#[ i am safe and i Will be fine/am fine!! Just takin a sec to make sure the vibes be fine <3 yall take care heart

[pirateborn-a]

Lil heads up might not be active on the blogs ( ic or ooc ) for a few days!

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Two: Sapphire (Ignis x Reader) Chapter VII

At the Alstor Coernix Station, (Y/n) was inside the convenience store perusing the many items they had for sale. Ignis has entrusted her with enough gil to buy them some curatives. Their supply was low and needed to be restocked. Glancing out the window of the convenience store, she saw Ignis putting gas in the Regalia while Noctis was chatting on the phone. Prompto and Gladio were eavesdropping on the phone call.

Looking back to the items in stock, she searched the shelves for Ignis' favorite canned coffee-ebony. What caught her attention was a small sign taped to one of the shelves.

*****

Due to road closures, we are SOLD OUT of Ebony Coffee for the foreseeable future.

*****

"Uh-oh..." she mumbled.

"What's "uh-oh"?" Noctis asked as he overheard her when entering the store with Gladio and Prompto in tow. She stepped aside and allowed him to read the sign for himself. His eyes widen and nearly popped out of his head as he read the small piece of paper. "Oh, crap. They're out."

Gladio shook his head in disapproval. "Can't let him see this."

"He'd be crushed." The prince glanced outside to see Ignis finished filling the gas tank and was heading their way. "Shit, he's coming this way."

"What do we do?" Prompto asked panically.

"Nothing," (Y/n) replied. "Iggy will be fine without his ebony for a few days."

"Weren't you the one who said, "uh-oh"?" Noctis asked.

"I was, but it's not the end of the world."

"For you it might not be, but for us..."

"Mama Iggy gets cranky when he hasn't had his ebony," Prompto added. "And he gets really irritated in battle if we don't listen to him."

She crossed her arms. "I'm pretty sure he gets irritated not because of the lack of ebony but the lack of listening you three do in battle."

"Damn, no need to call us out like that," Gladio chuckled.

"Still, Specs isn't gonna like being out of ebony." Noctis looked at the (h/c)-haired girl. "You tell him the bad news, (Y/n). The rest of us will try to get a running start to avoid him. And if you survive, we'll come back for you."

She sighed. "Iggy's not gonna lose his mind and go on a rampage because they're out of ebony! And why do I have to tell him?!"

"He is waaay nicer to you than the rest of us," Prompto responded. "If it comes from you, it'll cushion the blow! You make him...gentle."

"What are you talking about?"

"Listen, Iggy's got a soft spot for ya," Gladio told the petite girl, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We all can see the way he looks at you, but it looks like you're the only one who can't see it. Sorry to say this, but you're a little dense, sweetheart."

(Y/n)'s eyes narrowed in an icy glare. Her jaw tensed as her slitted eyes focused on the shield. She clenched her fists tightly by her side as her gaze bore into his amber eyes. She watched in anger and satisfaction as Gladio released her shoulder and stepped away from her out of fear. He swallowed in fright when feeling a chill creep through his body. He held up his hands in defeat. "Now hold on a sec, (Y/n)..."

Prompto and Noctis rubbed at their exposed arms, fighting off the chill in the air. They stepped away from (Y/n), their teeth chattering slightly. The two best friends exchanged glances before looking back at the angered guardian. They were too frightened to say anything and kept their mouths shut. Without saying a word, she walked out of the convenience store.

Ignis, who had just entered the store, saw her furious expression and looked towards his friends. "It seems one of you has infuriated (Y/n)."

Noctis and Prompto jabbed their fingers in Gladio's direction and said, "He did it," in unison.

"Shit..." The brute mumbled, eyes focused on the girl who was now outside. "Thought she was gonna tear me into tiny pieces."

"Dude, you called her dense. Don't you think it was a little rude and insensitive?" Prompto asked. "I mean, I would be pissed off too."

"What could possibly insinuate her to be "dense," Gladio?" Ignis pried.

"Oh, please," the brute scoffed. "Don't tell me you're unaware of how differently you treat her from the rest of us? Or the way you look at her? That'd make you dense too, Iggy. Probably even more than her. Do you realize how often I've caught you staring at her when she isn't looking in the last two days?"

Ignis didn't know how to respond. He was aware of his own infatuation with (Y/n), but he never realized how often his gaze would drift in her direction. He must've been doing it more than he noticed in the past two days.

"What? You've got nothing to say?" Gladio retorted after seeing Ignis fell silent.

"Is there a response you're wishing to hear?" Ignis replied.

"Just tryna see if our straight-laced tactician really does have a heart and actually can fall for a woman."

The bespectacled man pinched the bridge of his nose. He decided not to entertain Gladio any longer and left the convenience store. Outside, he found (Y/n) near the Crow's Nest, her attention focused on a wanted poster of a behemoth that was causing trouble in the Nebulawood. The reward was large and tempting for any hunter that was eager to test their strength and earn a pretty gil.

Ignis joined her and analyzed the poster. "Tis a feat fit for royalty."

"Aren't you the one who said to keep the trouble to a minimum?" She asked. "I'm pretty sure a behemoth is a large serving of trouble."

"The large sum of gil is not tempting enough?" He asked.

"I'd rather not be skewered by a behemoth even for a large amount of gil."

"A shame, truly."

She snorted with laughter. "Since when are you the reckless one?"

"I am the most cautious of us all," he remarked. "Regardless, we are in dire need of funds and such a tremendous feat would fill our purses."

"You really think the five of us could take down a behemoth?"

"I believe with our combined skills the beast would still be a formidable foe but one we could eliminate."

(Y/n) looked back at the wanted poster. "You certainly have confidence in our skills, Iggy. Maybe too much..."

"Or perhaps you lack the confidence in our combined strength as a group," Ignis stated, peeking at her from his peripheral vision.

