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writingoddess1125 · 1 year

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My Heart Breaks Pt. 2

Warning: Angst then Fluff

Buggy X FemReader

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Part 1

Replaced the Photo! Cause this was too perfect! Art belongs to Vamos_MK on twitter!!

You stared up at the blue sky with a tired sigh, finally you were free.. Over two fucking decades it had taken to escape and you did it God damn it!

For the last 20 years you had been imprisoned in the Impel Down- It had been awful yo say the least.. constantly you were trying to protect yourself and saw that the man who had sent you here had been extra cruel in doing so- well not you but the women who you took her place..

You still felt guilt in knowing she had died in your place.. but you couldnt help but be greatful she had wanted to die due to her cause in an accidental death. You hoped in her afterlife she was happy..

However death was definitely kinder then the prison- with monsters at every turn and trying to keep sex deprived prisoners from trying to have their way with you it had been a battle. You had scratched, fought and squeezed your way out of that hellhole.

After a changing of guards you had managed to slip out- unlike most of the prisoners in the Impel Down you had the enate abilies to swim so you did. Stealing a dingy that a negligent marine most likely left behind you made it out. Paddling like your life depended on it sway from that place, however you were in no position to cry in relief yet.

It was another 2 days of paddling before you manages to get to an island. Starving and dehydrated you snuck to the back end of the tiny island so no one saw your prison uniform. Stealing some berries and a pair of clothes from a small cottage you made it through the village, it was clear this place was poor- you blended in with the people who were just as hungry as you and with less berries then you had nabbed.

You went into a pub getting what you could afford, which was bread and cheese and a ale. You took these and stood outside to eat your meal which tasted no better then ash in your mouth.

Looking around you saw two better dressed men walk out of the pub, batting a poor boy on the back and laughing. Congratulating him for joining their merchant ship- catching your ear you finished your meal and drink quickly, following the men. Seeing a large ship with a line of young men wanting to join the ship for a better life and opportunity, so you join them.

Once you reached to the top of the ship, a old man held out a cane to your chest to keep you from moving forward.

"What do you want lady?-" The old Captian sneered at you, Glaring down at your dirty form.

"You're looking for sailors correct?" You say sharply, Taking a steady breath to still your nerves.

"What can a thing like you do on a ship? Do you even have sailing experience?" The Captian laughed in your face. You clenched your fist and glared hard at the asshole.

"Yes I have sailed since I was young- I can.. do cleaning and maintance" You lied a bit- not talking about your skills as a thief since this is just a merchant and not pirates like you were used to. The Captian stared at you for a moment before sighing with a shrug.

"Fine- Welcome to the May's Fairy Lady" He grumbled as he gestured for you to get on board. Sighing in relief as you had a way to sea and a income.

However that was better said then in reality-

To say the merchant ship was terrible as well had been an understatement- It was like the Impel Down all over again.. a group of touch starved and angry men who saw you as an easy target. Thankfully due to your skills you were able to evade any advances, during the day you would stay in the Lower Deck to avoid the men, cleaning and eating the stale bread and water you snagged not trusting the cook since he liked to Leer at you far too long.

At night you would travel to the Main Deck and clean up there and sleep till dawn or if the ship rocked a bit too hard. This had been your like for 3 months till one evening.

While mopping the floor of the deck you looked up at the dark sky, remembering the night with Buggy before that big heist. Grabbing him and kissing his suddently as a way to express your interest in him... your heart hurt at remembering his face when you saw him last at the bars of the window, Placing your bandana and kissing a kiss on the back of his hand.

Snapping you from your melancholy thoughs was a loud bang, seeing what looked like a firework shoot up right above you. Several crew mates from below deck also came up at hearing the noise, you watched the firework come directly on top of the ship before exploding in a cloud of red- It was beautiful. Your favorite shade of red too. The crew began to panic at seeing this as the cloud settled on the ship, you felt woozy and uneasy on your feet before you fell to the damp ground before darkness took you a large shadowy form of a ship came closer and you swore you heard circus music.

Groaning you felt yourself sitting up, a harsh digging from metal against your ankles and wrist. Jerking awake you saw you were seated in wooden benches in a dark room, Hearing the groaning and panic of others around you. You pulled at the chains slightly but winced at how tight they were.

Suddently bright lights turned on, You saw your crew chained up and seated next to you staring at a lowered stage. Your breath picking up as circus music started up, watching as different acts come up- it was almost exactly like how you remembered the show you went to in your childhood? Like someone recreating it from memory? People pulled out sighs to applaud which you saw the merchant nervously do.

"No No NO! It's wrong! That is not how a crowd should clap!" You heard a sharp voice say, walking onto the stage- He looked like a pirate Captian and not apart of the circus. You did see clown paint on his face and a red clown nose- which made your eyes narrow at the sight.

Your eyes focused on the grown man- Watching as he commanded the crowd with a twisted smile and yelled at the circus people. He sighed dramtically and looked in the direction of the crowd- chastising them for their lack of enthusiasm and not laughing with the cues. However the wind felt like it was knocked from your lungs.. You knew those eyes.. that blue hair expertly tucked away and real rounded red nose.

