#[ AND MICAH GOES ' YES‚ EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE WHEN IT COMES DOWN TO LOVE ' ]

[solarisgod]

" [ ... ] I was reading today in the science section of the paper that passionate love lasts only a year, maybe two, if you're lucky. Because I want to be extra, extra lucky. Because the article apologized specifically to poets─ sorry, you helpless saps─ as though we automatically believe in love more than anyone else ( more than carpenters, kindergarten teachers, novelists ) and have been pushing this Non-Truth on everyone. Because who knows what will happen, but I want to, baby, want to believe it's always possible to love bigger and madder, even after two, three, four years, four decades. "

Holy fucking shit, this is just...

[ttuesday]

What about hcs of the red dead guys reacting to a dominant vs a submissive s/o?

I’ll be honest anon, this one kinda stumped me. My brain is on strike lol. Warning: these are kinda smutty 

Arthur

-> Arthur doesn't mind being the dominant one. He isn't rough or overly dominant (most of the time) but if you're submissive he'll make sure to take charge the best he can.

-> On a rare occasion when Arthur needs to let off some steam, his true dominant side comes out. He'll sit on the edge of the bed, his belt in his hands and order you to strip for him. And my god, if you give him any attitude when he's like this then you better prepare yourself for the night of your life and very little sleep.

-> Arthur has no problem if you want to dom him. He has no issue with you tying him up but you'd definitely have to let him know that how you appreciate him and that he’s doing good.

-> One of the best views he’s ever seen in his entire life is you riding him. My god, it completely turns him to putty. He’ll do whatever you want when you’re on top of him.

Dutch

-> Dutch likes being in control. He enjoys being the dominant one in the bedroom so if you're more submissive then you'll fit perfectly into his plan. He loves it when you're submissive, following his every word without hesitation.

-> His hands are constantly all over you during an intense make-out session, making sure you don't move a muscle unless he tells you to.

-> Dutch would be shocked if you were dominant. At first he'd see it as a challenge and keep pushing you to see if you'd eventually become submissive. Inside, he's actually impressed and kinda turned on by your dominant side but he still feels the need to challenge you first.

-> After a few days and thinking about being dominated by you, Dutch actually decides to give it a try. Of course, he's going to be a brat throughout the entire thing but at least he's attempting to give up some control. He'll always want to be the dominant one but he's willing to be submissive every once in a while.

Micah

-> Micah will presume you'll be submissive. He has always been dominant, it's who he is. He'll always try to make sure you know he's in charge. 

-> He’s possessive, constantly man-handling you and telling you exactly what he wants you to do. He craves dominance over you. 

-> Micah insists on always being the dominant one. If you want to dom this man then you'll have to wait for the perfect moment. You'll need him to be in a needy mood to go along with it.

-> When he’s needy then all he wants is your love and affection. Micah needs to be told he’s doing a good job and that you love him. This is possibly the only time Micah will let you be the dominant one but he secretly likes it (but he’ll never tell you that).

John

-> John can be a very good dom, especially if you tease him throughout the day. Giving him suggestive glances, strategically bending down to pick up a cup you accidentally dropped, it riles John up.

-> If you’re in town, he’ll bring you down an alley and pin you against a wall, giving you bruising kisses along your neck. As long as you’re willing to be submissive, he’s willing to be dominant.

-> But the second you take control of the kiss and move so he’s the one pushed against the wall, then John has no problem subbing for you.

-> John considers himself to be very lucky to be dommed by you, I mean who doesn’t want that? Sometimes he thinks if he’s submissive then he won’t have to do that much work so make sure to draw it out and don’t leave him have his release until he says ‘please’.

Javier

-> Javier likes being dominant over you. He adores having you tied up and completely at his mercy. Some times he’ll blindfold you too. Afterwards he loves cutting the ropes with is knife.

-> When you first indicate that you want him to be submissive, Javier’s intrigued and goes along with it. Once he sees your dominant side, Javier becomes completely undone. He thinks you’re very sexy when you’re dominant.

-> You know that Brooklyn 99 quote that became a bit of a meme? the “you can punch me, kick me, pull my hair, stab me, bite me, scratch me” one? Anyways, that’s basically Javier. 

Bill

-> Sure, Bill can be dominant but this man is truly a sub. When it comes to sex, Bill can get quite shy and flustered so if you’re also a sub then things can get a tiny bit awkward.

-> His main goal is pleasing you so if you want him to dom you then he’ll try his best. At first he’ll keep stopping and asking you if you’re having a good time and if he’s doing everything properly but after a while Bill will really get into it.

-> If you’re the dominant one then Bill will genuinely believe he’s just died and gone to heaven. Give him orders, tease him, tie him up, tell him you won’t give him kisses afterwards if he isn’t good.

-> Edge him, deny him his release over and over again. As I said, Bill will try to please you when he’s being the dominant one but my god, he’s a sub at heart.

Sean

-> Sean likes to think he’s a dom. When he’s really trying his best, he’ll lower his voice to try and when you ask wtf is he doing with his voice, he’ll say he’s trying to sound “extra sexy”.

-> He loves when you’re submissive but he really has no idea what he’s doing after that. He tried spanking you once but he was scared of hurting you so he just kinda patted your ass ? It was strange and you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

-> It’s pretty easy to get Sean to be submissive. You just have to show him a little bit of what he wants and then he’ll do whatever you say.

-> Sean’s loud during sex anyways but when you’re the dominant one it’s best if ye are far, far away from camp and in a hotel room. He really can’t help how loud he gets. 

[sweets-fanfics]

Homecoming 20

Title: It’s been a day

Word count: 2713

Warnings: Fucking Micah i guess, and dutch is goin’ crazy.

Tags: @rollyjogerjones

AN: This was going to be a lot longer but for your sake’s it’s being split into part 21 when my favorite side mission begins (Charlotte)

__________________

“You are mighty brave, Micah Bell. I could shoot you right now,” You clicked back the hammer and glared at him. 

“Aw well, you can’t do that.”

“And why not?” 

A gun clicked behind you, “Because he isn’t alone, Miss Van Der Linde.” Agent Milton added. “Get off the horse.”

“We are in the middle of the city, you want to do this now?” You ask as you put your pistol away and hop off of Suzie.

“We need to have a chat.”

“I already said I won’t work for you-” 

“That’s not what this meeting is about.” Milton cut you off. “You haven’t been a very well behaved lady since your husband’s return.”

“He came back yesterday. How have I fucked up so badly?” You ask sarcastically.

“Well one, you told Dutch.” Micah grinned. “But luckily your father is a complete idiot and trusts me unlike you.”

“You had two years on a godforsaken island to get in his head.” You mumble.

“And two, you are planning on leaving the gang,” Micah added over you.

Shit. He knew? Does that mean your father will know? “How the hell did you-”

“Oh, it’s obvious. You visiting your rich friends here in town. Morgan being hush hush and talking alone to Jonny Boy. You all want to leave. But I can’t let ya do that.”

“Why not?”

“Who knows what might happen to that little girl of yours…” Agent Milton hints making you reach for your pistol and aim it at him. Micah pulled out one of his and aimed it at you making you stop. 

“You don’t get to threaten her.” You growl. “I guarantee you’ll end up in the ground.” You put away your pistol and climb back onto Suzie.

“We aren’t done here, Miss Van-”

“It’s Mrs. Morgan, agent Milton. And we are done.” You glare at Micah, “This is your one chance to disappear forever. If I see you take a damn step towards my family, I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

“Why? Dutch trusts me more than he trusts you.”

You roll your eyes as you turn Suzie to leave, “Yeah, I only held this damn family together while ya’ll were gone.”

____________________

You rode into the new camp and hitched Suzie near Athena. You hadn’t meant to get to camp so fast, you wanted to get some distance from everything for a while but next thing you knew you were in camp. 

“Momma!” Bea’s voice ripped you from your thoughts as she waddled up to you and grabbed onto your leg. “Hi.” She mumbled.

“Hi baby,” You lifted her up and hugged her close to you. “Momma got lost.” You lied.

“Lost?” Arthur asked walking up. 

You smiled as he kissed your cheek, “Yeah… I guess I spaced out and next thing I knew I was lost.” You could tell Arthur knew you were bullshitting but he wasn’t going to ask now.

“Well let’s get you some stew.” He says as the three of you walk up to Pearson. 

As Arthur grabs two bowls you hear your father yelling. When you glance over you see it’s him yelling at Susan.

“What’s goin’ on?” You ask your husband.

“Someone smashed the donation box.”

“What the hell?” You watch as Dutch gets angrier and gets in Susan’s face calling her mean names. “He’s become such a nasty man.”

“What an awful thing to say about your own father,” Bill grumbles nearby where he’s eating.

“That’s so strange because I don’t believe I was talkin’ to you.” You say sweetly as you feed a bit of stew from your bowl to Bea.

“Maybe you should learn some manners?” Bill stood up.

As he walked over Arthur got between the two of you and glared at Bill, “Maybe you should go cool off, Bill.” Arthur's voice comes off as a threat.

“This woman has changed you, Morgan.”

“That woman is only thing keeping me from beating you right here and now so it be best you walk away right now.” Arthur’s voice was a low growl. It worked though because Bill backed up and walked away grumbling.

“Thank you, Arthur.” 

“Best you stay near me for a while,” Arthur says pushing you towards your shared tent to eat. 

___________

“I found her,” Uncle says making you glance up from your spot on the ground where you were combing Bea’s hair.

Uncle walked up with a very drunk Molly. After everything happened she would only stay in camp for a little bit from time to time but was out most of the time. You and Sadie always knew where she was but gave her her space.

“So nice of you to finally join us, Miss O’Shea.” Your father says sarcastically.

“I loved you, Dutch!” Molly slurs, “I gave you everything! Everything! And all I got was nothing!”

“Please calm down!” Dutch snaps. 

Bea turns and climbs into your arms as you stand. She hides her face in your hair as you move in to listen to them.

“...I told them!” You catch Molly say at the end of her sentence as you walk up. 

“What?” Dutch asks as the whole camp goes quiet.

“You heard me! I told them everything!” Molly slurred and pointed at Dutch.

Dutch pulls out his pistol but Arthur stops him, “Dutch, she ain’t worth it. She’s lost it.”

“You know the rules, Arthur!” Dutch warns.

“Why couldn’t you just love me back?” Molly asks.

“What did you tell them?” Dutch asks.

“Why couldn’t you just treat me with some god damn respect!”

“Woman, what did you say to them!” Dutch asks again getting louder. Bea at this point is squeezing your neck.

“I loved you-” A shot rang out making you jump and Bea and the other ladies let out a quick scream. You turn and look at Susan holding a shotgun.

“Susan!” You yell, angry.

“She knew the rules, Y/N.” You could feel yourself getting angry so you just turned away trying to calm a now crying Bea. “Mr. Williamson, burn her body.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You say to Susan again. Instead of replying she only sighs and walks away as you watch Bill and the other men move Molly’s body.

You glance at Arthur as he’s racking his hands through his hair, equally as stressed out as you. He walks up and hugs you and Bea. “We’ll go soon,” He whispers so only you hear. You nod as Bea reaches for Arthur.

He instantly smiles and takes his daughter. “Wanna go look at the water before bed?” He asks her.

“Yes,” Bea replies instantly.

“Y/N, can I speak to you and Henry a moment?” Dutch asks as you begin to walk away with Arthur. 

You glance at your husband and give him a sad smile, “I’ll join you two in a bit.” He kisses you softly before walking away as you walked up to your father.

He was sitting in his tent with a book in hand, acting as if the woman he ‘loved’ wasn’t just shot in front of him. Henry steps up next to you and smiles at you.

“In times like this, I need you two to be my biggest supporters…” Dutch begins.

“You know we will always trust you a hundred percent, father,” Henry says without a second thought.

“Daughter, do you feel the same way?” He had noticed how you hadn’t looked up from your shoes. You glanced up at him. You could tell this was a test. 

“I… Am I allowed to be honest?” You ask.

“That’s all I want.”

“I think we are in over our heads at the moment. Someone was just killed in our camp before we were even able to see if she was telling the truth.” You look back at Molly’s blood still wet on the floor. “I used to have full faith in you, Pa. But something is different about you and it scares me.”

“Hm.” Is all he says.

“Y/N, you should really put more faith in him,” Henry speaks up. “He took us in when we lost everything.”

“Because one of his enemies burnt our house down.” You snap. “I don’t mean to be so upfront, but someone needs to be since Hosea is gone.”

“You can’t replace him.” You glare at Henry. “Just do your job and stand by our father. You have way too much freedom in my opinion.” Henry had never spoken to you this way. “You get too many ideas from the family you visit in Saint Denise.”

“What family?” Dutch asks.

“It’s nothing-”

“It’s Bronte’s son and his wife,” Henry answers over you. “She goes to visit them.”

“Only because they have a child Bea’s age.” 

As if you needed another excuse to be lectured a horse rode into camp making everyone lookup. And of course, it was Luca.

You hurry to him before anyone else can. But you hear your father stomping behind you. “Now is a really, really bad time.” You say as he hops off his horse.

“I have what you asked for.” He says giving Dutch a worried glance. Luca quickly slips the papers into your pocket and then pulls out a toy rabbit. “You said you had been looking for one like Nick’s, isn’t that right?” 

You smile in relief at Luca coming prepared with an alibi. “Uh… yes, of course.”

“Daughter, what’s he doing here?” 

“Oh, Pa, you remember Luca Bronte. His son has a toy that Bea was always fond of so he brought one for her.” You lie effortlessly.

“I hope I’m not intruding sir, I was in Annesburg for business and thought I’d drop it off on the way.

“Leave. And I better not see you here again.” Dutch says before giving you a dirty look and stomping back to his tent.

“He’s in a really bad mood.” 

“Are you and your family safe here?” You thought back to Micah and Milton threatening you earlier. 

“I have no choice at the moment…” You smile at him as he gets back on his horse. “We’ll have a playdate again soon.”

“You or Arthur let me know if you need a place to hide,” Luca whispers before riding off.

You turn around and Henry is standing close behind you. “Why did you tell him where the camp was?” 

You rolled your eyes and began walking to your tent, “I didn’t, I just said we are near Annesburg.” 

“Bullshit. You are single-handedly going to ruin this camp.” He spat towards you.

“Oh shut your mouth. Trying to act tough because you think Micah is your friend. You’re still the boy who didn’t know how to shoot a gun properly till we met these people.” You put the toy in Bea’s small bed before turning to look at Henry who was fuming. 

“You can’t speak to me that way.”

“Until you realize how dumb you are acting I will speak to you however I may please.” 

If it was possible. Steam would be coming out of his ears. “You need to learn your place-” 

You can tell the camp went silent as you smacked his cheek as hard as you could. “You are not the same brother I used to know.” You say in a low voice so the others couldn’t eavesdrop. “You’re more like Dutch than you are like Henry. I think it best we don’t talk for a while.” 

Henry rubbed his cheek and turned to walk away. You noticed that when Tilly ran up to check on him he swatted her away. She gave you a sad look before going to her tent with the other girls. 

You took a deep breath to compose yourself before heading down to the water where Arthur and Bea were. He smiled at you when he noticed you but it soon disappeared when he saw you quickly wipe your eyes.

“What did your father say to you?” He asked, getting angry. 

“It’s Henry. I’m used to Dutch but not used to how Henry is acting. He told Dutch about Luca Bronte and Dutch said stuff about Henry and I being his biggest supporters. Then Luca showed up to give me more papers he had found and Dutch saw him. Luckily he acted fast and acted as if he was giving me a toy for Bea.” You pulled the folded papers from your pocket and opened them. 

It was two properties, Beecher’s Hope down near Blackwater and an old apple orchard near Saint Denise and the Bayou. You had seen it from time to time but it always looked so well kept you didn’t know it was empty.

“Those the properties?” You nod to Arthur’s question.

“Land to make a ranch near Blackwater,” You eye Arthur who rolls his eyes to going near that town again. “And a place near Saint Denise, an old apple orchard. It’s a cute farm.”

“Well, we gotta think about it. Don’t very much feel safe going that close to Blackwater and I don’t want Bea near gators…” You smile at him before glancing at Bea who’s splashing in the water. You see a fisherman a bit a way down near the deeper part of the river who does not look happy about a toddler spooking all the fish.

“Charles asked me to help him with somethin’,” Arthur mumbles after a moment.

“Oh? Where you goin’?” 

“The natives at the Wapiti are having some issues. They asked if I can steal some papers for ‘em.”

“You are the best thief I know.” You tease. “I wanted to take Bea up to that big old waterfall.” 

“Uncle Arthur?” Jack says behind you both. You hadn’t even seen him walk up but you still smiled and acted as if he hadn’t surprised you. “Have You guys seen Cain and Bear?” 

You thought about it before realizing you hadn’t seen either dog. “Ah, I’m sure they are somewhere.” Arthur shrugs, “Maybe they are chasing squirrels.”

“I hope so.” Jack sighs.

“How about you play with Bea to take your mind off of it.” You suggest. Jack smiles and walks up to Bea who immediately splashes him. 

“Bear didn’t walk with you guys when you moved to this campsite?” You ask Arthur.

“Both dogs were here at first… I’m sure they are fine.” He looks up towards the sunset. “Are you takin’ Bea tomorrow?”

“Maybe. It’d be nice to give her a day away after… the events earlier.” Arthur nods in agreement. “Will you talk to John about the properties if you get a moment alone with him?” 

“I will.”

“You got my back, Arthur?” You ask him. He looks at you as if to see if this was a real question. But when he looks towards you all he sees is raw worry from how everything in the group was falling apart. He saw a pang of sadness in your eyes he had never seen before.

“Always, Y/N.”

_____________

You set off for the waterfall before Bea or the rest of the camp was even awake. Arthur had helped you wrap the sleeping toddler to your body before kissing you goodbye. You took your time riding through the forest. You always loved how it looked in the morning. Mist lightly covering the floor, animals running around. It was peaceful. 

“Change for the blind?” And old man asks, seemingly appearing from nowhere. 

“Oh, good morning sir.” You say to hide your shock.

“Help a blind man, Miss?” He asks again holding up an empty cup. 

“Of course,” You hop off Suzie carefully, to not wake Bea and put five dollars in his cup.

As you begin to turn he grabs your wrist with his bony hand. “Your family is seduced by the one with the forked tongue... it's no use hoping...” He says in a deadpan tone of voice.

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind, have a good day sir.” You quickly climb back onto Suzie.

As you begin to trot off the man calls again, “Your daughter will follow the right star even if leaves her alone in the end.” You glance at him one more time wondering how he knew you had a daughter. “Please leave me now.” 

“Oh, sorry.” You mumble and ride off.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 53)

Ball and Chain

Arthur and reader discuss their situation. Thank you guys for all the support on the last chapter after I expressed my worries about it, btw!!

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

During Arthur's brief return, we hadn't had time to discuss how things had gone with Penelope and Beau (despite his busted lip that I was quick to ask about), Arthur had left for Annesburg as soon as I told him what Micah said. But when he got back that night, he filled me in on the details of the day. I was shocked to hear that simply accompanying Penelope to the train station had turned into Arthur shooting Christ knows how many members of the Braithwaite family from a moving train, but in the end Penelope and Beau got their happy ending. He left them with the stagecoach driver, taking them away to their new life together with a bag-full of stolen jewellery. A piece of which Penelope had given to Arthur as thanks for all of the help, a beautiful stone encrusted bracelet, probably worth a hefty sum. Arthur told me he intended to sell it, keep the money just for us, not giving the camp a cut for once in his life. I could tell it took a lot for him to come to that decision.

And Cornwall was dead. He told me that after a long pause when we were both bedding down for the night. Part of me was surprised that he hadn't told me that as soon as he returned, but the way he said it told me that he hadn't exactly been prepared for it happening. He told me that Dutch had said they were paying a social call, confirming what Micah had said about trying to cut a deal to get him off our backs. But it had turned into a bloodbath, just as most jobs did these days, and Dutch had shot Cornwall, point-blank. They were swarmed with Pinkertons and they had to shoot their way out of Annesburg, barely escaping. 

"And Micah thinks there's a rat," he said after relaying the gory details. He huffed an incredulous laugh. 

"In the gang? He reckons one of us is squealing?" 

"Mmhm, thinks the Pinkertons have been showing up too fast for it to be a coincidence," he sighed. I blinked up at the top of the tent. I thought about all the gang members, picturing each person's face, unable to make any sort of guess as to whether Micah's claims could be true. I just didn't see any of them talking. "He says we should start cutting folk loose, go back to Blackwater and get the money stashed there, and get out of here."