She placed a hand over her chest. "Ouch... That one hurt." She then smiled. "I actually believe we could handle anything that comes our way if we stick together, but even a behemoth could cause issues. And it's not like I'm some large, mighty spirit that could match the size of such an immense beast."

""And though she be but little, she is fierce,"" the advisor quoted. "Such a quote describes your spiritual form well."

"Tiny but mighty, huh...?" She looked back at the image of the behemoth. "Still, we might be biting off more than we can chew with such a large target."

"As per words provided by Noct: only one way to find out."

She laughed. "Yes. His carefree nature truly does suit him well. Let's just hope his carelessness doesn't get him or anyone else killed..."

"Which is why we are accompanying him-to prevent such calamity."

Just then, the two heard a familiar 'click'. When they turned around, they saw Prompto with his camera aimed at them. He lowered the device and smiled innocently with slightly red cheeks. "Just takin' some sweet pics. Don't mind me!"

"Are we ready to depart?" Ignis asked.

"Yep! We're going to the chocobo outpost first, right?" He remarked with eyes glistening in excitement.

"It's up to Noct."

"What's at the chocobo outpost for us to do?" (Y/n) wondered.

"Chocobos!" Prompto squealed. "What else?"

"Don't we have royal arms to find?"

"Well, yeah, but this'll be a quick detour! Once we've ridden the chocobos, we can go back to searching for the tombs. And, of course, see Iris in Lestallum."

The girl sighed in relief. "I'm glad to hear she's safe."

"Me too. Guess we forgot to mention the phone call to you." Prompto lowered his camera. "Now then, let's go!"

Ignis and (Y/n) exchanged glances before returning to the Regalia. The three other boys were already in the backseat, waiting for them. The girl climbed into the passenger's seat and peered over middle console at the blonde in the backseat. "Maybe I should sit in the middle seat, Prompto."

"And let you be squished by these two?" He pointed to Gladio and Noctis. "No way!"

The shield wrapped an arm around Prompto's neck and used his other hand to drive his knuckles into the top of the boy's head. "You sure 'bout that, pipsqueak?"

Prompto struggled against the brute. "H-Hey, you're messing up my hair!"

Ignis started the car and pulled out of the Alstor Coernix Station. At Noctis' command, he drove in the opposite direction of Lestallum and headed to Wiz Chocobo Post. Prompto was able to break free from Gladio and giddily bounced up and down in the backseat. His excitement only escalated as the distance between them and the chocobo outpost shrunk.

The moment Ignis pulled the Regalia into Wiz Chocobo Post, Prompto climbed over Noctis. His excitement caused him to move faster, but he tripped on his own feet as he climbed out of the car. He quickly recovered and ran over to the empty pens.

Noctis readjusted his jacket from where he was trampled by Prompto before exiting the vehicle. Gladio closed the door behind him as did Ignis and (Y/n). She leaned against the car and looked around the outpost. "For a place with chocobos, it's eerily quiet."

"Think this side trip was for nothing?" Gladio asked.

"Best we find the owner of the establishment before drawing any conclusions," Ignis said.

(Y/n) wandered around the chocobo outpost while the boys spoke with the owner, Wiz. She browsed through what the store was offering before departing with a smile. She continued walking around until she was stopped by a large chocobo chick. It pecked at the heels of her shoes before rubbing its feathery body against her legs. Her brows furrowed in confusion as to why it was acting somewhat like a cat. Squatting down, she hugged her knees and poked the top of the chick's head. It 'kwehed' in response, fluffing out its feathers.

Smiling, she petted the top of its head. She had only seen pictures of chocobos and was flabbergasted at the size of the chicks. "You are one big chick, but adorable. And your feathers are soft." The chocobo chick bumped its plump body against her legs and caused her to lose her balance. She fell on her hindquarters and blinked in surprise when the chocobo chick hopped onto her lap. It flapped its tiny wings with another 'kweh' before nuzzling its head against her stomach. "Guess I have to add friendly and cuddly to the list."

While petting the chocobo chick that was curled up in her lap, she spotted movement from the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she saw three more chicks heading straight for her. Their chubby bodies bounced as they trotted towards her. Even a few loose feathers were knocked free and sent spiraling in the faint breeze that blew through the outpost.

The three chicks reached (Y/n) and tried to join their sibling. However, there was only enough room for one chocobo in her lap. The other three opted to snuggle their bodies against her sides and back before taking a nap. The girl sighed through her nose when seeing the predicament she was in. "What do I do now...?"

"Oh. Em. Gee!" A voice squealed. The spirit looked up and saw Prompto with his camera aimed at her. Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis were standing behind the blonde as he took pictures of her. "The chocobos love you, (Y/n)!"

"Where did these guys come from?" Noctis asked the spirit.

"They came out of nowhere and ambushed me," she said, continuing to pet the chocobo chick in her lap. "As you can see, I didn't stand a chance."

Not even a minute later, a woman with a yellow apron ran over. "I'm so sorry about this, miss! The babies escaped their pen. I hope they didn't cause you any trouble."

(Y/n) offered the stablehand a kind smile. "They were no trouble. They're quite friendly."

"They really are," she giggled. "This hasn't been the first time they've escaped. I've tried to come up with ways to stop them, but they're amazing escape artists."

The guardian managed to lift the chubby chick out of her lap so she could stand up. The three other chocobos that were snuggled up against her plopped against the ground when she was back on her feet. The stablehand rounded up the four chicks and escorted them back to their pen. (Y/n) brushed the dirt off her dress and tights before asking, "Did you learn why most of the pens are empty?"

Ignis stepped forward. "Remember our early discussion of the behemoth?"

She froze, eyes widening. "Don't tell me...?"

"It's a beast known to the locals as Deadeye. If we desire to use the chocobos, the behemoth must be dealt with."

Her sapphire eyes drifted over to Noctis. "Let me guess, you took the hunt."

"Yeah. Is...that a problem?" The prince questioned.

"Not at all. Just try not to get you or anyone else killed."

