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nadja-antipaxos · 1 year

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chapter four: if she’s gonna go well then i’m goin’ with her

previously - chapter three || masterlist || next - chapter five

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: swearing, a brief discussion of F/F sex, canon-typical violence (fighting mummies, Harrow shooting main characters, punching), major character deaths and resurrections, very brief and implied child abuse, racism, F/F sex, breast play and kissing, oral sex female receiving, vaginal fingering, oral sex male receiving, group sex (M/F/M/F), dirty talk, PIV sex, discussion of pegging

Note: Thank you to everyone who is reading this. The next chapter will be the epilogue. Please let me know what you think.This chapter follows episodes 4-6. All chapter titles from Halsey's "honey."

Word Count: 7,422

Layla tosses the lit flare into the bed of the truck igniting the bullets in a hail of sparks. Another truck comes zooming towards her and slams on the brakes spinning with the passenger’s side door open. She doesn’t have anything left to fight it.

“Get in.” It’s Ash.

“We’re saved. Knick of time.” Steven breathes.

Layla gets in the front seat with her navigation system.

“Khonshu—”

“I know.”

“And Harrow, he—”

“I’m all up to speed, babe.”

Ash drives them out of the desert and onto the road surrounded by caverns. It’s beautiful if she actually had time to look.

“How do you two know each other?” Steven pokes his head up from the backseat.

“We used to work together.” Layla looks down at the tablet. “Keep going straight then make a right.”

“Oh. So like a little kick-arse ladies reunion?” Steven smiles.

“You don’t wanna tell him?” Ash gives Layla a look.

“Tell me what?” Seven looks between the two beautiful women.

“Okay, now I’m offended,” Ash smirks and turns her eyes back to the road. “We fucked. Twice.”

“Four times, actually.” Layla corrects her. “Remember—”

“The hotel room and the bathroom.”

“And the office and the restaurant bathroom.”

“Oh yeah. Those last two were quick.”

“Had to be.”

Steven’s mind is flooded with images of these gorgeous women all over each other. This is not the right time to be thinking about this. He thinks Layla is lovely and Ash is magnificent. He thought it was a problem liking two women, but now…maybe once Marc is gone.

Ash rolls her shoulders and cracks her neck. Layla touches her shoulder.

“You’ve been driving all night. Let me.”

They pull over. The women swap and Steven gets in the front seat. Ash lies in the back and looks out the rear window.

“No one’s following us yet.” She allows herself to close her eyes for a few moments. She’s been up longer than this before but she knows Layla will let her know if she needs her.

The truck comes to a stop and they get out on foot. She pulls the hair tie off her wrist and puts her hair into a ponytail. Steven keeps looking back at her like he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

“Look at you.” She smiles sidling up to him.

“Hm?” He smiles back looking at her with complete awe. It makes her stomach flutter.

“You’ve gone all Indiana Jones.” She nudges him and he laughs.

“Not quite, love. You two are the fighters.” He jerks his chin at Layla up ahead of them.

“But you figured this out, yeah?”

“It wasn’t hard.”

“Steven, take the compliment.” She rests her hand on his shoulder for a moment.

“Thank you.” He chews his bottom lip. “I like you, too, by the way.”

She just smiles at the random confession.

“In the pyramid, you said you really like me.”

“I do.”

“Don’t think 'cause Marc is cross with you that I’m upset. We’re good.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I think you’re marvelous and Marc is being a right knob.” He stops walking. “So yeah, I really like you too.”

Before Ash can answer, Layla whistles for them. They catch up quickly. The dig site has camels, trucks, equipment, and tarps, but no people.

“Something happened. Something not Harrow.” Ash furrows her brow.

She straps on the belay and rappel equipment.

“Seeing as I’m the only one with healing powers I’m gonna go down first.”

“Be careful.” Steven frowns.

“Of course.” Ash winks.

“We’ll be right behind you.” Layla nods.

Ash jumps down and suspends above the ground. Everything inside her tells her it’s not safe and to leave but her job requires ignoring that instinct. She looks around. It’s dark and she doesn’t really know what to look for. She unhooks herself and turns on a flashlight. So far, nothing has tried to kill her. She keeps moving until she reaches a mirrored room with many doors. She walks back the way she came and sees Marc and Layla approaching. Their energy is sweet but awkward making her wonder what happened while she was gone.

They walk back and immediately Layla and Steven fall into a rhythm like they’re on a trivia game show. They would definitely win. She follows them into a room that reminds her of a morgue. The fresh blood and gore on the slab are definitely new. Steven doesn’t want to follow the trail of blood and bones. Ash nods and summons her khopesh. Steven crawls on the level above to look for a different exit.

“I know you’re gonna say it’s Hollywood of me but I think we have a mummy situation.”

“What?” Layla stares at her.

“You said these priests guard the pharaoh and we’re full-on tomb raiding.”

Before Layla can answer, they hear gunshots and Steven tells them to hide. Layla ducks behind the slab and Ash moves to the side next to her. Her fingers grip the handle of her sword ready to swing.

As she guessed a mummy guts one of the men from the dig. Layla looks at her and she mouths “mummy”. Layla throws one of the jars and bolts. Steven pushes artifacts down on it. The creepy clicking echoes and the remaining five priest mummies in front of her come alive.

“Go find the ushabti.” Ash gets to her feet.

“Ash—“

“I got this. I’ll find you.”

They move fast and swarm her. She lobs off the heads of two of them. They dissolve into sand. One grabs her waist and the another gets her legs. The last one moves the body off the slab. It falls to the ground with a sickening thud.

Before they can throw her on it, she elbows the one holding her in the stomach. It stumbles back and drops her. She falls on her back with the one on her legs. She kicks her feet and launches that one in the air. She reaches her arm out and tilts her blade so it lands on it before it hits the ground. She’s hauled up from under her arms. She spins and slices them in half with the curved end of her blade. The final mummy by the slab roars and she roars back. She hops up on the slab and drives the end of the blade into its jaw knocking it clean off.

“Fucking mummies.”

She takes a moment to catch her breath going out the exit Steven found. She continues into the tomb. It’s eerie to step inside a place no one has been in thousands of years. She doesn’t stay alone for long because she hears Harrow talking to his followers.

“This way. It will lead us to our goddess.”

Ash sprints and goes further into the tomb. She finds Layla arguing with Marc. It looks pretty emotional and she hates to interrupt but:

“We gotta fucking move! We got company!”

“Ash, get Layla out.”

“But—”

“Go!”

They don’t make it very far before Harrow and his people reach Marc.

“He doesn’t have a suit. I can’t leave him.” She presses her lips to the back of Layla’s hand before running.

Harrow takes the gun from one of his men as Marc hacks them down with an axe. Ash launches her body in front of his. The bullet pierces her stomach. The force propels her into the foot of the sarcophagus. She grunts feeling the wind knocked out of her. She can’t get up in time. Harrow fires one shot into Marc.

“Marc!” Ash screams.

Marc stumbles but doesn’t fall completely, so Harrow fires again. She hears his body hit the water with a splash.

With great effort, Ash rushes to him. The tears blur her vision at the sight of his still body. It looks so wrong. Her heart aches. Marc. Steven. They’re all gone. She was supposed to protect them and she failed. Her shoulders slump forward as she sobs. Harrow’s followers haul Marc out of the water.

“Don’t fucking touch him.” She spits.

A hand tucks under her arm and pulls her up. It’s Harrow. He wipes the tears off her face.

“Tears? For Marc Spector? Or are they for Steven Grant?”

She looks away. He hums and tips his head to the side.

“Both. I wonder does his wife know?”

She staggers and swings a fist at Harrow. It connects with his cheek.

“Fuck you.”

“Take her. She comes with us.” Harrow rubs his face while his followers take hold of Ash.

Ash tries to fight but she’s too weak from the blood loss. He got her good and not enough time has passed for her to heal. Harrow cups her cheek. Ash swallows down the bile in her throat. He hasn’t moved his hand. His brow furrows with concern.

“You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to kill them.”

His hand touches the back of her head and strokes her hair.

“My friend, I hate to see you in such pain.”

He holds her close and guides her out of the tomb. The sunlight barely reaches her eyes before she passes out.

The roof of her mouth is dry when she wakes up. Her body aches in a way that it hasn’t in ten years. The wound on her stomach hasn’t healed. Her eyes snap open and she feels the heavy metal around her wrists. She’s tied down on a stone slab.

“Sekhmet?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

Nothing. She can’t sense the feline goddess.

“She is not with you.”

Ash turns her head to the new voice. The crocodile goddess stands next to Harrow. The worst possible outcome has happened. Her stomach churns.

“Where is she?”

Ammit places her hand on Ash’s forehead.

“Mmm. So much pain for one so young.“

“If Ammit had been freed, your mother will still be alive. You would have never met your foster father.” Harrow frowns.

“Shut up.” She doesn’t talk about this. She never talks about this.

“A supposedly godly man.” He spits, disgusted.

“Shut up! Stop!” She’s begging him. She might actually be sick.

“Don’t blame yourself. You were a child.” He shakes his head.

“Shut the fuck up!” The hot tears stream down her face as her body shakes. She doesn’t want to think about him.

“Even our government didn’t protect you.”

“Stop it!” She screams fighting against her bonds. Her mind is bombarded with images she never wanted to see again. Her entire body trembles engulfed in panic.

Ammit lets go of her.

“Her scales balance.”

“Our goddess sees the good in you.” Harrow smiles broadly.

“You are a good fighter. Find peace with me.” Ammit tells her.

Ash turns her head despite the awkward angle. She’s still tied to this makeshift altar.

“Join us, Aishwarya. Help others to never suffer how you did.” Harrow nods.

“Look, I’m fucked up, but I’m not that fucked up. I’m never joining you.” Ash glares at both of them.

“Then I am truly sorry.” Harrow sighs.

“What a shame.” Ammit looks at Harrow who steps forward.

He points his cane at Ash and a purple light blasts towards her. She screams. Every nerve in her body is lit. She’s never felt pain like this. She can’t fight back. She can’t even think. It grows until she can’t even scream. Her last breath is pulled from her in a gasp and she collapses on the stone, eyes wide. Harrow doesn’t even spare her a glance before walking out of the pyramid.

Ash comes to on the wooden planks of a ship. It doesn’t stop as she gets to her feet. She expects pain but it doesn’t come. She wears a long blue dress that reaches her ankles. She looks around. Instead of water, it’s all sand.

“Sekhmet?” She calls out but doesn’t hear her. That voice hasn’t been silent in ten years.

“Stay on the ship.”

She turns her head to the unfamiliar voice and sees the giant head of a jackal on the body of a man.

“Anubis.”

“Do not fear.”

“What is this?”

“You are in the Duat.”

“The underworld?”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m dead?”

“Yes. Before your time, I am sorry to say.”

“When was I supposed to die?”

“Not at this age.”

“Okay. What does that mean?”

A large palm settles on her chest and pulls out a white heart. Her heart. It almost looks like it’s made of ceramic. Anubis places it on the scales and it balances. He hums, approvingly. Anubis pushes the doors open and she sees a castle in front of her. She almost laughs at the sight of it.

“Your mind cannot comprehend the Duat, so it has chosen a familiar vessel.”

“I see.”

“As gratitude for your service, I offer you a choice. Your entire life is on this ship. Move through it and at the end, decide. You have until we reach the Field of Reeds.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Decide between returning to your body, to life, to Sekhmet. Or find peace in the Field of Reeds.”

“I want to go back. I have to stop Harrow and Ammit.”

Anubis shakes his head.

“Ammit has been subdued.”

“Who stopped her?”

“Layla El-Faouly as an Avatar to the Goddess Tawaret. Marc Spector and Steven Grant as Avatars to the God Khonshu.”

“They’re alive?”

“Your mission is complete. You can choose peace.”

“W-What if there’s stuff in there I don’t want to see?”

“Keep moving forward until the end and tell me what you decide.” Anubis drifts away.

Ash takes a deep breath and enters the castle.

“Where is she?” Marc’s voice gets louder as he glares at the moon god. “Where is Ash?” He hadn’t answered him in the desert. Now, Ammit and Harrow were bound as one and they would make sure they would be put in a place where they couldn’t harm anyone ever again.

Khonshu sighs and beckons them with a wave of his hand. They move into the chamber where all the gods met two days before. In the corner, Khonshu points.

“There was nothing that could be done.”

Marc and Layla rush over to the stone altar to see Ash’s lifeless body. It freezes them on the spot.

“No no no no.” Layla sobs, clapping her hands over her mouth.

The tears fall freely as Marc approaches. Her dark eyes are wide open as if the life was just snatched from her. The metal on her wrists crumbles in his grip. With great care, he swoops her up. He staggers back only to fall to his knees. He bows his head, sobbing, and lets Steven take the body.

His fingers close her eyelids delicately. Now, she could almost be sleeping.

“Oh, angel.” His voice cracks as he pulls her closer. “I’m so sorry we weren’t here.”

“It’s—it’s not our fault. I don’t understand—I saw Harrow take her, alive.” Layla stumbles over to him and places a hand on Ash’s cheek. “Tawaret!”

The goddess appears instantly.

“Ohh, dear.” Tawaret frowns.

“How did this happen?” Layla blinks furiously through tears.

“Ammit. She did her scales and they balanced. She wanted Ash to join her and she wouldn’t.”

“So she killed her? How? She has Sekhmet!”

“The altar. Harrow must’ve separated them.”

“She was so scared Harrow was going to kill her. And she was right.”

“And she was alone.” Steven sighs as the tears slide down his face. “She didn’t deserve this.”

“Where is she now?” Layla squeezes Steven’s shoulder before looking at Tawaret.

“Anubis is handling her journey. He’s giving her a choice. To come back or stay in the Field of Reeds.”

“Can we see her?” Steven finally looks at the goddess. “Maybe we can convince her to come home.”

“That’s a highly unusual request.”

“She died fighting Ammit and her scales balanced. Make an exception.” Layla stands up.

“Please, Tawaret.” Steven sets Ash’s body down at the goddess’ feet.

Tawaret exhales slowly and offers her hands. Layla takes one and Steven takes the other.

In the blink of an eye, they’re back on the ship. Steven and Marc have separate bodies again. Layla looks between them but doesn’t ask.

“All right. These,” Tawaret holds up three golden bangles,” signify that you’re visitors. It’ll keep you safe. There is a time limit. You have an hour to find her and talk.”

“Sorry.” Steven frowns. “Find her where?”

“She’s in her memories just like you were. I imagine it’s not a psych ward though.” Tawaret explains and slaps the bangles on each of their wrists. “The bangles will return to you to me. Good luck.”

Layla strides forward to the doors and Marc and Steven follow.

“Hang on. If we’re going through her life, that’s invading her privacy.” Steven’s brows knit together.

“We don’t really have a choice. We have to find her.” Marc squeezes his shoulder.

“If she’s not in the memory, then we just leave. It’s not like we’re spying.” Layla nods.

They see a stone castle in front of them.

“Definitely better than a psych ward.” Marc mumbles.

They enter the castle. It’s three levels. Marc feels unsettled. He doesn’t like being here. They all go in the same room.

“Let’s start here.” Layla crosses over to a small door and crawls in. Once inside, she can straighten up. He sees a small girl sitting at a desk with a pretty brown woman in her thirties. They have the same nose.

“And what is this?” She speaks in a crisp English accent and holds up a flashcard.

“Cat!” Ash, at age three, jumps up and down.

“En français.” Her mother corrects.

“Un chat!” Ash beams at her.

“Yes, my darling girl.” She places a kiss on her forehead.

A loud bang sounds in another room and her mother straightens up.

“Closet, love. Now.” Her mother tells her.

Ash bolts to the closet and hides. They can hear a man yelling but he doesn’t enter the room.

“I don’t think she’s here,” Layla tells them and they keep walking.

The next room is a hospital room with a bed. Ash looks older now, about ten, and looks at the woman in a suit speaking to her.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

“N-No. We were gonna leave. She was gonna take me to England.” Tears swim in her brown eyes.

“We can’t seem to get in contact with any of her family. We’re going to temporarily place you in a home until we can find you a family.”

Ash bursts into tears and buries her face in her small hands. Marc frowns and gestures to the door. They leave and enter another room. A tall blonde woman stands with a tall dark-haired man. Two young boys stand behind them.

“Welcome to our family, Ashley.” The woman smiles.

“But—that’s not my name.” Ash frowns.

“Don’t worry you’ll still have your...colorful name. We’re just gonna call you ‘Ashley’. It’s easier.” The woman nods.

“Okay.” Ash falls in step behind them to the car. The man turns and kneels down to her height. His hand dips into his pocket and pulls out a small, red lollipop.

“For being a good sport.”

She takes it and puts it in her jean pocket. He puts a finger to his mouth.

“Our little secret.” He winks.

She nods.

Layla, Marc, and Steven meet in the hallway.

“I think we should split up. Try different rooms. Just in and out.” Layla suggests.

“Good idea.” Marc agrees.

“Yeah, sure. Is it just me or was that whole family a bunch of wankers?” Steven asks.

“They definitely suck.” Layla chuckles. “See you in a few.”

They each enter a different room. Marc finds a teenage Ash throwing glass bottles at a chainlink fence. Police car lights flash and she bolts. He steps out and goes into another room.

It’s a bedroom. It’s her bedroom. She sits on the purple duvet cover with her knees pulled to her chest. She must be fifteen or sixteen. Her foster father sits on the edge of the bed. She keeps her eyes on her feet.

“I’ll be in my study working on next week’s sermon.” He tells her as he smooths out his hair. She doesn’t answer. He gets to his feet and finishes buttoning his shirt.

“Remember…” He looks down at her.

“Our little secret.” Her voice is monotone.

“Exactly.” He chuckles and kisses the top of her head. “Our little secret.”

Marc watches, shaking with silent anger. His hand clenches into a fist.