"Who's he wanna cut loose, exactly?" I frowned.

"Well, he was speaking to Dutch at the time. I got the distinct impression that by 'we', he meant him and Dutch," he murmured monotonously and deeply. "Sod the rest of us."

"He's… he really kisses Dutch's ass, don't he? It's almost uncomfortable," I whispered. 

"Mm, seems everyone sees it but Dutch himself. Micah's a creep, through and through."

"I'm embarrassed I ever gave him a chance. At the start, when we worked together a few times, I kept thinking he had potential to be a decent feller," I mumbled, shaking my head.

"Don't be embarrassed. You hadn't seen the full spectrum of his charming personality just yet," he snorted. "I think we all wanted to give him a chance at the start. Thought he was just a bit of an odd feller, not very nice. But we never warmed to him, not with all his behaviour." 

"How can he come in and accuse someone else of being a rat? My understanding is he's one of the newest folks, apart from me or Sadie," I said then I frowned, swallowing. "Or Kieran."

Arthur read my mind. "Kieran ain't the rat. Least I don't think so."

"You know that's who Micah will pick on, though. He was with the O'Driscolls," I whispered, rolling over onto my side and peering over the edge of the bed to look at Arthur where he was lying on the floor.

"His name did come up," he sighed. "And would you believe it, Dutch was even thinking about John when we was in Guarma."

"John? He thought John was a rat?" I balked.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured monotonously, shaking his head. "But I don't believe it's either of them. I don't believe we've got a rat full stop. We've just been sloppy, we ain't exactly been subtle. 'Specially not by blowing a hole in Leviticus Cornwall's chest, when we're camping not five minutes away!" He shook his head irritably.

"Jesus," I hissed, screwing my face up.

"Dutch is losing it. Or he already has, completely. I don't know," he whispered sharply. 

"What's he supposing we do?"

"Wants to make a bunch of smoke, create a big enough distraction for us lot to piss off out of the state, maybe even the country, that's what he's supposin'," he told me, humour building in his throat. 

"Or do increasingly reckless bullshit until every one of us is lying in an unmarked grave and every Pinkerton on the case gets a medal," I proposed, and Arthur hummed his agreement. "Christ, Arthur, we can't do this. We can't go along with him. None of us, what if we start asking folk… seeing who'd be prepared to leave with us?" I suddenly asked, the words splurging from me without thought. His eyes widened a bit and he looked me in the eye in the dim light shining through the tent from the campfire. 

"You're really suggesting that we try and divide the gang, try and leave Dutch high and dry?" He sputtered. My heart thudded. Shit. I'd gone too far. 

"No. Never mind," I rolled back onto the bed, staring up above. 

"Wait, I ain't mad. Sorry, that came out different to how I meant," he shifted, sitting up and leaning his elbows on the bed. "I just– I couldn't. I ain't a leader, princess. I can't be what Dutch was to me."

"You wouldn't want to be what Dutch was to you," I replied instantly. His brow furrowed. "I don't doubt he was good to you over the years, provided you with a purpose and taught you all you needed to know to get by in this life. But that don't change the fact that lately all he's been doing is treating you like a grunt! You won't ever be like Dutch. And that's a good thing." 

Arthur was stunned by my words and I immediately began to feel anxious. I really was pushing my luck. If I wasn't careful I'd end up saying something that hurt him, and that's the last thing I wanted. I might've already done it. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just getting nervous. Hell, not even just getting there, I'm extremely nervous. I'm petrified that Dutch is gonna have one of his crazy moments again and you're gonna get hurt because of it, I'd never forgive him if something happened to you 'cause of his recklessness," I continued.

"I won't let that happen."

"I wish I could be reassured by that. But you ain't always in control of what happens, you can't say that."

Arthur sighed, looking down. 

"I… I know I ain't in control. I know I can't promise you anything. I'm just trying to– to spin too many plates at once but at this point I don't know how to stop. It ain't that easy," he whispered, and he sounded defeated. I instantly felt guilty. "I don't want to make excuses, and I don't wanna let you down."

"You've never let me down. Don't worry about that," I shook my head and sat up on my elbow, looking at him properly.

"My head's been all over the place. So much has– I still ain't wrapped my head 'round what's happened these past weeks, I can barely think straight half the time and I just can't figure out what to do," he sighed, dragging his hand over his face. My lips parted and I stared at him. "Guarma; that bank job, everything went so fast and I never had a chance to stop and think and now we've moved again, and Dutch is on about making noise and leaving the country, and I– I don't like any of this. I don't like what he's doing but I wrack my brains and I just can't think of a goddamn thing to say to him to make him see sense!"

"Arthur, I'm sorry, I keep putting pressure on you," I breathed, shaking my head.

Arthur gestured towards my leg. "And this is the second time you could've been killed just 'cause I can't be a damn man and do right by you. And– and I know this and yet I still can't–" he stopped, sitting back, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head. "This is the same shit Mary left me for."

"I ain't leaving you. I ain't Mary," I hissed. If I sounded angry, I didn't mean to. 

"I know you're not, princess, you ain't nothing like her. Nothing like her at all, I'm sorry, I just meant that it weren't good enough for her so why on earth should it be good enough for you?"

"Arthur, I don't know what you want me to say," I shook my head. "You're telling me that your hesitance to get out is gonna make me leave you or something, but then you say you can't get out. Every time we talk about this it goes nowhere, and we're just gonna keep going 'round and around in circles. I just want you to think about if it's what you actually want," I kept my voice as level as possible.

"Of course I want it," he told me, brows curving upwards. "Wouldn't be saying it if I didn't."

"I know you worry about the gang. But look at them, they're a whole group of adults, and they're all following Dutch. Nobody is expecting you to make sure they're all okay, that ain't your responsibility,” I told him, thinking about what Charles had said.

"I know," he said, his tone a bit sharp and irritated, not at me, but at the situation. Like he didn't want to admit that it was true.

"Does that bother you? That you ain't responsible?" I asked, my brows quirking in surprise. 

"No! You know why I can't leave, and I know you’re scared… But I am too. Truth be told I'm scared for if I stay and I'm scared for if I leave."

"If you leave?" I repeated, not exactly expecting that.

"Yes. What if I can't do it?" He hissed, and I could simply frown in response. "What if I end up messing up and going back to my old ways and letting you down? Hosea once left. He and Bessie, the woman he loved with all his heart, they went off on their own and he ended up coming back because he was too set in his ways."

"Really?" I asked, mouth agape. I must’ve looked so dumb.

”What if I'm like that? What if I can't give you everything you need?" He continued, moving closer to the bed and leaning close to me, taking one of my hands in both of his. "I want you. I want to go, I do. But in the back of my mind all I can think about is ruining both of our lives if I don't act right. I spent a lot of years being this way. What if I can't change? Mary wanted me to– I never could for her. What if I–"

I frowned in a different way at the mention of Mary again, a little annoyed. "I don't want you to change, like she did," I told him more sharply than necessary. I softened when he seemed to realise his error. "I ain't expecting you to all of a sudden go out and get yourself a fancy job somewhere, get us a big house with lots of neighbours and a dog and all this normal stuff. I don't want any of that. Well, I wouldn't mind having a dog…"

"You can have all the dogs you want," he breathed a laugh.

"Arthur, I'll be honest; if we have to… live in the grey areas of the law to get by, then, well, as long as we ain't doing nothing too big or loud, how's it different to the way I've always lived?" I admitted, shrugging softly. "You know I weren't always lawful when I was on my own. Don't change, Arthur. Just do what you have to do and always come home to me as the man I fell in love with."

"You mean that? You wouldn't be upset if I– if I can't settle into a normal life that easy?"

"Of course I wouldn't. Arthur, I'll probably struggle too. I don't mind waiting for it, neither. Just don't make me wait too long, till it can't happen no more," I whispered to him. "That's all I ask."

He pressed his forehead to my arm gently. “What worries me is you keep on reassuring me like this but nothing ever changes. I just can’t go yet, and I want you to really understand why so you won't start thinking I’m always putting you last and you ain’t important.”

"I'm trying to understand. Tell me what's going on in your head," I pleaded, stroking his hair. 

"I will try my best. My head ain't exactly easy to figure out right now. Usually when I'm with you I can forget most of the shit going on and I'm happy, and I can't wait to get out with you," he spoke slowly and monotonously, as if he really had to try to word it right. "But then I go out on a job and it brings me right back down to earth, I get pulled back in the other direction, reminded of how many years I sunk into this gang and I can't just leave, not without making things right. Or at least trying to. And I owe that to you, too," he lifted his head and met my eyes.

"To me? Why?" I frowned.

"I ain't done much good in my life. I don't like who I am, who I have been, how can I give you everything you deserve if I can't even redeem myself and do one good thing before this gang crumbles to dust?" His response caught me off guard. "I told you before I'm scared, and this is all part of that. If I can't show you that I can do right by these people I been loyal to for years, then what would my loyalty to you even mean? I'm scared that even if I say fuck it to everything and just run off with you, leaving all this behind, I ain't gonna be doing you a service. 'Cause all I'd be showing you is I ain't deserving of your trust."

And suddenly, despite the fact that I didn't want to accept it, I understood.

Arthur needed this, not just because he cared for these people, but because he had to see it through for himself. He had to prove to himself that he could deserve the out our relationship had given him. He did deserve it, of course he did, but nothing I could say would convince him until he'd proved it to himself. And that's what getting John and his family and the others out would do, prove to him that he was good. At least, good enough to deserve something better than the pain and struggle his life up until that point had given him. 

And if Arthur was important to me and I genuinely wanted him to be happy; I had to let him do it.

"Okay," I whispered. "I get it, I do."

"Yeah?" He breathed. "You ain't just saying that to be kind to me?"

"No, I understand. I'm scared, but I know that you need this. I ain't gonna be the one to hold you back," I told him, flipping my hand to interlace our fingers. 

"Angel, I don't want to let you down. You're my world, you know that, don't you? I gotta do this so I can be the best I can for you. I won't be able to do that if I live with regrets, about the things I failed to do," he said, kissing the back of my hand. 

"I trust you. I really do. If you gotta do this and you promise me you'll draw lines where you have to, and you ain't gonna let Dutch use you like your life don't even matter," I squeaked, shaking my head, "then I won't put no more pressure on you. I'll be patient."

"I'll look out for myself," he nodded, "I got more reason than I ever really have to keep myself safe."

That was a little painful to hear. I reached my free hand out to cup his cheek. "I love you," I told him.

"And I'm real lucky you do. I don't know of many women who'd put up with me being like this," he exhaled a sheepish laugh, shaking his head.

"I guess that's lucky for me," I smirked a little and he chuckled.

"I love you too, my darlin', don't forget that you're what's pushing me to be better."

"Just… let's not have this conversation again until it's the right time to go. It feels like we've had it a million times and it ain't ever ended in us packing our bags– well. It did once, but things were different then," I said, remembering when our plans felt solid, when the gang was going to flee and be safe and Arthur and I were going to leave together. Before the bank. Before Guarma. "What I'm saying is, I don't want to go around in circles again. Next time we talk about this, it's gonna end in us leaving, okay?"

"Alright, beautiful. I'll… I'll start working on Dutch. If somehow I can convince him to use all that money we been saving to clear off for good," he trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't know how long it'll take."

"It'll take as long as it takes," I shook my head and smiled at him, brushing my thumb across his cheek bone. Then I kissed him, holding him close and tender like the treasure he was. 

-

A man I hadn't seen before walked into camp, guided by Charles, as well as Karen and Javier who had both been on guard duty. His hair was long and though I didn't know for sure, I wondered if it was one of the people from the Wapiti reservation that Charles and Arthur had been helping. My guess was solidified when Arthur – who was speaking with Dutch at the time – appeared to know him, and introduced them. They all spoke for a while, and my position across the other side of the camp meant I didn't hear a word. I was surprised that he'd come to our camp, and I wondered what had happened to make him do so.

Eventually Dutch made the first step towards the horses, and the man immediately followed. Charles and Arthur seemed reluctant to follow too, but they did. I frowned and sat upright, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, very gingerly lowering them to the ground so I could watch as they all mounted up and rode away from camp. 

I glanced around, wondering if anyone around had heard what their conversation was all about, or what they were heading out to do. A sickly sense of anxiety settled like a boulder in my stomach once again and I began to panic that I could never, ever watch Arthur leave camp again without feeling complete dread. I'd come close to losing him too many times and now I'd been trained to expect the worst. 

With a groan I pushed myself to my feet, grabbing the cane that Arthur had fashioned out of a big stick he'd found so that I could start moving around. I could walk okay, I just had to move carefully as to not tug on the delicate, healing skin around my knee, the cane was there to keep my balance. I walked my way over to the stew pot, figuring that eating something might settle me a bit, I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and even then I'd just had some biscuits.

I served myself up a bowl of stew and hobbled my way over to the campfire, sitting down on one of the storage crates and dropping my cane down on the ground beside me. I tucked into my food, relieved to have a warm meal to pull my focus to. I saw Mary-Beth getting herself some food too, and she started heading towards me, sitting down on a nearby log. 

"It's good to see you up and about," she commented. 

"Yeah, I couldn't stay flat on my back forever, my leg ain't really hurting no more. Miss Grimshaw said as long as I'm careful with it, it'll do me good to be more mobile," I replied, nodding before blowing on a steaming forkful of meat and vegetables and popping it into my mouth. 

"That's good, it can't be nice when you're always so eager to keep yourself busy," she laughed a little, and I met her eyes. 

"Thanks for the books, by the way. I finished the one with the field of lavender, the French woman," I murmured, looking towards the tent as if I could see the book and read the title from there.

"The Castle in the Field of Lavender," Mary-Beth nodded. "Complete nonsense, isn't it? But I love it nonetheless," she giggled. 

"I can certainly agree that it's nonsense," I chuckled, "but it provided a much needed distraction. I liked it," I grinned. 

"How're you feeling?" She asked.

"I'm– I'm okay. Yeah, been a tough time lately, ain't it? But I'm sure things will start looking up now we're in a new camp, we're all together," I said with a nod. 

"You think so?" She questioned, a frank look of doubt on her face. 

"You don't think so?" I countered.

"I don't really know what to think," she exclaimed, shaking her head regretfully.

"No, I guess I don't either," I sighed, stirring through my stew. 

"All I know is I hate it here, this place gives me the creeps," she made a show of shuddering, then took a bite of food, swallowing before continuing, "worse than the swamp."

"We're safe. All these people here, looking out for each other, it might be creepy here but nothing's gonna happen," I tried to reassure her, and she nodded. "Do you know what all that was about; with that feller who came to camp just now?"

"Karen said his name was Eagle Flies," she said, and I nodded in recognition, "something about some horses being stolen. I figured the boys went to help get them back."

"Stolen horses," I mused thoughtfully, "doesn't sound like something Dutch would be too concerned about with all that's going on," I pondered.

"Hmm, now you mention it," she nodded slowly, "well, I don't know. Maybe there's money to be made, I don't see why Dutch would risk everything if it weren't worth it. Not with the Pinkertons turning up all the time."

I was quiet for a moment, eating my food and considering my next words. When I settled on them, I glanced around before leaning forwards a bit. 

"Uh, Mary-Beth," I said under my breath, and she caught my tone and scooted closer to me, her eyes widening with a cute kind of intrigue at the secrecy. "Do you think that… that Dutch maybe ain't been using the best judgement as of late?"

"What d'you mean?" She asked, her eyes narrowed and her head shaking in confusion. 

"Well," I began, my tone light and careful, "he trusted Bronte with that trolley station tip, when that was a set up he killed him and then expected everything to be okay when he went and robbed the bank? I don't know, I thought he was meant to be real smart."

"Oh, I don't know what to say. I never really thought about it that way before," she sighed softly, frowning to herself. 

"You haven't? Perhaps it's just me being paranoid, then," I dismissed, lessening my conviction, trying to brush it off as a passing thought. I didn't want anything blown out of proportion. 

"No, I don't think so. Perhaps you're right. When you put it like that, it don't sound all that smart, why'd you think he'd take those risks without thinking of the consequences?" She questioned. 

"Well, that's it. I don't know. That's why I wanted to ask you, you've been here much longer, I just wondered if you'd noticed a change or if he's always been like this," I shrugged. 

"No, he hasn't. The gang has changed a lot in the last few months, doing things that we wouldn't ordinarily do. I put it down to heavier pressure from all of our enemies but sometimes I wonder if we're going too far, truth be told. As soon as Jack got dragged into our problems, I stopped feeling safe," she admitted to me, her voice tiny and barely audible. "But I never blamed anyone in particular for it, 'specially not Dutch."

I shook my head. "I ain't suggesting that you should. I'm just thinking out loud. I'm pretty scared."

"You're scared? Even with Arthur looking out for you?" Her brows raised softly and with concern.

"It's… it's Arthur I'm scared for. I'm a woman. I ain't really had to deal with the things he has in this gang, nobody's forcing me to go out and shoot Pinkertons and rob banks! I've only gotta worry about my safety when they find our camp. But he–" I stopped, shaking my head and sighing. "Every time he goes out since Guarma, I feel sick."

"Oh, I see…" she said solemnly, looking down. "And I guess you're worried, what with Dutch's recent ideas, that Arthur's gonna get hurt because of him."

"I am," I nodded. 

Mary-Beth pressed her lips together and tilted her head, considering her response carefully. "Dutch has always been something of a father to folks. Some more than others. But Arthur has been with him the longest, you know that. I don't think Dutch would let any harm come to him, not on purpose."

"Mm," I made a quiet sound, finishing off my food to avoid responding. I didn't believe her. Not that she was lying, she wouldn't be remiss for thinking that way. But ever since he was captured by the O'Driscolls, I really struggled to fall into such naive, blind trust of Dutch Van Der Linde. 

"Have you thought about leaving?" She asked, her tone high pitched and girlish and curious, like the question was more insignificant than it actually was. "Seriously, I mean. Not just a spur of the moment thing, like what Arthur was saying when your leg got burned," she clarified, and I was reminded of all the people who'd heard that conversation.

Even so, I struggled to form a response. 

"I have," I finally answered, emphasising the 'I' to avoid incriminating Arthur. I wanted only to speak for myself. 

"Between me and you… so have I," she replied, shocking me. I gazed at her with wide eyes as she stared into the fire. "When I found out Molly had gone, I started wondering if the gang would fall apart, then I panicked, thinking about what I'd do if it did. Sometimes I think I should jump ship before I go down with it," she revealed, and her words rang in my ears with such clarity I wanted to capture the moment and show it to Arthur, because it made such sense the way she said it. But I'd promised him I wouldn't put pressure on him to get out while he felt his work was not yet done. 

"I understand," I nodded. "And I wouldn't judge you if you did. Not even a little," I whispered.

"Really?" She met my eyes. 

"Same reason I didn't judge Molly. I think if someone knows they can find happiness elsewhere, they should seek it without judgement. Especially with how things are right now, we're all scared for our lives."

"I spoke to Kieran about it," she told me. "I don't know how he feels about it but I… I like him. A great deal. Sometimes I daydream about how life could be, and it makes me happier than I ever am when I'm living outside of my head, in the real world. Do you know what I mean?"

"More than I care to admit," I nodded. 

"Kieran and I have some… shared feelings, I s'pose you'd say. But we don't make a spectacle of it, we're very discreet," she said, and I smiled a little, seeing myself in her. She thought she was telling me something I didn't know, when everyone was aware at least on some level that something had blossomed between the two. Just like Arthur and me in the beginning. I didn't burst her bubble though.

"Are you, uh, officially involved? Like, say, me and Arthur?"

"Don't make me kiss and tell," she giggled, a grin spreading across her face. 

"So you've kissed him?" I grinned, teasing her. 

"I might have," she answered coquettishly, lifting a shoulder and peering over it at me.

"Considering the kind of novels you read and the way you spoke to me about Arthur, I would've thought you'd be more chatty about such a thing!"

"Well, it's different when it's yourself, ain't it?"

"Now you see why I was so embarrassed," I chuckled, shaking my head. "Don't worry, I'll have mercy on you."

"I appreciate it," she laughed, "anyway, I didn't bring him up to gush about it… I was just saying, if I had my way, if my dreams could come true, he and I would leave together, and we'd puzzle together as normal a life as we could," she sighed. 

"That's a sentiment I certainly share," I nodded. "Well, good luck to you, Mary-Beth."

