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eaaaazygurl · 2 years

Text

Violet Flowers

Pairing - Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Summary - You find John Marston staring at you longer than you'd come to appreciate. As you confront your friend, he can't help but let it slip that Arthur has a big surprise for you.

Wordcount - 7000+ (a long read! May need some time to finish.)

Notes - Slightly modified Canon: Sean was taken by O'driscolls instead of Bounty Hunters, the events of RDR2 take place over the course of years in the three states rather than just one year (because only playing as Arthur for 1 year in game time is CRIMINAL and this is an established long term relationship!) Fluffy Morgan obviously, Dutch being a dick without actually making an appearance, John being a supportive best friend and brother.

PS: My apologies if I have irritated anyone. I've reposted in hopes that the read more works. I didn't realise you actually had to add a read more! So thank you to the person who kindly pointed out that adding one would be a good move ^^

Marston was staring at you again.

The scarred Outlaw stood at the steaming stewpot, sharp eyes stuck to you, unaware that you had obviously taken note.

It was just past 7pm, you had been taking in the thick, pungent aroma of the Bayou Nwa swamps that surrounded the Van Der Linde's new camp; Shady Belle, a quaint rundown plantation house that had been without repair or proper inhabitants for what looked like a decade now. Whilst somewhat unpleasant, you had been here in the stagnant water and shit-filled silt before when you were once just a small posse of seven men and women, all of them friends and family, off to explore the supposed wonders of Saint Denis just beyond the border of the Bayou - or rather - you had gone to scope any easy pickings and see the potentiality of robbing the city's main bank before heading back to your camp in the Heartlands of New Hanover. So yes - you were already accustomed to the smell of rotten corpses and Alligator excrement by now.

You sat idle upon the rotting wooden bench just beside the plantations main doors where you and Sadie had shared a good laugh on the situation of things; Little Jack had returned, saved by the men of the gang. You had never seen Abigail beam a smile so bright as she charged through the commotion to lock her young son into a death grip of a hug, tears of joy streaming down her rosy cheeks as she cried out many thank-you's to the boys. There had been a party that night, one that descended into an entire gang sing-along whilst Javier struck the cords of his trusty guitar. John and Abigail had retreated just after one song, wanting to make Jack comfortable in their new camp, and you had scouted around the group to find your partner: Arthur Morgan.

Your relationship had blossomed the day he returned back to Clemens Point, black and blue and horrifically injured by Colm O'driscoll and his boys. Your extensive knowledge on tending to injuries had come in useful that night and you were able to clean the awful gun wound to Arthur's shoulder whilst effectively voiding any fever or infection. Your feelings towards the Outlaw had been apparent for months; having been good friends for just over a year beforehand, running the O'driscoll Boys from the Heartlands so that your posse and Arthur's gang might be a little safer. Clearly you had pissed them off one too many times, and you spent the next few weeks blaming yourself for Arthur's kidnapp. During those weeks of you aiding Arthur; washing him, tending to his beard and hair and making sure he was well fed and hydrated, you had both admitted to eachother your true feelings. The entirety of the Van Der Linde gang had caught on many months prior but you both had been blissfully unaware until then.

It had been - and still was - a beautiful, fruitful relationship. You were both extremely gentle with eachother, attempting to outmatch the other with gifts, words or physical affection. But, you were also an unstoppable duo when it came to getting jobs done. Wherever your names were known, people knew not to piss the both of you off when you came into town, lest they want a bloodbath.

A deep sigh of relaxation escaped your lungs as you sloped down on the bench in deep thought as you remembered back on the events prior to Shady Belle, ignoring the seats complaints as the beams of wood creeked under your weight. Sadie had left a little while earlier for a small scouting mission around the Bayou alongside Lenny, voicing her goodbyes with a 'See ya later.' Kieran passed on by with a little wave and small nervous smile, prompting you with a cheerful "Afternoon, Duffy."

Your eyes met the little pot of stew just ahead once again, investigating who had gathered round to take a bowl before you decided to go in and offer yourself some of the contents: Tilly, Jack and John were huddled around the pot, Jack attempting to take himself out a ladle of the sloppy liquid.

You eyed John once more out of instinct, feeling his eyes burning into you yet again. You were confused, feeling irritation begin to bubble in the pit of your stomach. Marston knew your relationship with Arthur and he knew what consequences he would be facing if he attempted anything - even now he would be getting a rather hard clip around the back of the head for staring as much as he was. Besides, he had Abigail and they seemed happy! Happier - at least, and yet, he still hadn't taken his eyes off of you. That's when you decided to act, pulling yourself up with a stretch and then sauntered over towards the pot with a lick of your lips, your stomach aching. You were hungry, afterall.

"Wolfbite." You addressed John as such, a silly little nickname Arthur had given him when you had both found John drunk as a fool and harassing the general store clerk inside of Rhodes. You had to drag him out of the shop by his arms, and as you recall Arthur had berated him for such actions; "God dammit Wolfbite, you go five minutes in the town and yer already tryin' to get us shot at!"

John shot you a displeased glare at the comment, but he knew ultimately it was just a fun little nickname - nothing as irritating and uncomfortable as Micah's retorts. Besides, you were one of John's closest friends within the gang, irritating eachother for the fun of it was just in both of your nature: "Y/n." He addressed you back, watching as Jack struggled aimlessly with the ladle.

You watched intently as John eventually came to his son's aid, gripping the handle against Jack's little hand, "Here, this is how you do it," He pulled the ladle down so that the bowl of the object took a big dip into the stew. Jack studied the way his father brought the ladle up some and then spilled the contents into the silver bowl; "Now you try, without my help."

Jack pursed his lips, focusing hard as he preformed a very similar action to his father, taking a dip and then pouring the liquid into his bowl, "I did it!"

"You sure did, Jack." John praised the boy with a ruffle to his brown hair, then began nudging him away, "Now go on, back to your mother before you drop your hard work all over the floor."

"Thanks, Pa." Jack had turned to reply, and although you spotted a brief flinch from the man, he relaxed rather quickly and replied with a, "You're welcome, son."

Jack soon made his way back, leaving you and John alone at the pot. You bent down to take your own bowl, draining some stew into it, "I'm proud of you, ya know."

"Why?" John took a small step back to allow you some room.

You drew back after filling your own dish, glancing up at John with a smirk, "Just you and Jack. You've really changed your way with him since Horseshoe."

John awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he too bent down to collect a bowl, "You weren't even with us at Horseshoe Overlook?"

"No," You took a spoon of soup, "but Arthur tells me a lot. Said he didn't understand why you shyed away from your own son for so long, how you and Abigail were fightin' all the time." As you blew on the hot contents within the dip of your spoon, you watched curiously as John let out a deep sigh, waving his empty bowl around as he groaned, "Of course Arthur tells you everything. What else has the old man rambled on about?"

You gave John a soft laugh and shrugged, taking a mouthful and swallowing, "Nothin' much. Just how you bellyache all the time, especially since you became a wolf's chew-toy. But between you and me? Sean had the biggest mouth," as you mentioned Sean's name, you frowned deeply.

The events over the course of the past few weeks were awfully troubling and your escape from Clemens Point had forced you all to leave Sean behind. The Greys had put a bullet through his head - he hadn't even been on the defensive from what Arthur told you.

You could see the pain in your lover's eyes as he explained the situation, how Sean had been dishonorably shot, Bill too although he had survived. How the boys almost wiped out the entire Grey family and dealt with the drunken Sheriff. The locals might have said that ridding the town of those two parasitic families was a blessing, but all blessings come with their consequences, and poor young Sean had been the unknowing sacrifice. He was your friend long before you knew of the Van Der Linde gang and Arthur. You recalled many a night of drunken laughter with Sean and your posse. He had even been the one to properly introduce you and Arthur, pushing the Cowboy to help you out when Arthur had freed you after the raid on the O'driscolls to save Sean himself. Now, Sean was gone, and even if the Irishman could be a little gutter-brained and irritating at times, you all missed him dearly.

"I do miss that kid, even if he was a little shit at times. He was an annoying little brother in a way." John was now filling his bowl though a little sluggishly as he shook his head at the reminder of Sean Macguire.

"Arthur said the same." You reply, taking another mouthful and briefly looking towards the sky as if in search of something. You then clear your throat to remind John of your previous talk before the sore subject of Sean came up, "Anyway... about Arthur."

"What about Arthur?"

You hush John with a sigh, leaning more on one foot than the other as you squint slightly to capture the man's attention, "He worries about you John. He just wants you to bond with Jack, to have what he didn't because of..." your voice trailed off, but John carried the conversation onward: "Issac and Eliza... yeah, I know." He took a small stroll over towards where a small campfire had been smouldering, setting himself down onto one of the wooden crates whilst you took your place at a fallen log.

John continued, "I've got something that he had and cherished, and that was taken away from him. I was throwin' that all away whilst he was suffering his losses. I'm a damn fool."

"I don't think you are." You chimed in quickly. You'd had a conversation of some sort similar to the one you were having with John now, remembering how Arthur understood his little brother's worries but wished he'd come and confided in him before running off for god knows how long. What you said next was almost a direct repeat of what Arthur had said to you: "I think you're misguided yes, but not a fool. Besides, you're making an effort now. That's more than enough, and Arthur seems to think so too."

John glanced up at you from his stew with a small startle, "He does?"

A soft laugh escaped your throat as you finished your meal, throwing down the bowl to rest your arms against your knees, "He's happy for ya John. All he wished for was that you and the boy got along. Seems like that wish is coming true."

John shared the smile with you, appreciating your little talk. You gave it a few seconds before prodding John with the question you had originally planned on asking him: "So, there's another thing I was gonna ask you,"

John placed his bowl below his feet in a patch of sodden boggy grass, "What's that?"

What you said next had John freeze, tighten his lips and sit up straight.

"Why were you staring at me? Wasn't hard to realise concidering I had full view of the camp from the plantation house." You leant forward slightly, a brow raising as you smirked, "Y'do realise if Arthur found out he'd have your head?"

There was a brief silence, and then John answered with a short and stubborn, "Wasn't nothing like that and you know it. You got Arthur and I got Abigail. B'sides you're my best friend who would I-"

"Easy there John you might end up losin' your voice at this rate! I'm just jokin' with ya," You shook your head, amused when John slowly forced his jaw to shut, eyes narrowed and mouth pouting as though he had been a child scolded by their mother, "I was just lost in my own head okay?" He managed to speak out bluntly.

You clearly weren't satisfied with his answer and at the right time, too. Thundering hooves alerted you to someone's return. As you and John both glanced over towards the hitching posts, you spotted Arthur skidding to a stop upon his white Arabian mount, gracefully slipping from her side to give her a gentle brush and feed before hitching her up.

You slowly twisted your gaze back round to John, a smug look crossing your face, "Great timing on Arthur's behalf. Sure you don't want me to call him over?"

"No!" John had snapped back, not out of anger, but anxious fear, and not the terrified fear but one that he usually felt when Arthur was mad with him, like a scolded child, "No- please don't. Arthur WILL have my head if I tell you."

"Tell me? Tell me what?" That statement had confused you, and clearly it hadn't meant to slip because John was now writhing awkwardly on his perch, cursing under his breath. You wanted to pry further, now completely invested in knowing what it was John was trying to hide, "Marston, are you and Arthur upto something? Come on tell me, I won't say a word. Promise."

John tried to throw his mind onto something else but to no avail. He tried averting his gaze but it was too much. His eye briefly caught Arthur, still tending to his horse. The pressure began to mount. Your eyes were staring with an intensity that almost burnt: "A robbery? Some sort of big job? Please tell me, pleassseee?!"

"Okay fine! I can't tell you everything, that would ruin it but-" He ducked a little and brought himself forward so his voice could be lowered, quickly checking on Arthur to make sure he wasn't striding over. Your confused expression only deepened as John shuffled closer and quietly spoke, "Arthur's got a surprise for you, but I can't say anything else." You guessed that, so you frowned, displeased. John then hissed a whisper, eyes wide with warning, "It would really ruin it- and don't say anything! If he finds out you even have the smallest idea he'll throw me into the swamp!"

You knew the threat of Arthur launching John into the water was one that made his body shudder. It was common knowledge within the camp that John Marston could not swim, and a common joke shared amount the many to tease him with. Even Jack took a few digs from time to time, leaving John to snap back a "Don't you start imitating your Uncle now!"

And so, you agreed, placing a hand onto John's shoulder in reassurance, "Okay, I won't say a word. Promise."

"Say a word about what?" Arthur had somehow managed to come up behind you and John without a sound, a brow raised with a dark shadow falling over his eyes from the brim of his hat. He rested his large hands upon your small shoulders, leaning down so that his mouth came to your ear, "Is Marston botherin' you darlin'?"

"Oh no not at all!" You gave Arthur a soft smile, pressing your cheek against his own, his short beard tickling the soft velvet of your skin.

John sat upright and smiled awkwardly, holding his hands upwards in a gesture, "We were just talkin'."

"Yeah I guessed that, but about what?" As Arthur spoke, the beard tickled earning a little giggle that made the Outlaw internally melt.

"About little Jack. John's been teaching him how to pour his own dinner. He's even gonna take him fishing soon." You gave John a look as if to say 'go along with it.' Whilst not entirely a lie, John had just showed Jack how to handle a ladle, the fishing part was false.

Arthur's interests had peaked at the mention of fishing. John hated the water, so this was a first, "You? And water? Fishin'? Well I never thought I'd see the day! You really are trying to bond with that kid,"

John gave Arthur a slow nod. He was anxious and he knew exactly where this was going. He couldn't escape this now...

"Looks like you an' me are goin' fishin' then, Marston! Not now, obviously. But soon. Proud of ya, brother." As Arthur gave John a gleaming smile, he cleared his throat, gently cocking his head a few times to encourage Marston away. Almost instantly he clocked on, grabing his bowl and yours too, "Well I'm off. I'll get these cleaned for you Y/n, no need to thank me. See you soon." John threw his hand to the side in a 'goodbye,' scurrying off into the crowd.

"Hey there, sweetheart." Arthur, now finally alone with you, sat to your side and gently nestled you into his side, placing his chin against the top of your head, "You okay?"

"Better now you're here," You enjoyed the warmth Arthur's broad chest brought you, inhaling the scents of tobacco and various herbs, mint being one such iconic scent. It wasn't often you and Arthur could settle against eachother without the threat of danger lurking nearby. Usually Arthur would be hurled into one of Dutch's crazy plans, hunting for the gang or out on scouting missions. You often joined him on them, but Dutch had been strict on making sure you two were in for the job rather than the time spent together. You weren't one of Miss Grimshaw's slaves luckily, Dutch and Hozier saw your great potential and wanted to put that to good use.

Now you could just relax, taking in the gentle chatter of the camp and quiet cooing of an owl overhead. Distant gurgles of Alligators could be heard some ways off. Your ear then met the gentle thudding of Arthur's heartbeat. Bliss could not come in many forms but this just had to be one of them. Usually Arthur wouldn't be so forward and open with his emotions in front of prying eyes, he tended to keep that confined to less crowded areas but tonight was different, Arthur simply didn't care for what others thought. He was still the same tough man that could load two hay stacks onto his shoulders and walk a mile without a bother as much as he was the gentle, kind and sweet man that had won you over.

Eventually Arthur pulled back from you, eyes gleaming and face a slight dash of red. You'd noticed it in the orange glow upon his face - his eyes had brightened and cheeks darkened slightly, giving away his blush. His hand found the rim of your jawline and gently nudged your head upwards to meet his gaze, "I got somethin' for yer."