“M-Marc?”

Marc whips his head around to see Steven next to him. Tears roll down Steven’s face.

“We—We need to get out of here.” Marc puts his hand on Steven’s shoulder guiding him out to the hallway.

Steven throws his arms around him and sobs. Marc rubs his back. He knows now why she ran away. Steven wipes his eyes and pulls back.

“Can we go in the next one together? Then we can split up?”

“Yeah.” Marc gives him a small smile and squeezes his shoulder.

They walk up the stairs. At first, the hallway has no doors. Marc looks at Steven, about to say something when intricate oak doors form on the walls. Steven grabs the first knob and Marc follows him inside. Ash looks like she’s in her mid-twenties. She’s running along rooftops while bullets are fired at her. She ducks behind a wall and trips the gunman with her foot. She spins and kicks him in the stomach.

“Whoa.” Steven’s eyes grow wide.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Marc shakes his head.

“You done playing around?” A blond man with a Southern accent asks her.

She rolls her eyes and follows him. They walk down the street and move into another building.

“He’s gonna meet us here?” Ash asks.

“Yep.” Her partner nods.

Before she can sit down, two men grab her under her arms. She struggles against them.

“What the fuck, Branson?”

“Nothin’ personal, girlie. They agreed to the ceasefire with a little cash and, well, you.”

She screams and they place a black sack over her head. The memory goes dark and when she comes to, she’s bleeding next to a statue of Sekhmet in a bedroom. Marc and Steven look at one another.

“Are you still with me, kitten?” Sekhmet asks.

“I’m dying and I’m hallucinating my last minutes on Earth. For fuck’s sake.” Ash coughs up blood.

“You are not hallucinating. I am the goddess Sekhmet.”

“Sure.” Ash lets her head fall back onto the floor. “You’re a cat statue.”

“I have an offer for you. I can let you die or you can work with me and strangle the men downstairs with their own innards.”

“Jesus, that’s specific.” Ash laughs, almost delirious.

“Aishwarya. Ash. You are strong. Good of heart. With a healthy sense of vengeance. Be my Avatar. Let us rid the world of scum. Make it a safe place for women, children, and the most vulnerable.”

“Why the fuck not? I accept.” Ash sighs and closes her eyes. Her spine arches off the floor like a bow as the bruises heal and her blood dries. The armor snaps over her body and the mask appears. She looks exactly like she did the first time Marc saw her fight. She’s stunning. Steven lets out a slow whistle interrupting Marc’s thoughts.

“Wow.”

“Right?” Marc scratches the back of his neck.

“See, she was being reasonable. Not a manipulative git.” Steven sighs.

“I guess Sekhmet doesn’t have Khonshu’s baggage.” Marc cards a hand through his hair.

They walk back out to the hallway. Steven points at one door and Marc points at another. They separate.

In another room, Layla watches a memory she knows well. She and Ash running through the streets until the men tailing them got confused. Ash pulls her into an alleyway. They’re pressed up against each other. Ash standing only a few inches taller than her. Their eyes met and then their mouths. The first kiss. Layla cups her face, greedy for more, as their tongues slide together. They break apart, giggling. Layla walks out of the room with a smile. They both have a fondness for that memory. She needs to reach her so it doesn’t stay just a memory.

Steven recognizes his former place of employment immediately. He spots himself sitting with Ash looking at a Sekhmet statue. He feels like a right tosser listening to himself give her facts on a goddess she knows quite well. He’s yammering on while she listens. She pushes her glasses up her nose and laughs. She reaches forward and brushes his upper arm. He stills, eyes wide. She tilts her head and smiles. He couldn’t see it then, but the fondness in her eyes makes warmth bloom in his chest. She looked at him like that before they went into the tomb. Steven inhales a shaky breath. He has to find her. He has to.

Marc furrows his brow at the sight of his childhood street. Why is this in her memory?

“I don’t know about this.”

His head snaps to Ash’s voice. She has a Cubs cap on with her ponytail fed through the opening in the back. He knows it’s a disguise but Marc feels a little triumph that it’s not a Sox hat.

“You’ve kept watch before, no?” Khonshu looms in front of her.

A muscle in her jaw tics as she glares up at him.

“This is fucking different and you know it, Big Bird.” She snaps. Marc has never talked to Khonshu like that. “This is fucking private. I shouldn’t be here.”

Marc watches a memory he has already seen today. Outside his childhood home, drunk and unable to cope, he’s on the ground. Khonshu’s hand stretches out and points.

“Look!” He bellows.

Ash lifts her head and the tears stream down her face. She’s crying for him?

“He can’t handle this. The idiot is about to have control and he won’t know where he is!” Khonshu barks at her.

“That’s not fair.” Ash sniffs.

“You said you would help them.” Khonshu reminds her.

“Khonshu, she understands.” Sekhmet says finally.

Marc blinks, surprised at the sight of the feline goddess. She looks very annoyed with Khonshu and hisses.

“Do not speak to her like she is ignorant.”

“Just get them back to London.” Khonshu huffs. “Please.”

Ash nods and wipes at her eyes. She pulls large sunglasses out of her purse and jogs up the street. Steven looks around, lost. She moves in front of him so he bumps into her.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Of course, Steven is too flustered to look at her properly.

“It is okay.” She speaks with an Indian accent.

His eyes dart back to his phone. “Sorry. I ran into someone. What? Oh. Good idea. Do you know how I can get to the airport?”

“You can take a taxi. Tell them to take you to O’Hare.”

“O’Hare?”

“Mmm. Go up the corner. Taxis gather there.”

“Oh, thank you.” Steven nods and rushes along.

“Happy now, Big Bird?” Ash spits once Steven is out of earshot. Khonshu doesn’t reappear.

Marc frowns. He had her all wrong. She really has been looking out for them.

Layla opens the last door on the second floor. Ash is in a kitchen chopping vegetables. Latin rock is playing with a strong guitar riff. A man with broad shoulders and a black flat cap puts his hands on her hips. He tries to pull her back into his chest. Layla can’t get a look at his face.

“No, I’m cooking.” She warns.

He whispers something in her ear and she sighs. She relaxes and he rocks her back and forth in time with the music. He chuckles and places his cap on her head. She snorts. Layla makes her way out of the room and to the final floor.

She sees Steven and Marc standing there. Suddenly, one door appears on the floor. Steven inhales a shaky breath.

“Should we?”

“Yeah.” Marc nods.

Layla opens the door. It’s a beautiful tropical garden. A heavy waterfall can be heard in the distance. It doesn’t seem like a memory. It seems way too real. The sounds. The smells. How vibrant the plants are. They follow a river. Marc spots her first. She sits on a rock in the middle of the water.

“Ash!” Marc calls out.

She turns her head. He picks up speed and runs into the river.

“Marc?” She stares, confused. He offers his hand and she takes it. He pulls her off the rock and into a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“You are? I thought you were still mad at me.” She relaxes in his arms.

“Mad at you? You got shot for us.” He takes her face in his hands.

“Yeah…well don’t make a big deal out of it.” She rolls her eyes, playfully. She’s not used to Marc being so open.

“I thought he killed you, honey.” He rests his forehead on hers.

“That makes two of us.” She lets out a shaky breath as he rubs her cheekbones with his thumbs. “Marc—”

“Angel!” Steven splashes loudly through the water. Marc steps back as Steven takes her hands in his.

“Wait, what the fuck?” She looks between the two of them.

“We’re separate in the Duat.” Steven explains.

“It takes a minute to get used to.” Layla offers a small smile.

“Layla! But Anubis said you—-you’re not dead. Why are you all here?” She offers Layla one of her other hands.

“Tawaret told us about the deal.” Layla squeezes her hand. “We came here for you.”

Ash inhales a sharp breath and lets go of their hands. She rubs her palms on her blue dress.

“I don’t—I don’t want to complicate things.”

“You’re not. We all care about you.” Marc tells her.

“All of you?” She raises her eyebrows at him.

“Yes. I care about you, Ash. I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted you.”

Ash swallows hard feeling her heart thumping in her chest.

“I understand why you didn’t.”

“You’re always looking out for us. We wanna do the same. We want more time with you. I want more time with you.”

“I don’t… She licks her lips, trying to think. “I don’t want to owe anyone. A-And I don’t wanna be owned.”

“It wouldn’t be like that.” Layla steps closer to her. “We would share each other. Not possession. Your life is your own. This is your choice. We just want you to know we want to be with you and take care of you. But if you want to come back and have nothing to do with us, that is your choice. It is your life.”

“W-What if we fuck up?”

“Oh, we will. It’ll be a huge fucking mess. But it’ll be our mess. We’ll fix it then fuck up then fix it again. Can’t be any harder than serving a bunch of gods, right?” Marc smiles at her with such warmness it makes her heart skip.

“Yeah.” She laughs, letting the tears slip down her face.

“We want you to come back, angel. But not for us. For you. Ammit and Harrow never should’ve done this to you. You deserve to have a full life. But if you wanna go to paradise, we won’t stop you.” Steven wipes the tears off her face. She kisses his palm and steps back, taking them all in. Marc’s right. It wouldn’t be easy. She’s not a relationship person let alone being in something with three other people. Three people who went into the afterlife to find her. Three people that are looking at her with such care and devotion. Three people who just want her to have a good life even if they’re not in it.

“O-Okay. I’ll come back.” Ash nods. “I’ll come back.”

Steven cheers and lifts her up. She laughs.

“I really need to kiss you.”

“Sure.”

Steven catches her mouth with his and dips her. Marc and Layla share a look.

“Buddy, maybe let her breathe.”

“Sorry.” He sets her back on her feet. “Didn’t think I’d get to do that again.”

“It was very sweet. I liked it.” Ash smiles at him.

The bangles on their wrists glow and they’re transported back to the middle of the ship. It stills.

“Have you made your decision?” Tawaret asks.

“Yes. I’d like to go back.” Ash looks up at her.

“Splendid.”

Ash turns her head back to Anubis who stands by her scales. He nods.

The world spins and Ash wakes up on the ground of the pyramid. She gasps. Marc rushes to her and helps her to her feet.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah.” She looks around. “Sekhmet?”

“Yes, kitten?”

“Whoa, giant lioness.” Steven jumps.

“Hello, Steven Grant. Marc Spector. Layla El-Faouly. My Ash.”

“I’m so happy to see you again.” Ash smiles at her.

“As am I, kitten.” The feline goddess purrs.

“Hang on. You two care about each other?” Steven looks between them.

“I love her as if she is my cub.”

“Interesting. I know a silly old bird who calls us idiot and worms.”

“Yeah, speaking of, free us, Khonshu. Ammit and Harrow are bound. Ash is back and safe. We held up our end.”

“As you wish.” The moon god murmurs.

Everything goes blinding white.

They gather around the kitchen table while Ash continues to serve the takeout they ordered. She hands Layla a glass of wine and raises her own.

“Here’s to you all saving the world.”

Their glasses clink together.

“You too, love.” Steven smiles before taking a sip. “Oh, this is nice.”

“I skipped the last part though.” Ash chuckles, slightly uncomfortable.

Marc frowns, dark eyes filling with sympathy. The fight would have ended sooner if she was there and that’s exactly why Harrow took her out of the equation.

“Through no fault of yours.” Layla places a hand on Ash’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” Ash leans over and hugs her. “And thank you for finding me.”Steven wedges his way into the hug even though Marc tells him maybe it’s their moment.

“All of you,” Ash adds when she feels Steven on the other side of her.

They hold each other for another moment before breaking apart. Silence settles awkwardly while everyone drinks their wine and eats their food.

“So, how come you didn’t tell us you had an apartment in Cairo?” Marc asks between bites.

“We kinda had a cult following us.” Ash raises her eyebrows. She looks around her small place. “I know it’s not a lot but the bed is comfortable and it’s safe.”

“I appreciate it.” Layla beams at her. “It’s fun. Like a sleepover.”

Ash laughs. She didn’t have many of those growing up but she’s happy to have one with them. Maybe things could be different. Maybe they could work out.

After dinner, they help her with the dishes before they all practically collapse in the bed. Even though they started spread out, they’re all snuggled up together by the middle of the night. Marc and Steven have their arm draped over Ash’s stomach while she rests her head on Layla’s shoulder. It’s the best sleep any of them have gotten in months.

A soft whimper echoes through the apartment. Steven blinks as he tries to wake. He sees the source next to him.

“M-Marc.” He whispers.

“Hm?” Marc mumbles.

Steven turns their head at the sound of another whimper. Ash has her face between Layla’s legs while two fingers drive in and out. Layla moans louder.

“Oh my god.”

“I know.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Ash smiles

Layla gasps as her entire body shudders.

“Ohhh, pretty girl that’s it. Her mouth kisses the other woman’s breast. “Give me another one.”

As her mouth seals over her sensitive bud and her fingers curl, Layla barrels into one of the best and strongest orgasms of her life. She can’t even speak. Ash works her through it before leaning over and kissing her. She removes her fingers gently and tastes them. She hums, content.

Ash pulls back slotting her hips perfectly over Layla’s pressing open kisses down her throat and chest. She rubs her pelvis over Layla’s and moans at the contact. Layla reaches forward and cups Ash’s breasts. The rhythm grows steadier. Greedy hands pull Ash down to meet Layla’s mouth and their tongues swirl together. That familiar pull begins in Ash’s stomach and she picks up the pace as Layla plays with her breasts. She throws her head back and a warm mouth licks the valley of her breasts. She cries out and Layla is quick to follow. Ash rolls off and Layla wraps her arms around her back. They burst into a fit of giggles.

“What a lovely way to wake up.” Layla leans over and kisses her.

“Mhmm.” Ash deepens the kiss.

Layla is the first to open her eyes and see Marc and Steven staring. She clears her throat and nods. Ash turns her head and cracks a smile.

“Hi, boys.” Her eyes flit to the sizable strain in their boxers. “We should help you with that. Right, babe?”

Layla looks over Ash’s shoulder and hums. Ash crawls towards them. She gives them a soft kiss.

“Lay back.” She smiles.

Marc lays their head on the pillows. Layla crawls over to them.

“Can I?” She arches an eyebrow with her hands over their black underwear.

“Please.” Steven whines.

“You want Layla to suck you off, pretty boy?” Ash asks, on the other side of them.

“Y-Yes.” Steven bucks their hips at the idea.

Layla tugs down their boxer briefs and grins. The moment she swallows their painfully hard length Ash kisses their neck. Steven lets out an unintelligible moan.

“F-Fuck, baby.” Marc grits out.

Layla bobs her head up and down and Ash takes it as her cue to drag her teeth from their earlobe down to their shoulder. Her tongue follows the same path moments later while her hand strokes their chest and the other scratches their scalp. The combined sensations are unbelievable. Marc lets out a high-pitched noise Ash hasn’t heard before then growls both of their names. Layla’s wet mouth. Ash’s smooth hands. Layla sucks harder at the same time Ash leaves a love bite right above their collarbone. It’s way too much.

“Oh—oh! Shit, gonna—oh—” Steven’s words are all strangled before they come. “Shit, sorry.” He mumbles as Layla swallows everything.

“Don’t be sorry, Steven.” Layla gives them a reassuring kiss on their lips.

“We like having that effect on you.” Ash twists her fingers through their black curls.

“I don’t think there’s a universe where we last long with these two.” Marc sighs relaxing into Ash’s touch. Now that he doesn’t have to feel guilty about it, everything she does feels a thousand times better.

He shares a look with Layla. She gets up on her knees and places her hands on Ash’s shoulders. She takes the hint and lays down on the mattress. Marc kisses her sternum as Layla moves down her legs. Ash inhales sharply when she feels Layla’s tongue lick her folds. Marc leaves sloppy kisses up and down her chest. Ash arches her back when she feels Layla push in two fingers. Marc watches her hips chase the rhythm of his wife’s fingers.

“You like having my wife’s mouth on you while we mark up your neck, honey?” Marc whispers before sucking on her neck.

“Fuck.” Ash bites her lip feeling that pull in her abdomen already. “Yes.”

“Doesn’t she taste good, baby?” Marc cups Ash’s breast roughly.

“Mhmm.” Layla moans and the vibrations shoot up Ash’s spine.

“Oh, oh, Layla. Please. Don’t stop.” Ash pants.

Layla seals her lips over Ash’s bundle of nerves and curls her fingers. She’s returning the favor from earlier. Ash throws her head back in a silent cry as her body shudders.

It feels like moments later when they’re scrambling all over each other.

“Wait!” Steven pipes up as two women hang off their arms. “How are we doing this?”

“Hmm.” Ash ponders. “I fuck Layla while you both fuck me from behind?”

Steven whimpers at the suggestion. Layla takes Ash’s place by the pillows and they share a kiss. Their tongues swirl together as she tugs those tight curls.

Ash kneels kissing the inside of Layla’s thigh.

“You ready for me again?” She smiles.

“Oh yeah.” Layla winks.

Ash dives right in devouring her with her mouth and fingers. Marc takes their spot behind her. He rubs their length through her glistening folds.

“You want this, honey?”

“Yes.”

Marc doesn’t need telling twice. Steven silently asks him to take the lead because it’s all too overwhelming. He lines them up and pushes inside. He groans loudly at the feeling of bottoming out inside her. All he has to do is tilt their head and he can see Ash between Layla’s legs. Layla’s beautiful face is in bliss. She’s making all sorts of whimpers and whines. Just like this morning but now every time he thrusts it nudges Ash’s mouth against her further. His hand slips in rubbing Ash with a calloused thumb. She moans.

“C’mon, Steven. I know she showed you how to make her come.”

“How’d you—”

“Cause a beautiful woman like this…” Marc pulls out all the way only to slam back in. “…knows exactly what she needs to get off.”