"And to you," she returned, wearing a warm smile and rosy cheeks. "Let me take your bowl," she offered, getting up to wash her own. 

"Thank you," I said as I handed it over, and watched as she left. I glanced at the fire for a while, watching the glowing embers rising. It never had the same impact in the daylight as it did at night time, always felt different. 

I reached into the top of my shirt, retrieving the locket that hadn't left my neck since it was put there. I held it away as far as the chain would allow and popped it open, looking at the crudely cut out little photograph of Arthur, wondering what he was doing right that moment. I prayed the situation with the horses was a simple problem to resolve, and he would return to me so that I could see him sit down by this very fire with a warm bowl of stew, allowing himself the small luxuries that I was able to have. 

But I didn't see him for a while after he left. After getting back the horses for the Wapiti people, Dutch and Charles had returned without him after nightfall. I was told that he was camping out somewhere away from the main camp, he had to meet with Bill and Micah in the morning for another job and he had someone to see in Annesburg, but there were no more details than that. I was disappointed, of course. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Arthur to spend many nights away from camp, the only reason he spent most nights in camp now was because of me, he told me he preferred getting to bed down with me over being out in the middle of nowhere. But I had to remind myself that he had important things to do and he wouldn't stay away just for the sake of it, I needed to hush down my selfishness and allow him to do what he needed to do. It was a theme cropping up all too often, and I had to battle myself on it. I would not become his ball and chain. 

[diningpageantry]

soulmates? (oh my god they were soulmates)

(im so sorry this took me a hot second. i’m also sorry this is a bit of a meme/crackfic. probably not what you were expecting, but definitely something i’m here to offer. i blame the discord for encouraging me.)

(the following fic is like, a vague rated M/E. depends on how you rate.)

Everyone’s who’s got magic has got a soul mark.

For some, it’s easy to find. Handprint on their neck, on their cheek. Commonly on their hands, or forearms, while for others, it’s more hidden. Penny’s got two, laying right on her sides. She showed me once, back in fifth year, where her’s is.  They perfectly fit Micah’s palms.

Then there’s people like Baz, whose mark I’d first caught when he thought I was asleep and he’d just gotten out of the shower, having forgotten a change of clothes and letting his towel hang around his hips.

His mark is a single palm pressed to his lower back, settling along the sloping, intimate curve right above his bum.

We all know what it means. Everyone knows what it means.

The slightly off-fleshy pigmented print is wherever your soulmate’s touching you when they first tell you they love you. Whether a light brush, or a firm grip, it fills in where their skin meets yours. Down to the lines of their palms.

For some it’s platonic–a matching one with your best friend, with palms pressed together or hands around shoulders. For others, it’s clearly romantic.

Which is, probably, why I can never stop thinking about mine.

Because it’s around my dick.

Which is something I never really put on full blast, and only two people know–Penny and Agatha.

Penny’s the first person I’ve ever told, after having told her for a while “It’s under my clothes”. But, eventually (as in, when I started dating Agatha), she’d asked me if we “Tested it”.

I asked her what “Tested it” implied, and she gave me a funny look.

“You haven’t tried to put her hand on your mark?”

That brought a load of other questions, partially narrowing down to “Is this cheating?”, then going to “Nah. If it fits, it’s right”, but then the panic set in of knowing Agatha would have to touch my prick, so I’d blurt out an answer right there.

“But we’re not there yet!”

Penny gave me a weird look, followed by me trying to explain as quietly as possible, that my mark isn’t somewhere… normal.

She just looked my trousers, and burst into laughter.

Really helped my confidence there.

But, of course, eventually we had to test it (and it wasn’t the sexiest of tests either). See, Aggie’s mark is one of those brushing marks–the nondescript, light though of fingertips to her knuckles on each side. When we were 14, I caught myself staring at them during dinner every night for a week, wondering how it’d happen. I came to the conclusion, eventually, that it was most probable that someone would be brushing their hands over hers, probably as she’s holding something, like a mug, while saying it.

Intimate, but not in my way. The sort of intimacy you’d get from late night conversations.

Mine’s the unavoidable intimate. The kind where I know we’ll be more than just friends.

Which is why it wasn’t until our Christmas that we tried.

It was in her room, late on Christmas night. We were a bit tipsy, and she was smiling more than I’ve seen her smile in over a year or so.

She’d told me, then that she’s never seen my mark. I told her it depends on a lot. She laughed, and said “What? Our virginity?”

I didn’t laugh back.

Then the room got silent. Nothing beyond the soft crackle of her fireplace before she giggled again, eyes wide at me. “Does this mean?”

“It’s on my prick, yeah. We’d have too…”

Long story short, with a lot of fumbling and awkward stares, we’d realized pretty soon that it was definitely too big of a hand to be her’s.

We broke up the next week. Nothing too emotional–it was understood on both ends. She said she didn’t want to drag us out, and I said I didn’t want to force it if it isn’t fate.

Baz made jokes when we’d split. Said I’m probably mark-less, since I’m Normal born, but I’d shot back that I hadn’t seen his either (I did), so he must be mate-less. His lips twitched, as he snapped off, telling me it’s hidden (I knew) before dropping the conversation entirely.

Two things came about that experience. One, that it’s definitely a larger hand (not particularly guaranteed that it’s a man’s hand, but I have a sneaking suspicion that a bit too big to not be). (Okay yes. It’s bigger than my hand. I’ve checked, with a bit of awkward repositioning of my own hand, and whoever’s it is is probably taller than me. Or just has longer fingers. Or maybe I just have small-ish hands?) Two, that it probably isn’t something I’d particularly want to test.

That is, unless I’d want to invite all the blokes I know over to put their hands on my prick.

(Probably should dabble in the idea that this might make me a bit gay, but that’s a thing I thought not to focused on too much.)

From that point I’d let it slip my mind.

Recede back to where everything else I’d rather not think of sits–nestled between where Watford has come to sit, along with memories of The Mage. I’d much less forgotten about it rather than ignored it, figured it wasn’t worth thinking of.

Even when I got with Baz, we decided not to test it. Neither of our marks.

Not until this morning, when he went to leave for class with a quick peck to my cheek. I’d turned, settling a hand to the small of his back as he spun around to meet me, and hummed a content “I love you, be safe” without really thinking.

We usually just say “Love you”.

I don’t know what came over me for the extra “I”, but I suppose I’d felt it today.

Then is when he promptly froze, staring at me wide-eyed and opened mouth as it hit both of us where my hand is. Where I was holding.

He, to an odd expected relief, didn’t say it back then.

He just murmured a quiet “Love you” before practically running off with a dazed look across his face.

Which is where we’re left now.

Me, waiting at Penn and I’s flat.

Baz, bringing take out for dinner.

And nothing on my mind but my prick, sadly. And it’s in the least-sexual way.

We haven’t quite broken this boundary. Nine months in. Usually, I’m not in the mood (it’s been hard to find any mood recently), or he’s too tired from classes (he began some in early summer), or he’s worried his fangs will pop and… It’s always something. We joke about it, and it isn’t like we haven’t seen each other naked, it’s not something we’ve found a proper way to break through.

But I guess this means we should figure it out today.

I startle a bit when I finally hear him, letting himself in with his key. He greets me with a kiss to my hair, unnervingly silent as he goes to unpack our food.

“So…”

“We don’t need to talk about it.” He’s got his voice his usual icy-flatness, gaze dragged over to me and looking borderline tired. I wonder if he just doesn’t have the energy.

“Do you not want to?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Looks like you don’t.”

He looks over at me, then sighs. “No…”

“Then just tell me if you don’t want to. It’s fine, I’m partially a grown up.” I sit up more. “There’s a lot to process.”

I watch as he drops his hands onto the countertop, gaze studying over the bag as he does his usual, you know, thinking before he speaks (wonder what that’s like). It’s a few seconds before he finally starts, eyes still locked on what’s below him. “It’s not just the action of it. It’s the premise. It’s… knowing something I was scared of being wrong, and the standing fear that–” he tries not to sound choked. He tries so hard, but I can hear it. The small catch in his voice. “That it isn’t right.”

I try to sit up and move towards him, but he shakes his head and exhales.

“If you want to test it, Snow,” he mumbles. “Then we can test it.”

“I…”

“What?”

I bite my lip. “Well, I’m the first one who said ‘I love you’, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Then what makes you think my mark doesn’t match your hand?”

He shrugs. “The constant denial of it for years? The hopefulness I’ve held since you and Wellbelove broke it off–”

I can’t take his moping anymore. Really, I can’t. I spring up from the couch and march over just to snog him silent, nudging him up against the fridge doors as he relaxes and kisses me back. And holds onto me. And keeps me snug, letting me rub my hand over his lower back, feeling safely assured that yes, my hand most definitely does fit there.

“Simon–”

I break us apart, nudging our foreheads together as I shake my head. “Nuh-uh. Nope. Don’t.”

“But…”

“I know you’re the one, Baz. Why else would I put up with you?”

He starts to smile, trying to stop himself before it spreads out to an actual, normal sort of grin, settling his head back against the fridge. “Yes, well,” he chuckles breathily. “Feelings mutual.”

I grin, kissing his cheek and shifting our hips. “What feeling?”

He quirks a brow. “You know I can’t say it.”

“Well, you can. You’ve just gotta put your hand in my trousers.”

He scoffs, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous, Snow.”

“It’s not me!” I laugh back, “It’s the universe telling you to touch my dick!”

“Fuck the universe.” His hand catches on my chest, starting to drag down in a mind twistingly, unfairly teasing way.

“Bold words for someone complying,” I whisper heavily, tugging him closer as he pushes away my waistband.

His fingertips settle against the exposed bit of skin before starting to sink deeper. “It’s not being complicit,” he purrs back, “if it’s something I want.”

I practically moan, skin tingling as he slowly takes grip of me, and making my knees wobble. “Baz…”

“I love you.”

[captain-aralias]

Immediate thoughts about Wayward Son after just finishing and not that much sleep

..

I’m really hoping this spoiler cut works.

...

RIP Micah :( 

So - the first thing I’m going to say is... I didn’t think we would lose Micah. Weirdly this is the thing that is probably the biggest negative for me about the book.

Just yesterday I was confidently saying that I didn’t think Rainbow would do anything that would muck up the way I saw canon and most that’s true. But I am vv sad about Micah, even though - as I read on - I thought: I get why this has happened. 

It’s so Penny has a story too, and it’s not just all about Simon. So in this book she not only loses Micah (which it turns out wasn’t that bad because I guess she didn’t like him enough), but she loses her certainty in herself - and has to get it back. And that’s a story. 

So yes - I get it. It’s because it’s a book, not a fanfic where Penny doesn’t have to be a character. But alas - I really liked the idea of Micah and Penny, even without knowing Micah at all. I was invested! 

On the other hand - now we don’t have to deal with the Penny moves to America forever to be with Micah trope, which never made sense to me because I always thought Penny would stay and Micah would move with her. Which I would guess may be the plan for Shepard. Interestingly he’s totes into magickal creatures, which makes him quite a bit like the Micah I wrote in the Mage’s Heir - but also, I am sad.

RIP Agatha in America

The other thing I think we lost was the idea of Agatha being happy in America.

Even though Agatha’s a main character, this means less to me than the Penny/Micah thing - although I am still sad about it. If ‘Carry On’ had a secrets meme, I would probably write ‘You guys don’t know what you’re missing - the Mage is OBVIOUSLY one of the most interesting characters in this canon’, but  after that my second secret would be: ‘I don’t dislike Agatha, but I don’t like her that much’. (Clearly neither of these things are secrets and I just wrote them into a post). 

When I read the preview of the 4 chapters on Kobo, the thing I was most disappointed by was finding out that Agatha and a cult were going to be important to the plot. I thought Agatha’s story was over, because she just didn’t want to be part of the story! (That the cult turned out to be a vampire cult turned it around for me a bit, but we’ll talk more about that later).

I still don’t really like Agatha’s story in ‘Wayward Son’. I don’t like that she has to come home, even though I don’t really like her. I liked our idea that she was happy. That said, I DO like the clear plot arc that she’s been given here which is that she rescues herself. And she rescues everyone. Not just a bit, like how Peter Pettigrew was redeemed a bit by holding back a bit (which was one of the most disappointing parts of Potter canon for me - can you tell?). She uses a power that frankly I don’t think most magicians have, and then set a lot of vampires on fire. That’s good! That’s a reason for Agatha to be in the book. She grew!

Simon/Baz 

I can see a few people being upset about this in some of the spoiler posts I’ve glanced at (I basically just came on here and started typing after trying and failing to find the Discord so I haven’t read anything in detail). I actually don’t get it. People are saying that Rainbow isnt supporting the gays... because Baz was sort of into another guy? Maybe? Because Simon and Baz didn’t kiss in that final scene? 

I actually literally do not get it, so maybe someone will tell me in response to this post! No gays were ruined in the making of this story; they were just sad. 

Again - it makes sense to me that they’re having relationship difficulties, given that Simon’s so tuned out. But never in either of their POVs do I get the impression that they aren’t still mad for each other. They both just have other stuff going on that they’re having to deal with. 

Personally I quite like Simon being really jealous about Baz and other guys. I can’t remember exactly if Baz thought it was super hot - but I did. I like possessiveness as a trope.

The kissing in the truck is lovely - and clearly the chapter 61 we were promised. Simon flying with Baz - Simon FLYING. I’m pretty sure none of us saw that one coming. 

I can’t remember whether it was ever said (even though I’ve read ‘Carry On’ loads), but it may have been implied that Simon’s wings don’t work in ‘Carry On’... but clearly they do. Or he got better. 

The future

There are lots of dangling threads from this book

Rainbow is a massive Star Wars person. This book is CLEARLY supposed to be ‘Empire’, it’s the dark one. The one where everything goes wrong, and relationships don’t quite work out. And the next book is set at Watford - hooray! That means we can have the political schenagins I was saddened I wasn’t going to get from a book about a roadtrip set in America. 

For me the other dangling threads that I’d pull on are: 

The Next Blood are trying to give people magic. So for the first time, I’m thinking... maybe Simon will get his magic back, whereas previously I thought: he’s going to have to deal with it being gone forever, and with the wings (which are clearly now shown to be a good thing. I always wanted him to keep them - but now I’m not sure whether he will ...)

Blue, the water demon, said that Simon gave the world back MORE magic than he took from it. Again - this feels like Simon gets his magic back in book 3. Or does something to bring magic back properly, or change it. 

Baz learned about being a vampire!! He learned that vampire bites don’t necessarily kill. I think we all know what this means. (I was really worried when Simon got shot that Baz was going to have to vamp him. Glad he didn’t. I don’t want vampire Simon and vampire Baz - one vampire is sexy, two is a problem). Baz also learned that he might well live forever. What will it mean for his future??? 

Penny/Shepard - I mean, either that or Rainbow’s going to blindside me with Penny/Agatha after all these years. I mean, she wrote it into ‘Fangirl’ as the thing Cath always read, but I was very much of Baz’s mindset - that bit where he says ‘hey, it’s your ex-boyfriend, and his boyfriend, and a girl you don’t like very much’. I thought  yes! That’s exactly how I see it. But now I’m thinking.... why has Penny been texting her so much? Maybe there IS something there... I’m convincing myself more and more with this post. Christ. Well, let’s see. 

Something about magic and secrecy maybe. There’s something in that... 

Let’s talk about mah fic (the Mage’s Heir) quickly

Since we’re talking about what I’d do with this. 

I didn’t think the book would be very similar to Mage’s Heir, because it was set in America and about a roadtrip - but it was more similar than I expected.

It’s about Simon feeling better through being useful and kicking the shit out of dark creatures (the final chapters where he accepts he’s not a superhero don’t feel right to me. I think he needs to re-evaluate that again). 

Penny feels out of step with what’s going on... Wayward Son is much more advanced, obviously. Mine is very soft as it’s only a sub-plot.

Baz finds out more about his vampire heritage, and learns that he can definitely bite Simon and that it will be sexy when it happens. (That’s my reading of it, anyway). 

There’s an alliance with various sets of magickal creatures. I thought there might actually be a vampire alliance, but the problem is that I guess Rainbow really does think they are legit evil. More to do on that one. (There’s a misprint where Nicky’s surname is given as Ebb - I’m guessing it will be corrected later. Either that or Baz just forgot what he was called, which I can believe.) I think this could be in the third book - it feels to me that that’s what Shepard is for, to tell us that magickal creatures are good actually. For me it’s the thing the Mage got most wrong (in terms of the vampires and the goblins), and the most right (in terms of letting in pixies and centaurs, etc).

I would argue... maybe... that it’s possible the Mage’s Heir might seem more satisfying than this book to readers. Difficult to say this without seeming up-myself, but I’m arguing it because I sort of feel that way about my favourite (that I didn’t write) post Watford fic, which is ALSO a roadtrip in America: There'll Be Peace When You Are Done. 

I don’t think that means either fic is better than ‘Wayward Son’. They’re fic. To some extent, even if you don’t expect what will happen in the plot, they give the reader what they expect. A strong focus on Simon and Baz and their relationship working out, relatively minimal other stuff that doesn’t support this as the major plot. 

Rainbow sort of talked about this recently on Twitter as well, about books that feel like fic being great. So it would have made sense for this book to read like a fic.. 

Interestingly, it really doesn’t.

I purposefully used the Mage’s Heir to close off all the loose ends I thought had been left by ‘Carry On’, and ‘They’ll Be Peace...’ closes off its own story about how Simon gets over his trauma and fixes his relationship. ‘Wayward Son’ doesn’t do that at all. It opens up a whole bunch of new shit for our heroes to deal with, and doesn’t close any of it off - because it’s Empire. 

Sidenote:

I was told we were going to find out the Mage’s name - I believed it! But we didn’t find it out at all. In a way, I like that. Because one of the things I was semi-worried about (even though I was like - there’s nothing to worry about!!!) was finding out more about Watford and the Mage, which would mean that more of the Watford-era fic we’ve got wouldn’t work as well anymore. And I guess I’m invested in the Simon parentage question. I know - you’re all shocked. 

I was surprised we didn’t find it out in this book - again, it makes sense given that we know there’s another book to come and it will be set back in the country where all this shit went down. 

The one thing we did find out about the Mage was that he hates America. 

Maverick and terrorists. No sense of community, no common goals. Half of them using their magic to wash the dishes, half of them living like debauched sultans. I blame the vernacular. Wholly unstable! Too much in flux! Their dialect is like a river stripped of its natural bends and shallows - their spells expire before they even master them. My heart is always with the rebels, Simon, in any struggle. But America is a failed experiment. A chaos country where mages have lost all sense of themselves. Where they live off the Normals like parasites-like dark creatures.

I’m not sure, having read this book, what that means for my idea of the ways he’s right and wrong. When I read that bit I was like - man, this is about how he’s a hypocrite again, boo, like how he’s a sexist. But then I read the rest of the book and I’m thinking... maybe the Mage is right and America is legit terrible for magic. 

We only see it being bad  (even Micah was bad!! RIP Micah). It has its own Humdrum just because it’s BIG, and almost everyone wants to kill our heroes. Maybe it’s a helpful sign of what the UK might become unless it changes. (Metaphorical, ain’t it?)

Things I loved

- the ren fayre. I mean, I loved all of this scene. Even though I am still a bit anxious about Simon just hacking people’s heads off without working out whether they are really really REALLY evil (I’m still like - maybe Lamb just isn’t that bad REALLY? If you spoke to him more??? He’s just racist. IDK) I loved the fight, I loved Baz not being that good at sword fighting, and being very good at fake olde english. i didn’t actually get round to putting it into the meme, but one of my prompts would have been ‘simon/baz, swordfighting’ - so thank you Rainbow. You delivered.

- Baz teaching Simon to drive <3

- Baz having to pretend to be a super glam vampire in a den full of vampires. It didn’t quite play out exactly how I would have liked, but when I realised that was what I was going to happen, I almost clapped my hands in real life, I was so happy. I like that the plot was about vampires, even if the cult stuff still didn’t work for me even at the end. Cults are boring.

- Dragon lady. Dragon lady calling Simon ‘kitten’. (But I don’t want him to ACTUALLY turn into a dragon)

- All the boring mudane stuff at the beginning where they’re on a plane and Simon’s watching shit movies. 

- More info about how magic works, the dead spots (not even CAUSED by Simon’s magic. Maybe this is something we could use in terms of getting the magic back that the Humdrum stole. Martin Bunce should come and investigate). Baz is too British for America. (Poor Baz, he hated this holiday so much. It was terrible, I agree)

- I liked the vampire showdown at the end, as I said. Simon kicking people and flying, and there was a bit where Penny had no plan and Simon had the plan and I was like ‘OMG SIMON YOU HAD THE PLAN’. It was great. 

