-consciousness.

Kate opened the gate, stepping inside the stall with purpose. Arthur dropped the pitchfork, his eyes locked onto her as she closed the gap between them. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her voice a breathless whisper, "Oh, shut up and kiss me, Arthur."

Arthur's eyes widened, his pupils dilating until the blue of his irises was barely visible. He wasted no time winding his arm around her waist, his good hand sliding up to cup the back of her head. Her warmth was intoxicating, he felt blessed to get drunk on her love.

And he kissed her.

Deeply, passionately, achingly. Their lips collided with an intensity that spoke of all the emotions they had kept bottled up. Their noses brushed against one another, moving in a delicate dance like swans in courtship. The soft rub of their cheeks, the fervent joining and breaking of their lips, created a symphony of love and desire. Breathless sighs of pleasure filled the air around them.

The wind picked up, whipping through the stalls and causing their hair to flutter and tickle their cheeks. The distant rumble of thunder signaled the approaching storm, but nothing could break them from their shared moment of passion.

Kate cupped Arthur's cheek in her hand, savoring the softness of his beard beneath her fingers. She trailed her hand to the back of his neck and gently tugged on his hair, eliciting a deep moan that she eagerly swallowed. Arthur’s tongue played at her lips, seeking permission for deeper intimacy. Kate welcomed him, her tongue meeting his in a dance as old as time. The taste of peppermint mixed with the scent of his musk filled her senses, making her dizzy with desire.

Arthur groaned at the sensation of her gently sucking on his tongue, pulling her body tightly against his. The heat between them was palpable, their bodies pressed so close that not even the wind could come between them. Each touch, each kiss, and every heartbeat only elevated the burning tension between them.

Their surroundings faded away, the barn and its animals, the impending storm, all became insignificant. In that moment, it was just the two of them, lost in each other. Kate's fingers threaded through Arthur's hair, her nails grazing his scalp in a way that sent shivers down his spine. His hands roamed her back, memorizing every curve and dip, pulling her even closer as if he could never get enough.

Kate gasped as he took her bottom lip between his teeth, a tantalizing hint of pain and pleasure that sent a warm flood to her core. Then he attacked her mouth again with such ferocity that she felt she might stumble backward. But Arthur's hand was splayed across her lower back, fingers tracing circles against the curve of her spine, holding her protectively in his embrace. She rolled her hips forward against his, eliciting a deep grunt from him as his grip tightened on her hair. Pure bliss filled her heart and mind, every sensation magnified by the intensity of their connection.

A sudden, earth-shaking clap of thunder, followed by a brilliant strike of lightning, lit up the air, startling them both. So enraptured were they in each other that for a moment, the world outside had ceased to exist. The rain began to pour in heavy drops, pattering rhythmically against the tin roof of the barn, creating a symphony of nature's power.

Kate glanced outside, breaking the kiss as the storm raged on. The intensity of the moment left her breathless, her lips tingling from their passionate exchange. Arthur panted, his gaze never leaving her features, his eyes dark with desire and affection.

"Kate," he breathed, his voice a husky whisper. "You drive me wild."

She looked up at him, taking in the sight of his lips swollen and red, nearly matching the pink of his cheeks that reached all the way to his ears. His hat had blown off, landing somewhere in the hay, and his hair was delightfully disheveled from both the wind and Kate's delicate fingers. His blue eyes met hers with such contented bliss, heavy with warmth. Wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes from the smile that spread across his lips. Kate wished she could freeze this moment, capturing it forever, safe from the tricks of time.

"Arthur," she replied, his name a sacred prayer on her lips, carrying all the love and adoration she felt for him.

He leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, his touch tender and reverent. “Was a little worried you might not feel the same,” he murmured against her skin. “After I woke up ‘n all,” he added, a hint of doubt lacing his voice. The memory of his injury and the changes it had wrought in him weighed heavily on his mind. He felt different, diminished somehow, and it gnawed at his confidence.

Kate scoffed lightly at the absurdity of the idea, as if she would ever dare to think less of him. “Really? Why would you think that?” She asked, nudging her head to get him to look in her eyes. They held each other close, gently rocking against each other with the rhythm of the rain.

Arthur held her gaze, his blue eyes reflecting a deep-seated self-doubt. “Dunno, I knew I wasn't the most striking bachelor before. And now I—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He thought of himself as half the man he used to be, the injuries a constant reminder. “Sometimes I just think I’m undesirable.”

Kate tightened her hold on him, her fingers tracing soothing patterns on his back. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the self-doubt that weighed heavily on him. "Arthur," she began softly, her voice filled with conviction, "You are a wonderful, beautiful man. Your strength, your kindness, your heart—that’s what matterns. You are always worthy of love."