Noctis' opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. "Wha-? I..."

"You are audacious in battle, Noct," Ignis stated. "Which, mind you, has resulted in the injury of others."

"I am not that reckless," Noctis tried to defend himself.

"Sorry, buddy, but I've gotta side with Iggy and (Y/n) on this one," Prompto said. "You kinda are reckless in battle."

"So are you, blondie," Gladio remarked. "The only ones here who aren't reckless are myself, Iggy, and (Y/n). You two would be skewered meat if it weren't for the three of us watchin' your backs. Maybe you kids should leave the beast slaying to the grown-ups and stay here to play with the birds."

"We aren't kids!" Prompto screeched.

Noctis nodded. "Yeah!"

"Then prove it," Gladio shoves past the two younger boys. "Let's go take down a behemoth."

Noctis and Prompto dashed off with Gladio following close behind. (Y/n) clasped her hands together in front of her as she watched the three take off. "Gladio sure does love to egg those two on."

"Speaking of eggs, I do believe a scavenge for ingredients is in order once we've dealt with the behemoth," Ignis said.

The girl glanced at him in disbelief before laughing. "You would think about ingredients at a time like this. I'll see what I can do once we get back. We better catch up with the others. They won't be able to take down Deadeye without us."

"Yes, let's. Our assistance is always invaluable."

Ignis and (Y/n) left the chocobo outpost and caught up with Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio. They hadn't made it far down the dirt trail located just on the outskirts of the chocobo ranch when they regrouped with the other boys. They skirted around the Nebulawood in search of the entrance, but froze when the sound of snapping trees came from within the stone walls. The ground shook slightly with each tree that fell. It was like a domino effect where one tree would fall and then it would immediately be followed by another.

(Y/n) was pulling up the rear of the group when she suddenly heard the voice that had been haunting her ever since they left Insomnia. Stopping, she looked up at the sky and listened closely to the disembodied voice.

Vessel... Costlemark...

Her eyes narrowed in bewilderment. "Costlemark...?"

Ancient... Worship...

"I don't understand," she whispered. Her attention was drawn away from the voice when the sound of a threatening growl emitted from the Nebulawood. When it faded, she looked back up at the sky in hopes the voice would speak to her again, but it was silent. She promptly caught up with the boys just as they managed to locate the entrance to the Nebulawood.

Before they took another step forward, (Y/n) questioned the boys. "So this is Deadeye's prowling grounds?"

"That's what Wiz said," Noctis replied. "Why? You worried?"

"Not at all. Just do be careful. We don't need a dead prince on our hands."

"Hey, this'll be a walk in the park for us."

She sighed. "You say that now..."

"Wait 'til we actually face the beast before drawing any conclusions," Gladio finished the girl's thought. "Just try not to be an idiot and get your ass handed to you. We can't always be there to save you from all the trouble you put yourself in."

"Okay, I get it," Noctis groaned. "I'm reckless. Damn, you guys never learn how to drop anything..."

"We're simply here to watch your back, Noct," Ignis stated.

"Not to babysit you," Gladio added.

The prince threw his head back with another dramatic groan. He wanted to drop the subject and did so by ignoring his companions and entering the Nebulawood whether they were with him or not. Once a little ways into the rocky, windy structure of Deadeye's prowling grounds, he slowed his pace as he followed the path forward. They were surrounded by downed trees, possibly the ones they heard snapping earlier. From the damage done to the trees, it appeared something large had struck them down.

(Y/n) approached one of the fallen trees, her nose scrunching up when receiving a whiff of something that smelt awful. Gladio noticed her slightly disgusted expression. "What's up, munchkin?"

Ignoring the nickname, she responded with, "I've never encountered a behemoth before, but beasts and daemons all have distinctive odors. From the scent, I'm going to assume Deadeye caused all this damage."

"Behemoths have been known to stroke their bodies against trees and other structures to mark their territory, leaving their natural musk as a warning to other creatures," Ignis informed the group.

"Oh, nice to know," Prompto mumbled.

"Behemoths are territorial beasts. If we're not careful, none of us are coming out of this unscathed. We need to be extra careful in this area, especially since Deadeye has marked his territory," (Y/n) said.

Noctis rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess this isn't gonna be a walk in the park..."

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt 7

Part 6 - Masterlist

Part 8

This is a bit of a filler chapter, which is stupid for the ratio of original wording to in game script ratio. Next one will be more engaging, I promise. Also sorry for the long wait; I took time off from writing last week because it was my birthday, and then England swept into a second lockdown so it’s been poo trying to prepare especially in work because I process somms for small-medium businesses but whatever. No one is getting much for Christmas this year lol

****

You find, much to your relief and Arthur’s annoyance, that Sean’s chaotic charm and energy swallows everyone’s attention over the next few weeks. He’s loud, boastful and brash: The Irish Terrier as Arthur and his adopted fathers call him.

You can’t help but find his totally unapologetic nature comforting. Whilst washing shirts, you overhear him get Molly to admit she considers him no better than a chimney sweep from the local bog - and immediately crucify her for it, calling her “snotty nosed” and a “right little madam”, much to her dismay. After the weeks of dirty looks (despite little to no actual confrontation), Sean brings a breath of fresh air. With him nearby, you know exactly where you stand and whether anyone in the vicinity is plotting against you.

“Please, Y/N,” groans Arthur into his hands one evening. “Please tell me you ain’t makin’ friends with that bastard.”

“Why?” you ask, genuinely surprised. “Isn’t he like a little brother to you?”

“Yeah, but not in a good way.” He moves his hands to give you a look of despair. “What’s wrong with Lenny? Or Tilly? Or Mary Beth?”

“Karen’s fun,” you muse, earning yourself another groan.

“Always with the loud drunkards,” he grumbles.

“Mmhm, and what was it Dutch said? When you go missing he checks the saloon, and if you’re not there he checks the jail?”