- Baz chose clothes for Simon. Baz wore nice clothes. 

- Baz drunk. Simon jealous. 

- I liked Sheperd, even though I was angry at him for not being Micah. (He could have been Micah!!) 

- Baz’s mother’s scarf and the fact that Simon saved it for him, because he knows it’s important. 

Things I didn’t like/conclusion (for now) - 

There’s not much I actively didn’t like, to be honest, except the Micah stuff, and the fact we had to deal with a cult. I guess I thought Simon and Baz would have fixed things up by the end, but once I hit the end and saw there would be a sequel I realised why that hadn’t happened. 

BUT I think it might have been a mis-step to not even hint at the sequel, even though it feels like a spoiler. Because I think where people feel disappointed, it’s not just that it’s not like a fanfic - is that it didn’t do any of the things we expected. Simon didn’t even get over his trauma - which is fine. It’s the second book of at least three (probably three), but none of us knew that when we were reading it, which probably made other people anxious as well.

In general, I think it’s a more difficult book to like than ‘Carry On’ - because it’s pretty depressing throughout. There’s not much joy in it, which makes it hard to get jazzed up about. I thought the chapters we got in the preview were going to be the most depressing ones and Simon would cheer up once he got to America. And he DID - but everything else went to shit, and the way Baz and Penny hated it made it not fun, even though it was interesting. 

Interesting in the right way, though? Don’t know. 

I’m not sure how much fic I’ll be able to get out of it.... I guess I’ll have to think about it.It doesn’t feel as world-changing important as ‘Carry On’  It’s so clearly half of a story, so harder to write more on from since it’s really not clear what will come next (my guesses aside). I guess that’s the other thing we lost - post-Watford cuddling and first-time fics. Because we know they haven’t had sex by ‘Wayward Son’ and we don’t - yet - know how they’re going to get their relationship back on track.

There aren’t so many open spaces as there were in ‘Carry On’ which gives you eight years of open spaces to play in, as well as all of the future. 

So yeah - I don’t know. I definitely didn’t dislike it. And I’m excited for the next book.

I’ll listen to the audio book, and read it again a few times, and hopefully talk to some people about it a bit more. And see what I think. 

[lemoynes-blog]

Rabbits in a Snowstorm • Arthur Morgan ♡

SUMMARY: You and Arthur get creative in combatting the cold of the Grizzly Mountains. TAGS: f!reader, dirty talk, praise kink, gagging, unprotected sex, mentioned exhibitionism, sub!arthur and dom!reader WORD COUNT: 3.2k

You’re digging through a crate that Lenny had pulled from the wagons, ice-kissed and nearly frozen shut, when Ms. Grimshaw pulls you aside and ushers you out into the blizzard. The gang had arrived in Colter only an hour ago, but the woman already has three fires going and a bed ready for everyone. One of the more private rooms has apparently been designated for you and Arthur, a perk of your boyfriend being one of Dutch’s favourites.

“The men shouldn’t be much longer,” Grimshaw tells you, loudly over a gust of wind and snow.

It’s a brief scurry from one cabin to the one across the way, but the relentless howling of the wind and low visibility makes it seem like a trek. Even with your lantern, you can see maybe 5-feet in front of you. You try not to think about how bad the storm is further into the mountains, wherever Arthur is. 

Warm, flickering light emits from the frosted windows you’re headed towards, and when you slip through the door, you’re pleased to find it’s the roaring fireplace. The only other light source is a lamp in the corner that Hosea sits by, diligently cleaning the rifle laid across his lap. 

“Your room’s on the right,” Grimshaw informs you. 

She leaves as quickly as she’d arrived, the door shutting firmly behind her, abruptly leaving you and the two other people in the room to your own devices. The lack of crowding means it’s not as warm as the other cabin, but you’d gladly take personal space over heat, especially after being cramped in the back of a wagon with Jack on your lap for the past few days. 

From the stool closest to the fire, Molly gives you a nod, shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She’d vanished when Abigail had started delegating tasks to unpack and gather as much food and medicine as possible. Part of you is bitter, but the stiffness in your fingers and the ache in your shoulders makes you wish you’d done the same.

“Arthur and Dutch should be back with the boys soon,” Hosea says.

“Hopefully,” You reply. 

Molly casts a dark look at you.

“They’ll be okay,” Hosea chimes, trying to defuse an argument you’re too tired to have before it even starts. 

You don’t respond, instead wandering from the living area to the bedroom on the right, clicking the door closed behind you. It’s cooler in there and a single bed for the both of you isn’t ideal, but you’ve shared worse. Placing your lantern on the dresser to give the room enough light, you get ready to go to sleep.

Your coat, shoes and scarf are the only pieces of clothing you manage to get off before crawling under the covers. You’re exhausted on all fronts, emotionally and physically. Nonetheless, drifting off is harder than anticipated.

The creaks and whistles of the wooden walls aren’t the only things keeping you up. The boys are plotting a spot for Davey in a nearby graveyard, Mac probably won’t be making a comeback and you had hammered down Jenny’s tombstone yourself. The idea of Arthur being the next person you bury chases sleep away like a sick game of cat and mouse.

The commotion outside gets louder and you think the weather is worsening, until you hear voices and footsteps in the next room. You don’t have enough time to get out of bed to greet them, because the door swings open suddenly and a backlit figure enters. Your own lantern’s flame has long gone out, so you squint at the intruding light for a moment, before the hat and bulk gives him away.

“Arthur.” Your voice is a sigh of relief.

He gently closes the door behind him and makes his way further into the room, placing his lit lantern next to yours, followed by his satchel and hat.

“There you are,” He says, “Thought you’d run off on me when you weren’t with Abigail.”

“No,” You reply, “‘Waiting ‘til we get out of the snow to do that.”

Arthur chuckles, leaning down and placing a kiss on your temple. You don’t let him get far, sitting up to meet him in the middle for a real kiss, cradling his jaw for good measure.

“Miss me, huh?” He teases when you finally let him go.

“Thought you were dead,” You say quietly.

Arthur shakes his head, “Wouldn’t do that to you.”

He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed by your thigh and starts undoing his boots.

“Go back to sleep,” He says, “‘Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘Wasn’t sleeping much,” You reply honestly, shuffling to sit up. “Everything go okay?”

“Found Micah.”

"Thank God." Your indignation is vivid in your tone. 

Arthur smiles to himself, before continuing, “No John though.”

“Abigail can’t be pleased.”

“He’ll turn up,” Arthur says, “Always does.”

You nod. John’s dumb luck was uncanny like that. Arthur’s not so much.

“Found a girl too,” He adds. “A woman. House was overrun by O'Driscolls, killed her husband.”

“Shit.” You make a note to check in on that situation in the morning.

After lugging his coat off, Arthur turns and places a kiss on your cheekbone, hand on your chin. He holds you like that for a second, chilled face against your warm one.

“You’re freezing,” You say.

“I’ll be alright,” He reassures you, his drawl rumbling through you, “‘Gonna go sit by the fire for a bit.”

You shake your head. “Come here.”

Getting out from under the covers and hiking up your skirt, you manoeuvre your way into his lap. Arthur doesn’t love having you pressed up against his cold, damp self, but he’s under no impression that he could ever deny you anything, instead he loops his arms around your hips and rests his face in your neck. You notice a tinge of blood in his hair that makes you hold him tighter.

You pull back after another moment and lean down. Noses bumping, you meld into an eager kiss. His beard is a welcome sensation against your skin, as is your hot mouth against his cool lips. You’re forced to shuffle forward to get a better angle, using his hair as a grip. In response, Arthur moans into your lips and you nearly laugh.

He breaks away to look at you. “Shut up, you, it’s been a while.”

“It’s been four days,” You tease.

He goes to say something, but you stop him with another kiss which he happily reciprocates. Hooking an arm around his shoulders, you roll your hips into his. It’s tricky with your skirts bunched between the two of you, but Arthur manages to find your ass, giving you a firm squeeze in encouragement, making you squeal into his mouth. Not a minute of dry humping later, you’re growing tired of the layers between the two of you. Grasping through the flurry of material, your fingers expertly undo his belt.

“I have a more efficient and entertaining way of warming you up.”

He pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Shy now, huh?” You hum, palming him through his pants. “‘The cold having other effects on you, Morgan?”

“I’m just fine, darlin’,” He says, “If I knew a snowstorm was going to have you like this, I would’ve taken you into the mountains ages ago.”

“Shut up,” You purr, “And take off your clothes.”

“Yes, maim,” He teases, giving your thigh a playful tap as you carefully untangle yourself from him.

Arthur doesn't need further prompting as he diligently starts unbuttoning his shirt before you’re even standing upright. You take to undoing your own top, then dropping your skirt to the ground. Arthur is kicking his pants off his ankles and is down to his last layer, his union suit, when he gets a good look at you. He’s just in time to catch you reaching under your own final layer and pulling your drawers off, his eyes track after them as you make a show of dropping them to the floor, leaving you in nothing but a wispy underdress.

You step between his legs and thread your fingers back into his hair. He runs a hand up your thigh, fingers catching in the delicate material of your dress, looking you over with a soft gaze.

He’s got that look again, like he can’t quite believe you’re there and that you’re his. “You’re beautiful.”

You hook a finger under his chin and lean down to peck him on the crown of his head. “So are you.”

He smiles as if he doesn’t quite believe that either, but you don’t let him dwell on it.

Prodding at his red union suit, you tell him, “Take this off too.”

He makes quick work of getting completely naked, eyes barely leaving yours as he does. Your plan to give him a hand job and be done with it flies out the window on seeing him in all his glory. Broad shoulders, light eyes and firm muscle have you wanting to draw this out. It’s not like this was truly about getting him warm in the first place. His cock is halfway hard, pink and leaking against his thigh, and you desperately want it between your legs.

You give him another kiss, before nudging him back slightly and kneeling between his legs.

“Keep it down, Morgan,” You warn.

Arthur hums in reply and falls back onto his elbows easily, eyes not leaving your face.

You start slowly but suddenly, leaning forward with a hand on his inner thigh to place a few open-mouthed kisses on his shaft, which Arthur responds enthusiastically to. Next, kitten licks on his tip, and then barely-there stripes from top to bottom. Arthur huffs and sighs as you work him up to your satisfaction.

“Can you get on your back properly please?” You politely ask.

Arthur shuffles diagonally and you guide his hips to the edge of the bed, an odd angle on a single bed, but it gives you infinitely better access to him. He’s completely hard now, cock heavy and flushed. Bracing one arm against his hip, you curl your fingers around his base and take the other half of him in your mouth. Arthur groans and tangles his hands in the blankets as you start bobbing.

His noises and the sight of how badly he wants you has you wet enough to slip a finger into your cunt with ease. You scissor yourself open in anticipation, moaning around his tip, your other hand stroking his cock in place.

The sound of you getting him as slick and messy as possible echoes through the room in symphony with his deep grunts. You receive a particularly colourful remark when you gag on him, your eyes watering as you do. It’s a few more minutes before you slow down, a good call as Arthur is struggling to keep his noises muffled. You pull your mouth off of him and your hand out from between your thighs, an achy hollowness replacing your fingers.

Arthur blinks at you as you stand. “Do you want me to—” He motions vaguely to your lower half.

“Forget it,” You say, bending over to him and stealing a kiss, “Just want your cock in me.”

“Christ, woman,” He says, but doesn’t resist as you coax him into a more comfortable position on his back.

You slink your dress over your head and onto the floor, closely followed by your bra. Arthur’s eyes track over you, taking in every inch of skin you have to offer, but his attention darts to your cunt when you throw a leg over his hips to straddle him. His hands instinctively go to your ass, keeping you balanced until your hand finds the wall and your other finds his cock, wet with precum and your mouth.

He hisses when you sweep his tip against your folds. You take your time, buttering him up, hips moving leniently as you tease his tip, over your folds, then in them for a second, then back out. His hold on your ass gets stronger the more you tease his cock, which is getting an angrier red the longer you go on.

Eventually, you let his cock slap back against his stomach and get comfortable, brushing off his grasp and planting your hands in the middle of his chest. Lowering yourself until your folds rest on the underside of his shaft, Arthur's jaw drops in a crude breath and his hips buck forward helplessly. You can’t keep your eyes off him, but he misses it, his eyes glued to the ceiling as you skim your hips back and forth, cunt catching on every vein and ridge of his cock with every stroke.

Arthur starts repeating your name like a prayer and that does it for you. The wetness between the two of you is more than enough and you don’t think you can hold out on sinking down onto his cock much longer.

You reach down and get his cock into an upright position and don’t hesitate to take him until there’s nothing left to take. It’s a pleasant stretch, the type of pain you’ve grown to chase, which is a good thing with a man of Arthur’s size. Arthur lets out a loud, cursed moan, hands moving from where they’re fisted in the sheets to guiding your waist.

“Hush, Morgan,” You remind him, your own voice a little wrecked.

You start with a deep but slow pace, cunt dragging up and down his cock, supporting yourself with a hand on either side of Arthur’s head.

Managing your volume is a skill you had learned quickly when you joined the gang, the near constant close proximity to others making it a necessity. However, the bed is squeaking horrifically with every jolt and the sound of slapping skin is a dead giveaway.

Not to mention, Arthur isn’t faring well, your tits are in his with every thrust and his hands are restlessly moving from your back to your waist to your hips to your ass. His touch is light as he lets you take what you want from him, but his groans are growing erratic.

You’re too aware that Molly’s a screamer, and, after a few drinks, Dutch is a little too forthcoming with his afflictions, so you can live with them hearing this. But, the look Hosea would give you is something you can’t stomach. 

Arthur lets out a particularly guttural moan, followed by a confused one when you slow to pause and snatch the scarf from the bedside table.

“Open,” You command.

Arthur blinks up at you.

“Sorry, honey, but you’re going to wake the whole place up if we don’t,” You say.

A blush flares across his face, but he opens his lips, letting you place the material in his mouth.

“Okay?” You ask.

Arthur nods, gagged and eyes bleary. You commit the image to memory.

Leaning in close and placing a peck on his nose, you waste no time getting back to business, forearms resting either side of his head and hips going at a faster pace this time.

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You whisper, lips grazing his ear, “Having everyone hear us fucking. ‘Want to let Micah know how good you are for me, huh?”

Using his distaste towards Micah is dirty, but you’re not sure how much more you two will be able to get away with before someone hears, if they haven’t already. It’s an effective taunt too as Arthur’s breathing gets sharper and his thighs noticeably tremble under you.

You grab one of his hands from your ass and slide it around to your chest. He knows what you like and starts switching between cupping your breasts and pinching at your nipples, an acute pain that goes straight to your cunt. Knowing your close, you move one arm to rub at your clit, careful to keep steady.

Your climax is messy, underestimating both how soon and how powerful it would be, you mistime biting down on something and instead gasp and whine loudly.

The bed frame cries in protest as your bounces get fitful, but, at this point, if anyone’s awake, they know what’s happening, and you’re over it.

You tug the scarf from Arthur’s mouth and kiss him feverishly, something that tends to get him off quicker as you’ve come to learn. His hands abandon your ass to go to your shoulders, bringing you closer. Without him supporting your sides and in light of your recent orgasm, your thrusts turn sloppy, quick and shallow, his favourite.

Arthur hastily leaves the kiss. “I’m—”

He’s thrusting up into you and you know he's about to cum. “Hold on.”

You pull off his cock, receiving a groan in response. Your hand wraps around him, replacing your cunt as quickly as it had left. You jack him off until he’s back on the edge. His moans are open-mouthed and sharp and you cover his mouth with your other hand to muffle him, but hot, shallow whines continue to escape his nose. You mouth and nip at his jawline, stroking his cock between the two of you.

“Go on,” You say, your voice little more than a low, broken whine.

Like clockwork, cum splatters across your stomachs. A long groan vibrates through your palm, loud enough to be suspicious. You’re too captivated by his features in ecstasy to really acre. You milk him for all he’s got, some of his cum shooting higher and drooling into his chest hair. You don’t break eye contact or stop fondling him until he’s completely slack.

His eyes are worn and dewy, fingers tracing patterns on your thigh as he comes down as you mop the cum off the two of you with your ruined scarf.

“You’re amazing,” Arthur says, voice gruffer than usual.

“Are you sweet on me, Morgan?” You ask as you drop the cum-drenched scarf to the floor.

He grabs your waist, tugging you in for a kiss that’s too tender for what just happened. “Go to sleep, woman.”

You just smile and get under the blankets beside him. He scoops you closer, strong arms encasing you against his chest. His chin rests on top of your head and his heartbeat is clear as a bell under your ear.

You both drift off warm and easy after that, thoughts of survival not returning until daylight.

[squidproquoclarice]

All right, continuing with this Ask: I apologize if you've covered this already, but I just started reading Sunrise and I was wondering about your interpretation of Javier and Bill. Arthur REALLY soured hard on Javier even though they were good friends in the beginning--he can even be heard saying they should have left him to die in Guarma. I don't think RDR2 even really explains how Javier split up with Dutch, let alone the pathetic state he ends up in RDR1. Part 2: Javier I think Javier kind of got done dirty by RDR1.  I’ll say that up front.  The predestination of him being one of John’s RDR1 targets very much forced his char’s arc in RDR2, which kind of sucks, because given the man we see in-game, it could easily have gone the other way. I’ve remarked in the past that Arthur and Javier seem to be a tragedy of two similar men on parallel but opposite courses.  They’re both artists and dreamers who care about people, are intensely loyal to those they love, and are deeply insecure about their place (Arthur due to a history of abuse, Javier due to being an immigrant and POC).  Arthur starts as an unquestioning hyperloyal thug who hates himself and ends up finishing RDR2 as an idealist with strong principles and openly expressed compassion.  Javier starts as an idealist with strong principles and openly expressed compassion and ends up in RDR1 as an unquestioning hyperloyal thug who hates himself. We see Javier was a revolutionary who wanted so much to change things in Mexico.  (Side note: Sadie and Arthur aren’t seeing the worst of things in Mexico in Sunrise to this point, but some of that’s because they’re largely transient when they’re riding through the villages and estates where more absolute power is being exercised, and they’re also white Americans.  They’re experiencing Mexico with some privilege, and don’t get as much access to viewing the cruelest realities as someone like Javier who grew up in that system.  I’ve tried to still pepper hints here and there that things are a bit fucked up.)  He came to America running from the law for effectively speaking up and fighting back, and Dutch found him and took him in.  For a non-white, non-English speaking man on the verge of starving by that point, that act of kindness, of being seen and implying he has value, meant everything.  And so like so many others, he gives Dutch his gratitude, his loyalty, and his worship. He’s a quiet, thoughtful man who tries to make the camp better with his music and the like.  He’s openly philosophical in a way Arthur is only in the pages of his journal.  But when it comes to Chapter 6, he proves he’s afraid to lose the man who made him feel more than worthless.  He sticks with Dutch rather than face the uncertainty of what lies beyond the gang’s schism.  He embraces Micah and Bill because that’s what it takes.  He does it because he knows Dutch.  He knows Dutch will keep him around.  Otherwise, what is he?  A Mexican man in a country that clearly doesn’t want him.  Even at the very end, though, he’s still hesitant to try to attack John and Arthur, and I honestly think he’s not 100% sure what the hell is going on.  He missed the exposure of Micah as the rat, and Micah’s shooting Susan--all Javier knows is he ran into camp to warn about a Pinkerton attack approaching, and everyone’s pointing guns at each other, and demanding he pick a side.  He makes his choice and in his fear, picks loyalty over principles. Arthur early on is very friendly with Javier, which makes sense given they have a lot in common, even if most of that’s hidden in Arthur.  But they click readily as friends and brothers.  But by Chapter 6 they’re clashing, because that “parallel but opposite paths” thing is coming into play.  Arthur has the drive of a man with a possibly fatal illness striving with everything within him to accomplish his goals.  He’s also got the fervor of a man recently awakened to his principles and hating who he was.  So yeah, he’s impatient with blind followers and people who still willingly choose to follow Dutch down this road of destruction.  If he’d had more time, maybe he could have been gentler about those facing his same crossroads, but he doesn’t.  So he’s critical towards Javier, to the point of viciousness, and it’s not pretty.  He sees Javier making his choice, the wrong choice, and putting himself into opposition of Arthur’s goals.  He literally doesn’t have time for this shit anymore.   And I think unlike Bill, Arthur genuinely expected and hoped for better from Javier, the dreamer and idealist, so in his pained disappointment, he’s lashing out at Javier in anger, to the point of saying pretty lousy things like how they should have left him to die on Guarma.  If he had the space and energy left to think about that, he’d likely be appalled to realize he’s engaging in another Dutch-ism: you’re not helping me accomplish what I need, so yeah, I’d be willing to abandon you to die.  But when it comes to the gang, he has to shut out everything but the will and determination to help save those who want to escape this hellhole. It’s an interesting contradiction that while he’s at his softest with many people in Chapter 6, he’s his most ruthlessly dismissive towards others.  Though even at the end, he’s pleading with Javier and Bill to think for themselves, one last time. Post-game, I think Javier realized soon enough what he’s done.  He’s with Dutch, yes.  But look who else Dutch chose in the end.  Micah and Bill, who have both abused him with racist remarks, who think the answer to everything is to shoot it?  Is this who he really is?  He’s sold his principles for nothing. So I don’t think he goes with Bill and Dutch.  I have him wandering Central and South America for a time, but he finds no answers there, and nowhere he belongs that would help set the balance within him right.  Sometime before 1911, he ends up in Mexico, and drifts into the role of the strongarm for Agustin Allende, the kind of man he used to despise and fight against.  A man who abuses people, abuses power.  But he deserves no better than this now, does he?  He made his choice. In 1911, John finds him.  And as opposed to Bill, who shoots John readily, it’s interesting that Javier never tries to fight him.  He’s been working as a hitman, a level the Van Der Lindes never sank to (given both Dutch and Arthur clearly state to Bronte and Jean-Marc respectively that they’re not paid killers.)  So he’s a man of ready violence.  But he quietly tries to talk John down first.  Then he tries to escape.  Never once reaches for his gun.   He only gets angry if John captures him alive, and then starts spitting some insults after being dumped in a jail cell.  I honestly think he was hoping John would kill him, because he’s had to live knowing what a huge mistake he made, and what it cost him.  John’s made it clear it’s a mercenary situation, and he’s desperate to save Abigail and Jack: “it’s your or me, and I figure it might as well be you.”  Javier can maybe even accept that.  But John doesn’t even think he’s worth killing anymore, and how much of a “fuck you” is that?  He’s got Sadie’s deathwish, but hers makes her reckless, whereas I think Javier’s just makes him empty.  