"Bugs?" You called out loud by accident- You saw his whole body freezes mid step. A twitch seemed to have shot through his system as your merchant crew mates all looked back at you with a mixture of pity and fear. You swallow a nervous lump as he did a slow turn in your direction, your face still clouded in shadows by the lack of lights in the audience section. Doing a silent hand movement his crewmates assended on you, yanking you from your restraints roughly and pulling you to the stage with little grace and tossing you at Buggy's feet. Rubbing your swore wrist you looked up at your childhood friend through your mess of hair.

"What the Hell Bugs? Shackles!? When the fuck do you use Mph!-" You were cut off as he grabbed your face hard tp pull you to your feet, his eyes wide and overly dilated like he was seeing a ghost. You actually felt afraid? His eyes seemed different and there was a unknown emotion behind them, you tried to wiggle free but he held you firmly taking his free hand and pushing the hair from your face fully at seeing your face you see it looks like all the air has been sucked from his lungs and he releases you quickly, you stumble back barely able to catch yourself as he stares at you with wide eyes.

"You're alive?..." He said in utter shock. You nod and cough a bit as you rub your sore jaw from his grasp. You open your mouth to speak but he holds a hand to you to silence you. His eyes looking more like what you remembered, that swirl of never ending emotions.

"Cabaji- Take her to be washed, fed and dressed. Leave her in my quarters" He commanded, the green man nodded heavily and grabbed you far gentler now to lead you off stage.

Just as instructed a group of people washed you up in a massive copper bath with nice hot water, dressed you in simple trousers and a tunic and quickly dropped you off with a plate on the end table of the large bedroom.

Seated in a massive bed you look down at the hot plate set before you, your manners thrown out the window as you tucked in. Having been far too long since you had a hot filling meal-

Without thinking you rapidly start eating it, it tasted like heaven enough for tears to well in your eyes as you ate. Before long the plate was gone- and you felt nauseous, yout mistake of eating too quickly and food you hadn't experienced in 20 years. You scrambled up to the nearest trashcan and began to vomit- so hard you didn't hear the door open. Only when a gentle hand touched your back which made you flitch and turn around to see Buggy, his eyes wide at your reaction before your body lurches and you vomited again. Buggy held your hair back this time as you vomited into the poor trashcan.

"Sorry... it's been a while since I got a hot meal" You admitted, spitting the taste of bile away from your lips as you sat back.

"It really is you" Buggy said in disbelief still, Getting down on his knees next to you as he looked over you. How you looked so unhealthy and weak- even after being cleaned he could see that abuse had done its work on you.

"Dear Gods... What happened to you?..." Buggy voice finally cracked, his hand reaching out and cupping your cheek his thumb running over the heavy bags under your eyes and the new scars that had set on your face.

"...I survived" You say softly, Leaning into his warm touch feeling tears begin to fall. In seconds Buggy held you tightly in his arms, your face pressed against his chest as ragged sobs left you, maybe it was finally being free from both jail and the hardships on that awful merchant ship but feeling Buggy's arms around you holding you close just finally released that emotional valve and you cried.. Harder then you had in your entire life into his chest.

You felt his hands smooth over your messy hair and rock you side to side as you sobbed against him. You tried to speak but sobbing nonsense was all that left you and was mumbled through Buggy's shirt.

After almost an hour of crying against Buggy you had worn yourself out, sniffling against him as he gently pulled back to look at your reddened face. His own makeup having dripped away from his red eyes- clearly he had been crying too while holding you.

He wiped your face with his gloved hand and laid kisses on your forehead to comfort you.

"You never have to just survive again... I-Im sorry (Y/N) I couldn't save you" His voice cracked at that, you shook your head.

"I-It would have been impossible. You two would have been killed..." You say with a sniffling tone, trying to control your tone and keep from crying again. Buggy asked what had happened, as you told him the story of your escape, prison time, the pain you had suffered and how you'd escaped to be hired by those merchants. He listened dead silent the whole time his hands rubbing circles in your arms to comfort you. However you saw the rage in his eyes at the pain you'd gone through.

Once done explaining yourself he nodded at this, like he was trying to find the words to explain but couldn't. Instead just giving a bitter chuckle at this, shaking his head in anger. He reached up and took off his hat with a angry sigh and tossed it aside. Your eyes catching the bandana underneath and reaching a hand out to touch the fabric.

"You kept that?.. after all these years?" You whispered confused, the anger on his face leaving as he heard this and left your touch. Reaching up and gently pulling off the old bandana for you to see.

"Of course- you gave it to me... W-When you... left. I was destroyed" He admitted, you stared at him with tears starting to fall from you again.

"I couldn't look at myself in the mirror without seeing the face that had let you down.. so I changed- I smiled for you, wore your favorite red and became Buggy the Clown"

He said with a chuckle and gestured to himself. You bit your lip to keep from crying more, he wiped your tears away with a shaky breath.

"You did that for me? Why?" You whispered, he stared at you silently before having a nervous smile.

"I love you"

His words made your heart skip- like that spark of life from when you were 15 had hit you again. Your eyes met his, he also seemed taken aback by his admittance.