Arthur's eyes softened, the weight of her words easing his troubled heart. He leaned his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. “What did I do to deserve a woman like you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kate smiled, her heart brimming with love. “You’re more than enough for me, Arthur. And you always will be.”

They stood there for a few moments, the barn providing a sanctuary from the storm. The rain continued to patter against the roof, creating a gentle symphony that seemed to echo the rhythm of their shared heartbeat. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of wet hay and earth, mingling with the warmth of their closeness.

Arthur sighed, his reluctance evident as he spoke. "I reckon it's about time we called it a night, huh?" His voice was soft, almost wistful. He began peppering little kisses over Kate’s cheeks, each one tender and filled with affection. She giggled softly, the sound a melodic contrast to the storm outside.

She responded in kind, launching her own playful attack of kisses. Their laughter mingled with the rain, filling the barn with a lightheartedness that made the moment feel timeless. "Oh, but you make it so hard," she whined teasingly, her voice dripping with playful frustration.

Arthur's hands roamed her back, his touch gentle and loving. "I’d be happy to bed you right here in this barn, Kate," he murmured against her skin, his breath hot on her neck. He captured her lips in a final, heated kiss, their desire deepening with each passing moment.

Kate shuddered at his words. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, she pulled away from his embrace. The absence of his warmth was immediately palpable, a stark contrast to the heat that had enveloped her just moments before. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of love and longing.

"We should get inside," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of passion. "There's a warm fire and bath waiting for us."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Escaping the rain, they quickly discarded their muddy boots at the door. The room was filled with the warmth of the crackling fire as Arthur stoked the flames. Kate moved to prepare a bath, her cheeks tinged with a blush as the thought of what was to come flitted through her mind. When the water was ready, she approached Arthur, her heart pounding with anticipation.

"The bath is ready," she said softly, a shy smile playing on her lips. Unlike the spacious bathhouses in hotels, this was a small wooden tub, designed to fit one person.

Arthur approached her, taking her small hand in his large one. "Could I ask to repay the favor tonight?" he asked, his voice filled with a tender longing.

Kate looked at him, confused. "What favor?"

"When you bathed me," he said softly, his eyes searching hers. Kate blushed, slightly shocked that he remembered that moment amidst his raging fever.

A smile tugged at her lips. "Only if you join me," she answered.

Arthur breathed deeply, a wave of desire washing over him. He wanted to capture her in a kiss right then and there, but he knew there was a deeper moment of intimacy awaiting them. She led him to the washroom, holding onto his hand.

The room was small and dimly lit with a few candles adorning the walls. A quiet fire crackled in a little hearth, used to heat the water. Clouds of steam filled the space, carrying the rich scent of lavender and pine. The water glimmered with bath oil and small bubbles, inviting and warm.

Arthur followed her into the room, closing the door behind him. He approached Kate from behind, enveloping her in his arms as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. His hands splayed across her abdomen, fingers tracing the buttons of her blouse. Kate swallowed as the heat rose from the pit of her stomach. She sighed blissfully and leaned into his embrace, her hands moving to meet Arthur’s, encouraging him to remove the fabric.

Their bodies moved in unison as she turned to meet his lips. He pushed the blouse off her shoulders, and she quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it off him to reveal his chest. The dampness from the rain still clung to his skin, and the scars from his injuries were healing with each passing day. The once deep purple bruises had faded to a pale shade, marking his progress.

Arthur untied her undershirt, revealing her breasts to the thick, warm air. Her eyes sought his, and she found them gazing upon her with love and adoration. Leaning down to kiss her neck, his hands traveled to the button of her trousers. Kate gasped at his touch, her hands following his movements.

They stood completely naked before each other, their chests heaving with desire. Arthur stepped into the hot bath first, then held out a hand to Kate, silently inviting her to join him. She bit her lip with anticipation and allowed him to pull her naked body into his embrace. The water was hot and soothing, relaxing all of her muscles as she settled into his lap.

Arthur’s strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close as they both sighed with contentment. He gently kissed her shoulder, trailing soft kisses up her neck. Kate leaned back against him, her fingers tracing the muscles of his arms, feeling the strength and tenderness in his touch.

The warmth of the bath enveloped them, the fragrant steam mingling with their breaths. Arthur’s hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and contour with reverence. Kate tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck as she moaned softly at his calloused wandering hands.

He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, his voice husky with desire. "You are so beautiful, Kate," he murmured, his lips grazing her earlobe.

Kate turned her head, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Their tongues danced together, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through their bodies. She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her back, and she shifted slightly, eliciting a groan from Arthur.

"Easy now," he whispered against her lips, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. "We’ve got all night."