"Oh?" Intrigue had your eyes widen as you sat up a little more, shoulders lax and smile cheerful. You never got used to the little gifts Arthur would bring back for you, and so you were excited to see whatever it was next. A new gun, perhaps? Maybe even a fine bit of jewellery he'd managed to pickpocket. Whatever it was, you were curious. Arthur took your hand and stood, you following suit close after. He was walking you past the plantation house towards the overgrown garden that bordered the swamp. In the near distance your eyes could pick up the glow of amber and a structure you'd never seen before. It was something like a bandstand but smaller, a wooden gazebo, creeping vines completely overtaking it's structure with little white flowers growing from each stem. From what you could gather at a glance, the shrubbery had been cut back extensively and the vines looping the wood prunes and trimmed to give it a much neater appearance. The murk had been swept away and cleaned to the best of it's ability.

You were now inches away from the structure. Awe overtook you as Arthur gently ushered you onto the steps, your eyes meeting a number of half melted candles, their flames dancing in the soft breeze. Little purple flowers were scattered across it's interior - the same flowers from Big Valley, yours and Arthur's favourite spot. There were also yarrow petals from what could have been Clemens Point, and tiny yellow orchids from up in West Elizabeth. Slowly, you began to make a connection: these flowers were from key areas you had been in during yours and Arthur's time together. The yellow orchids reminded you of the day Arthur had freed you from the O'driscolls, the yarrow a flower you had used to heal Arthur's injuries from his own kidnapp and the purple flowers in Big Valley, the place where you had both realised your feelings.

"It's beautiful Arthur..." those words escaped your gaping mouth, Arthur watching you with a wide smile as you examined the decor with sparkling eyes; "I'm glad you think so, darlin'."

"You didn't have to go through all of this effort for me... it must've taken you days to get to all of these flowers." Curiosity began to ebb once more. Your gifts had often been small and sweet, picked up by chance on the cowboys adventures across the states. Only this time... these flowers hadn't been picked by chance.

Arthur simply replied with a small nod, "It did. Three days, in fact. That's why me and John were gone three days but uh- don't tell Dutch." He cleared his throat and lowered his tone, smirking, "He jus' thinks we went out on some robbin's across the states."

"Got ya, I won't say a word." You gave Arthur a small gesture that imitated locking your mouth and throwing the key before you returned to studying the flowers and candles, "You really outdid yourself this time. How am I going to get you a better gift now?"

"There ain't no need darlin' this ain't a competition." Arthur chuckled sweetly as drew his fingers through your soft hair, gently removing some of the debris that had accumulated where you could not see - bits of grass and sticks from what he could only assume was haybales for the horses. You'd been busy.

"Still doesn't seem fair to not get you anything in return though..." You whimpered quietly. Arthur brought his hands to your face, his right hand palming your soft cheek whilst brushing his thumb across the velvety skin whilst his left thumb gently trailed across your bottom lip. Your eyes met his brilliant pools of ocean, dilating as you gave his thumb a gentle kiss. Your eyes then danced around the gazebo, attempting to take in every fine little detail. It certainly must have taken days to get this place into shape, for again you'd never noticed it before. You wondered how Arthur had found it, let alone cleared it without you noticing. You were now completely turned from Arthur who had stepped back to give you some room, your back facing him as you studied the interior some more, "Honestly Arthur how on earth did you manage to fix this thing up without me realisin' you was upto something?" The Outlaw remained silent, a little out of character to not respond to you with something sweet or sarcastic, "Oh, I get it. I ain't allowed to know. It's a secret then?"

By the time you'd finished speaking, the wooden floorboards of the gazebo creaked, and you felt a sudden change in pressure. It as if by instinct that your body decided to turn in a slow fashion. Arthur was no longer stood, but crouched. He was bent down. On one knee. His eyes wide and full of anxiety as he pulled a hand out to hold just underneath you.

"Y/n." He began, a slight stutter forming as he spoke, "The day I met you was the day I felt my world change. Ain't nobody else that has ever made me feel this way."

Your eyes were wide, bright. You stood there, your head cocked downwards meeting Arthur's gaze. From the corner of your eye you could see a brief movement within the treeline and recognised the frilly dress of Mary-Beth and the hat of Sadie. Had the gang been watching you and Arthur all this time?

"We've been on our fair share of dangerous missions, had a lot of close calls... so I guess what I'm tryin' to say is-" Arthur's throat convulsed as he took in a deep breath, taking your hand in a vice-like grip. You could feel the heat radiating from them despite being gloved - an obvious sign that his palms were sodden with anxious sweat.

"Will you take my hand in marriage?"

The world became silent, still. It was as though time itself had stopped, because you swore you couldn't feel your heartbeat anymore. Even the gentle noises the Bayou made were all but noisy. It was dead quiet.

You felt an excitement build in your stomach and a deep blush fill your cheeks. Your eyes were in a state of shock, glittering in the moonlight overhead and the flickering of candle fire below. Arthur Morgan was asking for your hand. You! You'd never even imagined a man as handsome and kind-hearted as Mr Morgan would want you in such a way, and now you were on the precipice of becoming Y/n Morgan. You wanted this so bad, but the anticipation of your longer than comfortable silence had Arthur squirming, his grip on your hand loosening. Before he could pull away in shameful defeat however, you tightened your own hand and yanked the Outlaw up, letting out an excited "Yes!"

A perfectly wide smile overpowered Arthur's emotions as he beamed happily at your response, taking you into his arms and spun with you, the most brightest and extatic laugh erupting from his chest as he brought you back down into a loving embrace.

An eruption of cheering and applause had the both of you startle before Arthur could shower you with tender kisses. He let out an irritated "Christ sake!", his eyes narrowing at the crowd. Once he recovered from the startle Arthur brought you into a tight embrace once more sighing softly against your hair, "Of course Hozier told the entire gang..."

Your eye caught Hozier skipping down from the Plantation house like a youthful young man once more, his face glowing with pride and happiness as he began to stride a little quicker over to you both with open arms, "Congratulations my boy! Oh look at you both!"

"Hozier," Arthur tipped his hat, one arm coiled around your waist, "Thank you for uh... helping me set this all up."

Hozier had been Arthur's fatherly figure alongside Dutch since adopting him into the gang all those years ago. Unlike Van Der Linde, Hozier had more of a nurturing approach, teaching Arthur how to read and write and hunt. Many of the things Arthur could do was all taught by Hozier, even horse riding, whilst Dutch was more or less the one to teach Arthur the ways of the Gunslinger, how to pickpocket and rob and strengthen himself up. With Hozier, there could have been no better man to help him organise this. That's how you hadn't noticed the Gazebo preparation. If Hozier wasn't distracting you with stories and tales, Arthur was at your side.

"Oh my pleasure Arthur, I did the same with Bessie. Only it wasn't in a swamp... or under a rotten gazebo- but you get the point." Hozier flailed his hands in the air before placing them upon Arthur's shoulder, "I am so proud of you. Both of you."

Hozier hadn't only taught Arthur. When the man had taken his hiatus with the gang alongside Bessie, they had found themselves within these here states, mainly New Hanover and Ambarino. He had actually stumbled upon you and your twin brother, Archer, along with a few members of your posse. You must've only been about seventeen at the time, maybe a little older, but you could hardly read or lift a bow. You had been the daughter of a rancher family, made an orphan when the O'driscolls had burnt down your home and everything you knew over an 'unpaid debt.' Even Hozier had been rather surprised and concerned that they had made it this far East, but alas, it had only been a small portion of the gang and the O'driscolls were plentiful. Colm had still been back where Van Der Linde's gang settled, butting heads with Dutch in a rivalry that felt as old as time itself.

You had spent many months alongside Bessie and Hozier. He had taught you how to hunt and fight as well as handle yourself with a gun and Bessie taught you how to cook - properly. It wasn't until Bessie had become gravely sick that Hozier left you and your posse. He had originally planned to take her to a doctor and return, but a man whose heart had truly belonged with his gang? You understood. Hozier had returned to Dutch and it wasn't until spotting him in the streets of Valentine that you reunited.

"Thank you Hozier, truly." With your face pressed against Arthur's chest, you sighed deeply, a smile overtaking your features. Arthur somehow managed to bring you closer, "So where's Dutch?"

"Upstairs I'd presume. He knew this was going to happen, but you know what he's like when he's in a mood." Clearly that was a dig. Hozier narrowed his eyes towards the plantation house, a scowl forming. He and Dutch had been neck a neck recently, you even recalled Hozier accusing Dutch of being way over his head, cocky and arrogant. You had to agree, Dutch had been running loops around you all recently, getting you into more trouble than it was worth. He'd even ignored Hozier's warnings of Colm's fake parley which had ultimately gotten Arthur into a life threatening situation those few months back at Clemens Point.

Arthur frowned. He had expected Dutch to at least make an appearance and congratulate you both, but he hadn't. Clearly it had gotten under his skin, so you brought Arthur's hand up, removing a glove to plant a gentle kiss against the back of his hand, "I'm sure he'll come down eventually. If not, talk to him tomorrow."

Hozier bowed his head in agreement, "Yes, let him have his moment. Besides, we've got a wedding to plan and little time to do it!" With that, Hozier scurried away, his face bright with excitement. You turned your attention to Arthur who glanced back down at you, a soft smile forming, "I'm sorry I couldn't get you an engagement ring. Figured if we're always on the brink of death then why not get wed in say... a couple of days?"

While many woman would startle at the sound of a wedding so soon, you understood the risks of an Outlaw's life. You had lived it for many years afterall, and you wanted nothing more than to take Arthur's name and call him your husband. Besides, the camp's spirits were already at it's peak with Jack's return. The Pinkertons wouldn't find you for the next few weeks, at least. There was no better time, and so, you agreed with a nod, looping your fingers around your soon-to-be husbands, "I'd want nothing more."

A couple of days had passed since Arthur's proposal. Whoever had remained awake that night congratulated you with excitement and chatter, and the next morning wasn't any different. The girls were all around you within an instant, prodding and poking you with ideas and questions alike; what dress did you want? What food? Did you want any decorations? To each of those you politely declined, knowing the gang's funds were needed for food, medicine and ammunition. Nevertheless, they all still were successful in making some arrangements.

Arthur on the otherhand found himself in conversation with Javier, Charles, Lenny and John that following morning. Bill had no desire to talk about love, but despite that, he was happy to be given an excuse to drink on the eventual day of the wedding, and Arthur knew deep down Bill was happy for him. Dutch hadn't been seen since the proposal, off gallivanting around Saint Denis with who Arthur assumed would be Micah. Hozier was more than displeased with that man's behaviour as of late, especially not showing for a majority of their adopted sons proposal and planning. Kieran in Dutch's absence had offered to make trips around the city to gather goods to which Arthur gratefully agreed, it would be the first time Kieran could leave the camp grounds without Dutch tethering him down with an iron fist. You could tell by the twinkle in Kieran's eye that he was most excited to be able to actually escape the confines of the gang.

Midday soon rolled around. Arthur was at your side, messing with your velvety hair as you both took refuge in your shared room from prying eyes and endless questions, "It ain't gonna be a big fancy weddin', gonna have to have it here cause of the Pinkertons. We ain't got the money for anything much either-"

"Arthur." You paused him in his tracks, smiling up at him innocently, "I don't care about all of that. All I care about is being able to call you my husband. Nothing more, nothing less."

The idea of calling Arthur your husband tickled you. Two of the West's greatest Gunslingers unified in marriage - a danger to truly behold. Nevertheless, you were overjoyed to take Arthur's last name. Y/n Morgan. It had a nice ring to it.

"So, who's gonna be your best man?" You quizzed Arthur curiously, slowly laying downward to rest your head against the Cowboy's lap to which he began carding his fingers through your hair.

Arthur paused for a second, humming to himself. There was a slight nervous energy and you could see his jaw muscles working themselves, "Guess I'm stuck between John and Lenny..."

"Oh?"

"Lenny's a brilliant man and a great friend. The youngen' definitely has life to him, got me out of a few binds now. Dare I say he's probably one of the members I'm closest to- aside John." Arthur dug fingers into his stubble and scratched, indicating that he was deep in thought. It was one of the many small things he did that you took notice of with a sweet smile.

"Marston and me? We're practically brothers. I've known him fifteen years. Sure, he ran from us for a time but he's proven his loyalty. Ah- I don't know..."

"Well," you squinted slightly to get a rough idea of what you were going with, "Why don't you make one of them the ring bearer and the other your best man?"

Arthur's brow rose slightly, jaw parting in a little gasp of triumph before he turned his gaze to you with a wide grin, "You little genius!"

"Eh what can I say? I'm good with organisin'." Your shrug was half arsed with a smug smile plastered across your face. Quickly you were hoisted from Arthur's legs and your head embraced by his giant hands only for him to bring you upward, planting a heavy kiss against the tip of your nose. Arthur was obviously excited, it had you fluster and giggle sheepishly. After all this time with you swooning over eachother Arthur still found ways to make you shy and giddy.

"Well then Cowboy, if the weddin' is tomorrow you'd best get your arse off the bed and go organise your new ring bearer and best man!" Your eyes shifted to the sky outside, noting that midday had well and truly passed. There was still a lot to do and time was seeping through the cracks faster than you liked. Arthur took note of your suggestion with a low hum in agreement and a nod, gently shifting you aside. He scooted towards the door, paused, galloped back to place a soft kiss against your lips and was off once more, only this time he'd actually left. You could've sworn you heard a hushed giggle of excitement echoing down the hallway as he scampered down the stairs of the plantation house.

Rolling your eyes with amusement you hoisted yourself up and shifted yourself towards the outside balcony just ahead of you. You had already ran your plans by Miss Grimshaw and the girls, so you didn't need to go and make any last minute changes or decisions. You'd been up most nights to arrange that, so fatigue gripped you like the talons of an Eagle. You'd rather spend the rest of the day resting up for tomorrow.

Leaning your arms heavily against the banister of the balcony, a fresh cigarette finding your lips, you scanned the clearing below. You spotted Arthur over towards Pearson's stew pot exchanging happy conversation with Marston and Lenny. Grimshaw was pacing the entire camp with a keen eye, making sure the girls were hard at work on whatever it was they were tasked with; sewing clothes, fixing up the camp and discarding debris - you name it.

Javier, Bill and Swanson were exchanging sharp glares, their hands gripping firmly onto cards that they had tucked against their chest around an old wooden table. Whatever sort of card game they were playing - it was serious. You caught a glimpse of Kieran running his hand slowly through the mane of his own mount and surprisingly exchanging words with Sadie, the both of them smiling and giggling with eachother. Who'd have thought... Mrs Adler making amends with an ex-O'driscoll? Kieran was a fine soul, an anxious mess and hardly an O'driscoll at all. The poor kid couldn't even lift a gun without chewing five layers of skin from his lips. Nevertheless, you were happy the two were exchanging words without Sadie threatening to remove his jugular.

You struck the matchstick, carefully lit your fag and took a long drag, allowing the smoke to escape through your nostrils as you took a deep sigh outwards.

"Hey." The voice behind you had you almost drop your freshly lit cigarette from your lips, though the paper had luckily stuck to the bottom of your lip, flopping around before you nestled it back into the left hand corner of your mouth. Spinning, you came to face the man who had almost ruined your moment of tranquility: John Marston. He had left Arthur and Lenny's side some time ago whilst you studied the rest of the camp, and now Arthur was sat beside Hozier under the canopy of one of the tents, his arms flinging to and fro in some mad explanation of god knows what.

You turned your attention back to John, patting the wooden rail beside you, inviting him to take a spot beside you, "almost made me drop my cigarette," You gave John a narrowed glare, watching as his expression went from relaxed to anxious within a matter of seconds as he met your gaze, "Oh- sorry y/n I didn't mean to scare ya-"

"Oh shut up ya big wuss I'm only jokin'!" You gave Marston a gentle shove against the shoulder, earning an amused smirk from one of your best friends within the camp. Aside from Arthur, John had always been there for you. He saw the chemistry between the both of you before anyone else, noticed the way you both gazed at eachother and even teased Arthur a great deal around camp before you'd even been invited into the gang. You couldn't even count the amount of times John had saved your arse on missions, and whenever a robbery had came up, it was always you, John and Arthur to take the call of the wild. You as a trio were truly a force to be reckoned with.