“Shurrup.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his body, grinning as you protest, laughing.

“Don’t play innocent - Hosea’s been telling me stories!”

“Ahh, don’t go listening to him. He spins stories for a living, and anyway I was a kid in most of them.”

“And the stories I’ve heard from Lenny?” you smirk, still fighting despite it proving futile with you laughing so much. He growls, peppering your exposed skin with kisses as you wrestle playfully.

You cry out when a flailing limb makes contact with one of your swollen breasts. Arthur immediately releases you, watching you with concern as you try to rub out the punch without swearing.

“Y’alright?”

“Fine,” you huff. “Just sensitive is all.”

“I’m sorry - shouldn’t be playing so rough with you when you’re… in the way tha’ you are.”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” you repeat firmly, staring him down. “I’m fine. You didn’t knock my stomach, so we’re fine. Like I said, I’m just sensitive.”

He hums doubtfully.

Following a shootout with the Pinkertons and the law in the middle of Valentine, Dutch had ordered the camp out of Horseshoe Overlook and ushered you south east into the state of Lemoyne. On the other side of Dewberry Creek, Arthur and Charles had scouted a hideout chistened Clemens Point. Arthur hadn’t been the keenest to tell you that story, but you had weaseled it out of him.

Micah had recommended the dried out river bed, but when Charles and Arthur had arrived to scout it, there was an abandoned camp nearby, complete with a dead body. Whilst trying to assess the location’s risk to a group of outlaws should they move in, Arthur had moved some crates to find a woman with her two children.

“I guess I saw you,” he mumbled sadly, avoiding eye contact. “An’ the mess I might leave you in one day.”

You rubbed his shoulder patiently. “What happened?”

“I told ‘em to go ‘cause we needed the land.”

You were confused by the guilt still plaguing him and told him so. With a heavy sigh, he described how the girl translated her mother - that their father had been kidnapped and how it took Charles insisting otherwise to convince him to go look.

“So it’s really thanks to him we found this place,” he says gesturing at the open space bordered with woodland and lake.

If anything, you prefer this new destination to Horseshoe Overlook, and not just for the absence of bad memories. You love the sense of freedom swimming gives you: how it makes you weightless, how easy it is to tilt your head back and listen to the low rumble of the earth and water. You also enjoy that the road is more than a stone’s throw away here. A wanderer would have to purposely go out of their way to discover the camp, to hear the noise or see the light of the campfires. Clemen’s Point made you feel safe, even with the occasional canoe sailing by with a wave.

The new location lifted everyone’s spirits. So much so, Dutch dragged Arthur and Hosea out fishing. They returned hours later - singing and surprisingly sober - with deputy badges and a boat load of fish. Whilst the shiny badge continues to earn Arthur a lot of gib from you and everyone else in camp, Dutch insists the news is beyond fantastic.

“We are inaugurated in the local law!” he cries during one of his many speeches. “Hiding in plain sight!”

Still tired and snacking throughout your waking hours, you are relieved to find your morning sickness has passed its peak. Whilst you feel like your veins are popping out of your skin, Arthur insists your stomach is beginning to curve. You accuse him of an overzealous imagination until you try (and fail) to button the jeans from your past life as an O’Driscoll and your shirts that still fasten offer little to no breathing room.

“Think a trip to town is in order.” You jut out your bottom lip, demonstrating the distance between the buttons and their corresponding holes as your lover looks on laughing.

“I think you might be right.” You don’t resist as his fingertips tilt your chin up to plant a kiss on your lips. “Let me go see if Pearson’s got a list and we’ll head out. Think they’ll do another couple hours?”

“Don’t really have a choice,” you grumble, stealing Arthur’s worn blue shirt from under the cot. You can hear Sadie and Pearson bickering even from the edge of camp, so it doesn’t surprise you when Arthur’s tone cuts through the noise.

“-ain’t cooking work?”

Looking over, you see Arthur has taken the expostulating Mrs Adler aside. You look away quickly - there’s no reason to ruin an acceptable day by agitating her enough to start shouting at you too. Her and Pearson have been at each other’s necks since she’s pulled herself out of the worst of her depression, almost as though he has become the target of her grief.

You focus your attention on preparing the cart. A trip to town means a trip for supplies, and with so many mouths to feed, horseback wasn’t a viable option.

"How are you, Miss?"

You turn around, surprised at being addressed directly by someone other than Arthur. Seeing Kieran’s familiar pastiness relaxes you a little. As an ex-O’Driscoll himself, you trusted him the most not to stab you after Arthur and the little boy, Jack.

"Fine," you reply flatly, brushing out the tangles of the shire’s mane.

"We ain't really had much time to talk since we was in Tall Trees a few months back, have we?" You hum in response, trying not to flash any amount of flesh by moving too much. The poor boy was skittish enough. He immediately begins to help you, being the horse fan he is.

"I never even suspected a thing, Miss,” he gushes. “So I bet you anything Ol' Colm won't have neither."

"So you two were close, huh?" You barely contain the sarcasm.

He shrugs off the question awkwardly. "Which feller was you again?"

"Well I must’ve been good if you have to ask." You feed the shire a carrot, avoiding eye contact. "I was Thomas," you admit quietly. The following silence is prolonged. Doubtful.

“Thomas Donoghue?” You shrug your shoulders. “So you were friends with Paeder then?”

“Peter?” You respond coolly. “Never knew him.”

He opens his mouth as if to argue, but Arthur is marching across camp, shouting back over his shoulder to Mrs Adler. Spooked, Kieran bolts to a safe distance, doing nothing but look on as Arthur helps you up onto the back of the cart.

Acknowledging you with a sneer, the other woman takes her place on the bench up front. “So I’ve graduated from choppin’ vegetables to shopping?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth…” grumbles Arthur, reins in hand as the cart moves off. You give Kieran a small, apologetic wave farewell, but it’s difficult to contain the relief of your companions’ timing. Paeder was a private matter, and one which you had no desire to discuss out loud. You’re sure the shaky man meant no harm, but some things were better buried.