"You love me?" You questioned, seeing him nervously mess with his gloves. He always did have little nervous tics like this whenever he was in a odd position, however peeling off one of his gloves to dig his nail into his palm he nodded. You reached forward and took his hand into your own to keep him from harming his hand further.

"Well I'd hope so after giving you my first kiss on that little boat"

You both giggled at this. You rubbing your thumb on his naked palm, seeing the deep scars that covered his hands- like he had dug his nails into them so many times that his palms was covered in smiley faces.

"Of course, didn't hurt it was my first kiss too" He chuckled but you winked at him.

"Don't lie, I remember the story of you and Shanks running on deck and your guys mouth smashing together. That counted" Buggy shiffered in disgust at the memory and wrinkled his face which made you laugh.

"That doesn't count!" He protest which earned more laughter from you, he smiled widely at this.

"Sooo if both of us are still interested, Would you like to continue what should have been?" You asked, giving him a blushing smile which he returned. A big Goofy grin on his face-

"Well, let's get you healthier first. What about a dinner date?" He suggested, almost giddy and you could see that same boy you once knew under that makeup again.

"Sounds perfect"

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moeitsu · 2 months

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 18 - To Hear the Distant Church Bells Chime

Summary: The gang finds a new hideout at Shady Belle, just outside the heart of the new modern America. With Jack still missing, Kate and Arthur must work together to find him. Amidst the tension, Arthur confides in Kate about his deepest regrets.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter /

A/N: 9.5k words yippee! Not gonna lie gang, I'm really proud of this one. So many feels. So many emotions. Little disclaimer, when I talk about Arthurs past, I am not following the canon events. I've changed the details to suit the story. Anyways, I'm so glad to be able to share this and not make you wait another two months (oopsie)

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

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

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

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the dense swamps of Lemoyne, the gang found themselves approaching their new hideout—Shady Belle. The journey had been grueling, filled with the constant threat of pursuit and the weight of recent tragedies. They had to pack quickly, and unfortunately had to leave things behind in the rush. Now, as they rode up to the dilapidated manor, a sense of uneasy relief washed over them. Physical and mental exhaustion settled into their bones as they took in the site of their new “home”.

Shady Belle was a far cry from the relative peace of Clemens Point. The old plantation house stood partially reclaimed by the swamp, its once-grand façade now crumbling and overgrown with ivy. The windows were shattered, and the wooden walls were rotting, giving the manor an eerie, haunted appearance. A thick fog clung to the ground, swirling around their horses' hooves as they approached. Even as the moon began its ascent, the sun retiring after another long day, the humidity clung to the air like thistles. The dry fever of western Lemoyne was replaced with a sweltering sticky heat from the southern swamps.

The surrounding grounds were equally foreboding. Gnarled trees twisted upwards, their branches draped with Spanish moss that hung like ghostly curtains. The stagnant water of the nearby bayou reflected the deepening twilight, and the air was thick with the hum of insects and the distant croaking of frogs. It was a place that seemed to whisper of long-forgotten secrets and unseen dangers lurking just beyond the shadows. The cover over the bayou would keep them hidden, but the single path leading to the manor meant it would be difficult to escape if they were ambushed.

Arthur and John were waiting for the gang upon their arrival. Having cleared out the space per Dutch's commands. It was a quick, bloody battle. The old manor had been claimed by squatters and drunks. Homeless people just looking for a roof over their head and a place to rest. There was no time for negotiation, and so they opened fire. They had just cleared the last of the bodies as the sound of hooves and wagons approached them.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Arthur called out with a hint of mockery and sarcasm. “If you can ignore the corpses and the alligators. It's practically paradise.”

Dutch dismounted and surveyed the scene, his keen eyes scanning for any immediate threats. He motioned for the others to spread out and park the wagons by the front. Approaching Arthur and John with a confident smile, “nice work boys.” He turned back towards the chuck wagon, “Ms. Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson,” he addressed. “Work your magic if you’d please.” The two dismounted from the wagon with a nod and began unloading supplies.

Dutch strode up the creaking steps to the front porch. The door hung loosely on its hinges, and with a firm push, he swung it open, revealing the dim interior. Dust motes danced in the fading light, and the musty smell of decay permeated the air. The once-opulent hallways were now lined with peeling wallpaper and broken furniture, evidence of years of neglect and abandonment.

Inside, the gang fanned out to explore their new home. Javier and Bill took to the upper floors, their footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. Lenny and Charles headed towards the back of the house, checking the kitchens and servant quarters. Meanwhile, Arthur and John remained outside to help unload their wagons.

Kate lingered near the entrance, her eyes drawn to the remnants of what was once a grand chandelier, now shattered and strewn across the floor. She felt a shiver run down her spine, the oppressive atmosphere of the place seeping into her bones. Sadie stood beside her, brows knitted together with uncertainty.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Sadie whispered, her voice carrying a hint of doubt.

Kate nodded, “It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do. At least we’re out of danger, for now.”

As the gang settled in, Dutch gathered them in the main courtyard around a broken and withered fountain. “This ain’t much, but it’s ours for the time being,” he said, his voice echoing from the front steps. “We’ll make do. We always have.”