"Thanks for not gettin' me in shit today. I'm really happy for you both y'know," John had whipped out a cigarette of his own, now giving you a hearty shove whilst tweaking his eyebrows, "Jokes on you, I've got premium cigarettes! Not those flimsy shit sticks you got hanging out that gobby mouth of yours, half-eye."

"Uhm!" Letting out a playful snigger you crossed your arms and removed the now stumpy butt from your mouth, pinging it from the balcony with an agile flick of your fingers, "I'll have you know I still have both my eyes, Marston." You made emphasise on 'Marston', earning a soft chuckle in response as he rest his arms against the beam of the balcony, eyes tracing the camp to find Arthur now red faced and scoffing at a very pleased looking Hozier whome fiddled with Arthur's ring finger, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration. Your eyes too caught the scene, smiling softly at the sight before you, "Hey, does this mean I get to call you brother now too?"

John tipped his head, his bottom lip pronounced a little more in thought as he spat his own cigarette butt from his mouth and turned to face you, "Y'know what, I think it does."

"Well then, I'm gaining a pretty cool brother tomorrow too," You shot John a little smile, watching with a smirk of amusement as John blinked, stood and began to imitate himself throwing up. He then snorted a laugh, opening his arms and beckoned you in for a friendly embrace, "All things considered though Y/n, that man down there?" His thumb pointed down towards a now very chipper Arthur listening to Hozier's rambling. You gazed down with a soft smile and returned your attention to John, taking a step back with hands against hips leaning heavily to one side as John continued, "He loves you. Loves you one hell of a lot... don't think I've ever seen him this happy before."

"Well it's a good thing I love him one hell of a lot too then ain't it?" A buzzing sensation passed through your spine as you sagged yourself halfway over the banister, sighing happily as you watched Arthur and Hozier, a rosy blush filling your cheeks.

John slowly nodded, "Yeah, it is good. Everythin's good... well, Arthur made me his best man and Lenny the ring bearer so I guess I'll be off. Got plannin' to do."

As John went to leave, you turned your attention to him, calling for him to stop before he disappeared. John peered round the corner of the balcony doors at you, a questioning gaze.

You simply smiled, a genuine smile of happiness and thanks as you softly sighed, "Thanks for keepin' me company. You know you mean a lot to us both, right?"

John huffed a sigh, a wide smile in response, "Yeah, I know. You know where to find me if you two need a helpin' hand." And then he slipped away, presumably in search of his own little family.

Taking in a deep breath whilst steadying yourself on the rails with your hands, taking in the rather relaxed atmosphere, you dipped your head in comfort, a gentle smile dawning your features. All was well, all was pleasant... the sound of chittering Sparrows and the low rumble of Alligators brought a rather fair harmony to the Bayou, you'd all by now gotten acquainted with the smell of rotten bog water, and for what it was worth, everything felt perfecrly balanced for once in such a long time.

Arthur turned his attention up towards you, watching on as the golden rays of sunlight glowed against your soft features, awestruck and beaming a lovestruck smile as the wind caught your hair ever so gently.

Nothing could encompass this feeling - such a rarity that you longed to last forever.

Pure bliss.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2

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master-john-uk · 2 months

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I am pleased to hear this.

I shared the story of Britain's wonkiest pub, The Crooked House in Himley, Staffordshire last year... just weeks before disaster hit this unusual boozer which attracted visitors from around the world.

The pub was forced to close in June 2023 after burglars caused significant damage to the interior.

The following month Marston's Brewery announced that the pub would not reopen, and the building had been sold for "other use". It was reported that the new owners intended to repurpose the property for office use. (I could foresee difficulties in doing this in a building with sloping floors.)

On August 5th the former pub was gutted by fire... believed to be arson. Just two days later, the new owners had the building demolished.

A sad story of a very odd English house... but one. I hope will now have a happy ending!

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reddorkredemption · 3 months

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My Blessed Son—Chapter 19

|| AO3 || Chapter List / Story Info ||

Summary:

For years, Jack Marston dreamed of killing Edgar Ross, the man who had taken everything from him, who had ruined his life. His obsession with revenge had given him a reason to keep going. But now, after it was done, he was left lost, depressed and without purpose. He was left to navigate life alone with the unforgiving eyes of the law slowly narrowing in on him. Though he soon comes to realize that perhaps he isn’t quite as alone as he thought he would be. A continuation from the end of Red Dead Redemption 1.

Word count: ~10.3k

Quick warning: this chapter touches pretty heavily on Jack’s trauma & grief, so if you’re sensitive to those things, please tread lightly and take care of yourself. <3

Chapter under the cut <3

Jack bounced his leg up and down, rhythmically shaking the dining room chair he was sitting in, no doubt scuffing up the wooden floor underneath him. His mother always hated when he’d do that, and he could hear the ghost of her voice in his head scolding him for it. The thought made his knee still, and he took to tapping his foot instead.

He was leaning forward against the table, his elbows propped up as his fingers fiddled with the little bracelet of flowers Lilly had given him a few days prior. Gently, as if it were the most valuable yet fragile thing in the world, he turned it in his hands, running his thumb along one of the tiny, wilted petals.

It had definitely seen better days, and as he examined it, he wished he had kept it somewhere safer— somewhere more conducive to its preservation than the cold, hard wood of his bedside table. The color of the flowers had dulled, and the edges of the leaves along the stem were turning brown and crunchy.

But despite the thing’s rapid deterioration, Jack couldn’t bring himself to throw it out. Lilly had given it to him, and he loved her.

He loved her.

Ever since that night by the chicken coop, that thought had been replaying in his head nonstop. It was hard to focus on anything else. And he had no idea what to do about it. He didn’t know how to talk to Lilly normally anymore, how to look her in the eye when his heart stampeded in his chest every time he saw her.

He hoped she hadn’t noticed his change in demeanor, and if she did, he hoped that she wouldn’t ask about it. Because what would he say? How could he possibly begin to tell her how he felt when he hardly understood it himself?

He had no experience with this kind of thing— he couldn’t even form a friendship with anyone growing up, let alone anything more than that. And beyond the cheesy romances he’d read in his books, he had nothing to draw on for guidance and no one to ask for help.

Well, maybe not nothing. Uncle— completely unprompted— had told him plenty of things. Things that would’ve gotten the old man skinned alive if Jack’s mother had overheard them. Things that should never be repeated, much less applied to his relationship with Lilly. She didn’t deserve to be thought of in that way. No one did. So none of that was of any use. In fact, Jack was sure he’d be better off never having heard it at all.

His parents were gone, and even when they were still around, they had never broached the subject with him. Maybe because he’d never brought it up, they assumed he didn’t have any interest in it.

And in a way, they’d be right. Before now— before he met Lilly— falling in love was never something he thought much about, and in the rare instances it did cross his mind, he’d always concluded that it would never happen to him. Love was for other people; it was for the characters in his books. Not for him. He wasn’t the type.

At least, he thought he wasn’t….

The sound of the back door swinging open startled him back to the present, and he closed his fist around the flowers in his hand, grimacing as he felt a leaf crunch against his palm. He tried to collect himself and act natural as Lilly entered the room, but the way his heart jumped when he saw her didn’t make it easy.

She came to the table, a spring in her step and a bright grin plastered across her face, threatening to melt his heart entirely. “You’ll never guess what I found,” she said, slapping her palms down on the table. Before he could even attempt a guess, she continued, “I found Chickpea.”

Chickpea— the name of one of the hens that went missing after the coyote attack. “Really?” He slid the fist clutching the flowers off the table, slowly so as not to draw attention, and rested it in his lap.

Lilly nodded. “She was hidin’ out in the barn— God knows how she got in there. She’s really shaken up and has a big chunk of feathers missing, but she’s still alive.”

“Oh,” he said, the mere mention of the barn making his stomach turn. Of course the chicken was in there. The one place he’d never dare to check. Swallowing his unease, he forced a smile. “That’s good.”

“Yeah. That means we only lost two of ‘em— less than half.” She put her hands on her hips, and her grin widened. “Things are back to looking up again. I can feel it.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so,” she countered, pulling out a chair on the opposite side of the table and sitting down. “The place is looking great; there’s barely anything left we have to fix up…”

Jack’s smile became a bit more genuine as she carried on, speaking about all they’d accomplished around the ranch. Her unwavering optimism was infectious, whether he considered it to be realistic or not.

As she moved on to talk about the work they still had left to do, Jack felt himself getting lost in his head again, his subconscious only picking up small bits and pieces of what she was saying. His eyes drifted down to her lips, to the dimples that graced her cheeks as she smiled, to the missing button near the top of her shirt and the small sliver of skin that showed through the gap it left.

What if he told her how he felt right now?— just blurted it out right here in the middle of her rambling. How would she react? What would she say? Would she think he’s some kind of creep or would she feel the same way? She had to be here with him for a reason, right? And that reason had always been a mystery to him. For a moment, he dared to think that it might be because she did feel the same.

But as always, the cynical part of his brain had to chime in to crush that idea. It told him that she may only be putting up with him to keep a roof over her head. Back when he invited her to the ranch, she was practically destitute; she was days away from being forced to be one of the saloon or hotel’s working girls. Maybe she’d just decided that staying with Jack was the lesser evil.

Although, if that were the case, it wouldn’t make much sense for her to stick around through all the trouble with the bureau. Surely, she would’ve left by now….

Jack was pulled out of his thoughts when he noticed that Lilly had suddenly stopped talking. He refocused on her face, his heart sinking to his stomach when she looked back at him expectantly, as if she’d asked him a question.

He swallowed hard and glanced off to the side, his mind racing to come up with some generic answer. He couldn’t admit that he hadn’t been listening to her; she’d think he was an asshole, or worse, she’d ask what exactly it was that had him so distracted.

As the seconds ticked by without a word from him, she asked, “Does that sound good?”

Some of his panic faded. She’d thrown him a lifeline: a simple yes or no question. But did what sound good? What had she been talking about before he zoned out? Something about the ranch, something about cleaning….

“Jack?” she prodded gently.

“Uh, yeah,” he blurted out. “Sure. That sounds fine.”

She eyed him for a moment, an inquisitive look on her face. “Okay. Great,” she said, though she didn’t sound all too convinced. Jack avoided eye contact with her, glancing up only long enough to see her smile return. “Well, I’ll meet you outside then.”

Jack gave a nod of agreement, and Lilly stood up, abandoning the table to go back out the back door. He watched her as she left, holding his breath and only releasing it once he heard the door shut behind her.

He slouched in his chair and loosened his grip on the flowers in his fist. As he lifted his palm to assess the damage done to the petals, a strange sense of dread crept over him. What did he just agree to?

He tried to shove the feeling away, reasoning that it couldn’t have been anything bad. It was likely just some tedious chore she needed his help with— something heavy she couldn’t lift or a rooster she couldn’t get to behave. But despite his attempts to reassure himself, he couldn’t shake his unease, not until he found out for sure what he’d signed up for. And there was only one way to do that.

Jack scooted away from the table, internally apologizing to his mother as the chair scratched against the floor again, and stood up. He stopped by his bedroom first, where he set the bracelet of flowers on his desk and placed a book on top of it to keep it safe. Then, he made his way outside.

As he exited the house, he scanned the area in search of Lilly, and when he spotted her standing by the barn, his blood ran cold. The dread he’d been feeling intensified, hitting him with enough force to stop him in his tracks.

She wanted to start cleaning out the barn, didn’t she? He should’ve known. God, how stupid was he? Of course that’s what she was talking about— it was the last big thing they needed to do to fix up the ranch.

She locked eyes with him and waved him over, the most blissfully ignorant smile plastered across her face. After a brief hesitation, he continued towards her, dragging his feet. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were just going to meet there and then go off and do something else. Please, God, tell him he was wrong.

Keeping his eyes trained on Lilly, he held his breath as he stepped into the big shadow cast by the barn. Any hope he had that she was planning to do something else was dashed when she faced the barn, surveying it with her hands on her hips. He stopped beside her, locking his knees to keep them from shaking.

She glanced over at him, still smiling. “Once we get this done, maybe we can get a cow,” she said, clapping her hands together in delight. “I don’t know how much they cost, but I’m sure we could scrape it together.”

“Maybe,” he replied morosely.

His tone caused her smile to falter, and she turned to him, her brows furrowing in concern. “Everything okay?”

He shifted on his feet. No. No, it’s not. Tell her it’s not. She knew that his father had been shot in front of the barn; he had told her. She should understand.

But she didn’t know that meant he was so afraid of the place. Because who would be? Who would be afraid of something so ridiculous— something so obviously harmless? His mother had never had a problem going in there. Why should he?

Shaking his head to quiet his quarreling thoughts, he answered, “Yeah. Just… not lookin’ forward to the smell.”

She chuckled. “Well, the sooner we get things cleaned up, the sooner we won’t have to deal with that anymore.”

“Right….”

With a shrug, she approached the barn and pushed open one of the swinging doors, poking her head inside then immediately drawing back. “Man, you weren’t kidding,” she said, her hand flying to her nose to cover the stench. She opened the door further, letting out a heavy sigh as she stepped into the doorway and looked around. “We really saved the biggest task for last, huh?”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Jack murmured.

He glanced up at the ridge overlooking the ranch, part of him hoping to see those couple of bureau agents standing there again— that could’ve given him a last-ditch excuse to get out of working on the barn. But of course, he wasn’t that lucky; there was nobody up there that day.

Lilly slipped the rest of the way inside, keeping a hand on the door to hold it open for him. He stared past her into the barn, his heart racing so hard he feared it would burst. It’s fine, he told himself. It’ll be fine. He needed to suck it up. It was just a barn; there wasn’t anything in there that could hurt him. There wasn’t anything in there scarier than having to admit how afraid he was of something so innocuous.

So despite every muscle in his body screaming at him to stop, he dragged his feet forward and followed her inside.

The door swung shut behind him, and he froze in place as he was enveloped in the dark abyss of the barn. For a moment, nothing happened, and he took a couple of steps forward, peering around and taking in his surroundings.

Then, slowly, they crept in. All of the memories of the hell that had unleashed around that barn. All of the feelings, the sensations, the things he pushed away into the darkest corners of his mind, hoping they would get lost there. The images of his father lying dead on the ground outside, his mother’s heart-shattering wails, the blood left on his hands after they’d dragged his body into the barn. He could still feel it on his skin, slowly rolling down his fingertips and dripping into the dirt. He wiped his hands on his shirt, trying to make the feeling go away, but it was persistent.

The distant sound of Lilly’s voice calling his name pulled him out of his stupor. She stepped into his line of sight and waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked at her, unable to speak as his heart pounded in his throat.

His eyes darted around frantically, and it felt like the walls were starting to close in on him. His limbs shook, and he couldn’t remember how to breathe; it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the building. A single thought ran through his head on repeat: Get. Out.

Regaining control of his feet, he stumbled backwards into the doors, slamming them open and launching himself onto the ground outside. The impact pushed all of the air from his lungs, and he gasped as he scrambled to his knees. He looked up to see a blurry image of Lilly rushing out of the barn after him.

“What happened!?” she asked, standing to the side as he crawled over to a hitching post and pulled himself back up to his feet.

“I can’t,” he stammered in between labored breaths, slumping over the post. “I can’t go in there.”

His stomach turned, and Lilly watched with a horrified look on her face as he let out a series of dry-heaves. Once the heaving stopped, he tightened his grip on the hitching post and groaned.

“O-Okay, that’s fine,” she said, waving her hands. “You don’t have to. I can do it myself. Don’t worry—”

“No!” Jack snapped, growing angry with himself. This was ridiculous; he was being ridiculous. He shouldn’t be acting this way; there was no reason for this. “You can’t just do everything by yourself. You shouldn’t have to!”

“Okay, um… do you wanna sit outside the door then?” she suggested, her voice starting to waver. “Or… or maybe we don’t need to do it at all. We can—”

“No, just— just stop!” he shouted over her, making the mistake of looking her in the eyes as he did so. The startled, almost fearful, look on her face gave him pause, causing a deep shame to settle in the pit of his stomach. He tore his eyes away; he couldn’t bear to keep looking at her. All he wanted was to run away and find somewhere to hide.