“You cooled down then, yet?” Arthur asks the widow, distracting you from your thoughts.

“I guess,” she grumbles. “And I ain’t no scullion! And I sure as hell ain’t takin’ orders from that sweating halfwit!”

You can almost hear his eyes roll. “Well I guess we all gotta do our share, princess.”

“Where’s that letter?”

“Oh, you reading his mail now?”

Sadie throws him a dirty look. “Robbing and killing’s ok, but letter reading’s where we draw the line?”

You stifle a smirk as Arthur pulls it from the inside of his coat, knowing he’s been had. “Here.”

“Dear Aunt Cathy-”

“You are somethin’ else…”

“I haven’t heard from you in some time, so I prayed to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further… bla bla bla… s’boring… Oo! Wait a sec, listen to this! Since we last corresponded, I have travelled widely, making no small name for myself.” You all laugh out loud. “Before you ask, I am still yet to take a wife, but I can assure you it is not for lack of suitors.” Arthur barks out laughing again as Sadie giggles. “He ever actually talked to a woman he ain’t paid for?” she asks in disbelief.

“Look, we’re all hiding behind something.” Whilst his tone advises the limit of fun has been reached, the smile is still audible.

“And what’s this? Return to Tacitus Kilgore?”

“Oh that? That’s Dutch’s idea. All mail to be sent to the same alias. Whenever we set up somewhere new, Strauss, he heads into town, tells them to start expecting mail from a Tacitus Kilgore or whatever they changed it to… Here, gimme that back. We got work to do.”

You all sit quietly as the cart rolls into Rhodes. The locals watch you, wary of the unfamiliar faces, but you keep your head high. Strangers smell weakness. It’s better to come off aloof and avoid trouble than to present as vulnerable and be beaten down at every turn.

“Ok, here we are.”

“So what’s the plan?” Mrs Adler points a pistol at the side of the building, squeezing one eye shut as she gauges the iron sights. “I shoot the shopkeeper, while you-?”

“No! You insane?”

“Well I thought we was outlaws…?”

“Outlaws! Not idiots!" he hisses, pushing down the gun as he looks around for any witnesses. "We rob fools that rob other people! These people- they’re just tryna get by! So you head on in there, and you buy us some food to eat. And no guns.”

“Are you sure?”

“This time.” The two of you share a look again as he helps you down. “There’ll be plenty o’ time for killin’ soon enough.”

“What are you doin’?”

“I’m gonna go check the mail, nothin’ exciting.”

Sadie shrugs and saunters off. Arthur sighs and shakes his head, touching your arm. "You gonna be alright?"

"Here's hopin'."

"Any trouble, holler. Stay outta her way best you can though, alright?"

Knowing that his concern lies with your companion's open hatred for anything remotely O'Driscoll rather than your ability to defend yourself, you nod. Blowing him a cheeky kiss, he waves back at you with a grin as you enter the general store.

"-flour, oats, salt, eggs, apples if you have them..."

"Sure, not a problem,” responds the shopkeeper as he begins to gather the goods. “Big family, have you?"

"Somethin' like that." Mrs Adler barely spares you a glance as the titter of the doorbell announces your presence. "And you sell clothes?"

So Arthur had explained to her your purpose for the journey. You're flattered, if a little bewildered at this kind gesture. From the looks she’s been giving you, you’re surprised she has buried the hatchet of your past so quickly.

"We do. Not the widest range of ladies fashion, I'm afraid."

"That's alright. I'll look at everything you got."

"Of course, Mrs…?"

"Kilgore," she smirks, turning to bat her eyelids at you. You realise then that her request is completely unrelated to you. Why wouldn’t it be? You’re not the only person that has been swept into the Van der Linde gang with little more than what you were wearing on your back. From Arthur’s story, she escaped with nothing more than her wedding ring and her nightclothes, so it’s only natural that she is also in need of a new wardrobe. "What? You don't even trust me to handle the shopping by myself?"

"You're not the only one in need of new clothes, Mrs Ad- Kilgore." You force a polite smile at the sales clerk whilst Mrs Adler browses the shelves dully. "What are the biggest sizes you have in stock? Any maternity wear by chance?"

"Ain't many women round here makin' babies," he sighs, pulling out a few options. You can feel Sadie's eyes burning past you at the pile. "You're best tryin' Saint Denis or ordering outta the catalogue. There's a tailor in Blackwater I heard is pretty good for that sorta thing, but it's quite the journey-"

"Too far for me, I fear." You flick through the pages as Mrs Adler leaves to try a few things on from the pile in front of you. Writing a quick list with estimated sizing, you purchase the largest button up shirt and skirt for sale. The trousers will have to wait for another day - you know investing twenty dollars in a pair that you'll breach the waistline of in a matter of weeks is a luxury you can't especially afford right now.

Mrs Adler on the other hand spares little expense with a sturdy pair of jeans. Finally out of the cumbersome skirts, her whole character changes and suddenly you feel the same pit of dread you did when faced with a full camp of spitting Van der Lindes all those weeks ago.

Intimidated, you step outside whilst she settles the bill. You take a short wander up the main road, taking in the familiar buildings with apathy. Who would have thought you would end up here again? Now you’re not so apprehensive about your life span, you can see how rundown this dusty crumbling town is. The few shops that are open have seen better days, and the best kept building is the bank. You feel your skin crawl as you spot the large parlour houses on the horizon. Of course this place is struggling to survive - anywhere that profited from slave labour deserved to rot. Part of you hopes it’s slow perilous march to abandonment continues: it would be disappointingly merciful to see a place be lost to one good shoot out.

“I’ve birthed foals with more strength than you!” Mrs Adler’s cursing sinks your stomach as you navigate your way back to the store where a man is helping her load the cart. “Hell, my sister’s newborn had more strength than you and he came out bright blue!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Spotting Arthur, who is strolling back himself, fills you with relief. The shopkeeper walks back to the porch, checking the list before walking back. “I think this is everything,” he says, swinging the sack of salt on the cart.