[reddeadinmybed]

Doubts & Anticipations (M)

The road was quiet. All that could be heard was the crickets around us – which masked the sound of my breathing – and my horse‘s (Boadecia - my thoroughbred) hoofs making contact with the ground.

I had named my horse Boadecia because that was the name of Arthur’s old horse. He said he loved that horse and that they had a special bond. I couldn’t help but feel like I had a special bond with my horse so I named it Boadecia, in memory of that horse.

I wasn’t around when Arthur had Boadecia so I never met that horse. He likes to talk about her when we are both just sitting by the campfire, or in our tent. Arthur didn’t like to talk about his past much but Boadecia, he would talk about her any day.

I breathe in the fresh air and smile. This is living. Freedom. The ability to get on your horse and just ride. I have never been the girl to stay at home and cook for her husband and three children. I know that’s what Abigail wants but I just couldn’t live like that. I needed freedom, Arthur was my freedom.

It’s not strange to me that he once was in love with another girl. A girl named Mary. I had heard about her from Hosea. He had given me the details about her when Arthur and I had just started to show our feelings publicly. Hosea warned me that there could be even the slightest possibility that Mary would come back and...I can’t even bear to say it. That she would try and make Arthur change.

The thought of Arthur being a boy who isn’t free makes me want to be sick. Arthur is practically Dutch’s son, why would he leave them? Why would Mary even come back?

Not only that but I had felt a bit scared that Arthur would just pack up his things and go after this Mary girl. She was his first love and my Mamma used to tell me that it was always hard to fall out of love when they’re your first. That’s why my Mamma used to tell me to try your hardest to stay with your first love.

Arthur was almost my first everything. My first friend. My first boyfriend. Even the first to take my virginity.

There is one thing for certain, Arthur is two-sided. On one side he was the fluffy boy who was the most awkward person to ever live and then there was his other side; a complete badass. I found that this side was the side he showed when on “official business” as he likes to call it. This side of Arthur sure knows how to use his hands, I mean he knows how to work his gun so it was only natural.

The way that Arthur makes me feel, it’s indescribable. What he can do with those hands, he brings me to my knees. He’s so gorgeous and I’m so in love with him.

I had received a letter from Mary. She had asked to meet me in Valentine. Well a little outside Valentine in this house at the back. I remember telling the camp that I would be back soon and that it shouldn’t take a day at the least.

Then I had started my journey. When I approached the door, it had opened slightly and a gun was pointed in my face. This had surprised me, I had not expected to come face to face with a gun. I had asked for Mary and soon after I had finally seen her face.

She was gorgeous. I knew in that instant that any man would feel lucky to have a girl as beautiful as her. It was no wonder Arthur would come running back to her. Hell, if I was a man I would go running back to her. All this had me feeling self-conscious. She was beautiful and I was...me. I wouldn’t have no man come running after me because of how I looked.

When she saw me, her face distorted. She had the look of disdain on her face. Her eyes travelled from my face all the way down to my toes. Our attire was completely different. She was wearing a – no doubt expensive – dress and I was wearing black pants with a red button-up shirt (to which I always kept a few buttons undone in the cleavage area – just for Arthur) and my boots. I had my holsters on and a black cowboy (or in my sense, cowgirl) hat on. I had let my hair be free, the H/C (hair colour) waving gently in the wind.

“You must be Miss L/N.” She kept her voice brief but sharp. It had appeared as if she didn’t want to see me at all. So why did she write the letter to ask to go see me?

“That I am.” I had replied with. It had appeared this was a waste of time. I could have been at the campfire with Arthur and the rest of the gang but instead, I was here looking at Arthur’s first love which looked at me as if she hated me.

“Well I can see why Arthur chose you, you definitely wouldn’t change.” That irked me. She assumed that I wouldn’t change. Arthur and I had this discussion already. We discussed that when the time is right, we will eventually get married and have children. We wouldn’t leave the gang, the children would grow up in it. They were like family, we couldn’t ditch them.

The whole conversation didn’t go down well. Mary and I ended up having a fight about Arthur. Mary called Arthur a few names (to which she said “it’s because of you, you’ve brainwashed him”) and me a few names. Then she said this one thing that really got to me.

“He might have been you first but remember I was his first. There is no beating that.”

I had left her shortly after and didn’t bother coming back to camp. I didn’t want to go back for the first time. I couldn’t bear to see Arthur knowing that what she said was right. I wasn’t a first for Arthur. Everything that I have with Arthur, I wasn’t his first. She took everything.

I had camped out for around two days before I had finally decided to come back. I had realised that I was running from my problem which was causing the gang to suffer. The gang didn’t deserve me running from them, neither did Arthur. Mary had so easily run after realising the dangers of our way of living. Why would I do the same? It took me a while to realise that I was the first to stay with him, the first not to run away from him.

Now here I am, near the entrance of our camp. I was excited but mostly nervous to see Arthur again. What would he do? Would he be mad at me? I promised him I would not take a day but instead, I took a whole two days. What would he think?

“Who goes there?!” Bill shouted out and I let a small grin escape my lips. I had missed the sound of Bill’s paranoia when on guard duty. He sounded very paranoid that anything could happen. He was probably drunk as a skunk. Don’t know why he’s on guard duty.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I called out to Bill. In the dark, I could still see the surprised look that clouded Bill’s face. Was it really a shock for me to be gone that long?

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” I rolled my eyes at him and carried on walking towards the hitching post.

When near, I hitched Boadecia and gave him a few carrots. Boadecia loved carrots. He didn’t like anything else. I also gave him a brush, getting all the dirt off of everything.

Kieron will clean my saddle tomorrow hopefully. I mean, it is his job after all. People always give him shit for being an O’Driscoll, it was funny sometimes but most of the time I felt sorry for the poor sod. Arthur still gives him shit here and there but I usually smack him after causing him to mutter an incoherent apology.

Speaking of Arthur, where is he?

Two arms snaked around my waist and pulled me back towards its chest. The action shocked me, causing me to drop the brush. I then felt someone’s breathing on my neck, as their face got closer to it. The person then kissed my neck and brought their mouth up to my ear.

“I missed you darlin’, why were you gone for so long?” It was Arthur. I knew it was him all along but it was clear now.

“I-I had some business to discuss.” I stuttered and Arthur chuckled. I could feel the chuckle resonate through his chest as his chest rose up and down.

I turned around in his grip and leant my head forward, to kiss him. It was only then that I saw Pearson had laid out food for us all. It looked appetising and I was very hungry.

My stomach rumbled and Arthur looked at me with his eyebrow raised.

“Somebody’s hungry.” He said and I looked down on the floor, a blush apparent on my cheeks. He chuckled once again and pulled away, grabbing my hand and leading me to Pearson’s pot. He grabbed a bowl for himself and me before we walked towards the table and sat down.

It was quiet for a moment and all I could think about was telling him why I was gone. He deserves to know that I met with Mary. He deserves to know what happened.

“Arthur,” I called out to him. He looked up from his plate and shyly looked at me. God, he was gorgeous.

”Yes Y/N?” He scooped some stew on his spoon and brought it to his mouth where he ate the food. I gulped, this was harder than I thought it would be.

“When I left two days ago, I met up with Mary.” I blurted out. I watched all the colour drain from Arthur’s face. His shoulders became tense and he dropped his spoon into his bowl. He looked up at me and I have never seen him so uncomfortable in my life.

Maybe telling him was a bad idea.

“You...what?” He asked and I almost didn’t want to reply. Why was I so scared?

“I...met up with Mar–”

“I know what you said.” Arthur cut me off and I placed my hands between my lap. I fiddled with my fingers, trying not to look at Arthur.

Time went by slowly and he sighed.

“We’ll talk about it later, keep eating your food.” It was then over, Arthur had literally skulled his food down. I didn’t touch my food, my appetite had completely dissolved. I was stuck in my own thoughts, I didn’t even realise that Arthur had stood up and had been holding his hand out for me to grab. 

I hesitantly lifted my hand up to gently place mine into his rough hands. He then helped me out of my chair and walked us to the campfire where everyone was sitting at. Micah wasn’t to be seen but that wasn’t a surprise. I had always gotten a weird feeling from him. I feel as if he’d snitch the first chance he could. Dutch wasn’t at the campfire either, he was in his tent with Molly O’Shea. They were probably talking, Molly loves to tell me everything they talk about - which might I say is completely boring. 

Arthur sat down on a chair and pulled me down on his lap. He was tense and it made me feel awkward. I understand that me meeting his first love must make him feel tense, I just need to tell him what I really feel. I need him to know what Mary had said and I need him to know that I feel self-conscious. 

For the rest of the night, Arthur and I had not said much. We made a few comments in the gang's conversation here and there but that was it. Even though Arthur was being tense, he was still really clingy. Everywhere I went, he followed with either his arm around my waist or with his hand intertwined with mine. I appreciated his clinginess but I still desperately needed to tell him how I felt. 

Eventually, it was time for Arthur and me to go to our tent. I was sweating profusely and I was fidgety. Arthur noticed this and wrapped me in an embrace. He must have had a bath because I could smell the soap on him. The closest bath was Valentine and I’m surprised he didn’t run into me within those two days I was gone, I was still in Valentine. I couldn’t completely run from the gang’s hideout. 

“What is it darlin’?” Arthur asked, his head still resting in the nape of my neck and shoulder. Every now and then, I could hear him breathing in my scent. I probably smelt like smoke, I was in front of the fire and almost completely blocking Arthur from the smoke. I was like a shield to him, causing me to be the bad smelling victim, not Arthur. 

“I need to talk to you about why I met with Mary.” I started off. Arthur pulled away slowly and looked me in the eyes. I could tell he was uncomfortable with the idea of his current girlfriend meeting his ex-girlfriend. I completely understood that. 

“Okay.” Was all he said. He sat down on the bed and looked up at me. 

I nodded and sighed. It was now or never Y/N. 

“She sent me a letter. She had asked me to meet up with her outside of Valentine. That was why I left. I didn’t expect to leave for a whole two days, I thought that this was going to be quick.” I paused to look at Arthur. He had his hands in his lap and his hat was off, placed on the bedside. 

“When I met her, she treated me disdainfully. When I met her, I felt self-conscious. She was absolutely gorgeous and I’m just me. There was one thing that she had said and that was why I had not come back for the two days.” Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed and he wiped his hands on his pants. I could tell this was hard for him. 

“She had told me that...that you might have been my first but she will always be your first and that had me feeling really unsure of myself. I felt unworthy of having you, I felt as if I didn’t deserve you.” I felt the tears coming up and I hated. I had never been one to cry, it made you look weak and Dutch didn’t like us being weak. He wanted a strong gang that could handle even the toughest times. 

Arthur stood up and his hand came up to cup my cheek. He guided my head up so I could make eye contact with him. He had gentle eyes and he moved his head so that we were almost kissing. 

“Listen to me girl, I will always love you. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. Don’t ever feel like that, you hear me?” He asked and I nodded, wanting to look away from him. I still felt self-conscious. 

He wasn’t having it because he made me look at him again and this time, his lips crashed onto mine. His lips moved against mine, moving in sync with my lips. His lips were rough but at the same time soft as they moved along with mine. I could never get enough of Arthur’s kissing. It had me addicted and I know I could kiss his lips forever. 

He pulled away, panting only a little. “Let me show you how much I love you.” 

I gave a little nod of my head before his lips were back on mine. The kiss was somewhat gentle and it almost made me dizzy. Those lips of his would be the death of me. His tongue swiped along my bottom lip, begging for entry. I graciously allowed him entrance, opening my mouth enough for his tongue to explore.

The kiss deepened and I didn’t even try to dominate the kiss, there was no point. Arthur was always the dominant one in the relationship. I just obey everything he tells me to do. 

Arthur’s hand gripped my hips and he turned us so that I was facing near the bed. He then moved us forward so that my legs hit the bed, causing me to fall onto the bed. Arthur stayed standing. He grabbed both of the overall’s on his shoulders and pulled them down. He then proceeded to unbutton his shirt. I just laid there and watched him. When his shirt was completely unbuttoned, he took it off and looked at me with a smouldering gaze. 

He was so good looking, I was so lucky to have him.

Arthur’s hands trailed down to his boots. He somehow managed to take them off with lightning speed and had managed to unbutton his pants along with pulling the zip down. All he had to do was pull those pants down and he was fully exposed while I was fully dressed. 

Finding it unfair, I had decided to unbutton my shirt. I had lent forward to completely take the shirt off. Arthur helped me, taking off my boots. He then leant over me, both of his hands on either side of my head. I could tell he didn’t want to put his weight on me and I appreciated that but we were not close enough. 

Arthur’s had managed to unbutton my pants and undo the zipper whilst I was distracted looking at his beauty. He then pulled them down, leaving me only in my underwear. I grabbed his face, making him look at me before pressing my lips against his. Arthur liked my bold move and continued to kiss me back. Becoming lazy, Arthur rested on his arms, causing him to be lowered. Making it easier to kiss. 

Arthur’s right hand travelled down my neck to the valley of my breasts. He growled when feeling the cloth in between my skin and his hands. He grabbed my waist, pulling me up. He then moved his other hand to grip the clasp of my bra, ripping it off. No doubt breaking my bra. He pulled the bra off and broke the kiss to look at the now exposed flesh. 

His eyes showed admiration and I felt my cheeks heating up. I had never felt so flustered around a man before. 

His hands came down to rub my nipples gently. His thumb flicked over the right one, a gasp protruding from my mouth. He looked up at me with a small smile on his face. His head went into the crevice between my neck and shoulder. His lips made contact, kissing here and there. His lips then travelled down to my collarbones. He sucked for a few minutes before moving back down to my left breast. He sucked on my nipple causing me to throw my head back in pleasure. Arthur flicked from left to right, rotating three more times before getting bored. 

He moved down my body, his lips coming in contact with my belly and slowly gliding down. His finger hooked in my panties and ever so slowly, pulled them down. He looked up at me and gave a light kiss to my belly, his hands holding my hips so I was restricted with movement. 

“I love you so much Y/N.” He whispered and I shuddered. 

When my panties were finally off, he lowered his head. 

He licked up my slit, a moan slipping from my lips. His tongue met up with my clit causing my hands to automatically grab his hair, pushing his head closer to where I needed him most. Arthur’s hands were still gripping my hips and still restricted me from bucking into his mouth. My legs wrapped around his head. 

Arthur rotated his tongue against my clit and I bit my lip to hold my moans back. Arthur didn’t seem to like that as he growled and brought his right hand down only to insert his pointer and middle finger in my pussy. A load moan managed to escape and I gripped Arthur’s hair even tighter. Arthur’s tongue continued the ministrations on my clit and the same with his hands. 

A tightening formed in my abdomen and I knew I was getting close. Arthur sensed this too and completely pulled back, causing me to whine at the loss of pleasure and contact. 

“Sorry darlin’, I can’t wait any longer.” Arthur’s hand trailed down to his pants and pulled them down, exposing me to his pulsating cock. It was hard and ready and I was beginning to be impatient. I wriggled in his grip but it only seemed to get tighter. 

Eventually, he lined his cock up with my entrance. He looked at me as if waiting for my permission to get what I’ve been almost begging for. I nodded and he gave me a little smirk before thrusting in slightly. 

His girth had caused my walls to stretch but it made the pleasure increase. As he continued to slide in deeper, I felt fuller than ever. When Arthur’s cock was fully inside of me, he waited until I gave the signal to go ahead. His cock inside me had my stomach tingling. 

I arched my back forward, letting Arthur know that I am ready for whatever he was going to give me. Arthur understood and pulled out. I whined at the feeling of being empty. Seconds later Arthur’s cock plunged back into me hard and rough. I moaned loudly as I wrapped my legs around his waist, allowing deeper access. 

Arthur continued thrusting into me, placing all his frustrations into the thrusts. He was being rough and hard but it was still sweet. The pleasure pulsated through my body and I moaned loudly, not giving a fuck who heard me. 

“Yes Arthur, yes, yes, it feels so good baby!” I moaned aloud and he grunted in response. Arthur’s thrusts accelerated and with every thrust, I was being jolted forward. 

Arthur’s hands travelled from my waist to my thigh, picking the left one up and throwing it over his shoulder. The stretch of my legs caused Arthur to have more access, causing me to scream in pleasure. 

“Yes! Yes! Right there, Arthur! Yes, you fuck me so good.” I screamed out. Arthur’s lips kissed my jawline and sucked, definitely making a bruise there the next day. 

A coil in my stomach was forming, along with a tightness and I knew I was close to orgasming. Arthur picked up on this and dragged his hand down my body to my clit. His thumb pressed on it, gyrating it in circles. Jolts of pleasure shot down my abdomen, only causing my moans to increase. 

“Arthur, baby, I’m gonna cum. Yes, keep going baby, I love you so much!” My words were rushed, my panting causing my words to be broken. I was so in love with this man and I was so stupid to doubt myself. 

Arthur’s lips made contact with mine and that was when the coil snapped. My body jolted forward and I broke the kiss to throw my head back as pleasure spread through my whole body. My body shook and I could feel my nails scratching down Arthur’s back, no doubt leaving scratch marks tomorrow. I screamed Arthur’s name making sure the whole camp knew who was making me feel this good. 

Arthur brought my jaw down to kiss me, his thrusts still continuing at the same pace. Arthur’s thrusts helped me ride through my high and eventually I knew Arthur was gonna come. 

Arthur came with a loud groan, his seed spilling in me. Arthur’s thrusts stilled as he dropped every drip he had into me, causing a strange tingling in my body. The mere thought that I could carry Arthur’s baby had me excited. I knew we talked about it, I knew he wasn’t planning just yet but it still excited me. 

When we both came down from our highs, Arthur pulled out and laid down beside me. We were both panting and our chests were rising up and down rapidly. We looked at each other and I could tell he was observing my face. 

I giggled and kissed him on the lips. “I love you so much, Arthur Morgan,” I whispered against his lips. 

He smiled at me, kissing me once again. 

“I love you more Y/N, I always will.” It was then that I realised, I didn’t have to worry at all. As long as I had Arthur and Arthur had me, we could conquer the world. 