Arthur glanced around the group, noting the weary expressions and the unspoken fears. Shady Belle might provide them with temporary refuge, but the looming threat of Bronte and Jack, and the relentless pursuit of the Pinkertons weighed heavily on them all. His eyes found Kate’s amongst the crowd, she was watching him instead of paying attention to Dutch. Arthur was relieved that she didn’t leave, regretting his previous words to her almost as soon as he said them. But his duty and his ego stopped him from turning around and apologizing right then and there. He desperately needed to talk to her, he had let his anger and anxiety take hold of him. As the crowd began to disperse he was ready to approach her, when he heard his name called from the small dock jutting out into the water. It was John.

Arthur sighed, Jack was still their top priority. His time with Kate would have to wait for another day. As he left the scene he noticed Ms. Grimshaw handed her a crate, she would be occupied with her own tasks anyhow.

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“This is crazy, right? Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this whole thing is crazy,” John sputtered, pacing the rotting wooden dock as Arthur approached.

The small wooden fishing bench called his name, and Arthur sat down with a weary sigh. He felt so tired, so drained, and so old. The years of running were catching up to him. “It’s gonna be alright, John.”

“We should be going after Jack!” John exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.

“We will. As soon as everyone is safe and settled in. We need to be careful. Milton is coming back, and he’ll bring an army with him,” Arthur explained. “Jack will be alright. We’re no use to him dead.”

John sighed, defeated, and took the seat next to Arthur. He pulled out a cigarette and lit the match with the tip of his boot. After a long drag, he passed the burning tobacco to his elder brother. “I don't even know what to think anymore.”

Arthur nodded and accepted the cigarette, taking a slow drag and letting the smoke pool around them in a cloud. “I know, but we gotta be smart about this.”

John scoffed. “Smart? Are you joking? We stirred up so much trouble and drew ‘em right to us again! How many people have we killed in the past week?”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of their actions. “Far too many, I reckon.”

“I’m tired of Dutch’s games, Hosea’s too. ‘Master con men’ my ass. They’re getting old and running out of ideas. Why should we suffer for it?” John said bitterly.

“Watch your mouth, Marston,” Arthur shot him a warning glare. “They thought those families were sitting on gold. I don’t know what else to tell you. Things don’t always work out—”

“Yeah, they thought there was money,” John interrupted. “Ain’t this always about money? And yet we never seem to have any!”

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as John stood up abruptly. “Jack’s gone. Sean’s dead, Mac, Davey, Jenny. All of this death, and for what?”

John was beginning to sound like Kate, and Arthur understood why she had joined him on their revenge mission. “We can’t change what’s done. We can only move on.”

“We need to start learning from our mistakes. We need to leave,” John said with confidence. “After we get Jack. My family, you, and Kate. We high tail.”

“We’ve had a rocky run, but it ain’t all bad. Dutch has a plan—” Arthur tried to make his brother see reason and logic. Running away wasn't going to be easy on their own, and they had the whole gang to take care of.

“This whole plan is a goddamn mess! Dutch keeps gettin’ us into worse trouble! You nearly died because he was too ignorant to see he was being set up.”

Arthur rose from his seat and pointed an accusatory finger at his brother. “And I hear you decided to take care of that little problem. Maybe if you hadn’t left, Jack wouldn’t be gone!” John swallowed and narrowed his gaze.

“You could have gotten yourself killed, Marston. Or worse. You keep this up, and you’ll never make it out alive.” Arthur shoved past him, intending to leave with those words.

He had heard enough. The situation gnawed at him. John and Kate were right, and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to go against Dutch. He had to have faith that things would work out, that he would see them through this. Dutch had always taken care of them, since the day he found them when they were children.

“I know Kate broke your promise,” John said slowly. Arthur stopped in his tracks. “I asked her to. And she fought unlike any woman I’ve seen before.” A moment of silence passed between them, sweat running down Arthur’s neck and tickling his spine.

“I don’t know what she sees in you, Morgan, but she loves you something fierce,” John said finally.

Red. Arthur’s vision went red. Images of a woman long gone flashed before his eyes, letters of love burning in a fire. Memories of his past mingled with his present, the pain and guilt intermingling in a relentless assault on his senses.

He whirled around and shoved John back harshly, nearly pushing him into the water. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about Kate!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

John’s eyes darkened, but he held his ground. “I know you're terrified she’ll end up like Eliza,” he said, adding salt to the wound he knew he was reopening.

“You have the chance to do this differently, Arthur. Think about that.” This time John was the one to push past Arthur, making his way back into the bustling camp as everyone continued to unpack.

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Grief and regret flooded over him, each memory of Eliza and Isaac tearing at his heart. He longed for Kate’s comfort, her presence more than anything. Her words always filled him with reassurance, grounding him in a way nothing else could. She might be the only woman who truly understood him. And yet he knew he couldn’t face her now, not after what he said. And all the words that still remained unsaid, the truth about Eliza and Isaac.

He willed the memories to leave, but they haunted him and pressed down on his soul like a heavy weight. He remembered Eliza’s gentle smile, the way she cradled Isaac in her arms, the hope that they had kindled together only to have it brutally extinguished. The regret of not being there, not protecting them, tore at him every day. The fear of losing Kate the same way gnawed at his heart, driving him to the brink of despair.