“Thanks… here, take that for yourself, okay.” She flicks a silver coin and he catches it out of the air, scowling.

“Thanks,” he spits.

“Well, give it back then! Jesus! I didn’t ask for his goddamn help..." She pushes the sack on more securely to stop it rolling off when the cart moves. “OK, get on. I’m about done here.”

“Why don’t you drive?” suggests Arthur coolly after making sure you’re sat safely amongst the supplies. “C’mon lady, get a move on.”

She scowls as she takes the reins. “I like Sadie, not lady.”

“I know. So you get everything?”

“I think so.”

“And some… new clothes, I see?”

“Don’t start,” she sighs, the heat returning to her voice. “I can wear what I damn well want. Like I told you, my husband and I shared all the work. I wasn’t some little wife with a flower in her hair baking cherry pies all day.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that. You sure look the part now. Won’t be long before you’re smoking cigars and playin’ the harmonica.”

“I’ll have you know I used to love playing the harmonica before… well… my house and everything I owned got burned to the ground.”

“I know... I’m real sorry. About what you… you know. Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for another one.”

“I don’t want no pity,” she snaps. “Just… treat me equal and know… nobody’s taking nothing from me ever again.”

Arthur hums in comradery. “Just don’t kill the camp cook…”

A horse gallops up alongside you. “Hey there! What are you folks up to?”

“Just heading home,” says Arthur casually, adding a quiet “keep it cool, Sadie”.

“You’re in Lemoyne Raider country. You need to pay a toll to pass through here.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” The hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the anticipation of conflict. You realise with a sinking stomach that you’re completely unarmed. “How about you pull over right now?”

“Pull over?” he repeats incredulously. Your eyes scan the bags and boxes around you. There has to be something here that can double as a weapon of some kind.

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey!” calls Sadie coolly. “How’s about this?”

A pistol cracks and the Lemoyne Raider cries out in pain. She ushers the horses on with a Go, go, go! as Arthur stands up, drawing his revolvers and firing. You duck down as bullets fly over your head, your hands scrambling for anything that could be of use.

“What the hell was that?” cries Arthur furiously.

“They was gonna rob us!”

“A new pair of pants and you think you’re Landon Ricketts!” He curses loudly as more men run out in the road ahead.

“I’m gonna run this son of a bitch down!” she shouts, pulling the wagon over one raider and off the road.

“Well you wanted to see some action, lady, now you got your wish!” Arthur slings his longarm from his back and shoves it in your direction as he continues to fire. You can see more men coming out from between the trees and you take aim, knocking them down one by one as Arthur clips off any extras over your head.

“You alright there, Sadie?” you shout over the gunfire. Arthur is still firing behind you, but she’s out of your line of sight from where you’re crouched behind sacks of grain.

“Of course! You think I can’t handle these fools?” You don’t retaliate and you can almost hear her voice aim at Arthur. “Told you I could shoot a gun, didn’t I?”

“I don’t remember asking you to prove it,” he grunts, tossing you extra ammo just in case. The last bastard is fleeing south down the dirt track. You take aim, but he’s out of range.

“Yeah you run, you goddamn coward!” screams Sadie before taking a steadying breath. “I think we’re good here. Nice shooting. I’ll drive us back-”

“No! Pass those reins here!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve caused enough trouble already.”

She doesn’t find grounds to argue, instead looking back at you, her face straight and unreadable. “We showed those bastards, huh?”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Arthur scowls.

“They was clearly plannin’ to bushwhack us!” she argues, facing forward again.

“You did good, but that’s a lotta mess to make near camp. Hope it don’t bring anyone sniffin’ around.”

“Are you gonna tell Dutch?” she asks mockingly.

“Maybe… if he asks. But, maybe not.”

“So who did they say they were? Lemoyne Raiders?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Who knows… Anyway, don’t you go ribbing Pearson about that letter.”

“How dare you? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Riiight, you wouldn’t…”

“I have travelled widely, making no small name of myself…”

Arthur laughs. “I won’t be giving you no mail to post any time soon, that’s for sure.”

She chuckles too. “I just wanna peak in that journal of yours. The mind boggles.”

“Not a chance…”

“You didn’t get yourself killed then, Miss Adler?” calls Pearson, strolling over smugly as Arthur pulls up near the horse station.

“Not quite,” she responds truthfully.

“Well, I’d like to say I missed your refined conversations, but I’d be lying.”

She accepts the box shoved into her chest without complaint. “I… I enjoyed myself out there.”

“Yes, we err… Mrs Adler did ok!” He holds up his arms and lifts you down gently by your waist.

“At shopping?”

“Yes, at shoppin’...”

The double meaning doesn’t go unrecognised by Sadie who thanks him with genuine gratitude.

“Don’t mention it. I would ride with you again, Mrs Adler, if you will ride with me.”

“Maybe,” she laughs. “If you prove you can handle yourself.”

“Well, they say I lack finesse, but I ain’t afraid of gun smoke.”

“We got this, Arthur. You’ve already done me a big favour today.” Turning to you with a smile, Arthur accepts the repeater you proffer. It’s best to remain unarmed for now - there’s no need to risk one of your lesser fans finding an excuse to regard you as a threat. “Okay, Miss High and Mighty. And… nice pants by the way.”

“You okay there, Y/N?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side. “You manage to find something too?”

“Just about,” you admit. “Had to put in an order. How long do you think we’ll be around here for?”

“Until we can’t most likely. Everything alright? They didn’t catch you or nothin’, did they?”

“Of course not, Arthur.” Your weak smile is genuine and heartfelt at his concern. “I’m not above shouting when I’m shot.”

“‘Course not.” He rubs your back, leading you back to your shared tent. “You gonna try them on, or what?”