Steven moans at the sight of them all connected. He went from never having sex before to having his first group sex session in about a week. It’s marvelous. He follows what Marc said and strokes Ash just like she told him. She gasps so he keeps going. Layla comes first shattering against the pillows. Ash is soon to follow from the drag of them inside her and how Steven is touching her.

“Fuck, honey, fuck.” She’s fluttering all around them. “Where?”

“Inside.” Ash cries out.

His hold on her is tighter as his hips begin to stutter. She clenches and they’re gone over the edge. It’s even stronger than the first orgasm and Marc and Steven feel dizzy when it’s over.

Marc carefully slips out of her and they tangle up in a heap catching their breath for a while. Ash goes into her bathroom and comes out with two washcloths. She cleans them off first and then Layla. She moves over for Ash who tosses the washcloths into the hamper. She strokes Ash’s arm as she lies down. Marc and Steven try to catch their breath. They don’t really pay attention to the women’s conversation until:

“We should use the strap next time.”

“Oooh, I like that.”

“Wait what? So we watch again with our dick in our hands?”

“No, you could fuck the one who has the strap.”

“Oh.”

“Or?”

“Hm?”

“One of us could fuck you.”

“Like…pegging?”

“Yeah.”

“That sounds interesting,” Steven says way too casually.

“What?”

“The nerve endings are all there, Marc. It’s supposed to be really good.”

Ash and Layla share a smile. Ash turns over and kisses them softly.

“You’ll come so hard and I won’t even have to touch you.” She winks at the boys’ open-mouthed stare.

Things settle into a comfortable silence as Ash feels her lovers on either side of her. They aren’t crowding her. Just all cozy on the mattress like last night. Ash finds her head in Layla’s lap and lets her stroke her hair. Marc and Steven are tracing light circles and swirls on her arm. She lets herself give in and relish how nice it feels.

“How long have you been with Sekhmet?” Layla asks, sweeping her fingers across her brow.

“Ten years,” Ash replies.

“Isn’t it lonely?” Steven asks.

“Sometimes. But I have Sekhmet.” Ash looks up into those worried brown eyes.

“And you have us. If you want.” Marc’s voice is soft not wanting to scare her off.

Ash swallows hard. She’s spent so many months with him wary of her waiting for her to betray him. And now? She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. The fingers still in her hair and on her arm. She opens them and takes in her lovers gazing at her.

“Why don’t we start with breakfast?”

Marc's warm laughter echoes through the flat.

“Breakfast sounds great.”

#moon knight #marvel #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #layla el faouly #arthur harrow #oc: ash rajul #fan fic #the eye of the moon #marc spector x oc #steven grant x oc #layla el faouly x oc

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theodorebasmanov · 2 years

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I’ve watched the twelfth episode of “Banana Fish”. Yes, they are indeed living together. Eiji is too sweet… He feeds Ash breakfasts and dinners, waits for him in the evening and feels a little uncomfortable, because he sees himself useless, even though he takes pictures of people coming to the Golzine’s fund so that Ash can know who is connected to it (turns out a lot of politicians). Ash, in his turn, does his criminal work – he deals with the gangs. Punishes those who joined Arthur and turned against his people, negotiates with neutral gangs. The punishes are so bloody, in a literal sense, so cruel! He actually got a whole gang shot, even though they surrendered. Eiji sees something about it in the news, sees blood on Ash’s clothes, after Ash came home very late, puts two and two together and tries talking to Ash about it. To be precise, Eiji tries reading him morals, they argue, Ash runs away and doesn’t come back in the morning. The gang tells Eiji to search for Ash in the library, he finds him there and they reconcile. As a part of negotiations, Ash goes to Harlem alone to talk to the leader of the district gang – Blood Cain. Because Ash is very confident and brave (up to stupidity brave sometimes, but that’s not the point) the leader agrees to talk to him and then to be neutral. So, when Arthur with a whole retinue comes to Cain, he comes to Ash to discuss Arthur’s offers. Ash tells him to agree to be the observer of Ash and Arthur confrontation, even though it’s most probably a trap.

#cartoon #anime #banana fish #cartoon series #anime series #ash lynx #eiji okumura #max lobo #frederick arthur #cain blood #dino golzine #ash x eiji #gangs #mafia

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yusuke-of-valla · 5 months

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WE LIVE IN A HELL WORLD

Snippets from the article by Karissa Bell:

SAG-AFTRA, the union representing thousands of performers, has struck a deal with an AI voice acting platform aimed at making it easier for actors to license their voice for use in video games. ...

the agreements cover the creation of so-called “digital voice replicas” and how they can be used by game studios and other companies. The deal has provisions for minimum rates, safe storage and transparency requirements, as well as “limitations on the amount of time that a performance replica can be employed without further payment and consent.”

Notably, the agreement does not cover whether actors’ replicas can be used to train large language models (LLMs), though Replica Studios CEO Shreyas Nivas said the company was interested in pursuing such an arrangement. “We have been talking to so many of the large AAA studios about this use case,” Nivas said. He added that LLMs are “out-of-scope of this agreement” but “they will hopefully [be] things that we will continue to work on and partner on.”

...Even so, some well-known voice actors were immediately skeptical of the news, as the BBC reports. In a press release, SAG-AFTRA said the agreement had been approved by "affected members of the union’s voiceover performer community." But on X, voice actors said they had not been given advance notice. "How has this agreement passed without notice or vote," wrote Veronica Taylor, who voiced Ash in Pokémon. "Encouraging/allowing AI replacement is a slippery slope downward." Roger Clark, who voiced Arthur Morgan in Red Dead Redemption 2, also suggested he was not notified about the deal. "If I can pay for permission to have an AI rendering of an ‘A-list’ voice actor’s performance for a fraction of their rate I have next to no incentive to employ 90% of the lesser known ‘working’ actors that make up the majority of the industry," Clark wrote.

SAG-AFTRA’s deal with Replica only covers a sliver of the game industry. Separately, the union is also negotiating with several of the major game studios after authorizing a strike last fall. “I certainly hope that the video game companies will take this as an inspiration to help us move forward in that negotiation,” Crabtree said.

And here are some various reactions I've found about things people in/adjacent to this can do

And in OTHER AI games news, Valve is updating it's TOS to allow AI generated content on steam so long as devs promise they have the rights to use it, which you can read more about on Aftermath in this article by Luke Plunkett

#video games #voice acting #voice actors #sag aftra #ai #ai news #ai voice acting #video game news #Destiel meme #industry bullshit

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bean-writes · 10 months

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Banana Fish - Chapter 15: The Raid

Chapter 15: The Raid is out on early release on Patreon.

This is where things start to get dark...

#banana fish #gay #angst #ash x eiji #arthur is a jerk #skipper #fan fiction #ao3 #archive of our own #eiji okumura #ash lynx #patreon #patreon writer

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grugruel · 4 months

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Big Iron

Pairings:

bounty hunter!Arthur Morgan x outlaw!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: She's escaped a robbery, and bounty hunters have been sent out after her. They'd made no problem so far– that said, the notorious Arthur Morgan set upon her trail.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Arthur Morgan, pinv sex, rough sex, soft sex ish, lap/bulge-riding, praise, petnames (girl, sweetheart, ma'am), creampie, overstimulation.

AN: 3rd person pov, trying it out. Not yet proofread!

The campfire blazed in the night, casting a warm glow over the small, temporary hideout as smouldering flakes of ash rose in swirls above her.

Her face lit up, the sizzling embers of spent coal entrancing her.

The soaring fires of a bright building shouldered It's way into her mind, stealing space from any other thoughts.

The trees around her rustled. She leaned back against the wall of the overhanging cliff. Sliding down into a sitting position and slanting her head in ponder, slipping deeper into the memory.

Money was all she had needed. But the simple, well practiced heist escalated. Attempted arson had suddenly been added to her list of offences, robbery another one among them. Which she could admit to, and proudly so.

But the fire. . . Now the fire, was not her fault.

And not only was the law after her, but they'd sent out money hungry, bounty hunters aswell. She'd already tied two of them down yesterday, big brutish men they were. All muscle and no brains. Still, they proved quite the nuisances, but wouldn't be a problem anymore. . .

. . .Unless they died of starvation, and then she would indeed be guilty of murder. Lovely! She gritted her teeth at the memory, rolling her eyes interanally.

But she doubted it, seeing as they were curently tied to the fence of the sheriff's office.

Which left only one real threat.

One man, one singular man; a notorious outlaw himself. He was the sheriff's most resent hire. Big, deadly, tall and muscled. From long days of hard work killing and robbing she imagined.

She'd actually seen him in person once, and she could admit, he looked dangerous, and devilishly handsome. The rumors had been right about that, she was only hoping that his volatile reputation along with the Van Der Lind gang's would turn out to be folly.

She shivered at the thought, shaking her to the very bones. If it were from the thought of him or the cool of the night, she did not know. She closed her arms around herself, stroking them for warmth as she pushed the unpleasant thoughts away, her gaze snapping to the treeline beyond. She was back to reality, and suddenly accutely aware of the black darkness that lingered between its stems, but her vision was good and she was quite hidden after all. No one would be sneaking up on her–

'Ma'am.'

From the shadows, a man appeared at the edge of the campfires domain, vaguely illuminated by its warmth. Broad and tall in frame, the deep night clung to his back. His sudden prescence was the only evidence of his arrival, he'd made no sound nor been seen before he'd needed to be.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, widening with recognition, the eerie sense divulged itself to her body. Like poison, it spread quickly, crawling into every blood vessel and turning them ice-cold along its journey.

'Mister' she greeted, doing her damndest to stay calm.

His hat covered his eyes, but the smile he gave her was unmistakable. 'Theres quite the bounty on you girl.' The drawl of his accent sunk into her skin like the warmth from the fire.

'There's no doubtin' that,' she nodded in admittal, slowly moving away from him, 'Although im only worth half of it, I assure you.'

She sat still, eyes meeting his as they poked out beneath his hat. He tilted his head to face hers, regarding her silently. Eyes flickering over her, the way her hair fell over her shoulders, and how her blouse revealed the hills of her chest. '. . . 'S that so?. . .' He took a step closer, the rope in his hands now excruciatingly evident to her.

She got to her feet in one swift motion, hesitantly gesturing for him to stay calm. 'Mister, I'm not a murderer. Crimes I did not commit have been written in my name. The sheriff framed me!' She took a few steps to the left, placing the fire between them.

'I belive ya' ma'am.' His hands pulled on the lasso, adjusting its length. Gripping it roughly from time to time, trigger fingers readying themselves for any sudden movement. 'But the law can be a crooked thing sometimes.' His eyes narrowed in on her, then shrugged nonchalantly. 'But a bounty 's still a bounty girl.'

The birds sang above them, and the world blurred around her, her knees suddenly week. And unfortunately for her, he would be there to catch her when she fell. In a sense too literal for her liking.

'And I can say the same for myself ma'am, I'm a bad man. . .' His voice imposed, yet, the gravely tone vibrated perfectly well in her ears.

Gulping her nervousity, she assessed her options. . . And then ran.

Trees rushed past in peripheral whirls as she made her way along the cliff wall. Rope flexed behind her, threads wringing against eachother as it was swung and thrown with a woosh.

The air caressed her cheeks, pulling tears from her eyes and whistling in her ears. She gave it all she had, but it wasn't enough to stop the lasso from capturing her with deadly accuracy. It fell over her shoulders and tightened around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

The rope pulled taunt– and the world stopped moving for a short second, with a yank, her body whipped forward and her feet was swept from under her– then just as sudden, it sped up again.

As a tree cut down for its timber, she fell. The ground rushing up to greet her face as she stumbled to the ground with a hard thud. She panted, smelling the earth and feeling the wet grass tickle her face as she struggled against her entanglement; wriggling and thrashing like a stranded fish.

Well-used leather chaps groaned behind her as he stalked closer, winding the rope up as he did. Its sound of hot friction against fabric made her stumache churn. She rolled onto her back to get a better layout of the situation. And there he stood. Just by her feet, looming over her. With his back to the fire it cast a glow around him, framing the big man as he filled her sight. Fear and desire fought for the helm, conflicting her mind terribly.

He crouched down, bending over her as he circled the rope around her, securing his bounty tightly. He grabbed the knot and pulled her up diagonally, pulling her flush against his body so he could level her head with his. '. . .And I've done bad things.' He whispered, lips brushing against her ear. A dull pulse appeared where there ought to be no pulse. She screwed her eyes shut, lust for this man was the last thing she should be feeling. But oh. . . How his breath raised goosebumps, having it spread over her skin like wildfire.

He straightened his legs and stood back, taking her with him while keeping her close to his chest.

Her breath fanned over his lips as they stood a mere inch apart, one bound and the other free. A smirk made its way onto his lips, his hands sliding along the tied rope until they were at her waist, and in one strong motion threw her over his shoulder.

She yelped, 'You brute!' kicking wildy in hopes of getting free. But one of his arms circled around her legs and gripped the back of her thigh to keep them still, while he laid the other on the small of her back to stop her from falling. 'You keep your hands to yourself Mister!' She shouted, struggling against his bullish strength.

'Yes, ma'am.' He assured as he began walking, not paying her futile thrashing much mind.

She cleared her throat and huffed, expecting more of a reaction. She didn't quite know what to do in this situation, she hadnt planned this far ahead. She didn't think she'd ever be properly cought. 'Well, good.' She said curtly, calming herself. Being a nuisance and making the situation worse would be a bad idea, and she'd not made any progress nonetheless, his grip was solid steel. She'd have to settle on feeling his strong back beneath her instead and revel in the feeling of his hand on her thigh.

He stomped out the campfire before moving to where he'd hidden his horse, 'Sittin' or layin'?' He asked, being nice enough to hand her to options of sharing his saddle or to be stored over his horses ass.

She huffed, 'What a gentleman, take a guess Mister.' She muttered.

He nodded, 'Sittin' with me it is.' his hands moved to her waist, easily transfering her from his shoulder to the saddle. She scoffed for the sake of scoffing, eyes narrowing as she looked down on him, and if it had the power to, her look would certainly have killed him. 'Quite presumtions of you.'

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he gripped the saddle before climbing on. Placing his hands on either side of it, on hand on the pommel and the other on the cantel. Which just so happened to be between her thighs, and just behind her ass. Almost grazing her on both sides as he braced himself against it, eyes meeting hers with a satisfied smirk, 'Much more attitude from ya' girl and I'll have to take meassures.'

Shock sprung itself on her, feeling dizzy all over again. The knuckle of his thumb was an inch away from brushing against her cunt. Her eyes widened at the fact, and the implications his words carried. Her loins burned, it took everything in her power to stop from rocking her hips forward. But she simply cleared her throat and neutralised her expression, 'Id like to see you try.' And faced away from him, turning her nose upward.

He climbed onto the horse, placing himself close intil her and leaned over her shoulder. 'I will if you let me ma'am.' He whispered in her ear, and then spurred his horse. Shivers shook her at that, her entire body vibrating with a dull sense of need.

They rode silently for a long while, and she wanted to sass him, she wanted it terribly. But was both afraid and hoping he'd take action, just as he'd stated. The miles wound on, oh it felt never ending. Especially with the man behind her, rutting his hips against her with every step of the horse. He was a blessing against the cold, but pure torture as his heat soaked into all the wrong spots of her body.

But finally, it came time to rest. They'd ridden nonstop from the morning of her capture to the next night. If that werent enough, a heatwave had been raging the entirety of the day aswell, and the setting of the sun had barely made a difference.

He set her on the ground, binding her feet and hands before starting on the camp. Making quick work of the fire and tent as she sat down on a rock, silently watching the man work, and very much enjoying the show.

His skin was slick with sweat, much like herself. The cool light of the moon and the warmth of the fire made him glisten in every sense of the word, and oh. . . the way he toiled away.

He had removed his vest and chaps as he got to work, then rolled up the sleeves of his shirt which now stuck to his skin. A nuisance for him to be sure, but a dream for her, she could practically see the muscles of his chest rippling.

A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, tickling her skin and drawing focus away from the view. Her eyes widened as she realised how she stared at the stranger and shook her head, attempting to clear it.

God, focus. She needed to hatch a plan. Running would do her no good, he would be too fast. He wouldn't accept bribes either, and was very hard to persuade. No attempts had been succesful so far, he didnt even want the money she'd stashed away.

At that thought, unavoidably, abashedly her eyes snapped to him as he pulled his shirt off and reached for a new one in his saddlebag. She clenched her jaw to keep it from falling, his strong chest was adorned by hair, trailing down his abdomen and disappearing under. . . The waist of his pants. In that moment, she wanted nothing else then to see where that trail ended. She wanted to trace her fingers along it, or perhaps lick it, all the way down. . .

Her jaw began aching, she fought herself to tear her eyes away from him. Managing to direct her gaze at the ground instead, waiting for him to put a fresh shirt on.

After a short while, she dared to look up again. He'd pulled a log to opposite side of the fire and sat down, a cigarette placed between hid lips and was breathing in a long drag of it. Tilting his head back, he released the cloud of smoke with a sigh.

Her eyes followed his movements intently, studying them as she hoped that perhaps he'd notice her and offer one–

'Want one girl?' He nodded toward her, gesturing with the match box.

'I do, yes.' She answered expectantly, holding her hands out for him to untie.

But to her surprise, he scoffed, then stod and walked around the fire. He crouched on one knee infront of her, his arm bracing against the other. 'You'll have to do better than that.' He said, only a feets distance between them. Then picked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to her, holding it an inch from her mouth. She hesitated, observing him with disdain, 'Go on.' He nodded. But reluctant to follow his orders, she met his eyes, making sure he knew how unhappy she was about it, and then leaned in despite herself. Closing her lips around the cigarette, she sucked the toxic smoke smoke into her lungs like it were air, keeping her eyes locked on his. She swore something glint in his eyes as he studied her pouting lips. A plan struck her suddenly, but–

'Good girl.' He hummed.