Arthur pulled out another cigarette, lighting it with a shaky hand. He sat back down on the rotting bench, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. The sound of cicadas and tree frogs filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. He closed his eyes, trying to find some semblance of peace in the night sounds of their new hideout. But the pain, the fear, and the unspoken words lingered, wrapping around his heart like a vice, leaving him to grapple with his demons in the stillness of the night.

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Saint Denis was a world away from the rugged, untamed wilderness that the gang was used to. It was a bustling city, teeming with life and activity at all hours of the day and night. The streets were lined with tall, elegant buildings, their facades adorned with intricate ironwork and ornate detailing. Electric lamps illuminated the sidewalks, casting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the cool, modernity of the city. The cobblestone streets were filled with carriages, horses, and pedestrians, all moving in a chaotic but oddly harmonious dance. The distant ring of the trolly cart could be heard as it made frequent stops at every main intersection.

The air was thick with the scents of the city – the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread from the bakeries, the pungent smell of horse manure, and the ever-present tang of coal smoke from the factories. Street vendors hawked their wares, calling out to passersby with promises of the finest goods and the best prices. The sounds of the city were equally overwhelming – the clatter of hooves on cobblestones, the murmur of conversations, the clanging of streetcars, and the distant wail of a train whistle.

Kate had joined Arthur, Dutch, John, and Charles in their search for Angelo Bronte, the elusive figure who held the key to Jack’s whereabouts. Despite the fight they had, Arthur didn’t protest her presence. The tension between them was palpable, but there was an unspoken understanding that the mission at hand was more important than their personal grievances.

Dutch halted the group at the small central park in Saint Denis, the sprawling city looming around them with its grand architecture and bustling streets. The cacophony of voices and the distant hum of machinery filled the air. The scent of smoke and industry mingled with the aroma of street food vendors, creating a sensory overload that was both thrilling and overwhelming.

“Alright, we split up,” Dutch ordered, his eyes scanning the faces of his small posse. “We need to find Bronte’s whereabouts. Ask around, see if anyone knows anything. Be discreet, but don’t waste time.”

Kate nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. The city felt like a labyrinth, each turn leading to more questions and fewer answers. She glanced a look at Arthur, their eyes meeting briefly. She saw a flicker of concern in his gaze, before he nodded and left.

Kate set off down a side street, the sound of her boots echoing on the cobblestones. The city was alive with activity, children laughing and playing, and people bustling about their daily lives. It was a stark contrast to the quiet desperation that had settled over their camp.

She approached various shops and vendors and asked about a man named Bronte. Most of them ignored her questions, opting to try and convince her to buy their goods. Some merchants gave her a weary look at the mention of his name, and informed her that they don’t want to get involved. Their demeanor suggested that this Bronte man was dangerous, and this mission may be bigger than they realized.

As she walked, a distant sound caught her attention—church bells, their clear, melodic tones cutting through the noise of the city. Drawn by the sound, Kate followed the bells, winding her way through the streets until she reached a grand cathedral. Its towering spires reached towards the heavens, the stones adorned with intricate carvings and stained glass windows that glinted in the sunlight. It reminded her of the church back in Boston, the one her catholic mother would bring the whole family to for Sunday worship. It had been so long since Kate attended church, after her mother passed, her father never kept up with religion.

The ringing bells announced the joining of two souls in marriage, their song filling the air with a sense of celebration and hope. Kate stood at the entrance, watching as the wedding party gathered on the steps. The bride, radiant in her white gown, and the groom, beaming with pride, were surrounded by family and friends, their laughter and joy a stark contrast to the sorrow in Kate’s heart.

She closed her eyes, the memories of her own wedding day flooding back. The scent of blooming flowers, the sound of her family’s laughter, and the feel of her husband’s hand in hers. She remembered the warmth of his embrace, the way he looked at her with so much love. But those days were long gone, stolen away by the harsh realities of life. Her family was gone, her husband and child lost to the world of chaos that seemed to follow her every step. She missed them all fiercely, the pain of their absence a constant ache in her heart.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kate squared her shoulders. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the past, not when there was so much at stake. The bells continued to ring, a reminder of what she had lost, but also a beacon of hope for what she could still protect.

As she rejoined the bustling streets of Saint Denis, she kept her ears open and her eyes sharp, ready to follow any lead that would bring them closer to Angelo Bronte and the answers they desperately needed.

Kate navigated through the narrow streets of Saint Denis, her eyes scanning the faces of passersby for any hint of familiarity or recognition. The city’s vibrant energy of the city was distracting but she remained focused on the task at hand. The distant sound of the church bells still echoed in her ears.

As she turned down a side street, a sudden blur of comotion caught her attention. A young boy, no older than twelve, sprinted past her, nearly knocking her over. He clutched something tightly to his chest, his eyes wide with fear and determination.

"Hey!" Kate called out, but the boy didn’t stop. Moments later, Arthur came barreling down the street, his face a mix of frustration and urgency. He was limping slightly, favoring his uninjured ankle.