“Nah, I figure I might as well make the most of still being able to fit in this stuff, even if it’s only for a few more days.”

He laughs, pulling you into a big hug. “Fair enough.”

From under his arm, you spot the rousing attention of Herr Strauss nearby. You nudge him in warning, but it’s too late.

“Ah, Herr Morgan! How are you enjoying yourself out here?”

“Well enough, I guess,” he replies gruffly. “And you?”

“Well, it turns out the pursuit of freedom is not a cheap business. Not for us, and not for some of the locals.”

“Sharking, already?”

“I prefer to call it banking.”

“You ain’t the one handing out the beatings,” snarls Arthur.

“No, but I am the one feeding the women and children in the camp,” he retorts. “What choice do we have, Mr Morgan?”

Arthur sighs. “Ah, I don’t know. Well, come on then! Tell me who…”

You stop listening as Strauss reads off a list of names, and only tune back in to hear Arthur ask how many he expects to be able to pay.

“With enough encouragement, both of them!” he chuckles, his black eyes twinkling from behind the round spectacles.

Sighing, Arthur returns to where you’re sat on the camp bed. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’d best be gettin’ on.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You stand up to kiss him. “The gang comes first.”

He grimaces at that, but doesn’t dispute it. You give him another kiss for good luck and wave him out camp before dropping the flaps, not missing the glare of bitterness from Sadie across camp.

[benji-deeds]

I'll Make Sure You're Safe (An au where Clint and Loki knew each other before the Avengers)

When Clint woke from his hypnotic state, the man who put him there standing in front of him, his first action was to capture Loki by the throat, grinding his teeth. He set his jaw to keep his lip from wobbling, applying more pressure from his palm on Loki's neck. "Answer me, dammit!" He seethed as tears threatened to fall, "Why'd you do it? Why me of all people to have under your hold?" At Loki's silence, Clint forced him back harder against the wall, the impact of Loki's head against it pounding in his ears. With a broken, dry sob, Clint repeated himself, "Why?"

"Because," came Loki's response, his voice raspy under the pressure of Clint's tightening grip, "you were the only one I trusted to be at my side."

Clint shook his head slowly, as if transfixed. He dropped his hand from around Loki's throat to around his shoulders in a swift move. "You're a fuckin' prick, know that?" Clint held Loki tight to his chest, his face buried in the nape of the god's neck, "A big fuckin' prick."

"So I've been told." The reply was distant, cold, lacking the gentle touch it had once had, but it was here. Loki was here. He was tangible, more than just a dream, an aching longing in the middle of the night, he was here and Clint couldn't figure out whether he wanted to strangle him or bring him to bed to hold.

The latter one, eventually. Clint was exhausted and there would be plenty of time to scream at Loki later when he was trying to figure out how in the hell to explain to the rest of the Avengers that hey! I managed to track down and defeat the enemy and I don't even have a scratch! Yeah, that could definitely wait.

For now, Clint took Loki by the hand and led him to his bed upstairs. "It's been some time, hasn't it?" Loki must've cleared his throat; he sounded much better now. "Last time you brought me here, we were clutching onto each other for dear life, scratching, caressing, kissing." A little smirk appeared on the god's tired face, "If I recall, you'd done the whole choking bit then, too, albeit it was coupled with some more fun activities."

"Jesus, Loki." Clint ran a hand over his face, "You need some sleep before I kill ya, I swear." As much as he tried to put a bit of humour to his voice, he couldn't summon it well. "I think the bags under your eyes have bags."

"Rude."

"It's true, asshole, and it's concernin' as all hell." Once Clint convinced Loki to sit on the bed, he made his way to a spot beside him, "I mean, Jesus, do ya never sleep anymore? Yknow, for a god who calls himself fashionable, y'aint takin' care of yourself all that much."

"Clint..."

Clint had really been started now. He continued, "No, seriously, Loki, I might actually look a little less shitty next to you right now. We need to get ya back to the times where I was a dumpster pile compared to you."

Loki's mouth went dry, "We?"

Clint felt those tears pricking at his eyes again, and he promptly wiped them away roughly with the back of his hand, "Yeah, yeah, we." He set his hand on Loki's cheek, "We're doin' this together, I guess. Like it or not."

Loki allowed himself to smile, leaning into the calloused hand on his cheek, "I think I'm okay with that, my hawk."

Clint almost flinched at the petname, recovering just in time to speak again. "Yeah, yeah, now I'm gonna be back in a sex-" he tripped over his words, then corrected himself, "sec."

Loki had that old, little twinkle in his eyes again, "Sex, hm?"

The archer groaned, "C'mon, Lokes, let one slide, would ya?" He let himself relax back onto the bed. Making up the couch for himself could wait, he supposed. Clint felt Loki's hand over his, his pointer finger running a few smooth circles over Clint's palm. He stilled, spying Loki from the corner of his eyes. "Whatcha doin' there, Elsa?"

Loki scrunched up his nose in a way that was oddly comical, but he didn't pull away just yet. He spoke in a quiet volume, "Do you think it's forgivable? What I've done."

With his free hand, Clint tussled his hair, thinking for a moment before he nodded, "I think everythin' can be forgave-"

"Forgiven."

"Oh, leave me alone. I dropped outta school. Forgiven." He corrected himself. "Anyway, uh, I was sayin' that everyone can be forgiven if they put effort in, man." He shrugged, "I mean, hell, you were in my head, so you know all the shit I've done 'nd look at me now."

"Sitting in bed, holding a criminal's hand," Loki replied with a trace of bitterness.

Clint snorted, "I meant bein' an Avenger, but hey this isn't all that bad. I mean, this is...this is kinda nice still, ain't it? Bein' this close."

Loki leaned in just a hair, which from the way they had been sitting before, brought their lips all too close together, "Some would argue that being this close to me is a fate far worse than death."