Again, shock gripped her. The praise rose right to her head, sending waves of heat cascading through her body. Then she coughed, the smoke settling wrong in her airways. She pulled back, letting him retrieve his cigarette as she regained her composure. 'You alright there sweetheart?' He asked with a grin, and patted her back before replacing the cig between his lips.

'Fine.' She hissed, still reeling from. . . Everything. 'You got anything stronger? Whiskey, bourbon?'

He nodded, and pulled out and old bottle of bourbon from his bag, 'Could you?' She held her hands out to him again.

He studied her, stroking his stubbled jaw in thought. 'Got somethin' for me then?'

Insinuations led her down a path of all kinds of possibilities, but she instead opted for a simple, 'Please?' Instead, attempting it cheapishly.

His hands slipped down to his hip, pulling the knife from its hilt, 'Thats more like it.' He mumbeled with his cigarette clad lips.

And cut the rope around her hands and feet, stopping at the rope around her waist and met her eyes. 'Try anythin'. . .' He raised his eyebrows, and lowered his voice to a mocking tone '. . . run, hurt me' his eyes narrow as a corner of his lip tugs. 'And there'll be a steep price to be payed.'

Swallowing, she nodded enthusiastically, 'I just wan't a sliver of freedom before im locked up, you could understand that right?'

He nodded, 'S'pose so. . .' And began cutting, '. . . difference is girl' the rope snapped and slid down her sides, 'I'd never get caught.' He gathered the rope from her sides, his fingers accidentally brushing against her hips.

Her breath hitched, and her skin tingled desperatley for more of him as fluttering wingbeats set of in her stumache. Such a small thing, turning into such a big reaction.

He cleared his throat, handing her the bottle as he threw the rope into the fire. He sat down on another log, not as far away form her this time. Leaned back against the tree behind it and spread his legs wide. His bulge was enough to make her salivate, 'It's not easy you know, for a woman like me, when there's men like you Mr Morgan.'

Arthur quriked an eyebrow in question, 'You know me?'

'I know of you.' She corrected, taking a big swig of the fluid, then handed it back to him for him to do the same.

He nodded silently, a sigh escaping under his breath. 'All bad I guess.' He took another swallow, not to bothered by her statement. Probably used to hearing it by now.

She shook her head, taking the bottle and another gulp. 'Many of the ladies say you're handsome.'

At this he looked up at her, chuckling. 'Well, I don't know 'bout that.'

'It's true. . .' another sip, followed by a hiccup. 'They say you can be quite the gentleman too.'

His eyes bore into hers, his tone serious but expression joking as he humours her. 'Depends on the lady.' He reaches for the bottle, and she stands up to give it to him. Walking closer, she hands it over, fingers brushing against eachother in the motion.

His eyes meet hers, and she brushes her hand under his chin, 'You know what else they say Mr Morgan?'

'No, what do they say about me sweetheart?' A smirk tugged at his lip, the liquor starting to affect the both of them.

'That you're good in bed. . .' She steps between his thighs, her hand falling from his chin to his neck, scratching at the nape gently.

He hums appreciatively, then takes another sip of the bourbon and sets the bottle aside. His hands reach for her, coming to a rest on either side of her thighs, pulling her closer to him and squeezing them at his pleasure. 'They're only rumours girl.' He tilts his head backward against tree to get a better look at her, eyes fastening on her lips.

With her other hand, she hikes her skirt up, revealing her thighs as she step over his legs, one at a time, slowly sinking down onto his lap as his hands automatically slide to her hips.

She placed herself on top of his bulge, and he grunted from the pressure. The pulse within her began strumming at her nerves, turning them jittery.

'I doubt it Mr Morgan.' She whispered, 'Women do not lie to eachother of such things.' his bulge beneath her grew harder, luring a hidden smile from her, but she wills it from her lips so that it only reaches her eyes. 'They say you're rough, or gentle. Dependin' on your mood.' As she says that, she swears she detects the faintest red creep up his cheeks. Arthur Morgan. . . Blushing? Now, she couldnt help herself as the smile reaches her lips. Hes quite endearing.

The man cleared his throat, acting as if it had never happened. 'That's told of me in everythin' I do girl.' He smirks, the grip on her hips hardening, knuckles turning white.

'But you're always sweet 'n caring.' She continues, her own words were building the lust within her, making the pulse ever stronger. It was becoming hard to focus. She needed to release some of the pressure building inside her. Evaluating the consequences, she rocked her hips downward. Grinding into his bulge.

Simultaneously, she whimpered and he hissed. She leaned against him, her lips brushing against his ear as she nuzzles his cheek. 'Apparently, It's also true what they say 'bout ridin' cowboys–'

'Girl.' He interrupted with a chuckle, 'I know what you're doin'.' He breathes, 'Seducin' me.' With the tight grip on her hips, he helps rock her hips against him, the rough fabric of his pants grinding against her core.

With a gasp, one of her hands shoots out to burry itself in his hair. Then she leans into him, the other hand grabbing his shirt for support as she rests her head against his shoulder. He nuzzles his cheek against hers, and mutters, 'You use your sweet talkin', then get me drunk 'n run off, that your plan girl?'

Her eyebrows furrow, hips grinding down harder, her ruts becoming more frantic, needy. She screws her eyes shut from the copious amounts of pleasure washing over her. All she can do to answer him is hum in admittal as shes straining hard to even stay contious.

He chuckles. 'Easy girl. . .' His voice commanding, low and raspy as he slows her hips, but keeps the pace hard. 'Use your words.' He orders, loving the way shes falling apart for him.

She nods hastily, hoping it would satisfy his request. But he pinches her hip through the fabric of her skirt, and her eyebrows furrow in pain, however not having the energy to even make a sound. Her thoughts were a blur, she couldn't tell what to keep secret anymore, 'Yes– yes. . .' She sighs, the coil inside her tightening impossibly hard.

'Mmh, thought so.' He breathed, the words curt on his tongue, but lust evident in his voice. His hands leave her hips, one arm snaking around her waist, his hand placing itself at the small of her back to push her against him.

Then he stands, drawing a whine from her. She did not quite understand what was going on as the loss of movement gradually undid all the progress she'd made. 'Mr Morgan?' She inquires, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his hips.

He walks them to the tent, 'Arthur.' He corrects, carrying her with ease. He pushes the flap to the side and kneels, bending over her as he lays her on the ground.

'Arthur.' She smiles, worry seeping out as she realised he was making them more comfortable.

His knees slide apart, hooking her legs upon them as they spread. Her hands shoot up, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, close enough for his lips to hover over hers. Their eyes meet, 'Please. . .' She whimpers, one hand sliding downward. '. . .Please.' She says again, fingertips trailing down his abdomen, suddenly grabbing hold of his bulge with a firm hand, his member rock hard. 'Outlaw or gentleman?' She asked, smiling a wicked smile.

He grunts, lips brushing over hers. 'Neither.' And grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his crotch, catching the other in the motion. His free hand reached over her head, and the hauntingly familiar groaning of strong rope sounded above her. She shook her head, 'Arthur, please. . .' Panic moved into her voice, the repeated words carrying a completley different meaning this time.

He held both wrists with one hand and tied them together with the other, the rope burning her skin in the motion.

She cried out unhappily.

But he chuckles, in a matter of factly kind of way. Stroking the burn gently as ge corrects her, 'Should've behaved.' And when done, he sits back. Observing her as she lies tied up, legs spread infront of her, circled around his hips. Much to his dismay, he wouldn't be enjoying the sight as much as he wanted to. 'It's late.' He grunts curtly, then stands and walks toward the flap.

'Arthur. . .' She pleads, trying one last time.

He turns his head just enough to see her in his peripheral, 'Get some sleep, you got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.' He flashes his eyebrows smugly, 'Night, sweetheart.' Then exits the tent without another word.

She huffed, unbelivable. Nuzzling herself into the bedroll.

Sweetheart. . . But how could she be annoyed when he calls her such a thing. She dreamed herself away, with imagines of a shirtless Arthur Morgan and the feeling of him inside her. But she'd not given up, make no mistake, he would fall asleep and she would leave. . .

The night carried on and the temperature finally began dropping, a shiver shook her pleasantly. It was a welcome change. Her body strained as she raised her neck to get a look of the outside. Through the flap she saw Arthur, sitting, snoring, hat covering his face as he leaned back against the tree he'd previously been sitting on.

Now, she needed to get rid of her restraints. Rolling over, she crawled toward the opening, her eyes never leaving Mr Morgans sheathed knife.

The fire had been reduced to embers at this point. Crackling and sizzling lowly as the cool moisture in the air riddled the grass with dewdrops, dampening her hands and skirt as she approached her goal. She sat on her knees, then moved to grab the knife carefully, gnelty sliding it out. The sound of it unlatching nearly had her yelp.

No movement in Arthur.

Shallow breaths, she exhales. Relief flooding through her begoee she began working the knife against her entangled wrists with her fingertips. Carefully regarding the vicious man for any signs of waking. But her thoughts slid, perhaps, if he caught her, he would be kind. Or would he be angry? She could truly not decide werther which reaction she'd most prefer–

The rope snapped, and exhilaration filled her. Gaze snapping between her free hands and the hunter, imagining her prospects. She stood quietly, holding her skirt tightly around her to keep the fabrics from rustling. Slowly, knife still in hand, she backed away. On careful tiptoed steps she faded into the night, the fire dwindling in the distance.

The darkness made it hard for her to see much of anything, at its height the tree-crowns silhouette were visible against the blue summer sky. Branches moved, leaves swished in the gentle wind. She grew paranoid, head snapping in every direction, reacting to every little noise around–

A branch broke behind her, she jumped, turning around so fast she almost ripped– a Buck. She froze, a god damned buck? She had expected it ro be Arthur, but she seemed to have ogtten the better of him. The animal looked at her, ears twitching as it chewed on grass– suddenly hopping away. She sighed and turned back.

Only to collide with something hard. Her thoughts raced, she knew, she knew. She looked up, eyes tracing along his body until they met his, half hidden under his hat. Reflexes prepared her to run, but before she had as much as taken a step back, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Again, she thumped into his strong chest. Held against him with the familiar iron grip, she fought, as usual; but to no avail, as usual. He snaked an arm around her waist to hinder her from breaking free, yet she kicked and punched violently with her free limbs. But it made no dent in the man. He couldn't even spare her a reaction as he half carried, half dragged her back into the low light of the burnt out fire. He spun her around and pushed her up against the cliff wall, grabbing the wrist closest to him and pinning it above her head. 'I warned you, girl.' He snarled, the look in his eyes doing just as good a of job pinning her to the wall as his hands. He reaches for the second–

When something sharp digs into the soft flesh of his throat, he froze. His chest was the only thing moving between the two of them, heaving breaths of annoyance.

'Thrid times the charm.' She smirked.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, 'That so?' His voice mocking, and before she could comprehend what had happened, he'd captured both wrists with one hand and slammed them above her head and into the wall. And the knife had appeared in his free hand, she noticed this because it was now held against her own throat. 'Repeat that for me girl.'

Her lips struck a thin line as she attempted a neutral expression, although fuming on the inside. She shrugged her shoulders, 'No.' Was all she said, but stubborn in tone.

He nodded, looking her up and down, studying the buttons on her blouse. 'Ought to teach you a lesson sweetheart.'

She cleared her throat, deciding that to act nonchalant was her best option. 'Yeah? What ya' gunna do, huh? Ravage me?' She asked half joking, but still hoping there'd be some truth to it.

At this, the corner of his mouth turned up, a wicked grin developing on his lips. 'I just might.' He breathed, tracing the tip of the knife downward, along her collarbone and then along the front of her blouse, coming to a stop at the first button. She gulped, feeling the knife poke through the thin fabric against her chest, making goosebumps run amock in reaction and the pulse reheating in her core. He leaned forward, pushing his body against hers until there was no room left between them, his head hovering just above the crook of her neck. 'May I do with you as I please?'

This was it, the sweet balance between a hardened outlaw and a tender gentleman. 'Yes– yes, Arthur please.' Her voice near a cry, it took everything in her to control her tone–

Her blouse ripped, from top to bottom he cut it open, and she wasn't wearing a brasier. Her chest laid bare before him, and he groaned happily at the sight.

With her go-ahead he wasted no time, he let go of her hands and cut her skirt too. Cutting a slit as far as he reached with the knife then threw it to the side, and the tore the rest. She gasped, every nerve in her body on edge. In an instant, his lips were upon hers. Hungry, hungry lips devouvered her as hands roamed her body, groping and grabbing wherever they got purchase. Her own hands greedily searching for a steady hold in his hair, she grabbed a fistful and pulled gently. He moaned at the feeling, such a beautiful sound. His hands slid over her breasts, squeezing them, then pushed the remains of her blouse off of her shoulders.

Except for her undergarments, she stood completley exposed for him. She could practically feel him salivating when he cupped her clothed mound, and finding her clit with expertise and rub it through the fabric.

She tore herself free from his kisses, she had to breathe. A deep gasp brought oxygen to ger lungs once again, allowing her to whimperand moan in equal measure as he worked her clit. The pressure made her knees week, she wriggled, attempting to rut against his hand. But she was too unsteady to make progress. Noticing her difficulties, his other hand slid behind her back and held her steady. Allowing her to chase her pleasure. And left with no lips to kiss, he latched onto her neck instead, to suck at her sweet spot.

She hummed appreciatively, unable to keep a big smile from her lips as pulses of pleasure washed through her. She slid her hands from his hair and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers along his strong chest and abdomen, gingerly feeling all of him as her hands worked themselves lower. Finally unbuttoning his pants. She did no longer have to wonder were his happy trail dissapeared too, she bit her lip. He was huge. She stuck her hand into his pants and stroked him eagerly. 'Need ya' Arthur, please.' She panted.

He let out a strained grunt against her shoulder, and his hand left her clit. She whined, but didn't have to stay displeased for long.

Both his hands slid down her sides, and she tried to breathe steadily, but it proved hard. The feeling of his calloused hands on her skin was too heavenly. Suddenly, he lifted her. Pinning her against the cliff wall with his arms and the weight of his body, allowing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. She hadn't known, but he had wordlessly obided her request. He pulled her garments to the side, and line himself up with her entrance. 'Sure about this?' He asked, a final reassurance.

'Yes.' She purred, no hesitation in her answer.

And so he pushed inside her, the sheer size of him was making her want to scream–

'Good girl.' He moaned, and directed his eyes to hers. She repressed a moan, biting her lip hard to hinder it as heat flashed through her. It was two words, yet she could've come undone from them alone, when said by him alone.

He gazed upon her softly, one of his hands left her thigh to gently stroke a strand of hair from her face. She smiled, and so did he. He was just giving her time to adjust, but her heart soared at the simple gesture.

God how could she feel so strongly for a stranger?

Her hands retangled in his hair as Arthur slid out of her, she furrowed her brows– but in a rough, quick thrust. He shoved himself back inside of her, filling her to the brim. He set a cruelly pleasurable, unrelenting pace. Any trace of gentleness gone.

She felt the pressure tightening within her, building snd building until she was on the verge of coming once again. Her hands sunk to his back, clawing and scratching because she did not know what else to do, he was too much, too good, too big. He overstimulated her with his mere prescence. And he knew when her walls tightened around him, adding extra pressure onto his already throbbing member. 'You close girl?' He grunted, his gruff voice breathed against her ear and his hand squeezing her thigh roughly beneath her. God it was sublime.

'Mhm. . . So- close.' She murmurs, her words coming out jagged as her body rocks with Arthurs thrusts. Pushed closer to her release with each thrust, once again, she shut her eyes and spots speckled her eyelids. Breathing turns frantic, she could no longer tell who was who as they mixed, moans and curses spilling from them both.

With a flash of pleasure, searing hot it soured through her, making her whimper uncontrollably. His thrusts slow, holding her securely, caressing her face and kissing her lips as she rides out her high. 'You're alright girl.' He breathes reassuringly, 'Well done Sweetheart.'

Overstimulated tears roll from her eyes, 'Oh Arthur, you sweet, sweet man.' She sighs happily, and he comes a mere second later. His seed filling her and oozing out.

They'd clean themselves tomorrow, since tiredness plagued them currently. He backed away from the wall and she clung to him, desperatley not wanting to part with him.

He carried her back to the tent, this time not bothering to tie her up as they laid down facing eachother. Arthur, grabbed her chin between his index and forefinger. Studying her thuroughly before they finally succumbed to sleep. She could escape if she wanted to, he wouldn't stop her this time. Her plan had worked, they both knew it. But they felt something else too, and they both knew it.

Hooded eyes blinked, blushing at Arthurs intent eyes and searching gaze. Her eyelids weighed down by exhaustion, It'd been a long few days, and before she knew it–

The light dawns, rays of dusty sunlight shone through the flap of their tent as the morning wakes. Bringing warmer tempratures and calm birdsong.

He opens his eyes, and immediately meet hers. She'd just been admiring him. 'Surprised?' She asked, biting her lip and stopping herself from reaching out to touch him.

He smiles, 'Naw, I was hopin' I'd wake up to you girl.'

#arthur murgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #rdr2 arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #rdr smut #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfic

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sebscore · 1 year

Text

DRIVER X TGD HEADCANONS | CHARLES VER.

pairing: charles leclerc x driver!reader

author’s note: finally another one with the one and only lord perceval 💙 hope everyone enjoys this x

headcanons masterlist

• • • • • • •

:: Y/N and Charles were Formula 2 teammates at Prema Racing, and that’s where they became great friends.

:: The golden duo of Prema <3

:: The content on YouTube was so good and are some of the channel’s most watched videos.

:: Charles was the F2 champion and Y/N was the runner-up of the championship.

:: They won 13 out of 22 races combined.

:: Y/N lives in Monaco and gets her hair done in Charles’ mother hair salon.

:: They have a lot of respect for each other and are convinced they will be racing against each other for a long time.