So that’s what he chose to do. He released his grasp on the post and began rushing towards the house.

“Jack!” Lilly called, chasing after him. “Hey!”

He turned around and put his palms up, shaking violently. “Just leave me alone, okay? I don’t—” I don’t wanna scare you away for good. I don’t wanna make you hate me. Tears brimmed his eyes, and he blinked them away. “I need a minute.”

Before she could say anything else, he took off running to the house, craving the safety and solitude of his bedroom. When he got there, he slammed the door behind him and sat down hard on his bed, still unable to stop his shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut and dug his nails into the mattress, trying to focus on taking deep breaths as he rode out the panic wracking his body.

———

He didn’t know how long it lasted, but when the anxiety finally began to fade, an overwhelming sense of grief crept in to take its place. It was just as strong as the night after his father was buried— when Jack lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while it sank in that he was really gone. He wasn’t going to wake up in the morning and find out that it was all a terrible nightmare. He wasn’t ever going to see him again. He would never have the chance to say all the things he’d left unspoken.

Jack stared blankly ahead as the feeling festered, not moving until there was a light knock at the door. As he turned to face it, the door opened a crack, and Lilly poked her head inside. He made eye contact with her for half a second before putting his head down, another rush of shame and embarrassment washing over him.

The door creaked open further, and Lilly, her voice soft as ever, asked, “Can I come in?”

Without looking up, he responded with a silent nod.

She slipped inside, her footsteps barely audible as she crossed the room to sit down on the bed beside him. They sat there quietly for a moment, Jack keeping his eyes glued to the floor and Lilly twiddling her thumbs.

The silence was broken when she gently asked, “Do you… wanna tell me what happened?”

His brow knitted together, and his cheeks burned as he recalled how ridiculously he had behaved. Unable— or unwilling— to explain himself, he buried his head in his hands and blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, placing a hand between his shoulder blades, slowly trailing it up his back in a soothing motion. “I just… wanna understand.”

Resting his fists on his cheeks, he stared at the floor for a few seconds longer before gathering the courage to look at her. On her face, he didn’t find any of the judgment he feared he would. Instead, her eyes were filled with sadness and a hint of remorse that broke his heart.

He lowered his head again. “My pa got shot in front of the barn.” He left it at that, knowing if he offered any more details about the event, he’d only set himself off again. “And now, every time I go in there…” He trailed off; it felt like there were no words to truly describe what happened in that barn— what he felt in there. It was like he still had one foot in the past. Like some part of his soul had broken off the day his father died and gotten stuck there, and the second he stepped into that barn, it reattached itself.

He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s… all I can think about, and it almost feels like I’m right back there. And I know I’m not, but…” He clenched his fists when he felt himself beginning to shake again. “I can’t handle it.”

“So… that’s happened before?” Lilly asked.

“Yeah. A few times.”

She nodded and went quiet again, continuing to softly rub his back.

Quickly growing uncomfortable with the silence, he muttered, “I’m sorry. I know I overreacted. I know I was being—”

“Stop.” Her hand left his back, and she wrapped her arm around him, hugging him tightly. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you can’t control the way things make you feel. None of that was your fault. You know that, right?”

He didn’t answer; he knew she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Jack….” She squeezed him tighter.

He clenched his jaw. “I was bein’ weak.”

“You weren’t,” she said, her voice remaining soft but gaining a hint of defiance. “If that was true… you wouldn’t have gone in there at all.” She tapped the side of his chin to get him to look at her. “You said that’s happened before. So you knew you wouldn’t like it in there, but you went in anyway. What part of that is weak?”

Jack scoffed and looked away. She said that as if he’d forced himself to go in there for some great, noble purpose. As if the whole thing hadn’t just been a miserably failed attempt at saving himself a little embarrassment.

She grabbed one of his hands, and he widened his eyes at her. “I think you’re a lot stronger than you realize, Jack,” she said. “And this doesn’t change that.”

He pulled his hand from her grasp and lowered his head. “It sure don’t feel that way.”

“Well,” she sighed, resting her palms on her knees, “I think things rarely feel the way they really are.”

Jack couldn’t come up with a response to that, so they fell back into silence. He truly did appreciate her for being there— for sitting and talking with him and trying to help. But as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t see it the way she did, and he didn’t feel like arguing any further.

Without the conversation to distract him, he became painfully aware of how exhausted his episode had left him. Not to mention that lingering grief still festering deep in the pit of his stomach. Groaning, he stretched his legs out and rubbed his eyes.

Lilly eyed him. “Are you feelin’ alright now? Is there anything I can do or get for you?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, massaging his forehead. “I’m exhausted. I kinda just wanna go back to bed.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Here.” She stood up and walked over to the window, pulling the sheer curtains shut. They didn’t do much to block out the light, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

She gave him a reassuring smile, and he tried to muster one up in return, hoping she could see the unspoken gratitude behind it. When she started heading for the door, he felt a pang of disappointment. Although he was tired and not in the mood to talk, he didn’t want her to leave. He missed the warmth of her sitting beside him.

“Wait,” he croaked.

She stopped in front of the door and looked over her shoulder at him, and when her eyes met his, the little bit of nerve he had left crumbled. He wasn’t sure what he was planning on saying anyway. He couldn’t very well ask her to stay and watch him sleep. He’d embarrassed himself enough for one day, and the awkwardness of that would make him vaporize.

“Uh, n-nevermind,” he said.

She turned to fully face him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, his heart rate kicking up again. “It wasn’t important. You can go.”

Lilly tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and for a moment, she seemed disappointed. “Okay, well… if you change your mind— if you decide you need somethin’— lemme know,” she said, giving him another smile. “I’m always around.”

The reminder that she wasn’t going anywhere tugged at his heart, making it beat even faster. He sucked in his lips and gave a nod in response. With that, she left the room, gently shutting the door behind her.

He sighed and flopped back in his bed, shoving the heels of his palms against his eyes and hoping that sleep would take him soon.

———

Jack tossed and turned for ages, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t shut his mind off. Every time he closed his eyes, he was assaulted with gruesome images of his father, and he couldn’t shake the grief that kept gnawing at his aching chest. Eventually, he gave up and crawled out of bed.

Half-dazed from his exhaustion, he wandered back outside, keeping his head down to avoid catching sight of the barn. He didn’t know where Lilly had run off to, but he supposed it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to bother her any more.

For a few minutes, he meandered around the porch, hoping the fresh autumn air would help clear his mind. But when it didn’t, he strayed farther from the house, letting his feet take control and decide where to lead him.

He ended up at the bottom of the hill that led up to his family’s gravesite, and he stopped and stared up at the three wooden crosses looming over him. He hadn’t been up there since the day he buried his mother. And before then, he only visited his father’s grave a couple of times, never staying longer than a few minutes. Sticking around any longer had been too painful.

Still, he should’ve gone up there more often to tend to the graves, and that thought caused a pang of guilt to shoot through his chest. He pushed himself forward, slowly making his way up to the cliffside.

He approached the three graves at the top and stood a few feet away from them, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. Seeing the state of them— especially of his father’s— intensified his guilt. He took a step closer to his father’s grave, examining the makeshift wooden cross that bore his name. The wood was weathered and had split in multiple places from the water damage it had endured, making it difficult to read what was inscribed on it. Additionally, the mound of dirt was covered in unsightly weeds, most of which were concentrated around the base of the cross.

He glanced over at his mother’s marker, which was in better shape but still already showing some of the same signs of decay. And Uncle’s was no better than his father’s.

It tore Jack apart. He wished he had the money to give them something better. They deserved better. They deserved to have one of those nice, carved stones like the ones in the cemetery in Blackwater, and they deserved to have a son who actually took the time to pull up the weeds around their graves.

His breath caught, and he knelt down in front of his father’s grave.

After a moment, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The words were so simple, yet he meant them more than anything he had ever said before. They were behind almost everything he did. They were the reason he refused to leave the ranch behind, the reason he threw his revolver in the lake, the reason he now shunned the whiskey he so desperately craved. Yet none of that felt like enough, and the guilt that burned inside him threatened to swallow him whole.

He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms until it hurt. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, a bit louder.

Jack hoped that somewhere, somehow, his father could hear him. He hoped he knew how sorry he was for never coming up there and for always pushing him away when he was still around. And more importantly, how sorry he was for how far he’d fallen after his father’s death. For how he’d broken what was left of his mother’s heart in his quest for revenge and how he’d let the ranch his father built for them go to shit.

Jack hoped he knew he’d take it all back if he could.

A couple of silent tears rolled down his cheek, and he wiped them on the shoulder of his sleeve. But when they continued to come, he didn’t make any effort to stop them. He allowed the full force of his grief and his guilt to spill down his face unrestrained.

Gritting his teeth, he hunched forward onto his hands and knees and dug his fists into the ground, tightening them around the clumps of weeds at the base of the grave marker. With a gruff sob, he tore them out of the earth and threw them to the side. Then, again and again, he went back for more fistfuls, determined to uproot every last one.

When he finished with his father’s grave, he moved on to his mother’s, and then to Uncle’s, ripping up every weed in sight until his hands were red and raw. All the while, the tears never stopped rolling down his cheeks.

When the graves were free of weeds, he dragged himself underneath a nearby tree, panting and sweating from his efforts. His throat ached, and his chest was burning, yet strangely, the whole ordeal left him feeling lighter than he had in years.

He wiped the streaks of tears off his cheeks and closed his eyes, taking in the fresh air and the feeling of the breeze against his skin. As his heart rate returned to normal, exhaustion settled in again. He stretched his legs out, leaned his head back against the tree, and tugged his hat down over his eyes.

Within minutes, he finally drifted off to sleep.

The air was warmer when Jack awoke, and his skin tingled from the streaks of sunlight shining through the tree’s branches. He stretched and lifted the brim of his hat, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light. Glancing up at the sky, he noted the position of the sun and concluded that it was now around the middle of the afternoon. He sat there for a moment longer, waiting for his lingering sleepiness to wear off before standing up.

As he got back to his feet, he brushed the dirt off his jeans and smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt. Then, resolving to clean up the remains of the weeds he’d uprooted later, he passed by his family’s graves and approached the edge of the cliff to take a look around.

From that angle, he could see the entirety of the ranch, and he was struck by how much it had changed over the past few months. Most of the tall patches of grass and weeds that once littered the place had been trimmed down. The fence surrounding the property was free of holes. And the chicken coop, even despite the coyote attack, was bustling with life again.

It looked a lot more like it had a few years ago.

His eyes landed on the once-overgrown gazebo, where he found Lilly sitting and reading a book. As he watched her, her words echoed in his head: You’re a lot stronger than you realize. Maybe she was right. And maybe the proof of that was right in front of him.

Coming back to the ranch was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he did it anyway. And in that moment, as he stared down at the fruits of all his hard work, he felt that it had paid off. He felt that his parents would have been proud of him. Despite all the setbacks he had faced— and was still facing— he had managed to do something right.

But his pride faltered a bit when he looked at the barn, remembering the mess that was still inside. He’d made a lot of progress on the ranch, but he wasn’t quite finished yet. And he didn’t want to give up now.

Taking in a shaky breath, Jack lifted his chin and stepped away from the ledge. Then, with a final sorrowful yet determined glance at his family’s graves, he made his way over to the gazebo. As he approached, Lilly looked up from her book and then closed it, setting it in her lap and folding her hands on top of it. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at her as he tried to come up with what to say.

She gave him a gentle smile. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he greeted her back, scratching at the dirt with his boot. “I— I’ll sit outside the door.” He nodded towards the barn. “If that’s… still an option.”

Her eyes lit up, and the warmth in her gaze made his chest stir. “Of course it is.”

She set her book down on the table and stood up, brushing off her skirt as she stepped out of the gazebo to join him. She put her hand on his shoulder, and without a second thought, he grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug.

After a sharp inhale of surprise, she wrapped her arms around him.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m glad you’re here. I…” He trailed off, only able to finish the sentence in his head: I love you.

Lilly squeezed him then pulled away to give him another sweet smile. “Don’t mention it.”

———

They spent the next couple of days cleaning out the barn, taking it little by little so it was easier for Jack to cope with. Well, Lilly was the one doing the majority of the cleaning. He mostly stood in the doorway, watching and chatting with her to keep his mind from wandering. Occasionally, in an effort to make himself feel somewhat useful, he’d pick up a pitchfork and try to help clean the area within its reach, but he still couldn’t bring himself to go inside.

And despite Lilly’s insistence that he shouldn’t, he felt guilty for it. Cleaning out the barn wasn’t a pleasant task nor an easy one, and it wasn’t fair that she had to do it on her own. He was the one who let the place fall into such a state of disarray; it was his responsibility to fix it.

So on the third day, he woke up determined to do a bit more.

It was especially chilly outside that morning, and as he made his way to the barn, his feet crunched against the frosty morning dew that coated the grass. Lilly was already over there waiting for him, leaning against the doorframe with her arms wrapped around herself and her face pointed up to the sky. As he got closer, he saw that her eyes were closed, and she didn’t appear to notice his arrival, even when he stopped just a couple of feet away from her.

He stood there awkwardly, waiting for her to realize he was there, but when she didn’t move, he quietly said, “Hey.”

Lilly opened her eyes and turned to him, a bit startled. She blinked a few times before giving him a small smile. “Hey, there you are.”

“Here I am,” he said. “You alright?”

Shaking her head, she replied, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” She chuckled and pushed herself away from the wall, standing up straight. “Coffee just hasn’t quite kicked in yet.”

Jack responded with a short, polite laugh, but as he looked into her eyes, he felt a small pang in his chest. She looked exhausted, sporting the dark under-eye circles that he often saw on her when she was staying in Blackwater. Up until that point, she seemed to be doing better at Beecher’s Hope, but now, he feared that all the stress of the past week may be getting to her.

“We can start later if you wanna go get some rest,” he said.

“No, that’s not necessary,” she said, waving him off. “I’ll survive.” Before he had any chance to object, she nodded at the barn’s swinging doors and motioned for him to help her prop them open. “No use putting it off.”

He stood in place for a moment longer, watching her with a faint look of concern as she turned her back on him and pulled one of the doors open. Then, choosing to let the issue rest for now, he joined her and propped open the other door with an old sack of corn.

With the doors open, Lilly gave him another smile before strolling inside. Jack lingered in the doorway, feet rooted to the dirt as he mustered up the courage to follow her in.

Taking a deep breath and holding it in, he dragged one foot past the threshold into the barn. Then, with a brief hesitation, the other followed, and he found himself standing inside. His knees shook as he peered around, spotting Lilly in the corner of one of the stalls, her back turned to him as she surveyed the mess on the floor. He moved stiffly towards her, drawn to her like a moth to a lone light in the darkness.

When she turned around and saw him standing right behind her, she widened her eyes and let out a quiet, incredulous laugh. “What are you doing?”

He released his breath, trying to ignore how hard his heart was thumping in his chest. “Uh, helping?”

An affectionate gleam appeared in her eyes, making his heart pound harder. “It’s fine, Jack. I can do it.” Her voice was soft. “You don’t have to—”

“I know. I want to.”

That was a lie. He didn’t want to be in there; he didn’t hate it any less than he did before. Being within those four walls still caused an unshakable sense of dread to churn in his stomach; it still made it hard to breathe. But he needed to.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he added, “Just for a bit.”

Lilly studied him for a moment, her reluctance clear on her face. But despite her concern, she nodded and patted him on the arm, quietly repeating, “Just for a bit.”

With that, she grabbed a pitchfork that was leaning against the wall and handed it to him. Jack took it with shaky hands and held it tightly, staring at her expectantly as he waited for her to explain what they were doing.

“I wanted to finish cleaning out this stall today,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and smiling at him. “With the two of us, it shouldn’t take too long.”