"You little shit!" he shouted, breathless, "I’ll kill you ya thieving bastard!" Arthur ran past Kate and darted down the alley after the young boy.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Kate sprinted after the boy, her boots echoing in the narrow alley. She could hear Arthur’s labored breathing behind her, pushing through the pain to keep up. The boy was fast, weaving through the crowd with the agility of a street urchin well-versed in the art of escape. Kate spotted an alleyway ahead and made a split-second decision. She darted down the narrow passage, hoping to cut the boy off.

The alley was dimly lit and cluttered with discarded crates and barrels, but she navigated it with ease. As she emerged on the other side, she saw the boy racing towards her. He didn’t notice her until it was too late, running straight into her towering figure.

Kate gripped the boy's shoulders tightly, enough to warn him without causing harm. He looked up at her, eyes wide with shock and fear.

“I believe you took something that belongs to my friend,” she said calmly. “Hand it over. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Arthur finally caught up to them, breathing hard as he leaned against the stone archway when he saw Kate. “Goddamn rotten bastard,” he growled, pushing off the wall and approaching them.

The young boy looked back and stuttered, “I-I was only playing mister, I swear!” He threw the satchel to the ground at Arthur’s feet, trying to worm his way out of Kate’s grasp. He struggled as she tightened her hold.

“Please let me go Miss, I-I’m sorry!”

“Fuckin' right you’re sorry,” Arthur mumbled, picking up his things. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill ya right here.” He spat.

Kate shot him a vehement look, and he turned his face shamefully. Checking his bag to make sure nothing was gone.

Kate knelt down to the boy's level, her grip still holding his shoulders tightly. “What’s your name, kid?”

“J-Joey. My name’s Joey,” the boy sputtered.

Kate breathed and relaxed her grip, trying to show him she meant no harm. “It’s nice to meet you, Joey. Can you tell me where your family is?”

Joey shook his head, his voice trembling. “Don’t have one, Miss.”

Arthur’s eyes softened slightly, but his voice remained stern. “Then what the hell were you doin’ runnin’ around with my satchel?”

Joey hesitated, his eyes darting between Kate and Arthur. “I-I work for Mister Bronte. He said we could keep anything we stole. Said it’d make us rich.”

Kate exchanged a glance with Arthur, her heart pounding with relief and urgency. They finally had a lead. “Where does Bronte live, Joey?” she asked gently.

The boy’s eyes filled with fear, but Kate’s calming presence seemed to reassure him. “He’s got a big house by the water, right near the docks. Lots of men guardin' it.”

Kate sighed and released the boy. “You did good, Joey. Now get outta here and don’t let me catch you stealin’ again.”

Joey nodded quickly and took off down the alley, disappearing into the labyrinth of Saint Denis. Kate stood up and locked eyes with Arthur. It had been two days since Jack went missing, two days since their fight. There was a heavy, awkward silence between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

Arthur's eyes were filled with relief and something else—something she couldn't quite place. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Kate tried to form her own thoughts into words, but her mind was whirling with emotions.

Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. Breaking the silence. “I left Charles near the market. He’s keepin' an eye out.”

Kate nodded, “right.” Her voice is steady despite the trouble within. “I’ll go roundup John and Dutch. We’ll meet at Bronte's manor.”

They stood there for a moment longer, neither knowing what else to say. The tension between them was palpable, but there was also a shared determination. They had a mission to complete, and Jack’s life depended on it.

Arthur gave her a brief, tight nod before turning and heading back towards the market. Kate watched him go, her heart aching with the desire to bridge the gap between them, but now was not the time.

With a deep breath, she turned and made her way through the bustling streets of Saint Denis. The city was alive with activity, the noise and chaos a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had hung between her and Arthur. She spotted John and Dutch near a corner store.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Charles had been a quiet, solid presence in Arthur’s life, a true friend and trusted companion. Despite having been with the gang for less than a year, Charles had quickly developed a meaningful friendship with Arthur, seeing the man beneath the tough outlaw exterior. As they rode side by side toward Bronte’s manor, Arthur couldn’t help but reflect on how much he valued Charles’ calm and steady demeanor. He was truly a good man if Arthur had anything to say about him.

The city of Saint Denis gradually gave way to the more serene, albeit equally intimidating, waterside district where Bronte’s manor was located. The grandeur of the city was lost on Arthur; his mind was too occupied with worry and the mission at hand.

Charles glanced over at Arthur, sensing the conflict within him. “You alright, Arthur?” he asked, his voice low and steady, a grounding force.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, his grip tightening on the reins. “I dunno, Charles. Feels like everything’s fallin’ apart.”

Charles nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “It’s been a rough few days. Jack’s missing, Sean’s death, the new hide out... it’s a lot to take in.”

Arthur looked ahead, his jaw clenched. “It’s more than that. Feels like everythin’ I do just makes things worse. Dutch’s plans, they’re not workin’. And then there’s Kate…”

Charles turned his gaze to Arthur, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I told her not to go after Colm’s men. Made her promise,” Arthur continued, his voice tinged with regret. “But she did it anyway. And now I can’t stop thinkin’ about—” he hesitated for a breath. “I can’t protect her when she goes off like that.”

Charles nodded again, understanding the depth of Arthur’s pain. He wasn’t around when Arthur had lost his family, but he had heard the others talk about the burden he carried.