Kate’s breath hitched at his touch, her body arching into his hands. His fingers rolled the small buds, the oil of the bath making them slick. A shuddering moan escaped her lips. She could feel the intensity of his desire, matched by her own. "Arthur," she whispered, her voice trembling with aching desire. "I need you."

He kissed her deeply, one hand sliding down her body to rest on her hip. Fingers kneading at the soft flesh, tauntingly close to her heat. "You have me darlin’," he replied, his voice thick with lust.

With a gentle but firm touch, Arthur guided Kate to turn around and straddle his lap. The water sloshed around them as their bodies pressed together in an intimate embrace. Kate wrapped her arms around his neck, gazing into his eyes with yearning. Her body slid into place in his lap like the final puzzle piece, the bath oil making their skin velvet soft to the touch. She met him in an open-mouthed kiss, their passion raging like the storm outside.

Arthur moaned against her lips, his hands wandering her back and holding her close. He squeezed the flesh of her bottom and nipped at her neck. She shuddered and gasped at his touch, his lips tickling the sensitive skin. Moving his attention down to her nipples, he took one in his mouth, sucking and flicking his wet heat over the small bud. The sounds of her pleasure drove him wild, a feeling so strong it overwhelmed all his senses.

Kate's hands traced his chest, following a path over his stomach. Her touch felt like fire against his skin, igniting something deep inside him. His pleasure made itself known as his hard length pressed proudly into the flesh of her abdomen, desperately seeking the suffocating warmth of her core.

Her gentle fingers moved between them, gliding down to the soft curls below his navel. Her nails tickled his skin, sending a sudden chill up his spine. The wind picked up outside, its cold air seeping through the cracks of the old windows. It fluttered the candles and stuck to Arthur’s skin like tar. He tried to swallow the feeling that was building in his stomach.

Kate kissed his cheeks fervently, the pads of her fingers brushing against his tip. His erection twitched at her touch. Arthur’s breathing picked up as she moved her hand to wrap around him. He bucked his hips at the sensation.

Arthur suddenly felt dizzy with a mix of arousal and uncertainty. Her touch felt incredible, but something stirred in the back of his mind. It crept up his throat and suffocated his lungs. He recognized the feeling: it was fear. His heart raced and his breathing became ragged as he shut his eyes, trying to make sense of his mind.

Kate was with him now. He knew he was safe. Her touch was gentle and filled with love and desire. It was clear she wanted to share in this pleasure with him. So why did he feel this way? Arthur couldn't make sense of it, and in turn, it only heightened his anxiety. Clouding the blissful moment with dread. As her hand wrapped around him, he sucked in a breath and gripped her arms.

“Kate,” he said shakily, “S-stop…please.” Arthur wanted to shout at himself. He had waited and dreamed of this moment since the day he fell for her, never thinking such intimacy would grace his life again.

Hearing the panic in his voice, Kate immediately ceased her actions, turning her full attention to Arthur’s shuddering form. She had mistaken his recent reactions for pleasure, not anxiety. With one hand placed on the edge of the tub and the other cradling his face, she brought his eyes to hers. “Oh honey, are you alright?”

Arthur swallowed, memories suddenly firing through his mind like a million lawmen aiming their guns at his heart. The cold cellar, the wandering hands, the touching and groping. He squeezed his eyes shut as the feeling of humiliation washed over his body once again. “I-I don’t…I don’t know. It’s like I’m havin’ one of them nightmares,” he said finally. “But I think they’re memories. I think they–” he swallowed again, “I-I can’t remember what they did to me.” He suddenly choked, his hand flying to cover his mouth as he held back a sob.

Everything was pouring forth at once, and he couldn't stop the flood. It felt like a dream but somehow different, like he was being forced to confront his torment. His emotions had been at their highest; love and desire filled him in a way they had not for so many years. Yet somehow, grief and panic had managed to find a crack and send the whole thing crashing down.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Kate cooed softly, her touch grounding him. “They’re only memories, they can’t hurt you,” she whispered, gently pulling him into her embrace as the water moved around them.

“My body has been hurt in a lot of ways, but what they did,” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. Her hands moved in soothing circles over his back.

Kate’s heart flooded with grief and understanding. “I know,” she interrupted, “there are no words for it, Arthur.” She recalled memories of her own assault many years ago. Their touch still lingered in the wrinkles of her skin. They shared scars that ran so deep they were not visible to the naked eye, only revealed in moments when their souls were laid bare.

Arthur’s breathing was still ragged. “It’s like it’s all happening again, Kate. I thought I could get past it, but...”

“But healing isn’t a straight path,” she finished for him. “It’s messy and painful, and it takes time. You can’t brute force your way through it.”