Thank you for reading. 

- REDDEADINMYBED

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Winding London Roads

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2955

Summary: Baz wants to ask Simon to move in with him. But he can never make things easy for himself. Based on "obstacle course" request.

Read on AO3

AN: I wasn't sure what "obastacle course" would mean fic wise. I considered doing Simon and Baz in a sort of Indiana Jones-esque scenario, but that ended up getting too long to write considering my school workload and still editing/posting my big bang. I may write it in the future but who tf knows with me. So enjoy this fluff :)

———————————————-

Baz

After all these years, I’ve realised Simon Snow isn’t going to die kissing me. He’s going to die while driving me.

“Aleister Crowley, Snow, watch out!” I yell. Simon just stops before we get hit by a lorry coming in the round about. It lets out a low, long honk at us. Simon glares at me across his shoulder.

“What the fuck Baz?” he snaps. “Don’t scare me like that!”

I glare right back. “Don’t get us hit by a lorry, then I won’t scare you.”

“I wasn’t going to hit it.” I don’t bother to argue. He’s obviously not going to budge.

This is a terrible idea. Absolutely horrendous. Snow has no business being behind the wheel, especially with me in the passenger seat. But he insisted on it. He’s got his learner’s permit and wants to drive as much as possible to learn. Which means he’s stubbornly decided to drive us to Crowley knows where for some sort of date. If we don’t die before then.

Simon pulls into the roundabout (without crashing us into anything, thank Merlin). He goes far too slow though, and we get many angry honks. It sounds like bloody New York City. But we make our way around eventually, Simon almost misses the exit of course.

“Why couldn't you practice driving some other time?” I ask. “Why must you practice in the middle of bloody London?”

“Because I’m taking you somewhere. And it’s a surprise.”

“You could’ve taken me on the tube.”

“Yeah, but I also need to practice driving in London. It’s where I’ll be driving when I have my full license.”

“No one drives in London, love.”

He turns onto a main street, packed to the bloody gills with regular cars and cabbies alike. Simon makes a grand, sweeping gesture over the windshield. “Then what are those, hm?”

He’s looking all smug and shit, and I just roll my eyes. “Idiots who are driving in London, and shall be for another twenty years at the rate we’re moving.”

Simon glares and sticks his tongue out at me, because he is truly a child at heart. I roll my eyes again and cross my arms.

Like I predict, we sit in traffic for quite awhile. I lean back on the headrest with my eyes closed. Simon probably assumes I’m just tired, which I am, but I’m also thinking. Thinking about something that’s been on my mind for quite awhile. But I’m not sure how to bring it up. Well, I know what I want to say. “Hey Snow, I know Bunce is leaving for America soon, and I know we also agreed we needed to have different roommates for awhile, but it’s been five years. So maybe, we could find our own flat.”

But every time I try to do it I lose my nerve. What if he doesn’t really want to stay in London? What if he still doesn’t feel ready to live with me again? What if he simply doesn’t want to? No reason, no explanation, he just doesn’t want to live with me again. All those possibilities fill my brain like a fog and the words die in my throat. I’m still such a coward sometimes.

Finally, we reach an intersection. “I know I don’t know where we’re going, but you should turn here, Snow. Get off the main drag.”

Simon snorts as he turns. “That sounds so American.”

“Blame Bunce’s boyfriend. His Americanisms are infecting me.”

“His name is Micah, and it’s not just you. I caught myself saying ‘fries’ yesterday instead of chips. Soon I’ll be wearing cargo shorts and an American flag tank top.”

“I will break up with you if you do that.”

We get to another intersection, and Simon turns so he can flash an absolutely shit eating grin at me. “I love you, too, Basilton.”

He says it so casually, because it is casual now. I used to keep track of every ‘I love you’ that came from Simon’s mouth, but after a year or so I lost count. Somehow, it became a simple truth that Simon Snow, former Chosen One and current insane motorist, loves me. I know this well. So why was it so damn hard to just ask the wonderful git to move in with me?

“How are the wonder couple?” I ask. “They’ve been so lovey dovey at your place it makes me want to sick up.”

“Like we’re ones to talk,” Snow chuckles, carefully driving down the narrow cobblestone road. “Pen says she’s getting payback for years of accidentally walking in on us.”

“For Crowley’s sake, that was one time.”

“Three times.”

“In five years!”

“She caught us snogging a lot.”

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Hardly a traumatizing event.”

“Yeah, but I bet she’ll be glad to not have to worry about that at all in America.”

He says it easily, just as easily he tells me he loves me. It’s another simple truth; Penelope Bunce is moving to America with her boyfriend, and Simon and I are staying here. There will be an ocean between Simon and his best friend. It was true, but it wasn’t easy.

I reach over and put a hand on his knee, squeezing it lightly. He doesn’t look down, but I don’t mind. We’ve spent lots of quiet tete a tetes talking about his feelings over this. If it’s easier for him not to acknowledge it now, while he’s trying to get onto a particularly busy London street, that’s fine.

“You know, funny thing,” Simon chuckles, still looking for an opening to turn, “Pen actually told me she’s going to miss you.”

My eyes get impossibly wide. We’ve faced down dragons and supervillain clones, but somehow that is the most improbable thing I’ve ever heard. “Seriously? Miss me? She bickers with me constantly.”

“Yeah, because you’re the only one who can keep up with her. She told me she’s going to miss all your smarty pants book talks. But don’t tell her I told you that. She doesn’t want to blow up your ego.”

I snort, but only to cover up my embarrassment. Bunce and I are friends, sure, but the fact that she’s actually going to miss me hits somewhere deep in my gut. Because, well, I will admit, I like our “smarty pants book talk” too. And I’m going to miss having them too.

“Oh Crowley,” I say quietly, the revelation washing over me, “I’m going to miss her too.”

Simon chuckles, sounding unusually smug. “Uh, yeah. You just figured that out?”

I would flick his smug, gorgeous face if he wasn’t driving. So I just roll my eyes. “Fuck off. I’m not good with feelings, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just rare that I know something that you don’t. Let me bask in that for moment.”

“Arsehole.”

“And you love me.”

I squeeze his knee again, holding for a tad longer. I’m still not superb at physical affection but this seems right. “I do, a lot.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” he teases. I love that we can tease each other about it. Because it’s so well established. I love him I want to spend my entire life with him. And first step would be living together. I wish I could just ask him. Maybe if I lead into it...

“So,” I say slowly, “Fiona has met someone.”

Simon perked up, partly from what I said and partly because the light suddenly turns red. The car jerks forward slightly. I knock my knees against the front, but it’s honestly better than getting into a fender bender.

“Oh really? Uh, drummer or travel blogger?” Simon asks, voice still a bit strained probably from our near accident.

I chuckle. “Actually, no. She’s a fellow vampire hunter, the first mage she’s dated in ages. And they’re very serious, I think.”

Simon makes a weird noise as drove ahead. What is going on in that beautiful head of his? “Well, that’s good. I sorta like Fiona by now. She deserves to be happy and all that shite. After all the stuff she went through.”

He’s talking weirdly. It’s not bad or good, just...weird. Like he’s holding himself back maybe. But he also sounds on edge. For someone usually so obvious he was being very closed off right now. “Uh, yeah. They’re good. You’ll probably meet her at the next horrible Grimm-Pitch Christmas dinner.”

“Looking forward to it,” he chirps.

I snort. “Sure you are.” I rub my hand up and down his rough denim. I find the feeling comforting. Well, I find everything involving Simon comforting, really. But this is particularly nice. “But yes, Fiona is very happy. She’s very in love. However, her girlfriend lives far up north.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And she’s pretty attached to the north. So, she’s thinking about...relocating.”

Simon made a sharp turn on to another side street. I’m forced closer to the window, letting me look around at the buildings. Huh, I don’t think I’m familiar with this part of London. Where is he taking me? “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. I know Fiona must really love her to get her to consider moving out of London. But it’s becoming a real possibility. She’s actually thinking of selling her flat.”

He makes another turn so sudden my head nearly bashed into the side. Is he going faster? “That’s really neat,” he says, voice strained.

What’s going on with him? Why is he going so fast? Why is he so nervous? Does it have something to do with Bunce? I hope not. He’s already stressing about that enough, I didn’t think it could get worse. I hold his leg tight. “Simon, love, are you-”

“We’re here!”

The car comes to a sudden, screeching halt. I nearly bash my head into the dashboard and my nails dig into Simon’s thigh. Once I’ve collected myself, I’m concerned about my suspension and tired.

“Snow,” I hiss, “what the fuck? Are you trying to kill me? Are you alright?”

“Sorry, love, sorry. Just almost missed it.”

“Missed what?”

Simon grins, teeth reflecting the light so he really is the sun. “Come out and see.”

Okay, that’s ominous. But he’s smiling so genuinely, and I love him, and I trust him. So despite my natural caution, I step out of my car with him.

“Ta-da!” Simon shouts, arms spread wide like a grand TV presenter. And I’m...confused.

“What is it?” I ask with genuine bewilderment.

Simon frowns almost pathetically. “What do you think it is, arsehole?”

“Uh...” I look around. We’re standing in front of a boxy World War Two era apartment building. It’s alright though. The grey cement isn’t too ugly, and it looks clean. The garden is lovely though. It’s lush with a veritable rainbow of lovely flowers. I know Simon has been getting into gardening. (His therapist told him to find something that made him happy. That turned out to be getting his hands dirty and pretty flowers.)

“The garden?” I say. “It’s very lovely. Yours is nicer though, love.”

Simon rolls his eyes and groans. “No, not the garden.” He shook his arms. “The building, Baz. I’m talking about the building.”

I look it over again. Has Simon taken a new interest in post 1945 architecture? “It’s a nice building, but I think I need some more context.”

“Right, right, sorry.” He steps forward and takes one of my hands in his. I have to stop myself from getting distracted by his warm, calloused fingers. “We’re here at this building because there’s an open flat here, and I think we should look at it. As somewhere we could live. Together.”

My eyes got incredibly, impossibly wide. My dead heart is roaring in my ears. He’s not joking. He’s smiling softly, holding my hand, absolutely nothing but genuine caring. I’m dumbstruck, just standing there looking at him. I can’t believe it.

“You...” I say softly, “you want to move in with me?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, like it’s obvious.

“But, I thought we wanted different roommates...”

Simon looks surprised for a moment, eyes going wide. Then he bursts out in raucous laughter. He throws his head back, curls falling down his neck. I turn beat red and look at the ground.

“Fuck off,” I grumble.

Simon’s hand travels up my arm, stepping closer. I’m immediately comforted by his scent; brown and sweet, mixed with his shea butter shampoo. I would happily die with that smell in my nose.

“I’m sorry,” he cooed. “But Baz, that was five years ago. We were both freshly traumatized and still trying to figure out our relationship. But we’re better now, right?” I nod, because he’s right. We’re not perfect but we’re absolutely better. “Exactly. So since Penny is...going away soon, maybe we can try living together again. If you want to, that is. We don’t have to.”

I start nodding immediately. I don’t need to hesitate anymore, because he absolutely wants this as much as me. “No, I absolutely want to. I’ve, uh, actually been agonizing for ages over how to ask you, but I kept coming up with reasons not to.”

Simon giggles and takes my other hand. “You gotta get out of your own big head sometimes, love. It’s a fucking maze up there.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “I know. But you seem to be able to navigate it. Or at least blow it to bits.”

“That’s my specialty,” he chirps. He tugs me towards the building, ascending one step. The sunlight makes his hair sparkle just like his smile. All my anxieties dull under that grin. Merlin, he’s incredible. “C’mon, let’s go.”

I follow him up the steps, squeezing his hand. “Absolutely.”

We go in, and the building manager takes up to the flat. It’s a nice place. There’s some furnishings, a queen sized bed, and a nice bathroom. Simon runs around looking at every room. He’s mumbling about how we could arrange furniture and where Bunce and Micah could stay when they visit. I ask the manager about money related things like rent and utilities and security deposit. It all seems reasonable enough. Though Simon did say there were other places. We should probably check them out first.

“Baz!” Simon yells. “There’s a balcony!”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Excuse me,” I say to the building manager. He gives me a nod and a smile, a very gracious man.

I walk towards Simon’s voice. Just off the living room, he’s standing on a small balcony, hands holding the railing as he leans out. I would be more worried but his wings are still there even if they’re invisible. (He can’t really fly but he can certainly glide.) I stand next to him, putting an arm across his waist.

“Look at this view!” he says. “You can see half of London from here. Imagine it at night.”

He’s right, it’s gorgeous. The buildings both old and new are spread out before us. I can see Canary Wharf and a few of London’s castles too. There’s a lush green park with a dazzling fountain only a few blocks away. Even the Thames looks pretty from here. I smile and lean against him.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Though we’re going to look at other places too, love.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ve got a list on my phone. And just to be clear, we’re not looking at Fiona’s place.”

What? I look at him with resounding bewilderment. “Why would we look at Fiona’s place?”

Simon looks at me with just as much confusion. “Isn’t that what you were about to say before? Fiona’s moving, so you want us to take her place.” He frowns in some sort of determined annoyance. “But I don’t like it there. It’s too richy rich for me, and I, uh,” his cheeks go a bit red and he looks down at his feet, “sorta want us to get a new flat just for us, y’know? Something new that’s only our’s. I-It’s stupid, I know, I-”

“No no,” I say, pulling him closer, “it’s not stupid. I want somewhere for us too. And for the record, I wasn’t saying we should take Fiona’s place. The rent is insane, it is too richy rich, and the marijuana and nicotine smell have permeated the walls.”

“Yeah, exactly. I wanted to get here to show you to this place before you said something.”

“Hence why you drove like a madman?”

“...yes.”

I chuckle and lean my cheek on his soft hair. “Well, I was actually talking about Fiona to not so subtly bring up that I was going to be without a flat soon, so we should find one for ourselves. Though I did thoroughly enjoy fearing for my life.”

He kicks my ankle. “Fuck off.”

I press a kiss to his temple. “Never. You’d miss me too much.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He puts his arm around my shoulder and presses closer. His warmth is almost infectious. “I’m looking forward to it though. Having our own place. That’s not a dorm room and we don’t avoid each other because we’re y’know, magical mortal enemies and shit.”

Crowley, who allowed this man to be so adorable? It’s criminal. I tilt his head up and kiss him softly. It’s slow, simple, filled with truths; I love Simon Snow, Simon Snow loves me, we both need new places to live, we want to live together again, and it’s going to be fantastic. Part of me is kicking myself for ever being worried. But a bigger part of me wants to keep kissing him. So I do just that, like I want to for the rest of our goddamn lives.

I can’t wait to start this new chapter.

———————————————-

AN: So what was the real obstacle course? London's insane fucking roads, the conversation, or Baz's anxieties? Oooooo so many questions, I'm such a deep writer, ooooo. Jk jk, it's whatever you think it is. This fic is not that deep lol. After writing Black Swan, it was nice to write some simple fluff. It's a bit meandering and weird sure but was fun to write. Hope y'all enjoyed reading it. And thanks to the person who requested :)

I've got like three requests still sitting in my inbox and I'm gonna try to get those done as quickly as possible. Also, reminder, I'm not taking anymore fic requests rn but will most likely open them again in May after exams. School sucks ugh.

If you guys like this, feel free to check out my ongoing Swan Lake AU fic The Black Swan. Thanks for reading, see you guys again soon!

[yeehawsimulator]

A Long Lost Love

Arthur Morgan x F! Reader (5/?)

Part 5 of my long Red Dead Fix-it

You, John, Arthur, Bill & Lenny head out to rob a train

Warnings: Cursing, Violence

Requests for one-shots are always welcome, I’ll write for everyone except Micah

•

You stood up as you heard that Javier and Sadie were back, Dutch walking over to them as well. “It wasn’t him Y/N, he truly didn’t know, Sadie pushed him to the edge and he still denied knowing”

“Shit, that means they know we’re in Valentine. That’ll give us a few days before they find we’re here” You sighed. “Enough time for one big hit, something better and less dangerous than the bank” Dutch spoke, You raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“John told me about a train carrying the rich passengers from Saint Denis, goes through Valentine every friday. If we manage to rob it when it rides through the forest it should be an easy job” “Then how do we make it stop in the forest?” You replied, looking behind you to see Lenny had listened in on the conversation. “We steal an oil wagon, place it on the tracks, driver will have to stop since he’s carrying important passengers.”

“I like your way of thinking Lenny Summers, let’s rest up for the night and head out tomorrow evening. Y/N, you tell Arthur about this, Lenny you tell John that his plan is going through. Five of us should be able to do it” Dutch spoke, but you quickly stopped him. “You showing your face in a train robbery after blackwater, Dutch? I don’t think that’s a good idea” “I guess you’re right-“ “I’ll go!” Sadie interrupted, but Dutch was quick to stop her idea. “No way miss Adler, Bill can join them” He replied before walking back to his tent.

“I’ll tell Bill as well, see you tomorrow Y/N” “‘Night Lenny” You told him, seeing Hosea, Pearson, Uncle and Strauss gathered by the campfire, deciding to join them to listen to their stories. “Oh Y/N, please join us! I was just telling a story about Arthur you haven’t heard yet!” “Is it an embarrassing one? If so, count me in” You chuckled, sitting down on the log next to Uncle.

“So, as I was saying, Dutch and I always used to go fishing together. Arthur never wanted to join ‘cause he always caught the smallest ones, and as you know he sees everything as a competition and hates losing” Hosea spoke, already making you snort. “And one day he comes back with this beautiful, large bass he had caught, Dutch and I obviously amazed at how he managed to catch it. We have a nice night together eating Arthur’s proud catch and head into town the next day. We walk past the shops and suddenly this shopkeeper calls out, ‘Hey you there! Enjoyed the fish I sold you yesterday?’. Oh the look on his face-“ Hosea got interrupted by Arthur softly smacking the back of his head, you and the others too busy laughing. “Can ya stop telling everyone that? It ain’t that funny Hosea” “It is funny” You laughed at him, Arthur quickly protesting, “I was 18!”

~

“You comin’ to bed? I need to tell ya somethin’” You asked as you placed your hand on his knee, Arthur humming in agreement. “Goodnight gentlemen” You told Hosea and the others, wishing you a goodnight back as you and Arthur walked back to your tent.

“Dutch has planned for us to rob a train tomorrow evenin’, he thinks it’s a better option than the bank” You spoke as you took off your jacket, sitting down on your cot as you heard Arthur exhale deeply. “Guess he ain’t comin’ along” “No he ain’t, me, you, Lenny, John and Bill” “Sounds like it’ll have to go alright”

You laid down on your cot and fell asleep soon after, your energy drained over the eventful day. You opened your eyes when you heard a weird noise coming from nearby, sitting upright and closing your eyes to focus on what the hell this sound was. “What in the name of jesus is that?” “The phenomenon we call Uncle, he was magically silent the past few days” Arthur replied, making you laugh as you laid back down.

~

“We got it!” Lenny’s voice sounded, you looking up to see John and him riding an oil wagon towards the secluded spot in the forest you, Arthur and Bill had been waiting in. “Nobody saw you two?” Bill asked as John got off the wagon, Lenny shaking his head. “Good job boys” You told them, circling around the oil wagon to see if it was still intact.

“If we ride towards the forest near Valentine now we should reach it near sundown, will give us time to set this up on the tracks and hide in the treeline” Arthur spoke, the rest of you agreeing.

Bill and Lenny took seats on the driver’s couch on the wagon after you declined their offer, grabbing onto the railing on the side of the wagon so you could hang from the side of it, John and Arthur doing the same.

The ride took a short while, John telling Bill to stop the wagon when they reached the right spot. “Let’s cover up and head to the trees” You spoke, tying a bandana around the lower half of your face before running into the forest, stopping when you noticed Arthur wasn’t following you. “What the hell are you doin’!?” “Makin’ sure this train stops” Arthur replied, climbing up on the wagon as you continued your path to the trees, quickly hiding behind one as you heard the train approach.

“Is he out his mind?” John asked you, you shrugging as you reloaded your gun, “Probably, but it usually does work out in the end” “Usually, yes” John grumbled in response.

The train came to a quick halt when it’s lights illuminated the oil wagon, Arthur jumping off and yelling for the driver to step out, who unfortunately for the feller was dumb enough to point his pistol at Arthur. You sprinted out of the woods and used the back of your rifle to knock the man out, feeling a tinge of guilt coming up, not used to having to attack innocent people. But what had to be done had to be done, the only mentality that will get you through this life.