“Kate’s a strong woman. She’s been through a lot, just like you. She thought she was doin’ the right thing, even if it went against what you wanted.”

Arthur sighed, the weight of his past bearing down on him. “She promised me—”

“Stop. It’s not about her promise, I know you’re not as dense as all that.” Charles gave Arthur a moment to process what he said before he continued, treading lightly with his words. “You’ve gotta let go of your guilt, Arthur. It’s eating you alive.” He said softly.

“I love her, Charles,” Arthur’s voice trembled. His facade of strength was crumbling away with every moment.

“I love her so much it scares me. But my loyalty to the gang, it’s…it’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a family again. Kate doesn’t deserve to get swept into this mess.”

Charles sighed deeply, understanding the strain Arthur was under. “Kate is smart, she understands the risks that come with this life. But she chose you, Arthur. She’s devoted herself to you. What she deserves is the truth.”

Arthur nodded, but the words still hurt to hear. He knew his friend was right. “Something big is coming, the law is breathin’ right down our necks. I’m putting her in danger, and I am so goddamn selfish because despite it all, I love her. And I can’t let her go.”

“It’s not selfish if she wants the same thing.” Charles said, as the grand manor came into view on the edge of the shoreline. The others had already dismounted and were waiting for them by the gate.

“Tell her the truth, Arthur. I have a feeling no matter what you say, she’s not going anywhere.”

Arthur and Charles rode up to the grand gates of Bronte's manor, the imposing structure casting long shadows in the afternoon sun. Dutch and John were already speaking to the guards, their voices low and tense. Charles took the reins of their horses, patting them gently to keep them calm. Arthur scanned the scene, his eyes immediately seeking out Kate.

He found her standing a little apart from the others, her gaze fixed on the manor with a determined look. Arthur approached her quietly, the weight of the past few days heavy on his shoulders. He stopped beside her, gazing up at the grand house. His presence was a silent reassurance.

“Kate,” Arthur murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kate turned to him, her eyes softening with concern. “Arthur,” she breathed. He looked down, searching her eyes, seeing trust and understanding shimmering within them. Arthur was sure of it.

“Will you stay with Charles? Keep an eye on things, for me?” He had no idea what they were about to walk into, but if he could keep her safe from it, Arthur would damn well do it.

“Of course,” Kate answered immediately.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief just as Dutch called his name. The heavy metal gates opened with a loud creaking sound, and before Arthur could turn away, Kate grabbed his hand.

“You be safe, ya hear?” she said sternly. “And you get that boy back, no matter what.” A small grin played on her lips.

“I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart,” he replied, bringing their conjoined hands to his face and kissing her knuckles.

His fierce, determined eyes locked on hers for a moment, before he broke away, rising to his duties. The simple gesture spoke volumes, a promise of protection and unwavering love.

As the gates closed with a loud bang behind them, Kate watched the three of them ascend the long white marble steps and enter the manor. She whispered a silent prayer to the wind for their safety, and Jack's return.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

By some miracle, the illusive man, Angelo Bronte, had not harmed a single hair on Jack's head. Much to everyone's surprise, Mr. Bronte had fed him, clothed him, and even given him a room of his own, full of toys, books, and games that every child could only dream of. The ride back to Shady Belle was filled with a silent relief. It was a win by all means, for once in their lives the conflict did not end with bloodshed. And for that, everyone was grateful.

Jack was home safe with his mother once again. Smothering him with kisses and checking every inch of his body for signs of harm. The young boy protested and whined, promising his Ma that he was fine. But as they sat around the fire, Abigail held her boy tightly in her lap. Resting her head against his, and promising never to let him out of her sight ever again.

The gang decided to celebrate Jack's return, letting the tension of the past days melt away in the warmth of a roaring fire. Singing and dancing erupted around the flames, creating a tapestry of joy and camaraderie under the moonlit sky. The flickering firelight cast playful shadows, illuminating the faces of the outlaws who, for one night, could forget their troubles.

Kate mingled with the others, trying to shake off the weight of recent events. But her eyes kept drifting to the periphery, where she noticed Arthur standing at a distance, watching the festivities with a sorrowful expression. His silhouette was stark against the dark backdrop of the night, a silent guardian on the edge of the light. He stood alone, like a wolf banished from the pack. The only signs of life were the red glow of his cigarette, as he lifted it to lips every so often.

She entertained the party for a while longer, joining in the songs and clapping along with the rhythm of the music. But when she looked back to where Arthur had been standing, he was gone. The empty space he left behind tugged at her heart, and she knew she had to find him.

Excusing herself from the group, Kate made her way through the camp, the laughter and music fading behind her. She walked towards the dimly lit manor, her footsteps soft against the grass and gravel.

Instead of focussing on the dreadful state of their new home – the peeling walls, the rotting stairs and missing floorboards – she focused instead, on the flickering light of Arthur’s room. She paused for a moment outside the door, gathering her thoughts.

All was silent on the second floor, except for the gentle creaking of the door that stood between them. It was missing one of its hinges, and the knob was long gong, the wind rocked the wooden frame in a gentle dance. Kate knocked quietly.