Jack agreed, and they got to work immediately. He stayed quiet the entire time, focusing intently on the task at hand and being careful not to let his eyes wander too much. Lilly filled the silence, talking to him about anything she could think of, and while he didn’t respond, he hung onto every word she said like it was the only thing keeping him on Earth.

She told him a couple short stories about her travels before she came to Blackwater— about how Chicago was the worst city she’d ever been to and how lovely the train ride through Ambarino had been. Then, when she got bored of that, she let him in on some of the scandalous secrets she’d overheard while playing piano at the dinner parties of Blackwater’s elite. And given what she told him, Jack wondered why those people thought they had any right to gossip about her and him.

Despite the distractions, his discomfort continued to grow the longer he stayed in the barn, and it became increasingly difficult to keep himself grounded. But luckily, just as Lilly had said, it didn’t take long until the stall was clean and all of the debris they’d cleared was loaded up into a wheelbarrow.

He wasted no time in getting out of the barn, taking a slow deep breath of fresh air the moment he stepped outside. Lilly followed behind him with the wheelbarrow. As she pushed it off to the side and removed the doorstops keeping the barn doors open, Jack leaned against the hitching post and lit up a cigarette.

He shakily brought it to his lips, closed his eyes, and took a long drag of it, relishing in the comfort it brought him. When he heard Lilly return to his side, he let out a puff of smoke and opened his eyes.

“You okay?” she asked, leaning against the post beside him.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice wavering slightly. “But… I think I’ve had enough for a while.” He raised the cigarette again. “A long while.”

“Okay.” She crossed her arms and nodded. “I think the coop’s about due for a good cleanin’ anyway; we can work on that instead.” She eyed him for a moment, a soft smile on her face. “You did well today.”

Jack let out a chuckle along with another cloud of smoke. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure I’d… um…” He trailed off as his ears caught a distant whirring and sputtering sound coming from the east.

Looking in the direction of the sound, he spotted a shiny black motor car coming up the road from Blackwater, half hidden by a hill. He furrowed his brows at it.

“Huh,” Lilly said. “There’s somethin’ you don’t see around here every day.”

Not taking his eyes off the car, he murmured, “No, you don’t….”

An ominous feeling settled into his gut. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a car this far out from Blackwater. The dirt roads around the plains weren’t made for them. And even within the city, they were a rare sight and were usually only seen being driven by those who worked for the government.

The car disappeared behind the hill, reappearing moments later near the entrance to Beecher’s Hope. Jack held his breath, praying it would pass and continue up the road to Tall Trees. His heart lurched when instead, it began slowing down and turned in to the ranch.

Lilly took a few steps forward. “The hell?”

Jack extended his arm out to keep her back.

“What are they comin’ here for?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, his breathing becoming more ragged. He threw his cigarette on the ground and grabbed Lilly by the wrist. “And I don’t wanna.”

He pulled her around the side of the barn and out of sight of the vehicle.

Peeking around the corner, he watched the car as it parked in front of the house. After a moment, the sputtering of the engine came to a stop, and out of the car stepped a man wearing a crisp gray suit. He dusted himself off and turned in a circle, taking a long, slow look around the property. Then, he slammed the car door shut and began making his way to the house.

Shuddering, Jack disappeared back behind the corner.

“Who is it?” Lilly whispered. “Cops?”

He swallowed and nodded. “Just one.”

“They don’t normally come alone— or get this close. What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look again!”

He did just that, gripping onto the corner of the wall and poking his head out further this time. The man was on the porch now, repeatedly knocking on the front door and pacing around in between knocks. When it became clear that no one was going to answer, he gave up on knocking and kicked the door in a fit of frustration. This sent a jolt of anger through Jack, and his grip on the corner tightened.

Abandoning the front door, the man crossed to the other side of the porch and started looking inside the windows. Jack’s anger increased. He couldn’t believe how bold these bureau assholes had become. From standing on the ridge, spying on him from afar to peeping in his windows. What would be next?

He decided he wasn’t going to stand for it. They could watch him all they wanted, but this blatant disrespect was going too far. This guy had been stupid enough to come alone, which gave Jack the courage he needed to step out from his hiding place, meaning to give him a piece of his mind.

Lilly scurried after him.

“Stay here,” he said, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her back behind the barn.

“Jack—”

“Please.”

She hesitated for a moment longer before sighing in defeat. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

He squeezed her. “I won’t.”

With that, he took off jogging to the house, fighting off the urge to give the shiny motor car he passed along the way the same disrespectful kick his front door had received. He got to the porch unnoticed and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, glaring at the back of the man’s head as he continued to peer through the window.

With a huff of anger, he stomped up the steps. “Hey!”

The man pulled back from the window and turned to him, looking startled for only a brief second before assuming a more nonchalant expression. He wasn’t wearing a badge or one of those stupid hats, but Jack wasn’t about to be fooled by that. He knew a bureau agent when he saw one.

Jack marched closer to him, fury behind every one of his steps. “Didn’t I tell you bastards to leave me alone?”

The man’s brows furrowed, and he blinked a few times. “Pardon?” he said, a laugh hiding behind his voice.

“Don’t act stupid.” Jack pushed himself further into the man’s face until he was inches away. “You heard me.”

“Christ.” The man leaned backwards, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “What do you want, a kiss? Back off.”

Jack took a small step back, the response catching him off guard and making his face flush. He stammered a bit before regaining his composure and growling, “Just get the hell out of here!”

The man stared back at him, unshaken. “Look, buddy,” he started, “I don’t know who the fuck you are or what in God’s name your problem is, but I think you might be a little bit confused.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be confused about,” Jack spat. “I saw you peepin’ in that window. And I know you people have been watchin’ me all week; I’ve seen you!”

“Watching you?” The stranger let out a derisive chuckle of disbelief. “Why would I be watching you? You’re not that much to look at, sweetheart.”

Jack’s nostrils flared, and he could only imagine that his face was redder than ever. He grit his teeth, too livid to form words.

The man seemed to pick up on his increasing fury, and moreover, seemed to be amused by it. Jack clenched his fists, fighting back an overwhelming urge to smack that subtle, self-righteous smile off the bastard’s face. But he was paralyzed with anger, so he simply stared at him, breathing heavily through his nose.

The man sighed and put his hands behind his back, the corner of his lip turning upwards in a more obvious smirk. “Are we finished?”

Jack’s arm twitched. That was it. He was a millisecond away from raising his fists and tearing the guy apart, but before he could, Lilly’s voice from behind him pulled him back down to Earth.

“Tom,” she said quietly, the sound catching in her throat.

Jack looked over his shoulder at her, puzzled and still breathing erratically as he struggled to come down from his anger. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her brows furrowed as her eyes scanned the stranger.

Looking back at the man, Jack saw that he had softened a bit upon seeing Lilly, and his confusion intensified, overtaking his anger. He stammered, “Wha—” Suddenly, he was shoved to the side, sent stumbling into the side of the house while the man approached Lilly.

She hesitantly stepped towards him.

“Hey, kid.” He pulled her into a hug but immediately flinched away and held her at arm’s length. “God, you smell like shit,” he said, his face contorting in disgust. “When’s the last time you bathed?”

She wriggled out of his grasp and scoffed. “I bathe every—” She bit her lip, pausing for half a second before correcting herself, “almost every day!”

“In what?” the man asked flatly. “Shit?”

“Shut up!” Lilly snapped, giving him a weak punch in the shoulder. Her cheeks pinkened, and she wrapped her arms around herself. “What are you doing here? You don’t belong here.”

“We’ll get to that in a minute.” His eyes darted back to Jack, and he scowled. “Who the hell’s this clown? He smells even worse than you do.”

Jack glowered at him.

Lilly answered, “This is Jack.”

Recognition flashed across the man’s face. “This is Jack,” he echoed, pursing his lips and looking Jack up and down. He wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms. “Hm.” He turned to Lilly and reduced his voice to a murmur. “Y’know, I think you might need to read up on the definition of a few words….”

Lilly responded with a glare, and Jack furrowed his brows, confused by the exchange. He stepped closer to the pair and, seeking some clarity, finally spoke up again. “Who are you?” he asked, a trace of bitterness still present in his voice.

The man smirked and faced Jack again. “I—”

“This is Tommy,” Lilly cut in. “My brother.”

At first, Jack didn’t believe her. He couldn’t. A part of him wanted to burst out laughing. There was no way this smug piece of shit could be related to Lilly— to his sweet, unassuming Lilly. But as he turned his gaze back to the man and took a closer look, he was struck by the resemblance.

The only major difference of note was the hair; his slicked-back blond hair was a stark contrast to her long, dark curls. But everything else was so similar— the dimples in the cheeks, the slope of the nose, the accent too.

His eyes were even that same shade of green, though they lacked any of the warmth and light that Jack found in Lilly’s gaze. Hers were the green of the grass in spring, his of a camouflaged snake weaving through that grass.

Related to Lilly or not, Jack had already made up his mind: he didn’t like the guy.

Tommy extended a hand out to him. “Thomas Schuyler.”

Jack stared at his hand, making no move to shake it. He offered only a mumbled utterance of his name. “Jack Marston.”

Tommy's expression soured, and he dropped his arm back down to his side. “Charmed,” he sneered.

“Great, we’ve all met,” Lilly interjected, tapping her foot against the porch— whether from impatience or nervousness, Jack couldn’t tell. “Now, what are you doing here?”

The man looked down in thought for a moment. “I wanted to come check on you.” He patted her on the shoulder and smiled at her. “Make sure you’re doin’ okay.”

Lilly narrowed her eyes at him, not seeming to buy his explanation. “Why? Why couldn’t you just wait for me to call you like you always have before? I’ve been tryin’ all week.” She looked down at the floor and dropped her voice to a mumble. “Guess I see why you weren’t answerin’ now….”

“Well, sometimes I struggle to trust the things you tell me over the telephone, and lookin’ around, I think I might’ve been right to be skeptical.” As he spoke, he looked around, taking in the sight of the ranch with a displeased look on his face. “You told me you were stayin’ someplace nice. Yet here we are….”

Jack pursed his lips, the thinly-veiled insult towards his home deepening his dislike of the man. The ranch was everything to him. He and Lilly had put so much work into it, as had his family before them— his father built the place with his own two hands. This lanky asshole, who didn’t look like he’d ever done a real day’s work in his life, had no right to disparage it. He clenched his right fist, fighting off the rage that he could feel building up inside of him again.

Lilly shot Jack an apologetic glance. “This is someplace nice.”

Tommy scoffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Right….”

They all went quiet, and Tommy leaned against the house, pulling a cigarette out of his breast pocket. As he lit it up, Lilly watched him warily, shifting her weight between her feet. Jack did the same. He didn’t like the timing of all this— the guy just happened to drop by right after Lilly’s slip-up with those agents? He wasn’t buying that.

Finally, Lilly spoke up, asking the question that was on both of their minds: “Is… is that it?”

“Why?” Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Were you expecting something else?”

“N-No.” She gave a nervous laugh and crossed her arms. “It’s just that I don’t understand why you would come all this way for something so trivial. That seems a bit ridiculous— even for you.”

He hummed and tapped on his cigarette, causing a sprinkle of ash to flutter down onto the porch. “Okay. Fair point,” he mumbled, shrugging a single shoulder as he brought the cigarette back to his lips.

Lilly wrung her hands. “So what’s going on then?”

He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “A little while ago, a couple of morons from the Bureau of Investigation showed up on Ma’s doorstep.”

Jack felt all of the blood drain from his face as the man’s words confirmed what he’d feared. He briefly locked eyes with Lilly, who wore the same subtle look of dismay that he was sure had spread across his own face.

Then, almost immediately, she dropped the expression and raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise. “Why?” she asked, refocusing on her brother. “What’d they want?” There was a small hitch in her voice as she spoke, so subtle that Jack thought he must have been the only one to notice.

Tommy took another slow drag of his cigarette before answering, “They just asked her if she happened to know anyone in or from West Elizabeth. They wouldn’t tell her much else, but of course, she thought it must have somethin’ to do with you.” He paused and looked her up and down. “And when she came and told me about it, I had the same thought too.”

Lilly’s face paled, and this time, she didn’t try to hide her dismay. “Wait, y-you didn’t tell her I’m here, did you?”

“No. I didn’t,” Tommy scoffed, waving the question off as if it were absurd.

She breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

“But,” he continued, “since I knew you were here, the whole encounter didn’t really sit well with me.” He shrugged. “So naturally, I went and harassed ‘em into givin’ me a little more context.”

The man paused to take another long puff of his cigarette, and as the silence droned on, Jack felt like he would crumble from anticipation.

“And?” Lilly prompted.

Tommy sighed, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “They told me that they were lookin’ for a suspect in a separate missing person’s case in West Elizabeth, and someone told them that person was up in Boston.” He furrowed his brows. “That someone also gave them Ma’s name for some reason.”

“Okay…” Lilly replied, dumbfounding Jack with her ability to keep her tone so nonchalant. “What does that have to do with me?”

“I just thought it was strange.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you not?”

Lilly fidgeted a bit under his gaze. “I mean, sure, it kinda is,” she said, her eyes nervously flitting over to Jack again. “But that doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

“Well, it was quite a coincidence then.”

“Stranger things have happened,” she replied, taking another reflexive look at Jack.

This time, Tommy followed her gaze, narrowing his eyes at Jack. “What do you keep lookin’ at him for?” he asked. “Have you got somethin’ to say?”

Breathing shakily, Jack scowled at him. “No. I don’t.”

“No?” He scoffed and pushed himself off the wall, turning his back on Lilly to march closer to Jack. “You sure had a lot to say to me before she showed up.” He nodded over his shoulder at her. “Where’d all that nerve go?”

Jack shifted on his feet, his stomach lurching as he recalled all that he’d unwittingly said when he first confronted the man. Fighting to keep his anxiety from showing on his face, he searched his head for a response. But with Tommy’s unwavering, suspicious gaze boring into him, he struggled to come up with anything.

He wondered how Lilly had managed to keep as cool as she did when he was staring down at her— maybe it was just because she knew him better. He peered over Tommy’s shoulder and looked at her, widening his eyes in a silent plea for help.

Catching on to his signal, she put her palms up and motioned for him to stay calm. Then, with repeated glances at her brother to make sure he didn’t notice, she waved her hands and mouthed the words, “Change. The. Subject.”

Without thinking, Jack nodded at her, kicking himself for doing so when the gesture caused Tommy to look back at her. In a quick motion, she dropped her arms back down to her sides, acting as if their exchange hadn’t happened. When his gaze returned to Jack, the suspicion in his eyes had deepened.

Heeding Lilly’s advice, Jack steeled his face and said in as flat a tone as he was able, “Are you gonna be leavin’ soon? We need to get back to work.”

For a second, Tommy seemed caught off guard by the response. Then, he gave a derisive chuckle. “Work, huh?” Taking a step back from Jack, he took another brief look around the ranch. “It sure doesn’t look like you’ve been doing much work.” He threw his half-spent cigarette down onto the porch, crushing it underneath a shiny, pristine shoe. “This place is a dump.”

Jack's face grew hot with anger, and he balled up his fists. This piece of shit was asking for it at this point…. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to knock his ass to the ground right then.

He opened his mouth to argue, but Lilly cut in to break them up. “All the more reason we should get back to it,” she said, grabbing Tommy’s shoulder from behind and pulling him until he faced her. “Everything’s fine, Tommy, honestly. You can go home now.”

He shrugged her hand off and pursed his lips, glaring at her with such intensity that it looked like he thought he could read her mind if he tried hard enough. She crossed her arms and frowned at him, holding his gaze for several seconds before faltering.

Then, to Jack’s surprise, Tommy’s demeanor suddenly softened, and a genuine look of concern appeared on his face, lasting only for a brief second before he wiped it away. “No,” he said quietly, folding his hands behind his back. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

Lilly sighed impatiently. “Why not? What—”

“Because,” he cut her off, “like I said, I wanted to make sure you’re okay. And so far”— his voice became strained, and he shot Jack another suspicious glare— “I’m not so convinced that you are.”