“Lenny, Y/N, you two go through the passenger cabins and rob their money, Bill you go for the carriage holding their baggage, John you keep and eye out for cops, I’ll head through the entire train to see if we missed something” Arthur spoke, everyone quickly starting with the task they were assigned to.

“You or I do the intimidation work?” You asked as you grabbed the empty bag to hold the money, Lenny laughing at himself before answering, “Bet you’d do a better job than me at that, so after you madam”

Lenny yelled at the passengers to hand over their money, until one rich bastard decided not to comply. “Want me to hurt you dumbass? Your money ain’t worth your life” You spoke, doing your best to sound as threatening as possible. “Fuck off woman, what the hell are you trying to do anyways-“ The man couldn’t finish his sentence as you gave him the same treatment as the driver, only making sure not to knock anyone out.

“You’re wasting my goddamn time! Hand over your fuckin’ money!” You yelled, the man quickly fumbling around his pocket before pulling out a money clip which he threw into the bag Lenny held in his face, making sure to let a racist comment slip out while doing so. You hit him in the head again which did knock him out, spitting on his unconscious body before moving on to the next passengers.

“Guys! We’re in trouble!” John’s voice sounded from outside, Lenny and you quickly running out the cabin to see what was going on, only to see police men coming out the forest, one with his gun pointed directly at Lenny. You quickly pushed him to the floor with you, a bullet hitting the crate behind them. “Holy shit! Thank you” Lenny exclaimed before both of you hid behind the crates, trying to pick off some of the cops.

“John get your ass behind cover!” You yelled, John quickly jumping on to the train car you and Lenny were on. “How the fuck did they find out so quickly?!” John questioned, you shaking your head in confusion. “I-I don’t know, but let’s make sure all of us get out of here alive first” You told him, looking through the carriages to see if you could find Bill and Arthur.

You shot at some more of the men riding towards the train, the flow of police finally seeming to stop. “Let’s haul our asses out of here!” Arthur yelled as he and Bill ran down the side of the train, you and the other two jumping down the carriage.

You whistled for Florence who came running down the mountain, John and Bill’s horses the only other two that showed up. “Arthur c’mon!” You yelled, grabbing onto his hand as he quickly climbed on behind you, Lenny jumping up on John’s horse. “Let’s split up! Meet back at camp!” John yelled, “Sounds good, stay safe all of ya!” You replied, rushing Florence into a gallop as Arthur wrapped an arm around your waist.

[youngerdrgrey]

she just lost it (and we’re left watching) // a queen sugar scene

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so, Micah and Remy are both at the mill opening, both witnesses to the epic Charley Bordelon breakdown of September 2016, and both left waiting for her to return to the main room. + peep it on ao3

psa: Micah is sixteen and going through some shit; he doesn’t speak for me.

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Micah steps up to Remy. He keeps his strides even, and his face as neutral as possible. The reporter’s on the other side of the room, probably pestering his mom into telling more than she wants to, but at least that means the reporter won’t notice Micah and Remy talking and read into it. Remy’s not officially a part of anything. He’s a consultant who sometimes maybe keeps his mom company when she’s lonely. He’s the rebound guy who fits into their story like they’re a bad Nicholas Sparks novel or something. (You know, the ones where the first guy the girl meets after her abusive or awful boyfriend leaves is somehow the next great love of her life. It’s a cliché, not their reality. Remy’s nice and all, but it’s not like Remy’s her forever.)

“Hey.”

Micah should probably feel bad for looking at it all like that, but he’s sort of been trained to think that way. To analyze moments for their worth and their potential, and the main potential that Remy has is a transitional business one. He can help Charley get this mill business on solid ground, and he can help her work through some of her anxieties and doubts that Davis brought back into her life. She’s always been super obsessed with perfection, so she’ll probably think that her feigned lack of perfection led to Davis’ affairs. Like, if she’d only been better at X, Y, and Z, then Davis wouldn’t have ever stepped out on her. Kind of like how sometimes Micah thinks that maybe he could’ve changed his dad’s mind. Like, he could’ve shown his dad how important their family was, or he could’ve helped bring his parents together instead of taking money from his dad when he knew his mom wanted him to earn money and get a job and stuff. But every single show ever that has divorced parents tells the kid that it’s not their fault that the parents get divorced. It’s the parents’ fault. So it’s Davis’ fault for cheating. And maybe his mom could have held on a little longer, but that’s her decision to make. And if she wants to goof around with the consultant, then fine. She can do that.

Remy blinks too many times. “Micah, hey.” His voice comes more out of his head than his chest. “You need something?”

Micah shakes his head. “I was wondering…. Do these kind of things really happen often?” If they do, then Micah can search for ways to mitigate it. How to stop chokes and keep grinding easy so his mom doesn’t ruin her manicure and lose it every time they start up the machines.

Remy’s head sort of teeters from one side to the other. “When there’s a lot of pressure, a lot of cane going in and not a lot coming back out, chokes happen. Just means you need to take the time to work through it.”

So, yes. That’s the answer. Micah can’t keep the edge out of his voice when he asks, “Do you always talk like that?” Remy talks like he’s offering the sagest of advice, but Micah doesn’t need platitudes or quotes for his instagram captions. “Just all full of double meanings?”

“I can be long-winded, yes.” He grins though, like he sees it as a good thing.

"Maybe you’re just used to reading into things.”

“I am in AP classes so,” Micah shrugs when he says it. He’s in lit classes that literally require him to overanalyze everything, and his mom’s one of the most well thought out and practical people he’s ever met, so of course he hears things one way and processes them another. And it’s not even like Remy’s helping with an answer like that. That doesn’t alleviate any tension. That doesn’t suddenly make the fact that this happened okay. If it just happens, then how do they stop it from happening again? Do they grind the cane slower? Do they send some kind of solution through the machines so the mulch doesn’t get stuck? How do they fix it?

Remy turns so he fully faces Micah. “This business doesn’t have a lot of absolutes. Sometimes, chokes happen. We just have to be quick to react.”

His mom was quick to react. She sprinted out of this room without more than a glance around at her guests. She was gone, and by the time Micah could find her and catch up to her, she was practically elbows deep in the grinder. It was like…. When the news came out about his dad, and that stupid video of Davis and Milena in the hotel hallway hit the internet, everybody was looking at them. They picked sides so quick. Either they hated Davis, or they just wanted to watch Charley and Micah process it. And his mom’s way of processing was storming onto the court and pushing his dad around, but Micah? He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t even lowered his phone after watching, so it was still looping on his screen when security dragged his mom, kicking and screaming off the court. And everyone around him seemed to remember he was there at the same time. Their eyes jumping from Davis on the court to Micah, in the middle of a crowd, with no one around to explain him to what the hell was going on. And, yeah, this is different. This time her meltdown’s private. This time nobody else in the world has to know that his mom’s not the strong, amazing person she pretends to be. But he knows. He sees. And what kind of son is he if he doesn’t do anything to help her? Last time, he let her break down and hide out in her room and they missed getting to say goodbye to Grandpa Ernest because he didn’t move quick enough. He didn’t help. So this time, he’s figuring something out, and he’s keeping his mom safe.

Micah sets his jaw. “Cool. We’ll be quick then. Next time.” He rolls his shoulders back and pushes a smile forward. He’s not as good at it as his mom is, so he can feel where his lips crack and strain around his teeth. And his eyes can’t brighten up as fast, and his neck’s probably too tense for it to seem real. But he’s working on it. How to hold himself together so nobody knows that he’s doing it.

Remy seems to notice it. He says, “Micah—“

But Micah doesn’t need more platitudes. “I’m gonna get a refill.” He doesn’t even have a drink in his hand, but he walks away before Remy can question it. And Remy doesn’t follow him either.

On the other side of the room, Charley’s got a better version of that fake smile on. Hers shines. Hers goes deep enough to show off her canine teeth and the hard parts of her eyes serve as reminders for the reporter — she might be refined, but everyone has their breaking points. Everyone’s got something to protect. 

He’s gonna figure out how to help his mom. With or without anybody else’s help. He’s gonna make it right.

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a/n: I’d hoped this would be a good moment for the two of them, but Micah didn’t take from this what I/Remy would’ve liked.

[fool4christusa]

The spirit of Antichrist Pt.1 1 John 4:2-3 (NKJV)                                                          By this you know the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is of God, 3 and every spirit that does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is not of God. And this is the spirit of the Antichrist, which you have heard was coming, and is now already in the world.(emphasis mine) First, let me begin by stating this is not a message on "who" the Antichrist is, or might be? That, is for others with much more spiritual savvy than I possess to elaborate on. This short admonition, is really a simple reminder to anyone who is familiar with the scriptures, of what "spirit" or manner of operation Lucifer uses to carry out his diabolical schemes within and without the church of Jesus Christ in the earth. Yes, you heard me correctly, I did say "within" and without the church. Sadly, much of what Satan does to oppose God and the kingdom of His son, Jesus Christ - goes on right within the confines of the very church that Jesus Christ has established... 2 Co.11:14-15 THE GENERAL BLUEPRINT OF THE DEVIL Gen.3:15  And I will put enmity Between you and the woman, And between your seed and her Seed; He shall bruise your head, And you shall bruise His heel.” Jn.10:10  The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly. Before we examine the "acid test" that the apostle John gives us as a way(though not the only way), of knowing whether a spirit/person is or isn't of God, let us first acknowledge that before Jesus Christ came in the flesh, Satan had already been opposing God on all fronts, both in heaven and earth; and was aware that "Christ", or the "Anointed One/The Messiah" was to come... Rev.12:7-9  Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon. And the dragon and his angels fought back, but he was defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.   Isa.14:12       The exact specifics of how, when, Christ would appear were not clear to Lucifer(though he was aware of the prophecies Jesus would be borne in Bethlehem of Judea - Micah 5:2). One thing is certain - Lucifer wanted to kill Jesus even before He was conceived in Mary's womb. We can thank God that Jesus was able to "finish the works" He was sent to accomplish, and one by one Christ fulfilled every single Old Testament prophecy necessary to secure our deliverance from sin, and our eternal redemption through His shed blood. (though there are still prophecies Christ has yet to fulfill, none are remaining that would prevent anyone from being saved from their sins) 2 Pet.1:3 , Jn.19:30  What was clear however, was that at the predetermined time - God's beloved son, Jesus was born (Gal.4:4) , and this son, Jesus - was coming to save His people, and establish a kingdom without end. (Isa.9:7) From the time of Adam's fall in the garden, up to the time of Jesus birth - Lucifer has been trying to thwart God's plan of redemption for mankind, and even now he is on a ruthless campaign of terror to oppose and stop God's plan for mankind from being fulfilled.  I honestly believe, the Devil thinks he can eventually win if he just doesn't give up... Pride will do that.   Rev.12:9 So the great dragon was cast out, that serpent of old, called the Devil and Satan, who deceives the whole world; he was cast to the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.                                              STOPPING SCRIPTURES FROM BEING "FULFILLED" Lk.24:44  Now He said to them, "These are My words which I spoke to you while I was still with you, that all things which are written about Me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled." (my emphasis) Mt.1:22   Now all this took place to fulfill what was spoken by the Lord through the prophet:                                              see also - Mt.4:14, Lk.21:22, Jn.19:36  The principle of Jesus coming so "scripture would be fulfilled" could not be lost on Satan, so it's easy to see Satan's game is to keep scripture from being fulfilled. Thankfully, we know that is not going to happen; but that isn't stopping the devil from trying. He knows if only one prophetic scripture is kept from being fulfilled - the entire "house of cards" figuratively speaking will come crashing to the ground. Because the word of God is true, and cannot be nullified, we know all of the scriptures in the Bible will in fact be fulfilled.    Mt.1:22, Mk.14:49, Lk.21:22  It is not presumptuous to think that once a prophecy has been "fulfilled", or successfully accomplished - the Devil would begin to devise his malicious schemes towards stopping any future prophecies from being fulfilled.  In a more general sense, Jesus tells us that Satan's three areas of malevolent and evil works are: stealing, killing, and destroying. As we can see from the atrocities and crimes against humanity that fill history's pages, the Devil has not been wasting a moment in his never ending onslaught against God and His creation.  Oh - and did I almost forget to mention he is also called the "Father of lies."  Jn.8:44 That Satan was trying to kill Christ all during his life here on earth is evident in the scriptures, and we can be sure that while he didn't know all of the plans of God for His son Jesus; he did know that Christ's main objective was to fulfill prophetic scriptures. Which we now know - Christ did, one by one until He uttered the three words that Satan can still hear echoing over and over in his wretched mind: IT IS FINISHED!  Jn.19:30  So when Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, “It is finished!” And bowing His head, He gave up His spirit.  (my emphasis) So we can conclude Lucifer's main objective is preventing scriptures from being fulfilled, especially those pertaining to Jesus Christ mission to be the Lamb who takes away the sins of the world; the plan of salvation that the Godhead had planned before the earth was even formed. Eph.1:4  just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love , (*note - accordingtothescriptures.org estimates that 356 prophecies have already been fulfilled in Jesus Christ) Much of the death, and destruction through the centuries has been what may best described as "collateral damage," such as when Herod slaughtered all the babies in and around Bethlehem in his attempt to kill the Christ child. Mt.2:16  That the "Seed" who is Jesus Christ could not be prevented from finishing His works and divine mission; has not deterred Satan from continuing his furious attacks on the "Seed of Abraham" which is now the Body of Christ.  Gal.3:29 (NIV) If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's seed, and heirs according to the promise.  So from the time of Jesus ascension into heaven, until the time of His reappearing; Satan's wrath and hatred of God - of Jesus - have been directed at all who are members of the Body of Christ. If you are a Christian, and follow the commandments of Jesus, you are on his "hit list."  Seriously, the Devil hates all human beings created in God's image, that's part of his corrupted DNA; but his hatred and loathing of all who love Jesus and live to please God - is immeasurable. We cannot begin to comprehend the degree of hatred the Devil has towards all who call themselves Christians.  Satan hates the "Christ who lives in us."  Gal.2:20, Rom.8:10 So we can see from the scriptures that the "spirit of Antichrist" is specifically directed at the "Seed" - who is Jesus Christ the Messiah; but now that Christ has left the earth physically - the "Seed" are all who are "in Christ."  That is to say, the schemes and devices of Satan are directed now at all who are part of the Body of Christ - or the Church of God in the earth.  Since Christians are "the body of Jesus" here on earth, it is no surprise to find that Christians are persecuted, martyred, and maligned in every possible manner by the "spirit of Antichrist" that now works through much of the world today.  This hostile opposition to God, the Bible, Christians, and all that is holy and godly; can be seen in all areas of human endeavor - education, government, all media - whether print or digitally disseminated, the arts and music in particular, and in literature of all kinds, sports, and in every facet of modern culture. The unfortunate truth is that love of God, the scriptures, and everything once considered sacred is crumbling under the relentless attacks by the powers of darkness and the "god" of this age. 2 Co.4:4, 2 Co.11:3    As much as Satan hates Jesus and Christians, there is one thing that the all the hosts of Satan's kingdom have a laser like focus on - something that poses the greatest threat to the kingdom of darkness, and is the key to understanding how to discern what is and what isn't "the spirit of Antichrist."                                                                                                  (                                    SATAN'S MAIN TARGET ... 2 Co.4:3-4    But even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing, 4 whose minds the god of this age has blinded, who do not believe, lest the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine on them. (my emphasis) If we were to list all the things Satan is opposed to or against - we would have a lengthy list indeed. Prayer, praise and worship, Bible study, the preaching and ministry of the word of God, Christian fellowship, Gospel music,witnessing, regular church attendance, and these are just some of the things that Satan and the demons of darkness hate. But, at the heart - at the very center of what poses the greatest threat to the kingdom of darkness is the very thing that he will do anything to stop, and I mean anything.                                                   ANYTHING TO STOP THE GOSPEL ! 1 Co.15:1-4  Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you—unless you believed in vain. For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. ...  (my emphasis) Rom.1:16 For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.  (my emphasis) The Devil can tolerate many things here on earth that he does in fact hate, but out of the myriad of things he is opposed to - nothing is more disturbing and threatening to Satan, then the Gospel of Christ. The Gospel is the very thing - the centerpiece of God's plan to save mankind.  For it is the story of Jesus dying on the cross, the shedding of His blood for the remission of our sins. And, it's the message of Christ's burial and resurrection from the grave! All in fulfillment of the prophetic scriptures that Jesus fulfilled one by one!                                                                THE "ACID TEST"    1 John 4:2-3 (NKJV)  By this you know the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit that does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is not of God. And this is the spirit of the Antichrist, which you have heard was coming, and is now already in the world.   (my emphasis)   At first glance, this sounds like John is simply saying: Ask someone if Jesus has come in the flesh, and if they say "no" - You'll know that they are not of God, that they are of the "spirit of Antichrist". I know today, many Christians use this as  a way of testing to see if a person is "demon possessed" or not. That is not a reliable test, I know because I've used it when casting out demons myself, and this is what I've discovered: DEMONS CAN LIE TO YOU!  Yes, they can say Jesus has come in the flesh to your face.    They(the evil spirits we were attempting to cast out) did that to me, and I learned that just stating "Jesus has come in the flesh" is not what John had in mind as the "Acid Test" for determining if a person/spirit is or isn't of Christ. John had more in mind than just having someone quote or say a few words. Demons will lie to you, they will quote scriptures to you all day long, hey- they reminded me that they knew Jesus long before I did, and know the bible better than most Christians will ever know it... One thing I learned in trying to "test whether a person/spirit" is or isn't of Christ - is this: Don't enter into a conversation, or dialogue with the devil, demons or those under his influence unless you are "being led of the Holy Spirit". The less you say to someone "possessed" or severely oppressed of the devil, the better. You may find to your surprise, that the devil can quote scriptures back to you, and very well I might add(though he is prone to twist them out of context)                                       The "test" John alludes to in 1 JN. 4:3 is a summation or decree that in essence states this: Anyone who denies that Jesus Christ is the promised Messiah - the Son of God - the One who came to fulfill the prophecies concerning his life, death, and resurrection - is "antichrist."  In essence - this was another way of saying anyone who was against the Gospel being preached by the Apostles was "not of God."  Strong words certainly, but when we consider that denying who Christ is, and what He did - is really to reject the truth.  I can assure you Christians at that time knew exactly what John was saying, and there could be no room for compromise when it came to preserving the facts concerning who Christ is, and what He had accomplished.  2 Jn.1:9 To reject Jesus as the Messiah meant a person would "die in their sins", and that would prevent them from going to heaven - being present with God after this life.  Jn.8:24 Therefore I said to you that you will die in your sins; for if you do not believe that I am He, you will die in your sins.” Gal.1:9  As we have said before, so now I say again, if anyone preaches any other gospel to you than what you have received, let him be accursed.   (Paul the apostle speaking...)                                             WHAT IF NO ONE SHARED THE GOSPEL? That Jesus Christ would sacrifice Himself for the sins of the world, and be raised from the dead - only to have that message never told would certainly be the greatest of all  failures and tragedies of all time.  The Devil knows that keeping that message from people is his number one priority - and if that fails, his next ploy is to try to twist the Gospel message into something perverted or legalistic, or worse yet - void of any mention of the cross or resurrection at all. Yes indeed - we can be certain that since the time of Jesus ascension into heaven - Lucifer has been furiously working to stop the Gospel message from being preached or shared in the earth.  2 Co.4:4, 11:14    The problem lies in the fact that while Lucifer is defeated - that's an absolute indisputable truth of scripture;(Col..1:13,2:15) he knows that many people are ignorant of what really happened when Jesus died on that cross, when He rose triumphant from the grave. That dear friends, is why the Good News - or the account of what happened over 2000 years ago must be told, not once - but over and over again. This is why Jesus told us that before He would return the gospel would have to be published to the ends of the earth:   Mk.13:10  And the gospel must first be preached to all the nations. (Jesus speaking...) Someone - somewhere shared the gospel message with you - or with me, or someone else; and they were then faced with the choice of believing or disbelieving, agreeing with or disagreeing with the message of the cross and resurrection. So simple - yes; but in the end profound in that what a person does with the Gospel will determine their eternal destiny. Now that's mind boggling to say the least.   2 Thess. 1:7-8 "and to give you who are troubled rest with us when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with His mighty angels, in flaming fire taking vengeance on those who do not know God, and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ" In summary, we can state that while Jesus' life, atoning death, and resurrection are for Christians - historical facts that we believe and trust as the basis for our individual faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, and as the Son of God...  The reality is that unless those facts about Christ's life, death, burial, and resurrections are shared with people they will die in their sins. When Jesus told his disciples to take the Gospel into all the world - it wasn't just a suggestion or good advice; it was a command!  Don't be quiet or shy about sharing the Gospel, ask God to help you and He will. to be continued...   ( Pt.2 will be about "the spirit of antichrist" in the church)   In Jesus name, Michael/fool4CHRIST p.s. for more information about our worldwide ministry - or if you would like to find more articles that pertain to biblical truth; or would like to donate to our ministry - visit: lightinthedarkministries.com

[mancitynoise]

This Saturday, Manchester City can win their third Premier League title and the crowning can come courtesy of a win over a hated neighbour who made their lives a misery for so very long.