:: Charles is always bitching about how much she gossips, but always listens to whatever she has to say.

:: They get compared a lot by the media since they have very similar careers.

:: The two don’t let it get to them and always speak very highly of each other.

:: Y/N, Charles and Max are considered the Big 3 of the new generation of F1, having shared many podiums together.

:: Y/N = the honorary Lestappen third wheel.

:: Their 2020 quarantine Twitch streams were golden!

:: Y/N being a tease and Charles being a bimbo.

:: She had a conversation with Arthur over Twitch, thinking it was Charles the entire time.

:: The banana costume moment was her screensaver for a while.

:: Charles liked an edit of hers when his TikTok likes were still public.

:: Shippers went crazy with that one.

:: Overall, they’re great friends and hope to be competing against each other for many more years :)

taglist :: @cl16version @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis @champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads

@mysticfalls01 @ghostcorazon @mango-bear @totally-random-person @youkissedareaderinthedark @phoenix-luv @hamilton-mount @calcaneous @aurora-maria @idkiwantchocolatee @anonymous-platypus1

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x oc #f1 imagine #f1 x oc #f1!drivers x fem!driver #f1 x you #charles leclerc x you

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heartcereql · 10 months

Text

tommy shelby x finn's teacher!reader pt.2 || read pt.1 here

the sun was supposed to be setting at this time of the day. but, as you outstared at the skyline, you saw nothing but a silvery sky only getting darker.

usually, after a long day at school, exhausted by your students' behaviour, you went to an abandoned dock on the canal to watch the day fade into the night, hoping to relieve the tension of the day and to diminish the headache in your temple.

but it didn't seem like you were very lucky today, as the landscape was an ash-colored blur, clouds heavy. you turned your head to both sides, chasing sunlight, stars, anything. and that's when you saw a figure approaching.

dark coat, cigarette's smoke surrounding the shilouette, flat cap, confident stride. he was unmistakeable.

"mr shelby" you greeted. he shot you a glare and you remembered. "right- tommy."

he acknowledged you with a nod of his head, a cigarette dangling from his lips, icy blue eyes staring ahead at the horizon as he arrived by your side. you directed your eyes at the sun setting, too.

"i have seen the results of you staying true to your word and giving my suggestion a try", you hummed. "thank you"

you turned your body to face him, watching him exhale a cloud of smoke.

"turns out you were right, eh" he shrugged, taking a drag of smoke and exhaling it.

you gave him a small grin.

"but you still have to fulfill your part of the deal"

you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered at his words, as you remembered what you had promised him. you had agreed to go for a drink with him.

"well, i am waiting for a proper invitation" you remarked, your tone playful.

"as the lady wishes. miss y/n, will you join me in this-" he paused, looking at the sky for a second. it was painted with dark clouds, auguring storm. "- in this bleak and unsurprisingly grey afternoon for a drink at the garrison?"

you smiled at his words, having to bite your lip, preventing yourself to smile any wider.

"it'll be my pleasure" you replied, watching him drop the cigarette to the ground and stomp on it. "care to lead the way, mr shelby?"

he was about to correct you when he noticed the mocking tone in your voice and the grin on your lips. he started walking, -

"what will it be?" tommy inquired.

the two of you had taken a seat besides the bar almost immediatly. the people had appeared to go silent for the slightest second, observing you, but then had quickly returned to their affairs.

your eyes explored the pub, resting delightfully on the golden details, scanning every detail. quite nice for the reputation that preceded it.

"whatever you're having" you answered, finally directing your gaze to him.

he raised his brows, not quite impressed but amused.

"it's strong"

"oh i'll be able to handle it"

he just gave you a smug smirk before ordering the barmaid another drink for you.

"so what is it?" you wondered as you stared curiously at the amberine drink.

"whisky. scotch." he sipped his drink as if it was water.

you copied his action, putting on your best efforts to suppress a face as you swallowed the stinging alcohol.

very soon, you were caught in the joyous mood of the garrison, establishing light conversation with tommy, mostly exchanging courtesy questions, drinking and sharing some laughs.

"i understand you own this pub" you brought up, voice louder than usual so tommy was able to hear you above all the noisy chattering and giddiness from the garrison.

"my brother. arthur."

"well it's a beautiful place. he must be proud." you complimented, downing the rest of your drink, trying not to grimace as it burnt down your throat. it sure was strong.

"aye, that he is" tommy took a swig of his drink as well. "how's it going with the kids?"

you frowned in confusion for an instant before realising he meant your students.

"they're alright. they get introuble, make fuss about everything, but then again, they're children. they're actually sweet when they want to."

"and how's finn doing?" his eyes locked on yours, unable to escape the others'.

"he's a bright kid, he really is. but he loses focus more often than not. he gets carried away. and then it's even more difficult to help him back on track. but i think he can do it." you informed, sending a sympathetic smile his way.

he only hummed, his reaction to your comment unreadable.

you decided not to ask how his own business was, knowing better than to pry on affairs that didn't concern you. instead you asked something else, something that would make him warm inside.

"finn mentioned you have horses. you race 'em, right? how're they?"

tommy's gaze immediately softened. though only the corners of his lips seemed to curl into a smile, he was beaming inside. you actually asked about his horses. not many people did. it was something he appreciated.

"alright, yeah. we got a new addition a couple of weeks back." he answered as he grabbed the bottle and refilled the glasses for the third time. "she's being trained now. great promise, that one. she's got a resistance quite difficult to find, an endurance rather auspicious. lot of potential."

he handed you the drink. you thanked him, head a bit fuzzy. but there was something about the way he spoke about horses. passion. you would've never guessed, not before getting to know the man, he could speak so fondly, so committed. you sipped the whisky, listening to tommy attentively.

the pub was cleared out by the time you two decided to leave. your head was spinning, groggy from the alcohol. you could barely contain your smile anymore.

but as you stepped outside, birmingham's weather hit you like a splash of cold water. literally.

“it’s raining!” you laughed. “fucking storming”

“here”

tommy unfolded a black umbrella, holding it your way. you scooted closer, under the protection of the umbrella. for a moment, neither tommy nor you moved, both standing under the ubrella. droplets of water splashed lightly as they fiercely hit the ground and already formed puddles.

"care to lead the way, miss y/l/n?" he repeated your words from earlier.

"where to?"

"your residence, of course", he replied. seeing you were still as confused, he clarified "you're not going home alone, in the rain and certainly not tipsy as you are"

you were taken aback from his stern but concerned demeanour. and how come he was not affected in the slightest from the drinking? were you really such a lightweight?

"okay then" you smiled up at him as you started walking your way through the dark streets of small heath, praying the man wouldn't notice the way your skin heat up when your arms brushed.

after what seemed like an eternity, you reached the disheveled door, once white, that led to your house. stepping into the porch, you now stood in front of him.

"thank you, thomas. for the walk, for the drink, for the talk, for talking to finn. and" you smiled, mostly to yourself, before continuing, "i had a really good time."

he silently nodded, also smirking.

"stay safe, y/n"

"you too"

you watched as he turned and walked off into the night, under his umbrella, with the stride you were getting so used to.

"wednesday evening" he called out as he walked away.

"what?" you exclaimed in disbelief. was he asking to meet again? not that you were complaining, or that it wasn't thrilling and making your stomach churn with eagerness; but you knew it was risky.

"be there"

he disappeared around a corner, and you shut the door quietly, resting against it, smiling like a schoolgirl.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #heartcereql

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thenwhatthefukcisthis · 3 months

Text

another unwanted analyses of “go to sleep mr eames” scene that no one asked for :

this is directly inspired by the post @mister-eames made about eames learning about stein job projections

we know arthur is an immensely capable human who probably doesn’t like someone nitpicking about his job or giving him instructions. he was defending everyone at warehouse without missing a beat after learning the new situation and its stakes and despite not dreaming bigger, he was equipped enough to keep an angry swarm of projections at bay.

So what if.. what if eames never planned to say any thing to arthur if he hadn’t heard about the stein job? the projections of who knew who the dreamer was and was actually hunting him down? like.. what if eames took his time to give those assurance to arthur cause he knew how badly arthur hated was scared of those projections? the same projections who were even more aggressive and violent and were ready to tear arthur into pieces?

(I feel like the fact that the exchange was supposed to initially be between cobb and arthur also supports this? cobb knew who exactly will be at second level dealing with those projections alone and he still went ahead with mr Charles debacle. and there really wasn’t any other plan or way out so it’s understandable that he took that risk. So he was just making sure arthur knew he was sorry and conveying his good luck in the process)

but ultimately it was eames who knew arthur would kneel down beside him, in guise of an unnecessary task, and would caress his hand and lets him know that he would want his other half to know that he knows how difficult and hard leading those projections on a merry ride is. Eames knew that arthur then would smile the smile knowing that even though he was scared, he loved eames more, compelling him be back before the kick.

#this scene #this goddamn scene #won’t let me sleep #ironically cause it’s the ship of the dreams ffs #thanks ash for the excellent breakdown I just couldn’t stop thinking about this afterwards #inception #arthur x eames #dreamhusbands

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mister-eames · 9 months

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Homoerotic cigarette sharing between an Arthur and Eames who are still in the phase of their relationship where they’re like: “You annoy me, we’re not friends, I merely tolerate and work with you because I’m not so proud that I won’t admit you are the best at what you do.”

They are of course lying to themselves because secretly they enjoy the other’s company but THINK the other can barely stand them and are simply being... “professional”

Literally. Oh, they're just going to go outside to smoke and 'talk shop'. It's more productive to the team if they both have the same smoke break and go at the same time instead of going separately, and if they happen to share a lighter and bum cigarettes from one another when they are running low, well, that's just economical too. It's about work. It's about maybe continuing a heated debate, leaned in close together, lighting another cigarette to keep the conversation going. They're not done here.

(Fellas, is it gay to like the smell of his cigarettes on your clothes after you've parted?)

Don't even get me started on the post-coitus cigarette sharing when they get to that part of their relationship, the part where they say 'it doesn't mean anything', and 'feelings? i don't know her'. Its not romantic to lie naked in bed together, right, sheets pooled around the waist, trading a cigarette back and forth, fingers brushing together each time, talking low, voices gravelly from smoke and sex. It's doesn't mean anything to wrap yourselves up in those sheets and head to the balcony and sit and smoke through the rest of the pack and talk shit to each other until talk of work gradually recedes to talk about real life until either the sun sets or rises. They're insomniacs. They were gonna be awake anyway, right, might as well pass the time somehow, even if it is with him of all people.

#arthur x eames #professionally lying to themselves #they're the best #and the worst #eames: notices the adorable way arthur furiously flicks ash off the end of his cigarette #arthur: pointedly not noticing how eames lips purse around his own ciggie #both of them: this is how u do business good

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lavender-romancer · 10 months

Text

I'd Do Anything

Part One Tommy Shelby x Reader

You met when you were sixteen and from there, your lives ebbed and flowed closer and further away from one another but there was always something that brought you together.

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

1906

When you were a child your parents' marriage always seemed too difficult, with such a lack of care or affection for each other. More like two adults who had married for social convention than for love and you decided then and there that you'd never accept anything less than love.

Your teenage years had a few flings but you knew you were never in love with them, there was one boy you had met whilst watching your younger siblings play on Watery Lane with some other local children.

This boy didn't approach you initially, instead looked at you across the street with an inquisitive expression as he sat in a doorway with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. You decided to walk over to him which seemed to take the boy by surprise.

"Can I have a smoke?" You asked, attempting to start a conversation. He quickly scrambled to his feet and was noticeably smaller than you but most boys were at your age anyways.

"What's… what's your name?" He asked and you smiled before rolling up a cigarette and holding it between your fingers.

"I'm Y/n, and you?" You looked at him expectantly and he quickly brought out a pack of matches.

"I'm Tommy," he smiled and gestured to where the children were playing. "That's my brother John and my sister Ada. Arthur's around here somewhere."

"How old are you, Tommy?" You lit your cigarette and Tommy looked at you hesitantly before answering.

"I'm sixteen, I know you would have no way of realising that. I still haven't had my growth spurt." Tommy huffed and you smirked before telling him you were also sixteen. "Do you live 'round here?"

"I'm at the end of the street," you smiled "I hadn't seen you before either, if that's what you meant." You struck a match and lit your cigarette before handing them back to Tommy.

"Will I see you again?" He asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"I suppose you will. But I'll be busier than before so you'll just have to have wonderful timing." You giggled and Tommy's cheeks went pink.

"I- I only meant that we could do more than watch our little brothers play." He stumbled over his words and you found it quite endearing.

"I'd like that. You'll have to meet me after around 5 at the school. I get extra tuition there on weekdays." You took a deep inhale of nicotine and your head seemed to clear.

"Why are you at school still?" He asked.

"Because, Tommy, I am trying to pass an entrance exam. They have a women's college in London so for the next two years I have to work harder than I have before." You felt the fogginess in your brain returning but you had to ignore it.

"I never considered leaving here and you're going to London, it's impressive." Tommy looked up at you and then averted his gaze, not wanting to make you feel he was too small.

"I have to get out of here, at least for a few years. Small Heath isn't the problem, it's my parents and their lack of concern for my education." You rolled your eyes and leant against the brick wall behind you. Tommy saw what you were doing and followed your actions, wanting to seem interesting.

"Jesus." Tommy let out a long breath and you nodded.

"There's no other way for me to break the cycle of my family never earning enough to get by and constantly being worried, I can fix it all." You tapped some ash off your cigarette.

"I can't say I could match you academically but I could definitely beat you at cards." He joked and you smiled.

"I wouldn't be so sure." You looked down at him.

"I could absolutely rinse you when you get all rich." Tommy raised an eyebrow and you looked at him with offense.

"Now that will definitely have to be tested." You smirked.

For the next two years Tommy would meet you after tuition every single day and when you didn't have tuition you would be spending the day with one another. Going on walks, visiting his family or going to his uncle's dockyard and messing about there. He was your escape from the fogginess in your brain that crept up when you thought about the future. He made you laugh and feel at ease with the world.

Tommy had figuratively and literally grown up in front of your eyes, now a bit taller than you and a lot more mature. The two of you acted like an old married couple with the way you bickered and then made up. But the two of you had never breached the subject of romance. Regardless of the Shelby brothers' teasing, the two of you had never brought it up.

You got a lot closer with Tommy's aunt, Polly when her daughter Anna was born. You loved babies and wanted to help in any way possible with childcare. Her and her brother Michael were angels to look after, most of the Shelby brood were. But they were always a bit more mischievous than the Gray children.

When Finn was born things got significantly difficult for Tommy. His mother was dead, his father had abandoned them and you didn't have the social faculties to try and soothe the hurt. You tried to help with Finn whenever Polly had to work or the Shelby offspring went to try to find work. But it wasn't the same between you and Tommy, he had taken the position of the leader of the family and the responsibility weighed on him greatly.

"Tom," you asked as you leant against the same wall you'd met in front of two years prior. "Can I have a cig?" You asked with a pleading smile, he looked unimpressed but rolled you one anyway.

"When's your entrance exam?" He asked.

"It's next week, I'm absolutely terrified. I didn't think trying to get matriculated would be so stressful after this much preparation but I'm losing it." You let out a long sigh and rubbed your eyes.

"You need time to chill out. Polly is with Finn, Ada and John all day tomorrow so we could go for a walk? Take the bus out to the countryside or something?" He suggested and you could have blushed. You didn't want to admit that you had feelings for Tommy but it was hard to not feel that way when he was just so wonderful.

"I would like that very much." You smiled broadly and Tommy bowed his head, trying to hide that he was blushing too.

The next few months after your entrance exams in London were a lot more relaxed than you thought they'd be. But it was all down to Tommy. He did everything possible to spend time with you and never even mentioned university so you could take your mind off it. All you could do was look at him adoringly as he made you tea and helped look after Anna and Finn. Polly often joked that the two of you looked like "a couple with a baby". The first time she said it you looked up from cradling Finn and Tommy looked up from spoon feeding Finn his milk. The two of you simply blushed to yourselves and never spoke of it again.

But the family was beginning to see you as a couple regardless of what the two of you thought about it. One night- more alcohol fueled than you wanted to admit- the two of you had been lounging all over one another as you drank more and more pints when someone started a daring game. Most of it was boilerplate dares until Arthur focussed his attention on the two of you.

"Tommy, I dare you to kiss Y/n!" He announced with a resounding cheer from everyone taking part. You looked at Tommy with a confusing expression and Tommy went to refuse but you put a hand on his cheek in some drunken confidence. He turned his head to look at you before leaning forward and kissing you deeply. In the back of his mind Tommy could hear his brother's laughing but none of it mattered. He was kissing you. Kissing the person who had made him anxious when they first met and now continually impressed him with their dedication and affection for others. The two of you pulled apart and both finished your pints before going up to the bar together to order another.

"Well that was…" you slurred and Tommy hiccuped which made you laugh.

"I liked it." Tommy said in a very serious voice before you both started laughing.

"I know you're definitely too drunk to remember this tomorrow but I've wanted that to happen for so long." To stop yourself drunkenly stumbling you were leaning against his shoulder with your eyes fluttering shut.

"You think I haven't?" Tommy asked as the pints came and you were convinced you misheard him.

"Huh?" You said as he went to move back to the table.

"You heard what I said!" He said happily before turning around and heading for the table. You stood for a moment and had to check your bearings, leaning against the bar. He'd wanted to kiss you? Your head was spinning and you didn't know how to process that information so you headed outside. The cold autumnal air hit you like a slap and woke you up a bit. You needed to calm down and try to figure out what had just happened.

Tommy turned around to see where you'd got to and saw your pint still on the bar. He knew it was unlikely you'd leave it so he stood up and looked around a bit before walking outside. The air also woke him up a bit and as he looked around he saw you leaning on the wall of the Garrison smoking a hurriedly rolled cigarette. He stood in front of you and took the cigarette out of your mouth before smoking some of it himself, you just looked down at his shoes and it made him shuffle uncomfortably.