Jack glared back at him, resenting the implication that he was some kind of threat to Lilly. He hadn’t done anything to harm her nor had he even considered doing so.

“I am,” she said. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Tommy studied her for another moment before muttering, “Prove it.”

His words seemed to startle her a bit, but with only a brief hesitation, she stuck her chin up and said, “Y’know what? Fine.” She threw her hands up in defeat. “If you wanna hover around like a paranoid freak, be our guest. Just stay out of the way.”

Wait, what? Jack thought. She’s not really telling him he can stay, is she?

“Fine by me,” Tommy replied. “Wouldn’t wanna get too close anyway.”

Ignoring him, Lilly walked over to Jack and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a little too hard. “Just pretend he isn’t here, okay?” she murmured in his ear. Her hand trailed down to his bicep, and she gently tugged on it, beckoning him towards the porch steps. “Come on. Let’s get back to work.”

Jack looked at her like she was out of her mind. How was he supposed to pretend he wasn’t there? How were they supposed to get back to work if this guy was intent on breathing down their necks the entire time? He was already stressed enough from cleaning out the barn; he didn’t need this too.

He shook his head in disagreement, and Lilly gave him a look of pleading in response, her grip on his arm becoming tighter until it started to hurt. When he didn’t budge, she whispered, her lips barely moving, “Trust me.”

Tommy cleared his throat. “Is there a problem?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, keeping his eyes locked on Lilly, who continued to silently plead with him to just go along with it. Finally, he swallowed and gave her a short nod before addressing the man. “You heard her,” he mumbled gruffly. “Just stay out of the way.”

Tommy gave him a strained, sardonic smile and looked him over, scrutinizing him for what felt like the hundredth time. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

Jack scowled in response, and Lilly grabbed hold of his wrist, tugging him off the porch and over to the chicken coop. Tommy followed after them, lagging several feet behind as Lilly picked up the pace, never releasing her grip on Jack.

As they neared the coop, she gave his wrist a hard squeeze. “Just stay calm and act normal,” she whispered, her breathing heavy. “He’s just overprotective. Show him there’s no reason to be suspicious and then he’ll go.” Stay calm and act normal, Jack repeated in his head. Because that’s always been so easy for him to do….

#this one's kinda painful #i'm sorry #jack marston #adult jack marston #rdr1 #rdr #my writing #//my blessed son

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sednonamoris · 1 year

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dear john

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: A year’s worth of letters, never sent.

Warnings: Angst, canon-typical language, epistolary chapter, emotionally constipated idiots

Word count: 1,236

A/N: I think the prior chapter does a lot of legwork for this one, but I really wanted to cover John's missing year in a succinct way that still got across the complicated feelings and hurt that came with it. I'm still deciding the direction the next two or three chapters will go - if we head straight to Blackwater and dig into the game's timeline at last or spend some more time before all that. All this to say the next updates might take a bit longer. If you have anything you really want to see please let me know!!

Series masterlist • AO3

—

Marston,

Goddamn you right to hell you stupid, yellow-bellied bastard. Too much of a coward to even say goodbye. Best friends, was it? Real funny way of showing it to leave me behind like that. A few weeks to clear your head I can understand, but over a month seems an awful long time.

I would have followed you anywhere.

Guess you didn’t care to have me along.

Ghost

—

Dear Marston,

I don’t have an address to post this to, but don’t think I’ll let you off easy. You don’t want to raise this kid? Fine. But you should come home. I miss The gang could use you. Arthur and I got a good lead on a bank but you know how twitchy the trigger fingers are on these Callander boys.

I am fine, thanks for asking, and so is everyone else. Arthur is even madder than I am, so I wouldn’t expect letters from him anytime soon.

Ghost

—

Dear Marston,

There’s more work to be done between me and Arthur now that you’re not here to share the load. Arthur says you weren’t much help anyhow, but as much as I hate you for leaving we both know that ain’t fair. Tried to hunt rabbit with him the other day and he shot them all full of holes. Pearson almost laughed him out of camp when he went to hand in a brace anyhow. You at least remember to switch your ammo.

My point is that we could use you, wherever you are. You’re a rotten friend for leaving like that.

Ghost

—

Dear Marston,

It’s awful tiresome being mad at you. I wish you’d come back so I could stop pretending and everything could go back to normal.

Jack don’t know any better, little as he is, but Abigail misses you about as much as she curses your name. Dutch and Hosea miss you more, and Arthur does too even if he won’t say it. The worst is people who act like you’re dead, not gone. Almost knocked Bill’s teeth out for that the other night.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that wherever you are I hope you’re happy, because we sure ain’t.

Ghost

—

Dear John,

Camp’s on the move again. If you ever bother to come back I’m sure you’ll be able to track us, but I had to say it just in case. Like you’re even reading this letter I can’t send.

The country out this way is even more beautiful than I dreamed. Growing up in a desert gives you a real appetite for green, and these plains go one forever and ever. We passed a river the other day with grey waters - nothing close to San Luis blue. It made me think of you and drowning. When Javier caught my stare he said he’d take me fishing. Maybe I’ll catch some real bass, not like Arthur’s pretend ones two summers ago.

Ghost

—

Dear John,

You’ll like our new camp. Everyone does. Even Trelawny crawled out of whatever fancy-pants hole he’s been in to drop a visit. He has a lead on a big blackjack game two towns over. Dutch wants Arthur to play. These little plains towns are small but there’s real money in some of the landowners.

I’ve got my eye on some nice horseflesh but Dutch wants me playing bodyguard just in case. I told him to send Davey instead and got a lecture on trust and family. He gave me that sad look at the end that always means he’s missing you.

Guess I ought to say I miss you too.

Ghost

—

Dear John,

Sometimes I feel like I’ll never see you again, and other times it’s like you could walk into camp any second, easy as you like. Sometimes I see you in people we pass on the road, or in towns. Sometimes I feel it in my chest that you’re gone, like I’m missing a piece.

I hope you’ve been safe, wherever you are. Hell, I even hope you have someone watching your back out there. We both know it should have been me, but it’s a little late for that now.

I think about what I would have said if you’d asked me to come with you some nights that I can’t sleep. This gang is my family. I know I would have gone with you, but I also know I would have regretted it in the end. Maybe it’s better this way. Sure don’t feel like it.

Your Ghost

—

Dear John,

I haven’t been fair to Abigail at all. Guess I needed you to leave us both to see that. She’s a hard worker and a natural mother and Jack is lucky to have her. I think you were too. Maybe you still are, if she’ll have you.

I caught Arthur making eyes at her across the fire the other night. If Mary Linton’s hurt weren’t so fresh I think he’d let her make an honest man of him.

I don’t know that anyone can make an honest man of you.

If you ever come back maybe I’ll try. Or at least we can go on being dishonest together. Best friends, right? Since you left these letters have been my friends, and I have to tell you they’re a sorry replacement.

Ghost

—

The day of John’s return happens just like you said; easy as you please. He rides in on his chestnut mare, one hand on the reins and the other shading his eyes from harsh midafternoon sun. There’s a guilty look shadowed on his face and the shyest smile you’ve seen on that sharp mouth of his.

You want to kill him. You want to kiss him. You settle for a withering glare he has the good sense to cringe from.

“Where the hell have you been, asshole?”

“Lot of places,” he says, “but I… finally figured it was time to come home.”

Home.

He says it while looking right at you.

You should kill him. You should kiss him. But just like that he’s forgiven.

Dutch makes a speech and the gang welcomes him back each in their own way and you think Hosea even starts to cry. Abigail smacks him the second he gets close enough and then kisses him full on the mouth. John looks stunned, holding his face, and Arthur glares, and you still don’t know what to do with yourself. You just sort of stand there while your world tilts on its axis and watch it spin.

When the night has finally quieted and everyone else has gone to bed you sit at the fire alone and burn the letters. Ink turns to ash. Every bit of love and longing trapped in those pages goes out into the air, smoke on the wind.

From that smoke John appears, his eyes full of sorrow and regrets and a heartbreaking hope that has your chest in a vice grip.

You rise slowly, like he’s some wild animal you might spook. Then before you have a chance to react he closes the distance between you and holds you close enough to hurt. In the crush of his embrace it finally registers that you have your friend back. Your best friend. Your John.

“I really missed you, you know,” he rasps into the fabric of your shirt.

“I know,” you say through the tears. “I know.”

“I know,” you sniffle through the tears. “I know.”

#john marston x reader #rdr x reader #rdr2 x reader #fran writes #ghost story #ch. 8

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revolversandlace · 1 year

Text

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

RED DEAD REDEMPTION II

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Arthur Morgan x f!OC

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RED DEAD REDEMPTION II

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

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

HARRY POTTER

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Draco Malfoy x Ginny Weasley

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

ORIGINAL WORKS

In Our Victory, We Are Hopeless

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

#masterlist #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x female original character #arthur morgan x f!oc #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x f!Reader #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x f!reader #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #charles smith x reader #charles smith x f!reader #charles smith #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #draco x ginny

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newx-menfan · 1 year

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Superboy # 1 Review

*Spoilers!*

I know I primarily post about Academy X here…but I have layers people and truthfully….X-Men kind of sucks right now…

So I am reviewing instead MY FAVORITE CLONE of the DC verse- Conner Kent AKA SUPERBOY!!

The issue starts with Conner being super villain cockblocked…

Conner is feeling “replaced” and “inadequate” at Metropolis by all the Superkids around…which is kind of dumb considering no one in the DC verse is frankly as effortlessly cool as Conner…(I mean look how many times Diana has tried and failed to rock a leather jacket…)

Conner then flies somberly back to Smallville, to bring back coffee to Ma and Pa Kent…who suggest Conner is wasting his coolness on Metropolis… (I heard Metropolis is super gentrified now anyway Conner!)

Conner decides to go intergalactic and with an unstable teleportation device- teleports to a planet that’s being decimated by meta human clones based off of Earths superheroes and Cadmus cloning! (Well that’s super convenient!)

Conner battles the clones and let’s the

Main villain- the Dominator (sounds like a BDSM Marston villain…but okay…) scenery chew for several minutes while the aliens of the planet evacuate, before really cutting it loose with his TK.

Just as Conner looks like he has won and confirms to the Dominator that he’s alone; the big bad releases ship upon ship of clones.

As Conner is regretting his choice to go at this alone- the Cosmoteers show up to kill all the clones and plan to kill Superboy!

Review:

Truthfully I am disappointed. Conner feels pretty “blah” here.

Sure, we got some of the old Superboy ego and bullheadedness with Conner borrowing shady technology and totally not bothering to do any homework on the planet or the current conflict…But I felt like this book had pretty limited humor and snarkiness that readers more or less expect with characters like Conner.

It would be like if Hellion lost his “mean girl” edge to suddenly be written more or less like Sam Guthrie…

Reading this- I felt like it was often copying Kirkman’s “Invincible” (the meta humans even LOOK like Kirkman/Walker characters!) than really being a “Superboy” comic…

The problem with Conner, much like the problem with Laura, is Geoff John’s pretty much tanked his prior personality years ago…

Where Bendis totally killed Laura’s introversion to make her a generic “Logan”- John’s stopped having Conner be a total shit. 😕

It’s weird comparing it to the 90’s solo series- I know people complain about Conner being sexualized/“jailbait” in it now and his relationship with Tana being problematic…but the series was at least a fun commentary on current pop-culture of the time. Conner kind of IS the perfect character to talk about Social Media/shameless self promotion/influencer culture…Yet this book has none of that.

Conner should frankly HAVE an edge and yet he feels pretty dang generic in this book.

Much like Deadpool and Plastic Man- I think writers really struggle with writing these kinds of characters anymore.

You need someone who can write comedy and is willing to take risks instead of playing it safe…you need someone who has an eye for social criticism…you need someone who can break the fourth wall effectively without it becoming generic or annoying…and you need someone who can be pretty creative…and I just don’t think DC and Marvel HAVE these kinds of writers staffed there anymore.

Even Gail Simone, whose Deadpool run I LOVE!…her “Plastic Man” mini several years ago was pretty disappointing and played it pretty safe, in my opinion.

Part of the problem is- a lot of these characters feel sanitized to fit into the “superhero mold” they were originally created to criticize. Where they were originally SUPPOSED to be more or less outsiders of the world they inhabited…now they’re focal characters of the universe.

I am glad however that the writer went back to Conner having TK instead of generic “Superman” abilities- I HATED John’s for removing it.

Overall I thought the art was pretty “meh”. Not terrible but not memorable either.

Con’s telekinesis looks more stylized off of QQ and other telepathy/telekinesis- which is a bit disappointing.

I was confused if the Domineer is supposed to be Citadelian? I am always surprised more isn’t done with them, since they were always pretty frightening… (and I just want Tamaraneans to pop up!)

Overall- I would have rather had Conner do something in Hawaii again or Young Justice stuff or in a Mongul “War World” type of situation or pretty much anything else than where this story is gonna go (him befriending Cosmoeers and realizing he doesn’t “have to do things alone”….

Predictions:

Obviously “befriending Cosmoeers/realizing he doesn’t have to go at it alone” story…

#Superboy #review #spoilers #Conner Kent #not new x men…but #DC #superman #action comics #Young justice

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myfairgunslinger · 2 years

Text

Title: Red Dead Revenge: Kiss of Death [Part 8 ]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OC x John Marston

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Rape

Summary: Maeve is feeling cramped up and Arthur decides to take her fishing, not without a couple of people that want to join however.

A/N: Finally! I have returned! And with a brand new chapter picking up where we left off! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 8: Hook, Line and Sinner

Maeve was staring at the newspaper, puffing on a freshly lit premium cigarette, flipping through each page and scanning the articles to see if any news had been reported about them. Yes, them being her sick obsession. Her new reason for living. The two men that ruined everything by going too damn far. Mike and Phil Bollard along with their gang of diabolical lackies.

She blew out the smoke that collected in her lungs all over page two's piece on Blackwater's Eleventh Annual Bird Shooting contest. The first three places were taken by contenders Maeve recognized from prior years of beating them. The girl flipped the next page of the newspaper finding a story about a home robbery and kidnapping outside of Strawberry, but robbers were unknown. It would be something to investigate.

"Miss!" Maeve's head looked up to see a tracker working from his stand, holding the cougar pelt Maeve had scored a few days ago. Since her fight with Abigail, she hasn't necessarily seen John. More so avoiding him. When he didn't come see her that night, Maeve took that as a bad sign and just wasn't ready to hear his reasoning. She's been kept busy doing chores with Mrs. Grimshaw who has not spoken about what happened that night. None of the girls around camp have for that matter. Mostly due to Susan telling the girls, "I don't wanna hear any lip about that fight. It ain't none of our business and I will not have any fuss over it. Understand!"

Maeve hasn't really seen Abigail either, which was cleverly orchestrated by Mrs. Grimshaw. Having either Abigail focus on dishes or other close campus chores while sending Maeve to do laundry or chores that are more on the outside of camp with Tilly. Maeve did find herself doing the errands that required riding into town. Hosea often requested the mail be checked, always saying how Dutch was expecting a letter or how urgent it was that Hosea's letters get to the post.

"They think I'm not seein' these things, but I do! I ain't that dumb!" Maeve would complain to Arthur, who has been one of the only people she spoken to these past few days. After hugging Arthur, realizing how much she can trust him, Maeve started to spend time with him.

"They know you're not dumb. That's why they keep sending you off to do things for them," he would say in a humorous tone. Arthur was enjoying their time together even though he knew it was to distract her from her more unpleasant thoughts. Maeve would go into his tent to straighten it up to purge the tables of empty bottles and bowls or opened books and scattered papers. His dirtied clothes would be on the ground after a long day of doing 'work for the gang' and Maeve would just toss it all in a basket. For being the only person sleeping in his tent, Arthur somehow always managed to make a mess out of it.