Clint's gaze dropped, focusing on their hands, which weren't really holding each other, more like just sorta stacked. Like pancakes. Damn, that reminded him; he was hungry. Eh, food could wait. What was he sayin'? Yeah, yeah, Loki's hand over his. Right. He slowly locked their fingers, "There's probably truth to that, Lokes," he smiled at the flush the nickname brought to Loki's cheeks, "Hey, look, pink suits you. Makes your face have a bit 'o colour. Kinda nice."

"You've lost the forest for the trees, my hawk."

Clint shook his head, "Right, anyway, what was I sayin'. Uhhh, okay, so yeah, there's truth to it probably, but hey, I'm not dead yet, am I? I know you could kill me in a snap with all of your wizard powers-" Loki rolled his eyes; Clint laughed, "-but you haven't. And that says somethin' whether you like it or not, Loki."

There was a few solid beats of silence, and almost Clint opened his mouth to speak again, only to be cut off by the light pressure of Loki's lips against his. His eyes shut from impulse, and he applied a bit more pressure to the kiss. They moved slowly, if they did move at all. Fine by Clint. This alone caused his breath to hitch, the old ticker in his chest to beat rapidly, as if on steroids. "Loki..."

"Yes, my hawk?" The words were murmured against his lips between soft touches. The hand that wasn't holding his, Loki had on his waist just under the hoodie Clint wore.

"We can't do this forever, man. Much as I'd like to." Clint pulled away just enough that Loki could see the expression he wore; something tender, sad, concerned, but also wise. Clint knew that if they continued this game, there would never be a winner.

Loki slid his hand down to rest on Clint's thigh, "I know you're right, and I know I must leave you eventually. Whether it be to some ugly prison on Asgard, or banished to a desolate realm to spend my next 4000 years alone and self-loathing. I know this, and for this, I am prepared, but for now, I beg of thee, mine hawk, give me a bit of time with you."

Clint felt the hard lump in his throat swell up until he was absolutely drowning in it. He suddenly felt all too real, as if aware of how each muscle in his limbs contracted as he moved but an inch. "Lokes, this is..." he shook his head, "Goddammit, I'm so pissed because I actually like you, you fucknut. And we coulda just been happy if you hadn't taken that stupid Tesseract." He set his hands on Loki's chest, searching for the right words to say, "Fuck, fuck, *fuck*, Loki."

He felt so stupidly helpless, slumped against a god's chest like this. What the hell, man. Clint couldn't find the right words, the right movements, the right breaths. It stung like the blades in his ears had, like dropping out of school had, like being mind controlled had...

Next thing he knew, he was on his back, the hand that had been on his hip now gently raking through his hair, lips that had been on his now on his cheeks, kissing away tears that had apparently fallen. Loki's body was over his, his touches gentle, making Clint keen.

"Clint," a kiss to his cheek, "all of this," to his lips, "all of this hel that's going on," a long, biting kiss to his throat, "it's not going to last forever." His breath was hot against Clint's neck, his limbs tangled with Clint's, "I'm sorry that I did this to you." The words were desperately quiet, and Clint had to strain to hear, piecing together little bits of sound.

His heart ached, and he shook his head slowly, unable to get words to work for him. Instead, Clint just gave Loki a comforting smile, cupping his cheeks to bring him down closer to him. He rested his forehead against Loki's, their noses almost touching, "Hey, it's gonna be okay." He tried to keep his breathing slow to make his heart stop racing, "You're right. This ain't gonna last forever, Lokes. It's gonna get a lot better 'cause I'm gonna defend you to make sure you end up somewhere safe."

Loki dropped his head down to bury his face in Clint's shoulder, "I don't know how much that'll help, Clinton."

With the movement, Clint had to move his hands from his cheeks to Loki's back, "We're going to get this figured out. Yeah, I can't just...just get you off the hook cause I mean, yeah, you're guilty and no way is the government gonna let you free, but you're not going to end up banished somewhere or in a shithole of a prison. You're gonna...gonna get books and decent food, and I'm gonna try to visit you, okay?"

Loki nodded slowly as he spoke, turning on his side so that he could look up at Clint, drinking in the soft, hurt expression the archer held. He said, "They're not going to let you see me without questioning you heavily. Why would the one taken over, forced to serve this lowly god, want to see him? Well, ha, I suppose you could always make the excuse that you want to see me suffering. That you want to...to get your revenge on me. I'm sure Odin would allow that."

"Is your dad really that bad?" Clint asked in a way that said Loki didn't have to answer if he didn't want to.

Loki set his jaw, "Odin is not my father. He is nothing to me but the man who picked me up off the street when Laufey threw me away to die." A pause, "But...yes, Odin never cared for me as he did Thor. I understand that. Anyone that's spent a minute with the three of us can see that, but that's not the point."

"I'm sorry, Loki, I really am." After he got a little nod of dismissal from Loki, Clint gave his arm a soft squeeze, "Let me up. I'm going to get changed." Clint pushed himself out of bed to get some loose, fleece bottoms. After going out to the bathroom to change, he came back to sit at the edge of the bed.

He pressed a kiss to Loki's temple, "You should get some sleep, you know. It's good for you."

"You're one to talk."

"Hey, I sleep. I'm the asshole that just never gets out of bed." Clint retorted with a grin. He said with a more gentle tone, "Sleep. Tomorrow mornin' I gotta go to back to HQ and explain where the fuck I've been and how the fuck I'm myself again."

"Right." Loki whispered. Then, "Take off your binder before you go to bed, would you." It was more of a caring demand than a question.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I try to remember, man."

"Good." Was Loki's only reply before he turned over, apparently forcing himself to sleep before Clint could badger him more.

Clint turned to go back downstairs, repressing his groan when he remembered that he had to make the couch for bed before he could sleep. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder to Loki, a weary smile crossing his features. "It'll be okay, Clint, it'll be okay."

It was better to tell himself this. Better to convince himself that Loki would be okay before he was ripped from him forever.