"This is the longest we've been silent with one another the whole time I've known you." Tommy noted and you nodded without a reply. "What's wrong?" He finally asked and you stole back your cigarette.

"I'm just coming to terms with the fact that you wanted to kiss me." You wouldn't raise your gaze from his shoes and Tommy sighed.

"But you said you wanted to?" Tommy said, confused.

"I did, I do. But I didn't know that you did. For how long?" You asked.

"Since the day I met you, Y/n." Tommy admitted without any shame and you smiled.

"Even when you were that short I found you endearing so I suppose I did pretty early on as well." You finally met his gaze and could stare at nothing else but his eyes.

"So what are you so confused about?" He asked, taking a step closer to you.

"The eventuality that we might hate each other," You paused. "I don't know if I could live with it."

"Why would we hate each other?" Tommy seemed even more confused.

"If something happens and then the two of us grow apart and everything changes and I don't know." You trailed off and just lent against the wall and looked up at the sky.

"You're thinking too much again." Tommy smirked and you rolled your eyes.

"You're a bastard." You smiled a bit, not willing to admit he was right.

"You need to be in the moment." He said softly, moving slightly closer to you, your eyes met his before he leant down and kissed you.

You spent the night with him after that but waking up in his bed partially clothed with a banging headache, all you could feel… was regret. You prayed he wouldn't remember the night, the kiss and everything after. As you left that morning from the Shelby house you were so familiar with, you almost didn't look back.

By the following week much has gone back to normal between you and Tommy with neither of you broaching the topic of the night in question because what was there to say? There was an air of difference between the two of you but you refused to address it. You were back to hanging out together platonically, looking after each other's siblings and dealing with all the teasing about you both 'looking like a couple'. Even if you had to suppress your feelings forever it would be worth it. Tommy was worth more than a night of a drunken mishap, it wasn't that you regretted the act, you did regret the way it happened. You didn't want the first kiss you shared to be influenced by alcohol or the first night you spent together. You wanted it to be normal.

That week you received your letter from Bedford College and practically ran to the Shelby household. You burst through the door unable to speak with how out of breath you were, all of the Shelby's looked at you as if you were insane but you shook the letter at them whilst puffing. Polly took the letter from your hand and quickly opened it as you keeled over.

"Oh my god." Polly said quietly looking at the letter.

"W-what?" You managed to get out, absolutely terrified.

"You got in." She turned her head to you with wide eyes and a smile. You genuinely felt like you might faint.

"We've got an academic in the family!" Arthur yelled with a smile and even Finn started laughing happily. Your eyes fixed on Tommy and he smiled at you but his eyes were sad.

"Well done sweetheart." Polly said before embracing you in a close hug. "You deserve it."

"I think I might need a drink." You said quietly and she laughed.

Polly cooked you all dinner and sitting together you couldn't believe you would have evenings like this for a while. You looked at the faces of all of the people you were able to call your family and just wanted them all to come with you. The security blanket you'd had these last two years would be so far away in only a month. Anything you knew would be so far away and it was incredibly daunting. As you were all cleaning up, you and Tommy had been saddled with washing and drying, it had been about five minutes and he hadn't said a word.

"Are you alright?" You asked him and he nodded. "You have absolutely nothing to say to me?" You prompted and he rested his hand against the countertop.

"I'm happy for you." He replied in the most deadpan voice you'd ever heard before walking out of the backdoor. You sighed deeply before placing the plate you were holding back in the sink and following him outside. He was sitting on a rusty metal chair smoking a cigarette and didn't walk away as you approached him so it seemed he did want to discuss whatever was going on.

"Please talk to me," you said softly as you pulled an upturned box closer to sit near Tommy.

"What is there to say?" He brought his eyes to yours and you could see the glint of a tear forming before he sniffed and looked down.

"I know everything is changing, you know I love this place, I love your family I love…" you trailed off. "Anyways, you know I love it here with all of you but just because I love something doesn't mean that I can't want better opportunities for myself even if they are somewhere else. You understand what it is to want to protect people and I can do that with proper qualifications and a good job. I can help all of you the way I want too."

"We're not asking for charity." Tommy said harshly and you were taken aback.

"Charity? It would be a gift for all you have done for me." You were referring to the whole family but it felt as if your words were so directed towards Tommy you just didn't know how to express yourself.

"Everything is going to change." Tommy said simply and you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously.

"But you knew it would, for years you've known my plan." You tried to explain and he scoffed.

"It's different now. We're different now and it's not the same as before." Tommy tried to subtlety wipe his eyes but you saw it and it sent a pang to your chest.

"What do you mean?" You tried to deflect from what he was referring too.

"Don't tell me you're still pulling a 'Im too drunk to remember' excuse. You know what I'm talking about and honestly, I think we both might be finished with this conversation." Tommy stood up and tried to walk away but you grabbed his hand and then his leg and held on like a scolded child. You didn't know how to express yourself but you knew you wanted him with you. In whatever capacity that was, you didn't care.

"Please." You whispered and you heard Tommy sigh before stroking your hair.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before Tommy sat down again. Your eyes were glassy and threatening to release tears at any point and Tommy knew that. You took hold of Tommy's hand and traced the lines of his palm so you didn't have to look him in the eye.

"I did what I did because I was scared. I meant what I said when I was talking about how worried I was that you'd hate me because things would change. Not that I didn't want them too but that they could end badly and then nothing would work the same as before. I'd much rather sacrifice my own happiness than our bond and the closeness I have with your family." You explained quietly and Tommy closed his fingers around your index finger tracing his hand. You looked up at him and could see the hint of a smile before he pulled you closer to him.

"The affection I feel for you would overpower any petty fight or disagreement we might have." He said softly and you smiled slightly, it tugged at the edges of your mouth like an annoying child.

"I'm sorry for leaving and-" you began but Tommy just shook his head.

"Everything is settled now." Tommy picked up your hand and kissed your palm. "I think-"

"We're going to the pub do you-" Arthur started saying as he opened the backdoor but then saw you holding hands and burst out laughing before going inside.

"Oh Jesus Christ." Tommy muttered that you could only laugh, which caused you to lean backwards and forget you weren't sitting on a chair. You tumbled backwards and hit the ground hard but you were laughing so intensely you ignored the pain.

"Fuck me, that hurt." You giggled as Tommy helped you to your feet. When you were stable Tommy kept hold of your hands and looked down into your eyes.

He was so beautiful. It took you back every time you looked at him, the way his lips parted slightly when he was near you or how his hair fell over his face so he'd constantly be pushing it back. Everything Tommy did was so endearing it was hard not to feel the way you did for him. When he leant forward to kiss you, it was the first time you had both been affectionate with one another with clear heads. It didn't feel real, like a daydream that would wander into your head whenever you were staring off into the distance- whenever someone tried to get your attention and it took a moment it was because you were usually thinking about Tommy.

"I'd do anything for that to happen again." Tommy whispered as the two of you lent your foreheads against one another.

Your stomach felt like it jumped out of your body, did an excited somersault and jumped back into your body. All you could do was smile.

next chapter

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serawritesthings · 10 months

Text

AS FAR AS DREAMS GO

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x fem! reader Summary | While Arthur found sanction in his dreams, you would fret about them every night. While he longed for the sweet caress of your hands, you were unknowing, fooled by his stoic facade as your dreams only brought you nightmares. Tags | Angsty, Arthur Morgan pining for the reader, hinting at smut, intimacy, two idiots clearly in love, some sadness ensues Word Count | 10.3k A/N | Hello, lovelies! It's my second-ever fanfic; I hope you like it! Also, I got carried away, so it’s quite long (sorry)… It's loosely based on the mission with Uncle when you rob a wagon, but I have my spin on it. It’ll work more with the story this way. If you want, it can fit in with my recent fanfic about Arthur, but maybe set earlier in their “relationship.” ;D THANKS FOR READING!♡ Part two

Arthur felt you in his sleep last night.

He remembered the caress of your fingers on his icy skin, leaving scorching traces of blazing fire in its wake as your hearts collided and molded into his deepest longing. Like a strange mirror, it portrayed you as you always were: tender and loving, fiery but forgiving. But it wasn’t you; instead, it was a thought of you. Like when walking down the street and catching a glance of a person that seemed familiar, but with another look, was someone else entirely. Only in his dream-filled sleep could he allow himself the sweet torture of your presence, for in those moments, he didn’t have to think of the consequences his thoughts would bring. His dreams of you overtook his mind, whether he was willing or not. For in his mind, you had carved a path so profound that it would be etched into his senses until his last breath, clouding his sanity, never again being able to differentiate dreams from reality.

Oh, how you held him in your embrace. It made him long for the sun to disappear under the horizon once more when the warm springs of light found him in the chilly dawn. He could still feel traces of your touch in the short period between sleep and consciousness. For a brief moment, it made him question whether it was a dream or if his deepest desire had come true. You were his.

But he would wake up and find that the warmth he held in his hands had dissipated, like hot ash falling between his fingers, making Arthur attempt to dig up what remained of you from the ground. He was left aching with no relief, cold and shuddering in the chilly morning, standing over the remains of your ghost. It was like his heart had been burned with it, only coming alive once more when you returned to him at midnight.

But for you, dreams had trouble finding you at night, if they even found you at all. You could never escape reality to find sanction in the warm blanket of imagination. When dreams did reach you, memories replaced fantasy and washed over like cold, freezing water. You would fret and worry, tossing around wishing you could melt into the sheets and float to where you could become someone else. There was a time when the dreams would bring you solace, whether it was a conjecture of old memories or what your younger self would conjure up. But that was a long time ago, and you find that the older you get, those dreams drift further away. So, you had nowhere to escape, nothing to ease the hardship that daytime brought. So, sleeping is just a blink of an eye nowadays to make the night pass faster.

After a sleepless night, you sat by a tree overlooking the vast landscape. It’s quiet between the trees this morning. It brought a sense of calm to the otherwise quite hectic place. Although chilly, the wind carried a frisk waft, clearing your head. You enjoyed these mornings and often found yourself awake before the others. It’s a habit you picked up through the years, though a younger you would complain about having to rise that early in the morning. It felt like the world was entirely your own. It is even calmer in times like this, where the residents consist mainly of women when the men are out. It brought a sense of comfort to you, for they were the ones that had been kind and welcoming to you. Unfortunately, your time alone didn’t last long, for you have learned that people rose relatively early here. But the time you did get for yourself gave you a chance to ponder the time that had passed up until now.

Sean, a peculiar man, had recently been brought back from being held captive by bounty hunters soon to be transported up the Upper Montana River to a federal prison. You had immensely worried for him, finding his presence over the last few months to lighten your sometimes rather gloomy mood with his ridiculous shenanigans. Some had been unsure if going back for him posed as a good idea, but the thought of leaving him behind saddened you and many others. Somehow, you had managed to convince Arthur to lend a hand, with considerable help from Javier You knew Arthur cared for Sean, even though he’d probably rather die before admitting it.

When you first got wrapped up with these people, you admit that Arthur scared the living daylight out of you. There was a certain air around him that exuded strength and authority, never stopping short of resorting to violence. You were no stranger to what kind of man he was, what they were; neither were you of their business, but you were apprehensive of them more often than not. The womenfolk had told you countless times that Arthur could be immensely ruthless when needed and had done things that would leave your blood running cold. And you didn’t doubt them. Behind those calculating eyes and quiet demeanor lay a long life of violence and hardship. You were sure of it.

That’s why you felt stuck when it came to him. Despite all this, he was a kind man. However, he didn’t speak much when it concerned you. More so, he worked hard, and you rarely spotted him in camp. Freezing your guts out in those mountains was the longest time you had seen his face consistently. You couldn’t do more than respect him, and although apprehensive around him, you had found yourself doing it less because of his dangerous aura and more because he made chills run down your back and a warmth spread in your stomach like wildfire when he set his eyes on you. It wasn’t a fire that spread fast, destroying everything in its path and bringing misery. Instead, a fire dispersed like slow poison, mingling with your blood as it flowed through your body, claiming you bit by bit until you surrendered to its ever-so-prolonged heat.

“I heard you begged for the boys to come get me!” Time had flown by quickly, and soon, you heard the clanking of pots and the sound of steel against the wood. Sean had suddenly spoke up as he neared you, his Irish accent lacing his words heavily. Although you had missed him and didn’t want to leave him to an insufferable fate, you hadn’t forgotten his teasing. He knew very well he was exaggerating, but he wouldn’t let go of the chance to bury you in his flamboyant personality.

“That’s quite the exaggeration, Sean.” A small smile spread on your lips. “Don’t make me regret standing in favor of your return.” A snort left the red-headed man at your words. Pursing your lips, you put your gaze on him as he stood beside your seated form with his arms crossed, gazing out onto the open landscape of Horseshoe Overlook.

“Ah, how I missed ya big words and harmless threats.” You could hear a few snickers at his statement from the people gathering around the campfire. A blush covered your cheeks. You had a reputation for sounding smart sometimes, and people did not stop at anything to tease you, especially the man in front of you.

“Did ya miss me?” A cheeky grin grew on his punchable face as he raised his eyebrows, expectantly leaning closer to you.

A scoff left your lips, but you didn’t have time to answer him as the sound of hooves drew near. A certain dread always filled you at the sound. Even though you knew it most likely was someone returning to camp, you could never be too sure what state they would be in. You often worked alongside Ms. Grimshaw to help when someone got hurt, having extensive knowledge of tending to wounds and other bodily harm. It worried you, for the possibility of not being able to help someone would someday appear. Like that poor man, Davey. Luckily, you had managed to take care of Marston well enough. But he did look awful these days with that scar adorning his face; there was no denying that.

You and Sean looked up as the horses raced through the path among the trees that led to your whereabouts. You could see Dutch among them, with Arthur and Hosea. Scowls were apparent on their faces as their loud voices broke the solitude in the air, seeming to argue viciously about something.

“What’s that about?” You questioned the man beside you. “God knows, but I’d stay outta it if I were you.” He gave you a knowing look and slouched away to bother someone else. Your curiosity was piqued, but you let it be for now, raising to help Mary-Beth wash some foul shirts she was struggling with—damned Reverend.

The day continued, mindless chatter filling the space between you and the girls as you worked under Ms. Grimshaw’s sharp, watchful eyes. She had been in a terrible mood today, so her reign was relentless.

“Do you think she would be mad if we threw the clothes from the cliff edge?” A grumpy Tilly spoke up, her hands relentless as she scrubbed the fabric that never seemed to get cleaner. Sadly, it only became filthier the more she worked on it. Karen laughed as she raised her eyebrows, a mocking expression on her face. “Oh no, that won’t do for great Ms. Grimshaw. She would probably throw you right along with it.” Their laughter cut through the air, contagious as you smiled at their exchange, glancing up to see if Ms. Grimshaw had her eyes on you. But instead, your eyes found a pair of blue ones staring at you when you looked up—the brief moment left you unsure where to put your gaze after the contact broke.

You cleared your throat as you spoke quietly. “Grimshaw means well.” They groaned at you, rolling their eyes. “Sure, Miss Righteous.” They laughed again as you joined them. Before you could hinder yourself, your eyes gazed up at Arthur again, finding him staring at you again; a particular fervency lay deep within them. However, he directed his eyes away from you hastily, like you caught him doing something he shouldn’t have. Seemingly tense, the man grabs a match from his pocket, lighting its phosphorus tip from his booth’s worn leather soles. When he took a drag, he peeked at you again, his head bowed, hiding under his worn hat.

Dutch and Hosea were in a heated discussion, with Arthur listening in languidly. It probably related to what had transpired before they returned to camp. Although more collected now, there was still a tension in the air. By your observations, they were the “three main men” around here. They had been holding together most of their lives, naturally giving them authority over the gang. When they talked, you listened. Simple as that.

You touched your face discreetly, wondering if you had gotten soot from tending the fire on your cheeks again. What else could be the reason for Arthur’s stare? How embarrassing that would be. He made you somewhat uncertain already; you couldn’t possibly handle his mocking adding to that.

“I wonder what they’re talking about?” The question you asked left the girls perking their heads up and gazing at you before following your gaze, looking at the men arguing. “Yeah, it seems pretty serious,” Mary-Beth said, curious about their exchange. They had been going at it for quite a while now as evening drew closer. You observed them with intrigue. That’s when Hosea’s eyes planted on you, beckoning you over with his finger. He looked cunning as he settled leisurely in his chair, content. You gazed questingly at the girls as they shrugged their shoulders, looking as confused as you.

Dusting off your skirt, you rose from the small barrel you used as a makeshift chair and approached the men. You gave them an unsure smile, still confused, wondering what they could want to bring you into their apparent disagreement.

“Well, we have a perfect actress with us, gentlemen. I’m sure she could charm our seemingly formidable friends.” Hosea patted your arms as your feet shifted under you when he spoke up. What could they possibly be talking about? Dutch was gazing at you indescribably as Arthur stared at the table. His arms crossed, not meeting your gaze.

“Well, her damsel in distress act has saved us before.” A low chuckle left Dutch as he drummed his fingers on the wooden table.

“May I ask what you’re talking about?” As the question left you, you could see Arthur raise his head to watch you. His expression was blank, but his eyes seemed sullen, the smoke from his cigarette filling the air as he took a drag.

“Uncle’s received a tip of a supply wagon passing through carrying a payroll, lookin’ to be unguarded. They want you to help us.” His voice was quiet as he observed you, his accent thick. You had helped them on some jobs before, although only smaller ones since you weren’t as acquainted with the work as the others. You mainly had accompanied Hosea on his schemes, finding that both of you had quite the same proficiency in depicting a role. Although you had taken up some theatrics when you were a small child, you had never imagined you would use them to deceive people. You found Hosea to be a spiritful figure despite his age. When thinking about it, he reminded you immensely of your father. He was too stubborn to let himself grow old, and his spark for living and refusal to take on the habits of an older man made him seem immortal to you. But he wasn’t, which became evident to you the older you had gotten.