When Maeve would go in there to clean up, her and Arthur always got into depth in their conversations about old stories they read to bits of Arthur growing up in the gang. He went into details about their first bank job together, the small slip ups that occurred but the overall success of it. It amused Maeve so much that she smiled at the end of it.

Maeve approached the stand, digging out the money she needed while flicking away the cigarette, "All finished up, Ma'am. With fine stitchin' you got yourself there one nice coat for the winter." She handed over the money to him, "Thank you, now that's one thing off the list." She took the wrapped-up article of clothing and put it under her arm, no way was she wearing that thing in this heat.

She had walked over to the post office, tripping over the leg of a man that had sat in the middle of the entry way. After an irritated shake of her head, Maeve went to ask for the mail, "One moment while I go collect it." The postman she had come to know as Frank usually gave her this specific look every time the girl came in. Maeve wasn't sure what to make of it, was he sizing her up to see if Maeve caused any issues in the town of Armadillo or was that just how his face rested.

The girl decided to look over the strange article she saw earlier and managed to find a name of the surviving victim. Her name was Alma Gouin, around the age of fifty-three. She had to hear her daughter and son-in-law being tortured and shot before hearing her granddaughter screaming when these robbers tied her up to be taken away. All the while old Alma had to listen to all this from the top attic where she sleeps.

Maeve had a gut feeling that these might be the men she's looking for. She pulled out the journal Arthur got her and started to scribble away a letter, "Can I purchase an envelope and stamp from you?" she asked still writing.

She had handed over a letter to the post man with the address made out to Alma while in return she was given three letters. One for Hosea, he always had one of these waiting for him. The next letter was for Dutch, must be the one he's been waiting on. The last one was unexpectedly for Arthur and the handwriting looked feminine. Maeve flipped the back of the envelope to see the return address was to a Mary Linton.

_______________________________________________________

When walking over to the saloon Maeve wondered who this Mary Linton was and what business did Arthur have with her? He certainly never mentioned her or even said he was expecting to hear any news from this person. Maeve then became curious as to if it was a past love of his. Her eyes got a little big thinking of that idea.

"Why should I care anyway?" she said more to herself when looking down at the letter, debating to rip it open and find out what this lady wanted. Then what? Hand Arthur an envelope with a broken seal telling him got a private letter. That would look well.

Going through the doors, Maeve stuffed the letters in her saddle to find Arthur leaning against the bar with two shoots of whiskey in front of him, "Miss Milley," he smiled over at her and slid a glass over to her when she was close enough, "Get everything you needed to get done?"

"Yes," She glanced at the shot glass for a moment, "This a good idea? Remember last time we were here?"

"You made me dance with you for a moment and thought I had a twin. I remember quite well," he chuckled, "It's just one."

"Hmm," Maeve picked up the glass and threw her head back to drink it. She hissed out from the burn, "Still not use to that," her voice wheezed. Arthur watched her, amused with her reaction before standing up straight, "We should get you back."

Maeve groaned out and he turned to her, "What? Sick of us already?"

"You? No way in hell," Arthur made an awe noise acting touched, "Sick of being whispered about? Sick of getting dirty looks from Abigail? And Little Jack for that matter? Sick of getting treated like I'm some fragile object? Most definitely."

He couldn’t help sympathizing, "I'm sure Jack is just mimickin' his mother." She scoffed, "She was nowhere around!"

Arthur shrugged, "Guess he hates ya."

"Terrific," Maeve's voice was not excitable. Arthur set down his shot glass, "You fish much?"

Maeve shook her head, "Too busy shootin' birds."

"We should go. Catch fish. Talk without wondering who's listening. There's a river above Blackwater, right?" He suggested to her.

"Just you and me?" She rose an eyebrow at him.

"Oh sorry. Did you wanna invite Abigail and Jack along?" He teased her. Maeve couldn't help the laugh that escaped her throat. "God no."

Back at camp Arthur went to find his spare fishing rod for this trip while Maeve went to pack a few things not knowing when they'd be back. When opening her saddle bag, she saw the letters that she picked up in the mail today. She had no idea what to make of the one Arthur received but figured asking the one person that knows Arthur best.

Walking up to the two leading men of this gang, she held up the letters to Dutch and Hosea, "Mail for you two," keeping Arthur's in her other hand.

"Splendid! I have been waiting almost three weeks for this," Dutch took the letter from her going to open it up.

During these past few days, Hosea had been trying his best to get to know Maeve after their hunting trip. He saw she was educated when she stopped to read one of the books around Arthur's tent along with writing down in her journal. He was surprised in her knowledge of stars along with knowing old Greek myths relating to the constellations.

Maeve glanced at Hosea who took his letter but set it down on the table. Maeve figured he'd read it now, "Aren't you gonna open it?"

Hosea shook his head, "It can wait. Just some scam I'm pulling," Maeve nodded once before watching Dutch going over to sit down on his sofa, "What's Mister Van Der Linde been waitin' on?"

Hosea rolled his eyes, "A letter from some girl he's taken a fancy to. Rich and Irish," Maeve chuckled, "Oh, I heard of pen pals, but I didn't know it could--"

"It doesn't," Hosea finished, "There's been a lot of talk of her trying to come here to 'travel' with us. I think it's a waste of time."

"Guess we'll see--" a bark of laughter from Dutch cut her off and Hosea noticed what was in Maeve's hands, "What's that?" he nodded.

"Oh, I actually did want to talk to you about this. It's for Arthur. It's from some woman," Maeve explained and Hosea held his hand up and worry in his eyes, "Give it here."

She held it further away from the man, as if protecting it, "But it's Arthur's."

"Yes, but I know what's best for Arthur. Why else did you want to speak to me about this," he countered. Maeve leaned in closer to whisper, "Is it a lover?"

"It's a damn nightmare. Letter. Now," Hosea demanded. Maeve handed it over to him without hesitation. He inspected it for a moment, seeing the seal of a 'M.L.' then cracked it open to pull out the letter.

"Hosea!" Maeve hissed, "How could you?"

"Oh, stow it! You're just as curious as I am," he said bringing it in close so he could read it. Maeve didn't even defend herself and instead moved to where she could also read the letter over the man's shoulder.

She must have been reading at a fast pace, skipping over words that looked like scribbles due to Mary's terrible handwriting as stated at the start of the letter, "Who taught her to write?" Maeve muttered under her breath. Hosea gave her a questioning look but ultimately held in a chuckle. As the letter continues Mary goes on to recall of the old days her and Arthur shared when they were so full of hope and promise. Maeve groaned at this cringey paragraph, wanting to vomit.

"You okay Miss Milley? If the letter is too much for you to bare--" Hosea said in a mocking tone. "Shush! I'm still reading it," Maeve will never admit this to anyone, but she could feel that jealousy in her own gut boil at every "Oh Arthur!" that this woman wrote. Eventually the letter was requesting if Arthur meet up in Strawberry for a chance to catch up.

Maeve was at a loss for words when finishing the letter. This Mary, this woman was someone that clearly had a history with Arthur, that much was known from the way she wrote to him. The other thing she noticed was how much they must have loved each other, enough for Hosea to recall it all as a nightmare. That past relationship must have ended in a lot of heart break. The only question was who took the most damage, Mary or Arthur? The last thing on her mind was why did Maeve have a strange feeling after reading this letter. Was this guilt? Maybe she shouldn't have looked at this private conversation. Even she despised the fact her relationship to John was now know to everyone here.

John. He was such a dilemma on his own for Maeve. She's never met anyone that she can be so infuriated at yet still hold a place in her heart. The real reason she's been avoiding John was she doesn't think she's ready to take his rejection about whatever it is they can be. Part of Maeve did want that second chance, but then that other part kicks her in the ass.

"Probably gonna ask a favor of the man. Poor fool," Hosea said closing up the letter. He glanced over to see Maeve stuck in her head. He snapped his fingers to draw her attention, "You here?"

"We have to reseal it," Maeve said to Hosea with her hands on her hips. Hosea looked back at her as she continued, "He has to read this for himself without knowing that we opened this up."

"Or we don't show him, and he doesn't get sucked up in whatever Mrs. Linton's problems are."

Maeve shook her head, "Hosea even you know that's not right. Besides what if he finds out?" Hosea let out an irritated sigh, "Miss Milley, you haven't seen Arthur when it comes to Mary. It's as if nothing else matters and he'll go far out of his way to do whatever it is she demands. Like a dog itching to have a bone. It's better if he doesn't know and you keep giving me any letters from her."

As much as Maeve didn't like the idea of Mary having this hold on Arthur, she went up to Hosea to take the letter back which he wasn't expecting, "Are you mad?"

"You have no idea!" Maeve held the letter far back from the man as he tried to reach for it, "But you're madder for keeping this from him. What if someone did this to you? Keepin' a letter from your loved one, someone you might want a second chance with."

Hosea stopped trying to grab the paper and instead looked at her, "You have no idea what box you're about to open up, Sweet Pandora."

Maeve rolled her eyes and then put the letter back in the envelope. She glanced around the tent to see a candle that was lit and went over to it. Hosea watched her for a moment before asking, "The hell are you doing?"

She picked up the candle to hold it to the seal seeing it melt the wax, "I don't want him knowing we read it. How embarrassing would that be?"

"The way you’re holding it is gonna--" before the older man could finish his sentence the paper had caught fire, "Holy hell!" Maeve quickly let go of the letter as it caught flame.

She had hiked up her skirt so the girl could step on the fire to put it out. Hosea on the other hand grabbed a blanket to toss over it, successfully putting it out, "Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I'm fine, but the letter!" she pulled the blanket up to meet with burnt pieces of paper, "God damn it!"

Hosea after a moment of silence chuckled at her, "Oh Miss Milley, it was probably for the best, bless your kind heart," he continued to laugh between his words. Maeve was not finding any of this humorous. She looked at Hosea, defeated at idea of her trying help only resulted in causing a fire. Hosea continued to chuckle at her clumsiness. How it reminded him of when the Arthur and John were younger.

"Miss Milley?" Arthur had called from outside the tent. Her eyes were large when she glared at Hosea. He placed a finger over his lips signaling for her to say nothing of the letter, "She's in here."

The man came in and saw a guilty faced Maeve while his nostrils smelled smoke, "What is that? Something cookin'?"

"Nope!"

"No idea," Hosea said at the same time with the girl. Arthur stared at them oddly, "Right, Miss were you about ready?"

She nodded, "Yes, sir. We should go," Maeve hurried out of the tent as Hosea tried not to laugh when he realized she was gonna keep the letter from him, or at least not speak of it now.

Arthur was still rather confused when watching Maeve scurry off and observing Hosea's face, "What is going on with you guys?"

The older man shot back, "What's going on with you guys?" Arthur shifted in his stance, "Just fishing."

Hosea's eyebrows rose up, "Just you two? Can I join?"

"No!" Arthur's brow furrowed. Hosea scoffed, shaking his head, "I see how it is then."

Keeping his voice low, Arthur told him, "The kid just needs to get out of camp. Hasn't been easy on her past few days."

"I get that," Hosea went to stand, approaching the man, "I think you two should have a talk."

"A talk?" Arthur glanced out the tent to see Maeve kicking a small rock to the side waiting on him.

Hosea leaned in a bit closer, "An honest talk where you both tell the other what you're keeping from them."

"Is she keeping something from me?"

"Aren't you keeping something from her?" Hosea said knowing that wasn't a question, "You should tell the girl, Arthur. She has a right to know."

Arthur stared at him, but he simply murmured, "I don't know if I have it in me," with that he left the tent.

Maeve let out a sigh that Arthur was taking so long, hoping Hosea said nothing about her burning Mary's letter. She started to rub the back of her neck when hearing a, "You do that when you're nervous."

She turned around to see John walking up to her. Maeve instantly stopped that gesture, "What's troubling you?" he asked her. The girl was just near burning a hole in his head, "Why do you care?"

"I'm not allowed to?" He tilted his head, "Why you been avoiding me?"

Maeve crossed her arms, "Didn't realize I had," she lied.

"Oh? Then the other day when you were carrying laundry, you turning quickly on your heel right after seeing me walk towards you, that wasn't you avoiding me," John wanted to clarify.

"I didn't even see you. I forgot I left Uncle's union suit behind," she quickly answered, "Sure, but you see me now, right?" John stared at her and she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat, "What's got you on edge?"

Maeve opened her mouth and saw just the man that was on her mind, "Arthur!"

"Miss Milley. Sorry I kept you waiting," he eyed the leaner man, "John. Pleasure seeing you here." John glanced at them both, "Where you two going?"

"Fishing," Arthur said leading Maeve to the horses with John following behind, "Just you two?"

"Yes," Maeve answered as they got to the horses. John ran up in front of them, so they'd stop, "I wanna go."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "You hate water, you idiot."

"But I like fishing," he shrugged. Arthur shook his head, voice subtly growling, "No... you don't." Maeve's ears picked up on that.

"Yes," John stepped closer to Arthur, "I do." They shared a scowl that has been heated for a while. Maeve, rather small when compared to the outlaws, went to stand between the two, "Excuse me, Gentlemen? I believe I also get a say in this?"

They both turned to her as she then continued, "John, I'd rather you stay here, but since you'd probably follow us anyway you might as well come along," John hid the smirk he wanted to flash Arthur who was not happy about this. "Besides, we can always use you as bait," Maeve snarked at him while walking to Liability.

John tipped his hat to Arthur, "The lady has spoken," he then went to grab the bedroll from his tent. Arthur clutched a fist longing to strike John, but then instead loosened his grip to hurry back over to one particular tent, popping his head in to say, "You can join us."

Hosea looked up from the piece of paper he was reading to meet Arthur's eyes.

_______________________________________________________

The four rode the trail all the way up to Upper Montana River. The entire ride up was filled with silence apart from Hosea's whistling he'd do. John had a lot he wanted to say to Maeve, while Arthur did as well. Maeve didn't know where to start with either of them, but that's not what was eating at her. She just hoped not a word about Mary's letter was breathed by the old man.

When they got to the river, they dismounted at a decent enough spot to get started. Maeve took one of the fishing rods and went over to where the water was streaming at a much calmer rate.

"You'll need bait!" Hosea called out to her and then nodded his head at Arthur, "Go help her." He then saw John about to walk over when he stopped him, "John, help me get a fire started." The youngest man sighed.

Arthur stuck a hand in his pocket, "Here, this should get you a bite," he handed her a small clump of cheese. Maeve rose an eyebrow at him, "I thought a worm is what you use?"

He shook his head, "You can, but the scent of cheese attracts fish too. Besides, I'm not carryin' around worms in my pocket, Miss Milley."

"Just smelly cheese," Maeve teased getting him to chuckle, "It works."

She hooked the piece of food to the lure then was about to cast it off until Arthur placed his hands on her shoulder, "Wait. Can I show you a trick on how to cast out?" Maeve nodded and he went to go behind her, using his hands to position her posture a certain way. He pushed her elbows up more than what they were, "Have them like that," Arthur said in a low voice. Maeve did exactly as he instructed, "And the more you pull back to cast, the farther the line goes out. Since this is a river, try not to have it go to shore on the other side of the river."

When John would look over all he saw was Arthur having his arms around a girl he used to call his. A girl that was smiling when another man was talking to her. A girl he should have stayed with instead of leaving. John felt his stomach tying in knots as Hosea snapped his fingers to get his attention, "The wood's not gonna collect itself." John gave him a glare as Hosea said, "Help an old man out."

"I'm starting to think the old man is helpin' out someone other than me," he started to pick up large sticks that were laying at the roots of a tree.

"That's a good thing. You're starting to think," He smiled at a not amused John, "She did say I could come along. Doesn't that mean she would like to enjoy my company also? Not just Arthur's."

Maeve had cast out the line to land in the middle of the river and Arthur patting her on the back for landing a good spot. He also cast out his line once he got his fishing rod ready.

"John, if there's one thing you must know in life it's that sweet girls like Miss Milley don't wanna hurt anyone's feelings, especially people that are special to her."