Victory will ensure that this is the earliest point of a season when a title has been wrapped up and if this was not a surreal enough day for their fan-base it’s a defining, once-in-a-lifetime occasion that will see City field an under-strength side. In a derby. To win the league. Why? Because bookending the fixture are two Champions League quarter final clashes with Liverpool.

These are strange days indeed for Blues and being one myself it’s hard to make sense of it all. The human condition has a need to put everything that life offers up into boxes – that goes there and that goes there and that can be a few different things but let’s place it in that category so at least we know where it is. How can you do that to what is essentially the most ludicrous day-dream imaginable occurring in real time? There hasn’t been a box invented yet of a shape and volume to put all of this in and sellotape it up and hold it in your hands and say ‘this, this is what it feels like’.

The past helps. It provides some sort of ground zero; ballast and contrast. Ten years ago this week City lost at home to Chelsea to cap off a largely miserable period that produced just three wins in 15. The latest defeat prompted under-fire boss Sven Goran-Eriksson to say: “When you lose like we did you cannot criticise the team. They tried and that is what you want to see”.  The Swede’s appointment was supposed to herald an exciting new dawn for the club after decades of farce and struggle. Now simple effort was more than sufficient.

Going back further still, 20 years ago City were rock-bottom of the second tier despite being pre-season favourites to win the division. Protests against their chairman Franny Lee were vociferous and heartfelt while chants of ‘You’re not fit to wear the shirt’ were commonplace. It was a claim that had substance given that the squad included Tony Scully, Jason van Blerk, and a striker in Lee Bradbury who couldn’t hit a barn door for love nor money.

In between those two markers in time was a soap opera that ended each episode with the main character shooting his foot off with his own trigger-finger. City became a national punchline. They aimed for the stars and fell flat on their face. They flailed, going through managers at a rate of knots, and yes admittedly that Manchester City and this present Manchester City are so completely different as to only share strands of DNA but it’s right to start here when attempting to make sense of what came later.

Because what the Abu Dhabi United Group inherited when they shelled out £210m to take control of the club in September 2008 was an impressive ground (that the club did not own), a promising young keeper by the name of Joe Hart and a handful of highly proficient talent, namely the Brazilian Elano, Micah Richards and Shaun Wright-Phillips. Throw in Pablo Zabaleta and Vincent Kompany, two signings so recent the ink had not yet dried on their contracts, and that was the summation of City’s building blocks from which to construct an empire. That and a heritage of under-achievement.

Considering the enormous scope of their ambitions – both on the pitch and off – it would therefore necessitate a quantum leap to elevate the club into the realms of the elite. Or, to put another way, just to get into the room Manchester City would have to invest an eye-watering amount of money and this they duly did embarking on a period of free-spending that rival supporters still associate them with today.

So admittedly in those early days it is hard to see a linear and premeditated strategy other than an aggressive targeting of the very best talents available regardless of expense and when Mark Hughes was jettisoned after just 12 months the fear was that this knee-jerk approach extended to the dug-out too.

With hindsight though it can be said that Roberto Mancini was the perfect appointment at the perfect time for this vast, fledgling project. An arch disciplinarian blooded in winning meaningful silverware (the Italian had guided Inter Milan to three consecutive Serie A titles prior to taking the Eastlands hot-seat) Mancini’s demand for excellence and work ethic quashed any concerns of mercenariness that could have divided this collection of assembled personnel. Instead he forged a purposeful and driven side who quickly established themselves as a top four inhabitant and better yet one capable of consistently displaying brilliant football.

We all know how his tenure peaked and when it did – at precisely 4.51pm on May 13th 2012 with Sergio Aguero peeling off his shirt and a ground now rechristened as the Etihad exploding in disbelieving jubilation – just as we know what it meant in every conceivable facet to the advancement of the modern-day Manchester City.

Yet later that year came a development that cannot compare in importance to a first league triumph in 44 years but can – to an extent – in relevance. With former Barcelona head honcho Ferran Sorriano having already replaced Garry Cook as the club’s chief executive a significant boardroom reshuffle was finalised that October with the appointment of Txiki Begeristain.

Until his departure in 2012, Begeristain had been Barcelona’s director of football during a quite staggering era of continental dominance. He was a man widely respected throughout the game and more so a man widely credited with being Pep Guardiola’s mentor during that astonishing spell that saw Xavi, Iniesta and Messi reinvent what was possible on a pitch.

Naturally then his arrival led the media putting two and two together and in this instance coming up with three. “Two down, one to go?” asked the Guardian, heavily insinuating that City’s next step was to secure the services of the world’s greatest coach.

It was a fair assumption because City had put everything in place to make themselves as appealing as possible to a coach with such a singular vision including the procurement of his two closest allies. Away from the pitch meanwhile a breath-taking transformation had taken place in the area surrounding the ground including the completion of a £200 youth academy that made Barcelona’s famed La Masia resemble a village kindergarten, while it was hardly a secret that the club’s owners did not simply want them to be the biggest and the best but the most respected and admired. In short City’s model owed much to the template that made the Catalonian giants so formidable.

It naturally followed then that when Mancini’s strengths became only negatives and his disciplinarian ways turned dictatorial the club turned to the person they believed could take their grand project to its greatest heights.

Only Guardiola, refreshed from a self-imposed hiatus and keen to undertake a new challenge chose the Bundesliga and Bayern and we can only speculate what a blow that was to a club that now had a clear and concise blueprint of what they envisaged their future to be.

Spurned, they instead turned to Manuel Pellegrini and though it would be highly disrespectful to deem the Chilean as a mere placeholder (after all, the ‘Engineer’ did preside over a title win that accrued a hundred goals) it was evident throughout his three years in Manchester that City were playing a waiting game. They wanted Pep. They needed Pep. Everything was in place bar him for City to take that final quantum leap into the stratosphere.

When they finally got him in early 2016 it was unquestionably their most defining signing since the takeover. From here anything was possible as they aimed for the stars.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Christmas Decorating (Children Part 2)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light angst

Word count: 2648

Summary: Simon has a worry when everyone is over for Christmas decoration.

Read on AO3

Simon

“I have Christmas scones!” I announce proudly as I enter the living room.

“Just because they’re made during Christmas doesn’t make them Christmas scones, love,” Baz says, but still takes one off the plate.

“Scones are for every holiday.”

“I agree with Simon!” Helen shouts from down the hall where she’s supposed to be putting up Christmas cut outs. But when I look back, she’s standing on a ladder, hanging tinsel. My heart seizes in terror. I shove the plate of scones at Baz and rush to her.

“Helen! Please be careful!”

She groans and rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, Simon, I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”

“I know, but still, be careful. Here, let me help you down.”

Once again, she groans and rolls her eyes like they're footballs in a tumble dryer, but she still takes my hand. Her other holds her somewhat large stomach. (At four months she’s starting to actually show.) She sighs as she hits the ground.

“But seriously, you two,” she says, “thanks for inviting me for Christmas decorating. You really didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense!” Baz shouts, mock dramatically. “You’re carrying our baby. It’s the least we can do.”

“You’re so nice, Basil. I hope you teach this baby to be the same.”

I snort audibly. Yeah, “nice” is not usually a word associated with Basilton Snow-Pitch. Baz glares at me, grey eyes turned into silver daggers. I grin back. He knows I’m right, shown by the way he’s still smirking.

“Hey do you have any Christmas cookies?” Helen asks, green eyes wide and hopeful. “I’m really craving gingerbread for some reason.”

“In the large cupboard in the kitchen,” I say. “Guess the baby shares my sweet tooth.”

“Unfortunately. Your child is going to ruin my hips.”

Helen cackles to herself as she walks to the kitchen. I stride over to Baz, wrapping my arms around his waist as he puts up a California ornament from Agatha.

“Just think,” I whisper against his ear. “Next Christmas we’ll have a baby here with us.”

Baz hums happily, leaning back against me. “That we will. I wonder if they’ll inherit your freckles. Or your curls. That’d be funny, having two spotty, curly haired people in the house.”

“Hm. Maybe they’ll have wavy black hair like you.” Baz tenses ever so slightly. Shit shit, I said the wrong thing. “Well, similar to you. Not exactly like you, y’know. I know it’s not possible, I’m not stupid. I just mean...y'know. I’m sorry...”

Merlin, how so I always say the wrong thing? It's not like I don't know how this all works. We decided early on I’d be the biological father, because: A) Baz wasn’t sure vampires could reproduce, and B) even if they could, Baz didn’t want to risk passing on his curse to the child. But we still picked a donor who looked a lot like Baz. She was Egyptian-English too, with the same black hair and sharp features, just with hazel eyes instead of Baz’s deep water grey, and dark tan like he used to have pre-vampirism. Still though, Baz is a bit touchy about it. He says it’s because this is just another choice his vampirism has taken away from him, which I completely understand. But I’m worried it’s about some other things too...

“It’s okay,” he sighs, turning in my arms to face me. “I know what you mean.”

I bite at the corner of my lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. The knot in my stomach twists tighter and tighter. I’ve been trying to find the right words for awhile, but keep coming up short.

“Baz-”

The doorbell rings, obnoxiously loud as usual. I immediately rush towards it. “I’ll get it.” (Yes, I still have a tendency to run from my problems.) (Yes, I know it’s still a bad thing.)

I fling open our front door. Immediately, a pair of pudgy arms fling towards.

“Tío Simon!” Little Gil shouts, diving out his father’s arms towards me. Luckily, I catch the over excited three year old before he face plants the carpet.

“Gilberto! Be careful!” Micah says, reaching out as well.

“Whoa, your daddy’s right there, bud, be careful,” I chuckle out. “Crowley, you’re sense of danger is worse than your mother’s.”

“Hey!” Penny practically manifests from behind her husband. “My sense of danger is great, thank you very much.”

Micah and I share a knowing look. Both of us are well aware of Penelope Bunce’s tendency to be stupidly brave. Emphasis on "stupidly" sometimes.

“Simon, Simon, I gots new toys!” Gil bounces in my arms.

“Really?! Oh then you’ll have to show Tío Baz and I, won’t you?”

“Yeah!”

“Why don’t you run to the living room and say hi to him, hm?”

“Okay!”

He wriggles out of my grasp and sprints away like the firecracker he is. I sigh, putting my hands on my hips.

“How did you two produce such a hyperactive child?” I ask.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Simon,” Micah sighs. He claps a strong hand on my shoulder. “Good to see you. Happy Christmas.”

I smile back, patting his hand once. “Happy Christmas to you too, Micah.”

He strolls in, probably to follow his rocket son. Penelope comes in after him. She’s dressed in her favourite Christmas sweater and holly headband, as per usual on this fine holiday. She gives me a big, squeezing hug. One which I happily return

“Happy Christmas, Si,” she says into my shirt.

“Happy Christmas, Pen.”

She pulls away, keeping both hands on my sides. “Now, before we get decorating, is your baby mama here? I want to meet her.”

“Well, she’s not technically the baby’s biological mother, y’know. She's just carrying it. She calls herself 'the walking incubator.'”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Where is she?”

“Kitchen, probably wolfing down too many gingerbread men.”

Penny grins almost evilly. “I think I’m going to like her.”

She trots off towards my kitchen. I pass by the living room and see Baz laughing as Gil plays with his hair.

“Your hair’s so soft, Bazzy!” He yells (almost everything he says is in yelling.)

“Yes, it certainly is. Your’s is wonderfully curly. Like your Mum's and Uncle Simon’s.”

Gil gasps loudly. “Yes! We curly curly!”

Baz chuckles and ruffles his dark curls. “Yes, very curly. Now, what are these new toys you're so excited about?”

Gil giggles as Baz places him on the ground. He and Micah kneel down, absolutely fascinated with Gil’s brand new Hot Wheels. Though I'm tempted to join them, I make my way to the kitchen instead. There stand Helen and Penny, deep in conversation.

“I'm absolutely serious though,” Helen says through a mouth full of crumbly brown gingerbread. “If the American government doesn't do something now, they're going to destroy the entire environment. It's simple logic.”

Penelope nods vigorously. “I completely agree. They're ripping the planet apart. That's one of the reason we decided to stay in England instead of moving to America. Though mind you, England isn't that much better.”

“Agreed, unfortunately.”

“You two seem to be getting along,” I say sweetly. They both turn to face me, with grins.

“Swimmingly,” Penny beams. “Helen was just telling me her thesis research on the environmental damage in North America. Where did you find this amazing woman, Simon?”

“Through an agency,” Helen interjects. “Simon and Baz picked me from a profile and asked for a meeting. We got along immediately.”

I throw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against me. “Yes we did. She noticed Baz’s obscure violinist joke button and I swear he immediately fell in love.”

She laughs, leaning into my embrace. “That’s very true. He went so wide eyed, it was fucking adorable.”

Penelope shakes her head. “‘Adorable’ is not a word I usually associate with Basilton Pitch.”

“Oh he was though,” I giggle. “It was so cute. I liked Helen when she said her favourite pastry was scones.”

Helen puts one hand on her hip, chin tilted defiantly. “Of course they are! Scones are the best food. Your school must’ve been fucking great to serve them.”

My heart sinks again. Watford reminds me of my worries. I turn to Helen. “Hey, Helen, uh...can I get some time alone with Penny?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go help with the tree.”

She gives me one last side hug and walks off towards the living room. I step back to lean against the table, Penny joining me quickly.

“You alright, Si?” She says, putting her hand over mine.

“I’m worried, Pen,” I say quietly. “Y’know I’m the biological father of the baby, right?”

“Yeah, of course I remember. Your point?”

“It’s just- I’m concerned that...you know that...”

“Spit it out Simon.”

I groan and hold my head. “I’m...I’m worried the kid won’t be a mage.”

“Oh. You’re really worried about that?”

I whip up to glare at her. “Of course I’m worried about that. We don’t know if I was even really a mage or just a Normal with stolen power. What if this kid is Normal?”

Penny slowly raises an eyebrow. “So...?”

“So , who are the two people who care about magic more than anything? You and Baz! Baz would love to raise magic kid. What if they’re a Normal like me? Then Baz never gets to pass on his knowledge, our kid never goes to Watford, and the Pitch line ends! He already can’t have a biological kid, which I know hurts him a lot. Bloodlines are so important to the Old Families, I know. If the kid isn’t a mage? That’ll hurt even more. I-I don’t want to do that to him!”

Penelope sighs heavily. I recognise it as the sigh she uses when she’s annoyed with me. “Simon, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?!”

“Yes!” She grabs both my hands tightly. “Simon, I swear on Merlin’s name, Baz will not care if the kid has magic or not. Or if he’s blood related to them. Because it will be your kid, both of yours to care for. That’s all that matters. Y’know why you’re actually worrying?”

I roll my eyes. “Please, do tell me.”

“Because you’re about to be a father, and that’s really fucking scary. Your finding things to be worried about because you’re scared. Believe me, I know. I was terrified before Gil was born. And I’m still sort of am. Everytime Gil cries after I yell at him or I lose sight of him the park, my heart stops. It’s a fear every parent has, that you’ll do something wrong and hurt your child. You’re sacred, so you’re finding stuff to worry about to distract yourself from that. We all do.”

I chew on my lip. She’s making sense, but the knot in my stomach still hasn’t gone away. She sighs again, letting her hands fall from mine. “If you’re really that worried, how about actually try talking to Baz? Y’know, communicate with your husband?”

I glare, trying to emulate Baz’s steely gaze, but Penny just raises her eyebrow. After a long staring contest, I huff and look down. “Okay, fine. Can you ask him to come in here?”

“Sure. I promise, Si, you have nothing to worry about.”

She pats my shoulder once and walks away. I pace up and down the tile floor. Is Penelope right? Am I worrying about nothing? It doesn’t feel like nothing. Magic is important to Baz. He loves it. So is his family bloodline. Doesn’t he want to pass them down to our kid? Our donor is Normal. If I’m all Normal too then there’s no chance. He must’ve thought of it too, he must’ve . And what if-

“Snow? You alright, love?”

I turn around so fast I nearly fall over, stumbling a bit. Baz stands in the doorway looking slightly worried, brow furrowed and frowning slightly. I straighten up.

“Uh, yeah,” I sputter out. But I quickly deflate, shoulders slumping in. “Actually no. I have to talk to you about something.”

He walks forward and leans against the table with one arm. “Well if that isn’t ominous.”

“Sorry. It’s just- Something’s been on my mind for awhile. And I need to talk about it before I explode.”

“Alright then. Shoot.”

I take a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly. I look Baz right in his deep water grey eyes. “Baz, what if our child isn’t a Mage? Would...would you be okay with that?”

Baz’s face falls, and my stomach goes with it. He looks shocked and a bit hurt. When he speaks, his voice is uncharacteristically small. “Do, do you think I wouldn’t be? That...I wouldn’t love our child if they weren’t?”

Fuck fuck fuck. I rush forward and grab his hands, violently shaking my head. “No no, Crowley, no! That’s not what I meant. I just, I was worried you’d be sad if the baby wasn’t a mage, because you love magic and I know you’d love to pass it on. And...I know not being able to be the bio parent has been hard on you. Bloodlines and all. S-So...I just worried that the baby not being a mage would hurt you even more. B-But I know you’ll love our kid! I’m really sorry for implying otherwise. Penny’s right, I’m worrying about nothing. Merlin, I’m so sorry, Baz.”

Baz sighs, leaning forward and squeezing my hands firmly. “Okay. I-I know you couldn’t think that, but...Aleister Crowley, you really scared me for a moment there, Simon.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“But,” he pulls back and cups my cheek, “just to be clear, I’ll be perfectly happy if our baby isn’t a mage. And I really am fine that it won't biologically be mine. There are lots of things I can pass on other than my blood or magic. Like an appreciation for morose violin pieces.”

I chuckle, shaking my head with a smile. “God, you’re going to indoctrinate them young, huh?”

“Certainly! Then someone else in our house will finally listen to good music.”

“You and I have very different definitions of good music.”

We laugh happily, foreheads tapping together. And even after we gain our composure we don’t move. We just stand there, faces close, breathing each other in. Sometimes we need these moments. Where it’s just us, reminding ourselves that we’re here for each other no matter what, even if one of us fucks up.

“Magic or not,” I whisper, “our kid is going to be great.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “They’ll be fucking fantastic.”

I giggle and hug him close, wrapping him as tight as I can. He returns it just as fiercely. “I’m still really sorry.”

“Apology accepted already, Snow. Don’t worry. I understand why you were worried, but I promise it isn't an issue.” He strokes my hair, then pulls back too look at me. He’s grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear. “Now c’mon. You must see Gil’s new little cars. He’s very excited to show you.”

“He’s excited about everything.”

“Well, still, they’re very cool cars.”

He quickly grabs my hand, interweaving our fingers, and pulls me to our living room. Gil is sitting on the floor, making his little car fly with a raspberry for effect. Micah makes his own truck soar to crash into Gil’s. Penelope is in deep conversation with Helen while they hang ornaments on the tree. Helen reaches up to hang an angel, one hand on her growing belly. The Christmas lights make colours dance on the walls. Our Christmas tree glints and sparkles beautifully.

Baz is right. There's more than bloodlines and magic. This right here is something we can pass down to our kid: our family. Not just those you share DNA with, but those you choose and care for and love. They'll care for and love our baby just as much. I know it.

AN: I felt this would need to be addressed if they had a kid tbh. Having a blood heir is obviously very important to Old Families and Simon would know this. So he'd think Baz thinks the same way. I also think he'd be worried that the kid wouldn't have magic, because of aforementioned reasons in the fic and the sadness over losing his magic. He wouldn't want to deprive his kid of that, because despite everything he went through, he loved magic. That's my view. So I wanted a fic to address that and have both of them recognize they have other things they can pass down than magic or blood relation. Hope y'all liked it. Tomorrow: family! :D