“Of course, if I can be of help.” You offered them a small smile, surprised they decided on you, not someone else. It didn’t seem scary for you; you would, of course, be accompanied. And they knew what they were doing, which had become apparent to you since they always managed to get out of trouble. Compared to some of the things they did, stealing from a wagon seemed mild. And with Arthur accompanying, you knew you would feel completely safe.

“S’not a good idea.” The words that left Arthur made you furrow your brows. What could be the reason for his doubt? Some parts of you understood that you might not be as proficient as the other women, but as you mentioned, playing the damsel in distress was right up your alley. And you already felt as if you were a burden around here.

He avoided your offended look as he continued, pointing his finger at Hosea. “I ain’t lettin’ h-anyone get hurt just cause Uncle got told a tip from some sad, half-witted lowlife! Now, I ain’t against looking up the lead, but we handle it without the theatrics an’ all, Hosea.”

You were about to speak up, but Dutch did before you could. “It would give you the advantage to have someone stop the wagon; that way, you have the man unguarded and on the ground.” He gave you a look-over. You leaned slightly away from his calculating gaze, his squinting eyes examining you.

“Yeah, that’ll do; let Uncle prove his worth this time. Bring Bill and Charles with ya.” With that said, he stood up from his chair and nodded at you with a beaming grin, and sauntered off. Wonder what Molly saw in him. Often, you found him to lean towards arrogancy, the way he let everyone else do his dirty work. But they all seemed to listen to him, which meant what he did gave some positive outcome.

“Trust me, Arthur, she’ll do good. And she might make up for your dumbness.” As Hosea’s chuckling figure slowly disappeared, you gazed curiously at Arthur, who was scoffing, staring after the man.

“I know how to handle myself, Arthur. And I know you know that too.”

“Sure.” He dragged out the word, voice mirroring his now grumpy mood.

“So?” You raised your eyebrows. He gave you a questioning look. “What’s the matter?” You asked.

He let out a long breath. “It ain’t safe. A random tip could be risky. It probably means someone else heard ’bout it, too, if the man was willing to give up the information. Likewise, it could be a setup. We don’t know, do we?” You leaned on the table before him, placing your hand to stead his bouncing knee. You knew what he meant. But every mission was risky, especially these days when you had law coming at you from what appeared to be every direction. Despite this, you had to do it to survive, and you wanted to show them you were capable.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find out.” Your voice was mild, an undertone of understanding lacing your words. Even if it were Uncle’s idea, it would fall on Arthur either way if things went wrong, as it always did. And you knew he cared, even though he never showed it. Or think he didn’t show it.

He was about to speak, but a loud voice broke through your conversation. “Gotten over me that fast, has she? Already moving on to the gang’s grouch? I’m hurt. Here I walked around thinkin’ you missed me!” You gave Arthur a last look, squeezing his knee to gaze at Sean as he dramatically held his hands to his heart. Laughing at his antics, you stood up. “I’m not sure anyone missed you when you were gone, right Arthur?” You strolled off with the Irish man following you, not noticing the wistful, prolonged stare the blue-eyed man had set on you since you touched his knee with your delicate hand, the feeling of your skin leaving a fire trail he couldn’t douse.

“That’s it, Ada.” The grey coat of the Andulasian was silky under your palm as you graced her sun-warmed coat, giving her a carrot you stole from Pearson’s wagon as you distracted him with your mindless chatter the following evening. Her ears perked up at your soft voice, munching. She nickered contentedly as her mane blew under the frisk breeze that wafted around you.

“You know, you should’ve settled for a faster horse instead of an Andalusian. She’ll slow you down.” A gruff voice broke out in the otherwise calm spot as the sound of spurs clanking was accompanied by heavy footsteps. You looked up at the man, noting how he leaned lazily against the empty hitching post and put his hands on his belt. It surprised you, it did. He didn’t usually instigate a conversation with you.

“She’s fast enough, my Ada. And she’s family now, so.” You voiced your thoughts softly, hearing his statement from many others when Arthur, Dutch, and Micha returned to the desolated mining town with two horses and a crying Sadie up in Colter. The horse piqued your interest when you set your eyes on her, and Arthur kindly let you keep her for the time being, planning on selling her when they got the chance. Your disagreement was apparent, and not putting up much of a fight; he let you keep her. Hosea, too, opposed it when he saw the mare, but your stubbornness made him laugh. I’ll let you figure it out on your own then, he had told you.

“Well, at least we’ll know you’re safe if you get attacked by a snake.” A low chuckle left Arthur, still finding you’re choice of a companion foolish.

“Oh, are you making jokes now?” You looked at him as he straightened and strode towards you. “Cause if you are, it’s not very funny.” You backed away slightly, not used to him being so close. He put his gloved hand on Ada’s soft coat and patted her softly. A waft of smoke reached your nose as he stood next to you, coupled with the smell of a man who did hard labor. But amidst that, there was something else, something warmer and manlier. “Well, she’s real pretty, that’s for sure.” His gaze went down to you before he directed his gaze, fastening the tie strap you didn’t secure well enough.

You rarely saw Arthur with his hat off, his hair usually peaking out from under the well-worn leather. But he didn’t wear it this morning, and you wondered why. It blew softly in the wind, a slight beard adorning his face. It fit him well, adding to his roguish appearance. He was pretty handsome.

You didn’t realize you were observing him as he focused on your not-so-good job putting on the saddle. He didn’t seem as on edge as usual, the constant frown gone and replaced with a serene expression. Arthur didn’t look as frightening this way when he was relaxed, although his advantage in height and bulky form made up for it.

“Be careful today, yeah?” He gave you a curt nod when you replied that you would, walking over to his horse. You saw Charles walking in your direction, greeting you with a smile when he got close.

“We should head off as soon as possible; I’m worried we might miss the wagon.” His voice was calm, as it tended to be often. Sometimes, it felt like Charles was a shadow as he kept quiet, primarily to himself. He rarely got into trouble and handled things with a clear mind. You could but only like him, finding his solitude comforting and much like your own.

When Bill and Uncle appeared, you hoisted yourself into the saddle, giving Ada a soft pat before setting her in motion. Uncle had told you it was just up the road from camp, near the crossroads where an old, ruined church remained. “You ride first and hitch up the horse in the trees behind the church. We will stop near the crossroads to look for the wagon passing through as you get them to stop and get down on the ground.” Arthur said calmly, pointedly looking at you.

As you rode off, Arthur stared after you as you disappeared between the trees. The worry had settled in his stomach when Hosea brought up the idea for you to tag along. He wasn’t opposed to you doing your share in the gang, but bringing you on such a spontaneous mission made him uneasy.

“She’ll be fine, Arthur, and we’ll have our eyes on her the whole time.” Charles’s hushed voice dragged him out of his thoughts as he secured his gun on the saddle. Even though Charles seemed calm, a slight worry still tainted his words.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just…”

“I understand.” They sat in their saddles, heading out after Uncle’s lead.

“You know, after this, you will realize how much I do for this gang. Looking up this lead has not been an easy feat, gentlemen.” He looked proud in his seat, bringing his hands up like he already had secured the money. “Sure, Uncle, drinking and talking to some bum who just might be lying to you is exactly what this gang needs right now.” Uncle just scoffed at Arthur.

“You know, you should be nicer to me, Arthur, and you will be after you realize this will bring us a well-deserved fortune.”

“Yeah? And what are you going to spend it on? More booze?”

The church where you said goodbye to Ada was no short of run-down. Missing planks, bottles with an unnamed liquid inside, and cigarettes everywhere made you wonder what kind of people sought shelter here. You didn’t have trouble finding it because it wasn’t too far from camp like you were told. Trying not to think about leaving Ada in such an environment, you wandered towards the road you were told they would pass through.

‘

You hid behind a tree, shielding you from anyone coming down the path. You hoped Uncle was correct; otherwise, things could go south fast. No stranger would let a hurt woman linger on the road; likewise, they wouldn’t let her stumble to the seat with a hurt leg, meaning you would get the driver on the ground. Simple but effective. You only hoped Uncle had been correct, that this would be easy.

Taking Karen’s advice to loosen a few buttons on your shirt, you revealed some of your cleavage. Make him more willing, quoting her words. The skin now exposed glows in the sunlight from the light layer of sweat coating your skin from the heat. You smile to yourself. This’ll do just fine. You run your hands on the ground to dirty up your skirt like you had been crawling in the dirt. You didn’t want to think about how hard it would be to get it out of the fabric since you likely had to clean it.

Peaking up from the tree, you could spot Arthur, Uncle, Bill, and Charles from a distance, gazing upon your spot as masks adorned their faces. Who were they trying to fool? They looked ominous where they sat on their horses. God, if the driver got the slightest look at them, he would run the other way, and the operation would be over. You felt your hands grow clammy at the suspense as your shoulders tensed, sitting on the ground as you leaned against the tree.

You took your face in your hands, massaging your temple. “Okay, wagon approaches; I frantically run out from the woods, screaming at the driver to help. He stops and steps down on the ground to ask me what’s going on, hopefully worried. I tell him I’m getting chased by a maniac, and the others will handle the rest.” You breathed out as your heart beat wildly, voicing your plan aloud. “Easy peasy, right?”

That’s when you heard it, the crunch of the wheels rolling in the ground in the distance growing louder. Taking a deep breath, you ruffled your hair slightly and leaped out from the tree, running towards the road like satan himself was after you.

“Mister, please!” Your voice shrieked out, startling the man. With an exasperated expression, you stumbled down after tripping on your skirt, getting dirtier from the mud covering the path. Holding your hand on your leg, you gazed up at the men above you who looked at you alarmed. His face was adorned with small eyes and wrinkles that depicted his old age as he had to squint to see you. It made you question why such an old man drove a fortune alone but pushed the thoughts away. “You have to help me!”

“Miss, what’s happened to ya?” Immediately, he slowed the horses, stepping down from the wagon to inspect the predicament before him. He looked friendly, just like his tone was kind, and worry filled his eyes as he jogged towards you. Kind, but foolish.

“Some men trailed me, oh some god-awful men trailed me, and when I cut through the woods with my horse, she freaked out and bucked me off!” Panic settled in your voice as you looked pleadingly at the man holding your shoulder. “Please, mister, my leg hurts awfully bad; I think it’s broken.” Tears filled your voice, choking up the words leaving your mouth. His hands found your shoulders as he kneeled. “Come here, Miss. We’ll get you home, yeah?” You nodded at him with pleading eyes.

The air around you was calm, and the wind blew softly, contrasting your shrill voice in the early morning as he helped you stand up. With your weight on his shoulders, he didn’t even have the time to turn around before the cold metal of a pistol met the back of his head.

The pistol cocked. Frozen beside you, the hands supporting you grew still as the blood on his face drained, eyes staring into yours like he could see Arthur behind him in the reflection of your eyes.

“Let’s not do that. Why don’t you step away from the woman and throw your gun on the ground?” Arthur’s cold but calm demeanor frightened even you, looking different from the man you were used to. “Real slow now.” His eyes found yours, staring from under his hat as he spoke. A chill went down your spine, now understanding why he had a reputation for coming off as frightening. Behind him, Charles was rummaging through the wagon as Uncle and Bill stood behind him on their horses, acting as lookouts as their rifles were pointed at the man beside you.

“Listen, I work for Kerosene and Tar, Leviticus Cornwall, alright?” His voice was shaking, but he still tried to scare the men. Bold. You could hear Bill curse in the distance, the name familiar to them. Judging from their reaction, it wasn’t good news, and the anxiety rose in you like wildfire again as you tried to get away from the man holding you, his presence now suffocating.

“Hey, step away from her old man.” Arthurs’s voice grew firmer as the words rumbled in his chest, pushing the gun tighter against his temple when the man grabbed your shoulders harder. When you turned your head towards the elderly man, he looked as frightened as you, shocked by how the situation had transpired.

“Hey, Arthur, I got the money!” Charle’s satisfied voice made you both look up, but as you did, the sight of horses charging towards you in the distance made your eyes widen. Your breath stuck in your throat at the picture, your pulse rising as you struggled to control your quivering palms.

“Aw, shit. Uncle!” Arthurs voiced his annoyance at the downturn of the situation as he hit the elderly man with his gun, his body falling limp beside you as he held his head in his hands. Shocked, you looked at his squirming body as he writhed on the ground. Before you could shake away the shock that nailed your feet shut, you felt a pair of arms shake your petrified form.

“Get your head straight girl!” Amidst the loud sound of hooves filling your ears from every direction, Arthur shouted at you as he grabbed the horn on the saddle and hopped onto his horse. Sitting tall, he placed his arms under yours so he could lift you. Now seated before him, the sudden motion made your head spin as the world around you stayed a constant blur.

“Bill! We’ll split up, make it harder for them to track us. You go with Charles and Uncle to the left, and we’ll go straight! Stay out of camp for awhile!” His shouting brought you back to reality, the sound of bullets heading towards you growing louder the clearer your head got. Bill shouted in agreement as he cursed loudly and took off hastily, rifle in his hands as the three escaped the scene. Making a clicking noise, Arthur urged the horse to move, the force pushing your body forward from the sudden speed. The severity of the situation dawned on you when you glanced back at the riders following you. Your heart beat heavily against your chest; the number of men chasing after you could only be likened to a whole army.

“There’s so many!” The wind wisped your hair around you as you flew through the country. You glanced back at Arthur. “Yeah, I know! But I think the others got the worst of it!” His statement did nothing to calm your racing nerves as bullets rushed past you. Boadicea’s muscles moved fervently under you as Arthur spurred her on. Fast didn’t seem like fast enough. The pace painted the world blurry as you

rode on for a long time, the skies beginning to turn dark.

After a long while following the road, Arthur steered off it and up a hill into a tightly grown forest. “I think we’re losing them!” Your voice flew in the air as the wind in your ears whistled when you looked back. Almost stumbling on a rock, you both flew forward as Arthur’s heavy weight fell on you momentarily. A choked sound left your throat as the air left you, and you heard him curse out a sorry behind you. Recovering quickly, Boadicea picked up the pace once again as you gazed behind you, trying to see if they had gained on you.

Why in the world were there so many? Maybe Arthur was right, and it was a setup. After a while, the sound of hooves slowly grew distant, the only noise being your heavy breaths intermingling as you felt the adrenalin still run through your veins.

“Shit, Arthur. What the hell was that?”

“That is why you don’t trust Uncle’s shit plans!” His voice was sharp like glass as he realized he was right like he usually was. “Foolish-minded fools, the lot of ’em!” He voiced his thoughts angrily. He was tense behind you, every move filled with a raging fury as he swiftly urged the horse forward.

“What do we do now?” You voiced your concerns worryingly. You had no idea where you were; the place was unfamiliar. It had grown chilly as the sun disappeared from the blue sky, the cold wind now apparent as the danger dissipated, and your body grew aware.

“We find somewhere to hide until the next morning; they’ll probably be out looking for us, seeing as they think we have their money.” You hoped the others were well, even though you weren’t entirely too happy with how things had transpired. If Arthur wasn’t lying, they got the worst of it. You wanted to voice your concerns but decided to keep it to yourself for the time being; not entirely too sure that’s what he wanted to hear right now.

“I know a place where we can hide. It’ll be cold, but we’ll be safe. For now.” Unbeknownst to you, he glanced down at your shivering form.

After a while, you could feel your breath calm down enough for you to relax slightly. Although you were still sitting up tensely, aware of the position you were in. Arthur was a big man, towering behind you, almost embracing you as his arms held the reigns at your sides. The warmth radiating from him was immense, and the softness of his scout jacket softened the impact of your back to his chest as the horse galloped. It did make you somewhat uncomfortable being that close to the man, but as time passed and the colder the air got, you found yourself sheepishly leaning backward to stop the chills running through your body. You hoped he wouldn’t mention it or, worse, push you away from him.

The top of your head only reached his jaw when you glanced up at him, leaning your head back slightly. He was focused on the road ahead; eyes squinted angrily as he still grumbled bitterly under his breath. The corners of your mouth raised slightly before you curled your lips under your teeth, turning to look forward. He really was a grump sometimes.

Leaning forward, you ran your fingers through Boadicea’s mane as you patted her neck to try to calm your nerves. “You know, I’ve never been good at riding horses, so thank god you’re with me. No coordination whatsoever.” You laughed, trying to distract yourself from being chased through the now-dark country. Even though you couldn’t see them anymore, they were probably still on your lead. “We should be lucky we didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere. When we stumbled over that rock, I thought we were don-”

“That’s the place over there.” His gruff voice interrupted your nervous blabbering.

Your head perked up at his mention. It wasn’t much to cheer for, run-down seeming like a compliment compared to this place. Although still standing, it looked like it would fall apart if someone as much as touched it. But it had a door, and the windows were barred, protecting it from the winds rummaging through the landscape. I guess that counts for something.

“You sure they won’t find us here?” A gust of smoke from the cold surrounded you when you spoke. Logically, if they had followed your direction, they would probably have gone rummaging through every abandoned house they encountered on the way. The only answer you got was a grunt, and you almost rolled your eyes at him. What splendid company you would have for the rest of the night. Although, he had been right about the whole ordeal, so it wasn’t hard for you to see where he came from. If your previous thought had been correct, all of this would fall on Arthur. With him being in higher authority in the gang, he also held more responsibility and had to make sure the plans went along smoothly.

As you approached the cabin hastily, he stopped the horse in a quick motion, the dirt flying in the air as it surrounded you both. Hopping down from the saddle, he patted Boadicea gently on the neck. “Come ‘ere.” His hands went around your waist as he hoisted you down from the tall animal, fingers squeezing subtly around your waist as he steadied you on the ground, avoiding your gaze.