John dropped the collection of wood he gathered in front of the man, "You find her to be sweet?"

"Don't you?"

John thought of all the times he's witnessed Maeve become angry, throwing a shot glass in his direction, stabbing a robber behind the Armadillo Train Station, her fight with Abigail, "She has her moments. I'd be more worried about pissing her off. You do that right and it's good-bye sugar and candy." He then gazed over at her.

She stood on a flat rock, wondering when she would get a nibble, "How long until I get a bite?"

"The key to fishing is patience, the fish will come to you," Arthur said. Maeve rolled her eyes, "Rather just shoot 'em."

"You start firing your gun off you'll scare away all animals in the area, meaning no dinner for anyone," Arthur flicked his line.

Before Maeve could say anything there was a tug pulling on the line, "Oh my, I think I have a bite!" Arthur pointed to her hook keeper, "Start reeling!" she did just that until a dark brown boot popped out of the water, swinging towards her. Maeve made a small frown when seeing it, "What a load of horse shit!"

Arthur laughed when she went to take it off her hook, "Don't feel so bad, Miss Milley. Happens more often than you know."

Eventually, Arthur had caught a couple fish while Maeve caught nothing. They were welcomed back with a campfire with John and Hosea.

"Ah what did you catch for dinner?" the older man asked seeing Maeve go over to her satchel to take out a can, "Arthur had a nice catch. Caught a load of nothing," she said bluntly when opening up the can, the scent of strawberries seeping out. John smirked at her knowing that red fruit was going to be all she ate, "Never been much of a fisher, have you?"

"Give yourself more credit, Miss Milley. You did catch a boot," he chuckled with John. Maeve sulked when scooping out a berry, "Go on, make fun."

Hosea hushed them, "Like the two of you never caught your share of boots when you first started. Hell, Arthur you would go buy fish from the market and say you spent all day at the lake."

Arthur groaned a bit from the memory with cheeks slightly reddened, "And John...the biggest fish you caught was Bill. Your hook caught on to him when you went to cast it out." John felt embarrassed and remembered how Bill chase after him for the mishap.

Maeve laughed at them, "I might have caught a boot, but it was honest work," she popped another berry in her mouth.

"You'll catch a fish one day, Miss," Hosea said getting up to help Arthur cook the food. Maeve sat down by the fire keeping a bit of a distance away from John, who scooted closer to her anyway, "This is nice. Just us out here."

Maeve, with a full strawberry in her mouth, stared at him for a moment before chewing. John continued, "It's a beautiful spot. It's not too far from Blackwater either," his eyes did become soft aft a moment, wanting to ask her a question that's been on his mind.

She swallowed her food, "What?" the girl knew he wanted to say something. John saw the other two men were still busy, "Arthur says you don't ever plan on going back."

Maeve's eyes held her focus on John, "Nothing to go back to. I'm not sorry that this makes problems for you."

The corner of John's lip slightly lifted, "I don't want you to go," Maeve could feel herself becoming elevated as he continued to speak and he could see the subtle tells on her face, the way her pupils flooded like a full moon. "It took me a while to realize that I don't want to see you leave, Mae. Not ever."

Their gaze on each other held for so long that Maeve had to turn her head away, a genuine smile on her face, "Oh John. Don't make me do this."

He had leaned a little closer to her, "Do what? I'm not makin' you do anything."

Her head shift to where she was facing him, John's face closer than she thought. The tension between them, thick as ever, "This," Maeve went to stand up on her feet. With a single glare from the woman she made a soft frown, starting to walk away from him.

"It's ready," Hosea said over his shoulder as John watched Maeve walk towards the river, "John!" Hosea called again and the man grunted when standing up, "I'm going!"

Arthur had noticed Maeve walk off, seeming unhappy from her conversation with John. He went to follow her. When approaching her, he had stopped a distance away taking in the sight of her back towards him. Maeve's arms were crossed as she scanned the view of the river, scattered trees and night sky with all the stars.

He had cleared his throat, "Nice night this evening," taking a few steps closer, "Almost wasteful to see you not enjoying' it."

Maeve's attention went to the man before her. She gave him a smirk when saying, "Where did you get that idea, Mister Morgan?"

"I got a feelin'," he was standing next to her, looking down, "Was I right?"

Maeve had perched her lips not quite meeting his gaze, debating on her emotions, "Perhaps, but the night's still young." It was there her eyes shifted to his, "Come have a walk with me?" she asked him.

Arthur looked back to the campfire to see Hosea and John talking while having fish, "Sure."

When they were further away from the small camp, Maeve let out a chuckle after hearing one of Arthur's stories when he was younger, camping on his own for the first time away from the gang.

“With the way I set up the tent poles and the wind blowin’ in the direction it was, my tent was bound to catch on fire. Had to sleep under the stars in the cold with no bedroll or dinner,” he said with an amused expression, enjoying that he had her smiling.

“Sounds like you had a rough time,” Maeve looked down at her boots to see the ground she was walking on.

“Yet here you are giggling at my hardships,” he said in a teasing tone, eyeing her smirk. How he could get lost in just observing every physical gesture or movement that she does. Arthur could see why John stuck around Blackwater, only difference is he would not have left. Then came that shameful feeling he always got when he thought of Maeve for too long. The shame of almost being the one to rob her and her family.

They were approaching a large rock that was sticking out of the earth. The girl lifted her head to catch his gaze, the first-time witnessing Arthur actually staring with affectionate eyes that Maeve cleared her throat to break him out of it, “Well, what can I say? I do like seeing you in turmoil. You should have seen your face when you re-bandaged my wound,” she wanted to see how much Arthur could get flustered. The answer was very much from the way his cheeks turned a light shade of red when remembering her bare skin.

“I knew you’d bring that up again one of these days,” Arthur slowly stopped in his steps as did Maeve with a mischievous smirk on her face from succeeding, “If you must know, Miss, it’s been a while since I’ve been in the company of a… exposed lady. Especially one of the likes of you.”

An eyebrow rose, “And just what does that mean?” Maeve questioned crossing her arms, slowly taking steps towards Arthur, wanting to hear this.

“Well, for one you are not a delicate flower like I first thought. You don’t have a problem standin’ up for yourself where most women would be meek,” Arthur had taken a step back as she got closer to him, “Really? That all you like about me?”

Arthur’s back had touched the large rock that was there, and Maeve stopped, being arm’s length away. His mind was running many thoughts on what she was doing, why she was questioning him like this. Her head tilted to the side waiting for his answer.

“No, that ain’t even close to being it,” her eyes had that intensity that excited him, “Ever since the night we met, you’ve kept surprising me with being unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

Maeve’s face softened at his words as he raised his hand up to gently cup the side of her face. His thumb brushed the flesh of her cheek while their gaze held. She then took the only chance Maeve knew she would get before having to tell him about the letter, remembering the woman that sent it.

Her lips pressed to Arthur’s moving against his. He didn’t even fight it at first, the soft lips of Maeve captivated the man, having longed for this kind of affection. As they kissed, Arthur had not noticed that he had backed up against the rock. They held their closeness until Maeve pulled away to move her lips to his neck where Arthur took a deep breath.

“Maeve,” his voice said lowly while she kept her mouth on his skin, giving him soft nips with her teeth. Arthur let out a small groan, his eyes opened to look down at her. His heart swelled, wanting her to keep going; however Arthur placed his hands on her shoulders to gently pull her away.

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes went to meet his wondering what his thoughts were.

Arthur cupped her face, instead of seeing her all he could see were the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Milley that he had buried, “This. We shouldn’t be doing this. Not after everything.”

Maeve shook her head along with the confusion she felt to take off his hat and card his hair with her fingers, “Why not? I see how you look at me and I’ve been attracted to you since I first saw you,” she moved her hands down to the top button on his shirt to pop one open, “There’s nothing wrong,” another button popped, “Why fight this?”

His breath hitched as Maeve leaned into kiss Arthur on the lips, “Just give in…” she whispered while undoing more buttons. He wrapped his arms around her body as their kiss deepened. Her heart was pounding but his lips left hers, a somber expression on his face, “Maeve you ain’t thinking straight. You want me cause you’re vulnerable and I ain’t taking advantage like that.”

Maeve let out a soft whine, “But I want this. I do! Please Arthur,” she reached down to his belt, touching the buckle. Had he been a lower man, he would have just given in and distracted Miss Milley of her troubles by making her feel good. Arthur went to grab her hands, “I can’t do this to you. Not when we have to talk about something important.”

“It can’t wait?” Maeve groaned staring at his chest then his face.

He needed to do as Hosea said, have an honest talk with her about that night. Arthur knew if he did not and she found out what happened by any one besides himself, he would lose her. “I’ve put it off long enough.”

That sparked dread in her stomach. He knew. He knew about the letter she burnt up. Hosea must have let it slip while they were preparing the fish, while she was busy talking to John. She might as well come clean and explain herself, “Hosea told you then. Arthur, I swear it was an accident.”

His eyes winced, “Accident? What are you goin’ on about?”

Now Maeve was starting to doubt what he did know, “Your letter…from Mary.” His eyes got larger at the mention of the name, “My letter from Mary?”

He didn’t know then, “I set it on fire,” Maeve confessed to the man that had pulled further away, “On fire? How the hell did you manage that?”

She had a more flushed expression to her face, “I tried resealing the letter…after opening it up to read…” Arthur stared at her, baffled she did all of this, “It was Hosea’s idea!”

He groaned out while covering his face from the humiliation, “He read it too!” Maeve crossed her arms, now that their moment was ruined, “What did she say?” Arthur asked.

Begrudgingly, Maeve told him, “Something about meeting up with you in Strawberry. Excuse for not remembering more but it was hard to read her chicken scratch.”

Arthur caught that bitter tone, “Are you…jealous?” That was surprising to him. Maeve shook her head while pointing to herself, “Of what? I had a proper education in literacy.”

“You are!” Arthur chuckled out before having to regain his composure. Maeve rolled her eyes, “Ya clearly didn’t know any of this. What the hell did you have to tell me that you had to stop whatever it is we were doin’?”

The man then had dread resurface within himself. This conversation he would rather avoid but can’t now.

“Maeve, the night we met, I wasn’t just passin’ through Blackwater,” he started, “I got tipped off about a house that had gold in it. Some stableman got lucky an found a bunch of gold bars in some abandoned train.”

Maeve stared at him in disbelief. That was her father, Everett. How that information got out was beyond her, but it was her mother letting it slip out to a prospector she was so kind to feed breakfast one morning. His repayment was to tell Arthur about the gold once he was saved from wolves.

“Later in the night, after we met at the saloon, I went to go see this house. Get the gold and bring it back to the gang, but…”

Maeve finished for him not making eye contact anymore, “That’s where you found me, running for my life,” her tone was almost emotionless. Almost, the sparks of rage were just igniting. Arthur didn’t see this yet, “I swear, I had no idea it would be your house I was going to. If I had got there first…maybe—”

Her cold brown eyes snapped right to his, “Maybe what? You’d rob us and only beat up my daddy? Smack around my mama? Hmm?”

“No—no—” Maeve cut him off, “We’d be in bigger trouble if ya robbed us first. Hell, maybe I’d have died quicker since there was nothing valuable to collect. How would you have robbed us, Arthur? Would you ask politely for the gold? With your gun pointed right at my mama—no, at me?”

“Maeve, no! That’s not what I’m getting’ at!” Arthur wanted to believe if had saw her with her family that he would have left them alone, but that could just be him lying to himself.

“What are you getting’ at?” Maeve shouted, “If my daddy refused to give you the gold would ya have raped my mama like the Bollard Twins did? Or go after me since we hit it off so well? What exactly would you have done different if it were you robbin’ us, Arthur?” He could see the angry tears in her eyes, knowing whatever he said was just going to infuriate her more.

“Miss Milley, that is not how I am. If I was robbin’ you…maybe I could have helped your family from those awful men. I can’t know for certain how things would be different, but I can promise you it would not have happened the way it did that night.”

Maeve scorned at him as he reached out to her, “If I could take back my intentions, I would. I wish I was just riding through on the off chance of seeing you in the rain.” She had leaned back so he wouldn’t touch her, “You can’t.”

Arthur reeled his hand back in defeat, “I can’t.” Nothing but dead silence was shared between the two.

The woman, still angry, turned on her heel to walk back towards their campsite, leaving Arthur all alone. The closer she got to the fire the more Maeve didn’t want to be there. Hosea would ask where Arthur was. Worst of all he would see the expression on her face and question that, but not just him. John would too. Maeve glanced off to the side where some trees were was a shack, a place that fishers could set up their reels, leave some supplies, or just hide from the sun for a bit.

She decided to walk up there, to hide in until everyone was sleeping. When she entered the shack, it couldn’t have been bigger than an Uncle laying down along and across the floor boards. A beaten-up table was pushed against the wall and a broken chair was tucked under it. As far as supplies goes, there was an old bucket that reeked of fish and some rusty hooks were scattered around. Maeve plucked the hooks on the table, tossing them in the bucket then tossed that outside.

She sat in the chair and pulled her journal out from her saddle bag, beginning to write in it. Hosea said she needed to find her reason to live, Maeve couldn’t think of anything better than taking the lives of the ones that ruined hers. She wrote down Mike and Phil Bollard at the top of her ‘list’. Followed after it was a man named Bob, the gang member that escaped with the twins that night. She was going to find these men, find them and put her through the same misery they did to her.

Before she could write anymore there was a knock at the door to this shack. Maeve stood up and shut the journal to open it up, “John?”

He placed his forearm against the doorframe to lean on it, “I’d ask what you’re doing in a smelly shack, but you’ve been doing questionable things lately I figured it’s best I don’t ask.”

“What do you want?” Maeve said staring at him. He then went to slip his slender self through the woman and the door, “I just wanna talk.”

“You could have done that a few nights ago,” Maeve reminded him. John gritted his teeth, “Yeah, that’s actually what I wanted to talk about. Why I didn’t.” She stared at him waiting for him to explain, “Abigail just wouldn’t stop her hollering at me over you. Saying how you were gonna pay for all the trouble you’ve caused our family. I only stayed back so she wouldn’t start anymore of her shit.”

Maeve rolled her eyes, “Well, don’t think I’m just gonna take whatever she can some up with.” John shook his head, “I’d expect no less.”

After a moment of quiet John felt he needed to get out something, he’s been wanting to say for a while, “Truth is, since you’ve been back in my life, I’m starting to feel everything we had back when were together in Blackwater. It’s not doing what’s right to Abigail and Jack, thinking about being with you,” John continued, “I’ve never been no saint, but I did want to try with them again after seeing how wholesome you and your family were. I wanted that.”

Maeve felt her heart being stabbed at their memory, “John—”

“I’m not done,” Maeve nodded so he can finish, “I thought it should be with them, but Mae—I want that with you instead.” Her mouth parted open, “You’re the only person I ever felt I can be free with. I didn’t have to be a certain person for you. And I know you still have some feelings for me.”

He was staring at her, deeply into her brown orbs, “I mean why else did you want to sit by me at the campfire? Why else did you lie for me when I begged you? Or even ask me to come along today?”

John was getting closer to Maeve now who backed up against the table, “Mae, I’m tired of denying what we have. Aren’t you?”

Maeve bit her bottom lip, “John, we— how can we ever come back from that? You did what you did.”

John reached his hands up to hold the sides of her face in a gentle manner, “I’m doing this now,” he leaned in to press his lips to hers. Maeve’s hands gripped the edge of the table out of surprise, but she took it all in. This kiss was something she wanted so much from the day he left.

She had pulled her head back to look at John, as if giving him one last warning, “Don’t make me do this, John.”

He shook his head, “Do what? I’m not makin’ you do anything.” John was praying she wouldn’t leave again.

“This,” her hands caressed the sides of his face as she placed a soft kiss on his lips now. He went to grip her by her waist, to hold her in place during their passionate kissing, just like how they used to.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/oc #John Marston #john marston/oc #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oc #rdr2 original character

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