His eyes darkened, glistening with warm tears. “I just feel so...different. Like I’m some pathetic good-for-nothin’ washed-up–”

“Enough with that,” Kate said sternly. She sat up in his lap and took his face in her hands. The fear and grief were swirling into anger and frustration. It was as if she could see the storm in his eyes, a deep blue sea raging within them. The water in the bath had begun to settle into a lukewarm embrace, cooling with each passing moment.

Shaking his head, his voice rose with an anger that Kate knew was not directed at her, but still struck a chord in her heart. “I can barely run, I can hardly shoot. I don’t know if I can even ride a horse without help,” he listed off his frustrations. “Christ, I can't even be intimate with a woman. What the hell am I good for?” Arthur suddenly made a move to leave the bath.

Standing up and stepping out of the tub, Kate followed him as she grabbed a towel. “Don’t say that, Arthur–”

“No one looks at me the same, Kate. No one!” He shouted, wrapping a towel around his waist as he paced the bathroom floor. “Am I that fucking pathetic?” Thunder echoed outside the ranch house, shaking the walls and fluttering the candles. Arthur leaned against the vanity, the sudden ache in his shoulder and ankle made itself known, only elevating his pains.

Kate swallowed thickly; she had never seen him so upset. Even on the rare nights when his tormented dreams distorted his reality. “You are not pathetic, Arthur,” she said gravely, trying to calm his frayed nerves while also reassuring his broken heart. Only moments ago they were engaged in a heated moment of passion, which now felt far away.

“Dutch won’t even fuckin’ look at me no more! Like I’m some sick dog he’s waitin’ on to die so he can replace me.” His face was red with emotion. The heat of the hot bath mingled with his frustration and shame that boiled beneath his skin. It pained Kate to see how much his self-worth relied on Dutch’s approval, as if he believed he were less than nothing without that man’s good graces.

“He’s not going to replace you, honey,” she replied softly, although she wasn’t entirely sure her words held any truth. Taking small steps toward his figure as if she were approaching a frightened gelding, her movement was purposeful yet calming.

“I could barely stand to look at my own body before, and now” he sighed as Kate grasped his shoulders gently. “I want your touch, Kate,” his hand moved to cover hers. “I crave it more than anything. But I can’t even be with you without—” he moved his hand up to hide his face in distress, attempting to shield her from the new flood of tears that were escaping down his cheeks and into his beard.

Gentle fingers pulled his hand away, revealing the broken man beneath them. She knew that strange words come out of a grown man’s mouth when his heart is hurting. Cupping his face, her thumbs traced circles over his cheeks. “No one said we had to move so fast, Arthur,” she kissed away his tears. “We can take as much time as you need, my love. This isn’t something we have to rush.”

A shuddering breath escaped his lips as he leaned into her touch. “Sometimes I just don’t know who I am anymore.” He whispered.

He pulled himself into her embrace, letting the emotion wash over him. Kate held him with unwavering strength, taking in every word and embracing the vulnerability he was sharing with her. “Your days as an outlaw may be coming to an end, but that doesn’t mean you are too. People change over the years, it’s just part of life. Some chapters don’t have happy beginnings, but you can still find moments of joy in the journey.”

He squeezed her tight to his body, afraid that she may slip away and wake up only to find it was just another cruel dream. Terrified that he may one day wake up in that dark cellar again, alone. “I’m afraid I don’t know what’s real, Kate.”

“If you can’t trust your mind, Arthur. Just ask me and I’ll tell you.” She said, pulling her head back to look into his eyes. The corners tinted red from his tears, reminded her of the days of his recovery. But the blue was as bright and vast as the morning sky. She kissed his chin, and he leaned down to place his forehead against hers.

“You still want me,” he said quietly, almost hesitantly. “Is that real?”

“As real as the ground beneath our feet.” Kate kissed his cheek, “and the birds in the sky,” a kiss to the nose, “the sun against your skin,” a peck on his temple, “the air we breathe,” lips brushed over the healing scar on his brow, “as real as you and me.” Her lips found home against his own. Rough and sweet, and full of longing.

~~~

A/N: AHHH!!! Their feelings are finally out!! We’ve reached a big milestone in their relationship and I’m very proud of them for being open with each other. There’s more feelings that need to come to light of course, but that will have to wait for the next chapter. I know I said in the beginning that the next chapter will include day 2 at emerald ranch, but I also want to let you know I will be returning to the original game plot as well. Starting with “A Short Walk In A Pretty Town”…so yeah. Things may be looking up rn but they’ll plummet soon enough🥲

Thank you again for being patient with me. I wish I had more time in the day to work on this fic but unfortunately I can only work in small increments at a time. I’m wrapping up my work for the summer as well as moving to the city! So there’s lots of big changes going on rn. But thank you as always for reading/commenting/reblogging!! I love you guys!!!

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