“Why don’t you hitch her up by the door? I’ll have a quick look in the cabin.” As he pointed to Boadicea, you gave him a curt nod as you did what he asked. “Will she be alright out here all night?” You blurted out as you fastened the rope against one of the planks in the fence surrounding the cabin’s front porch. A distant reassurance from Arthur could be heard as he ensured you would be alone and undisturbed. Giving the animal one last pat, you stepped up the wooden stairs, wrapping your arms around you. Since the sun had disappeared from the sky, it was dark inside, and your eyes found it troubling to adapt since the moon didn’t light up the room.

The house was eerie. Furniture still adorned the chipped, wooden planks with thick dust covering the various surfaces. The air was cold, with the smell of wood mingling with the ever-so-slightly scent of moldy food left on the plates. It looked like the people that had been living here had just walked away during their dinner.

“I wonder who lived here.” you thought out loud. Your voice was barely a whisper like the people were still sleeping upstairs. Although muted by the carpet, the floorboards creaked when you stepped inside, the fabric now muddy from your shoes. Arthur was shaking the planks nailed to the windows from the inside, making sure they would stay in their place

“Come on. I’ll keep a lookout for a while, see if I can hear them passing by. Get some rest.” He pointed you toward a botched chair in the corner. It didn’t look like the most comfortable chair, but it would have to do for the night. Not that you had a choice anyway.

“Are you sure? I can accompany you if you want.” Your words grew warm at his selfness, looking at him with a prolonged gaze as he reached to take off his jacket. He held it towards you and, as he secured his hat, bowed his head as he headed out the door.

“Nah, get some rest, alright?” You were left in the darkness as the door closed, trembling from the shivers racking through you with the heavy jacket hanging from your grasp.

What the hell was he thinking? He daydreamed about you like he had every right to imagine you that way when you rode with him. Hell, you would probably spit in his face if you knew that most of his thoughts involved you. What a sad man you are, Arthur Morgan, thinking you could ever get your hands on her. Pure and warm, that’s what you were. You were too good. Your care extended further than his ever had, treating him like he deserved your kindness. Deserved you. He kept his distance from you, only speaking to you when necessary to try to make you understand that he wasn’t a good man—but being as close to you as he had during the ride shut off his brain entirely.

The guilt ran through him as he sat on the porch, leaning against the door. Being in the same space as you proved to be too much for him now, the smell of your hair still clouding his mind. Shit, it was impossible to keep you out of his mind. Raising from the coldness of the ground, he swept his hands over his face, leaning his arms to rest against the fence as he observed into the distance. The place was surrounded by trees, somewhat deep in the woods, quite far from the path. He hoped it was far enough, not wanting to put you in more danger than he already had.

Irritation was still running through him at the outcome of the situation. He knew this would happen. At least they got away with the money. But if Cornwall’s men managed to get ahold of Bill, Uncle, and Charles, it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t feel up for a rescue mission right now; they had far more complicated things to think about.

As you sat in the chair for a while, wrapped in the oversized jacket Arthur lent you, your eyes became familiar with your surroundings. Finally, you could breathe out, although the stress from the predicament you just got yourself into raced through your body, making it hard for you to rest. It was dark and cold, and you missed the comforts of falling asleep in your bedroll at the lookout, surrounded by the women’s quiet whispering. Although, you felt safe enough knowing Arthur was outside in case anyone would stumble upon you two.

There was a large table in the middle of the room where Arthur had placed his satchel and some benches adorning the walls by the stove. A fireplace was by one of the walls with various portraits perched on it, along with some candles and other trinkets. Yawning, you stepped up from the seat, wrapping the jacket tighter around you as you stepped towards the wall, examining the portraits. You wondered who they were as you ran your nimble fingers over the dusty surface, a stoic face now starting to show. You laughed slightly under your breath; the man looked downright horrified as the woman beside him smiled warmly. Was that his wife? You turned the frame, squinting so you could read the writing.

“Ms.Hevett with son, Mr.Hevett.” Hmm, they both appeared to be very old. Mamas-boy maybe? You giggled again, putting your hand over your mouth to dull the sound. Returning the portrait, you glanced around. Oh, maybe Arthur had a match to light the candle! Well, of course, he had a match; he smoked every chance he got.

You tiptoed towards the door as it creaked when you pushed it open quietly. You called out for Arthur gently, seeing him leaning on the fence. His head turned to yours, alarmed, looking behind you as his hand rested on the gun in his holster. “You alright?” The words flew out from his mouth as he tensed, walking towards you. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wondered if you have a match.” He looked at you for a moment, then furrowed his brows as he grabbed the edge of the door. “A match? Why? You don’t smoke.”

You glanced sheepishly at him now, realizing you might be bothering him. “Well, there’s a candle in there, and I just, I, would be more comfortable if it wasn’t so dark. That’s all.” He scoffed slightly at your words. “You supposed to be sleepin’; what does it matter if it’s dark?” He asked you in disbelief. You only pursed your lips, staring at him as the moonlight reflected on his face. A sigh left him as he beckoned you inside, giving one last glance around the outside of the cabin.

“This candle right here. If only we had some firewood, we could also warm the place. See, there’s a fireplace! I imagine the house was cozy when it wasn’t run-down.” You babbled as he followed behind you, reaching for a match in his bag. As he did at camp yesterday, he lights the match at the sole of his boot. Immediately, it casts the room in a warm blanket. It didn’t feel so eerily anymore, and the flame flickered around you softly.

He raised his brows as he spoke. “First, you want me to light this damned candle, and now you want me to go chop us up some wood?” He sounded more amused than his earlier cranky mood, but still, you looked at him unamused. “It was just an observation, alright?”

He chuckled lightly as he looked at you, observing you for a few seconds before speaking up. “You okay to sleep now?” His rough voice spoke the words as he motioned to leave again.

“Um, sure. Arthur, did you know a mother and her son had been living here? It said so on the portrait. I wonder what happened to them?” The words left you hurriedly, looking to say something to make him stay with you for a while longer. It was hard to explain, but you felt safer with him. In here. With you.

You pointed towards the portrait. He glanced at you shortly before stepping back into the room. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been here a few times.” His answer was short.

“Oh.”

The air was stuffy, and the tension grew thick as you looked at each other. Neither of you knew what to say since Arthur always seemed to get tongue-tied around you, and you were unsure of how to converse with him. You draped the jacket even closer, staring at the floorboards.

“Ya still cold?” He startled you slightly, your head perking up at his words. “Umm, yeah, a little, but the jacket’s helping… so.” He nodded at you, grabbing the belt with his hands, tightening his lips together, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked like he was expecting you to say something, waiting for the words to leave your mouth.

“Oh, sorry, you’re probably cold as well. Here you can have it back.” You stepped towards him, the jacket slipping off your shoulder.

“No, no. You take it, I’m used to it, alright?” His words were kind and selfless, and you felt terrible for not bringing your own jacket. Of course, he was cold; it was freezing in here. Knowing he cared enough for you to put your comfort before his own made your heart beat slightly faster.

Once again, he went to exit the door and leave you in the empty house, but the moment he opened it, the words left you before you could stop them.

“Will you stay in here?” It was silent as the raindrops started to fall outside, pattering on the roof as the tension grew suffocatingly thick. Glancing at you with his head bowed, he cleared his throat.

“It’s just I’ll feel safer with you in here. That’s all.” Feeling the need to explain your sudden outburst, you felt a blush rise at the humiliating situation. He probably thought you were childish, finding your words annoying and demanding.

Giving you a curt nod, he closed the door behind him, pushed one of the side tables against the door, and locked it.

“It won’t rain in, so don’t worry. Now,” He leaned back on the chair by the table in the middle of the room, putting one leg over his other to lean the ankle against it, taking his gun out of the holster and cleaning the dirty metal. “Get some sleep. We’ll set out in the morning.”

You listened to him this time and sat on the chair, bringing your legs up towards your chest as you closed your eyes. You knew it would. be hard for sleep to find you, but you still gave it a chance.

You were wrong; you were able to sleep. But it didn’t last you very long, for the cold had seeped through both skin and bones, leaving you with tremors running through your already shaking body. You could still hear the thunder in the distance and the heavy rain splattering against the wooden roof. You opened your eyes, finding another pair staring right at you. You felt your stomach turn, the display of emotions running deep in his eyes as he observed you. His legs were spread wide where he sat, keeping sight of both you and the door in case someone barged through. The flickering of the faint light hit his eyes, painting his otherwise blue eyes a darker tone. It felt like a dream.

“Alright, that’s enough.” A heavy sigh left the man as he stood up. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he walked over to you. Grabbing under your arms, he lifted you as he sat on the chair. Gently, he placed you on his lap, with your head resting on his neck and legs draped over his thighs.

“Jesus, woman, you’re freezing.” As he talked lowly, you could feel his voice rumble in his chest, the feeling soothing against you.

Oh, darn it, he was warm. How could he be so warm? No thoughts except warming your freezing frame made you wrap your arms around his waist, the thick jacket covering both of you. You felt his hands run over your arms, trying to warm you up as you moved against him, relishing in the heat from his body as you nuzzled your cheeks in the crook of his neck.

And finally, you fell asleep.

“Arthur.” Jolting awake, Arthur’s eyes widened in the candle-lit room. His whole body tensed up as he gazed down at you, alarmed.

Seemingly unhurt, a worried expression was on your beautiful face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked you. Shushing him, you placed your hand on his bicep carefully.

“You were mumbling in your sleep. Is everything alright?” Your eyes were tired but warm as he blinked down at you, now noticing his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you towards him. “Yeah, ’m alright.” His words were low, choked at the sight of you staring this tenderly at him. This was a dream, he told himself.

As his arms relaxed around you slightly, you wrapped yours tighter around his neck. He was so suffocating, his scent surrounding you from every direction as you basked in its grasp. His eyes were intense, the now sullen look he always carried vulnerable, as the folds around his eyes evened out. It still felt like you were in a dream, and you longed for it never to end. Good dreams never found you, but now you had it in your hands as the comforting blanket cloaked around you like Arthur was wrapped around your scorching body.

No words were spoken as you gasped slightly, nimble hands stroking up his arms as the broadness stretched against his shirt. His cheek was warm when you placed your trembling fingers on his scruff, tracing small figures as you observed the scar on his jaw and the slight bend of his nose from getting it dislocated often. As you grazed his skin, your eyes never left him, even when he closed them to revel in your touch. Being this close to him was comforting; the contact was foreign to you but something you had longed for. Feeling wanted by him was what you wanted your dreams to turn into for the longest time. And it finally did.

The world around you grew quiet; only your breathing was audible as his chest moved under you, heavy intakes of breath raking through him. Letting your gaze fall to his lips, yours parted slightly. Through hazy eyes, you closed the small distance between you. A warm surge spread through you as his chapped lips met yours, his slight beard tickling your skin. A low moan escaped at the contact, and your heart burst at the seams, the fire flaring and oozing with each movement. You always wondered what pressing your lips against his would be like, his stoic character making it feel like your wishes were miles away. But now you knew, and it felt better than you imagined. His hands were still around your waist, holding you tightly as you felt all the excitement overflowing in your veins at his apparent contentment of your actions.

You snuggled into him, holding his cheeks and caressing them with your thumb. Slowly, you leaned your head back, feeling dizzy from the emotions clouding your brain. He followed you as you pulled away, almost as if you hauled him towards you like tied with a lasso. His breath warmed your skin as his lips were placed in the conjecture of your neck as he leaned against you. As you giggled slightly from the tickling sensation, he breathlessly chuckled as he left wet trails up to the space under your ear, caressing the small of your back with his large hands. His gloved hand against the fabric of your blouse felt enticing, your back arching due to his touch, your upper body now pressed flush against him. You held his head close as your hands were buried in his thick hair. His lips found yours again, shifting against you fervently as he moved with more vigor.

Of course, it was a dream, Arthur thought to himself. It bled into every nightly thought he has had of you now for the longest time. Your scent reached his nostrils. It was so sweet, so you. Small arms were wrapped around him, and your legs were now glued at either side of his thighs as your soft lips touched the skin under his ears in a silent kiss. Shivers wracked through his body as he ran his coarse hand alongside your waist, the soft woolen fabric hugging the curve of your waist tightly. Small gasps emitted from you as your hands ran up his stomach to his chest, planting small, tender packs against the slightly sunburnt skin, looking up at him through hooded eyes. Sinful, that’s how you looked.

He lifted you slightly, capturing your soft lips in his. The sweet caress of your skin against his felt divine, the wet noise of your tongues finding each other mingling with the sound of the rain outside. As the jacket slid down your shoulder, the man was left staring at the soft curve of your round breasts, revealed from the unbuttoned cotton of your blouse, the slight hardness of your nipples showing through the fabric.

“Arthur”

“Mmh.” He was too far gone now, but he kept assuring himself he was dreaming. You would have never put your hands on him if he wasn’t. He had noticed how you huddled closer to him from the cold when you rode on the horse, your figure nestling against his, curves snug against him. Did you do it on purpose? Were you aware of what you were doing to him? He was still trying to recover from what transpired in his head when you escaped the riders. No, not from the bullets seeking to pierce his flesh, but your bottom. Your soft, tantalizing rear. It had been flush against him as you leaned forward earlier, the round hips taunting him temptingly, almost as if they begged for his hands to caress the soft curves that stretched the fabric that covered it. Damned skirt. What he would have done to push it up your legs and reveal the tender flesh hidden beneath them. Your slit bare against the saddle’s leather as you squirmed, jiggling your cheeks like you were begging Arthur to give in to your desire. Shit. He shouldn’t have been thinking about you like that, not when you were right before him.

Leaning forward slightly, you ran your fingers through Boadicea’s mane as you patted her neck. You spoke, but the words that left your mouth turned into nonsense in his clouded head.

He had given you some nonsensical answer as he stared down at you through hazy eyes as your hips moved in sync with the horse’s motion, words flexed mindlessly out of his mouth as his restraint seemed non-existent. Your terms of cheerful disbelief grew distant as heat traveled through his body at his unholy thoughts, mouth too dry to give you a coherent answer. His hands moving on the reigns, trying to keep them from indulging your softness against him so he could feel the tremendous friction he was sure would send him straight to heaven. Christ, you riding on a horse should be illegal.

But now you were here, with him, and he had your soft body in his grasp. The tension from his earlier thoughts became apparent, his hands moving on their own as they familiarized themselves with your curves that felt so real. Too real.

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your button as he hastily lifts you. Automatically, your legs seek ahold of his waist, arms around his neck. He moved quickly over the floor as the lightning lit up the room from the cracks in the door, laying you down on the table and leaning down to cover your body with his. He was so close to you now, feeling every part of him press against you—every aspect.

Snap!

Frozen in place, wide eyes adorn your face from the sudden sound. Arthur was still above you as he sharpened his ears, finding it difficult to hear since the rain hit the ground loudly outside. The snap had been just outdoor, like someone stepping on a branch. Panicked, you tried to find a reasonable explanation: an animal, a branch falling, or maybe Boadicea had moved.

Slowly, Arthur raised his body from yours, leaving you flustered and scared on the table. With a frightened stare, you looked at him as he raised his finger to his mouth, slowly stepping away so the wooden planks wouldn’t creek. Leaning against the door’s side, his hand rested on his pistol. Stay still. His eyes told you to do as he said, and so you did. It’s not like you were able to anyway, your muscles petrified. They had found you. The worst outcome filled your mind; what would they do to you if they got the upper hand? Turn you in, or worse, put a bullet between your eyes?

The loud noise of the door slamming open made you shoot your eyes toward it, finding Arthur standing in the doorway with his pistol pointed out into the dark.

“Aw, shit.” His throaty voice was laced with disbelief, making you lift your head from the table. Your laugh filled the space as the back of your head hit the table with a loud clang, eyes squeezed shut from the sight in front of you. It had seemed like Boadicea had found a friend, the stallion standing still from the sudden intrusion and ran away in haste. “C’mon, get outta here!” The surprised man cursed after the horse, beckoning it out as your hands found your face. The adrenaline still racing through you made your hands shake as the hilarity of the situation made you speechless. Placing your hand on your racing heart, you sat up as the old cutlery clinked underneath you, hearing Arthur’s loud, angry steps hit the porch steps.

Standing before you, he sighed at your amusement, but you could see a slight smile worm its way underneath his frown. Although it quickly disappeared as he gazed at you before him. Right.

What in the world were you thinking? Now clear-minded, the intimacy you had shared entered your mind. Shame rose in you as your cheeks blazed, taking ahold of your blouse to cover your exposed state.

“Um…” You didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence before he cut you off. Hastily, he grabbed his rifle on the table and the pouch in harsh movements, making sure not to touch you before he went towards the door with big steps.

“It’s soon morning. Stay here until then; we’ll leave in a while.”

After the door slammed shut, the quietness was deafening. Now alone, you could see the slightest bit of light entering the cracks in the walls, but it didn’t ease the heaviness in your chest. It hadn’t been a dream, you thought to yourself. Every minute had been actual: his coarse hands, desperate lips, and body heat. If you closed your eyes and focused enough, you could still feel the traces of fingers over your clothing as his smell reached your nose once again, like he had united with the ghosts of this house and now haunted you. Taunting you. Why had he reacted so yet touched you so fiercely? You felt a pang in your chest at the thought, not understanding.

Opening your eyes, you buttoned your blouse in shame and put your hands on your cheeks as you lifted yourself off the table. It was still chilly in the room but not as bad as the night before. Mindlessly, you wandered over the space, sat in the chair where Arthurs’s jacket lay, and brought your knees up to your chest, hugging it tight with your arms. The blissful moment you had together faded, the warm touches dimmed into cold, malicious blows to your heart as the hope of finally having a pleasant dream vanished, the moment turning into an all too familiar nightmare.

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