“Come in,” Arthur called. His voice sounded hoarse and tired.

Kate pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Arthur was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, lost in thought. The dim light from a single oil lantern cast a warm glow over his rugged features, highlighting the lines of weariness and worry etched into his face. He looked up as she entered, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of surprise and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable.

She glanced around the room, noting how his things had been neatly unpacked by the others. A map lay sprawled across a large wooden crate, detailing their recent escapades and potential new routes. Old shelves were lined with gun ammo and other supplies. But it was the small china cabinet in the corner that drew her attention. Amongst the few items on display, there were two photographs. One was facing down.

Curiosity piqued, Kate picked up the photo and recognized the man in it – Arthur’s father. She placed it back down, hiding his old face in the darkness, and turned her attention back to Arthur.

“This place could use a woman’s touch,” she joked, trying to ease the tension in the air.

Arthur forced a chuckle, but his head hung low, elbows propped on his knees. He played with the frayed edges of his hat, a gesture Kate had come to recognize as one of his tell-tale signs when his mind was off in a darker place.

She sat down beside him, bumping her knee into his, trying to break through the heavy silence. She felt awkward, unsure what to say. Their emotions hung thick in the air, wrapping around them like a heavy blanket.

Arthur's eyes remained fixed on the worn brim of his hat, his voice low and rough. "You know," he began, "this old thing, it was my father's."

Kate glanced at him, her heart aching at the pain in his voice. She remained silent, giving him the space to continue. Arthur rarely spoke about his father, and she was curious about what had him in such sorrow.

“He died by the end of a rope when I was just a kid, but he lived longer than what was good for any of us,” Arthur sighed, flipping the old leather in his hands.

“He was an awful man. Hated me since the day I was born for bein’ another mouth to feed. Robbed everyone he could and spent all the money on booze. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the night he come home from a bar, reeking of rot-gut whiskey. He lost all his money in a game of poker, and took his anger out on my Ma. Blamed her for bein’ the reason we had no money. But I knew he did it because of me.”

Arthur blew a short huff out of his nose, shaking his head as if the memory of them was just a simple misunderstanding. “He took me that night, and I never saw Ma again.”

Kate gasped softly at what Arthur was insinuating. He had told her a few stories about his parents, but they were never painted in a good light. Arthur always said he didn't remember much about his mother. Her heart ached; he must have been so young to witness such violence.

Shifting his weight, the bed creaked softly. Subtly, almost unconsciously, he moved closer to Kate. Their shoulders brushing, Arthur's figure nearly leaned into her. “When I was old enough to be useful, he had me robbing folks ‘fore I could even feed myself. If I put up a fight, he would whoop my hide with some old leather chaps till I couldn’t walk.” Arthur breathed deeply; the memories still pained him.

“I tried to run away once, hid in some fellas' barn in the hay loft,” he chuckled bitterly. “Lyle nearly killed me when he found me. Told me if I ever thought ‘bout leaving again, he would put me in the ground with my mother.”

Kate couldn’t find the words to comfort him. It was too much to bear—the thought of Arthur, so young and innocent, being hurt in ways a child should never have to endure. To be raised without a mother, and a father who despised him. The abuse of power, as he was the only means of staying alive. Kate knew he had lived through hell.

“Sometimes I wish they had put me up on that rope with him. Would’ve saved the world a lot of trouble,” he tossed the hat aside, landing on the ground with a soft whisper.

“Guess I ain’t too different from my old man.” Arthur sighed and leaned back against the wall behind his bed, looking defeated.

Kate gaped at him for a moment. How he could compare himself to such an evil man was beyond her. She looked between him and his hat, Lyle’s hat, and found herself wondering why he would keep such a thing—whether it was out of spite for his father or purely out of his own self-hatred. There was still so much about him she had yet to discover. So many scars that ran deeper than the ones Colm’s men had inflicted on him.

“I’ve met bad men. Truly evil men, Arthur,” Kate began, her voice gentle and reassuring. “But you are nothing like your father. That much I know is true.”

From the moment she said the words, she could tell Arthur wasn’t going to hear them. He had 36 years to make himself in his father’s image, on purpose or simply by his nature.

Arthur despised his father with a fervor that burned deep within him. Lyle Morgan had been a cruel, selfish man, leaving scars that never fully healed. Arthur’s childhood had been marred by violence and neglect, his father's shadow looming over every aspect of his life. The man had failed him in every conceivable way, shaping Arthur into the man he had become – a man who now felt he had no other choice but to follow in those very footsteps.

Kate had that determined look about her, like she could conquer the world if she willed it. Her unwavering strength was one of the many qualities Arthur had come to love about her. Kate was a good woman, and a loyal friend to her bones. It scared him how deeply he had fallen for her. His years with Mary felt lost to time, her decline at his proposal had hurt. But his heart had healed from rejection, and she remains alive. In the back of his mind, he knew the safest thing for her was to be far away from him.

But now Kate is safe, Jack is home. The gang is out of trouble for the time being. But Arthur’s past regrets kept him locked in the dark. He often told the others that they can’t change the past, only move forward. But he found himself struggling to take his own advice.

Arthur's eyes met hers, and she saw the trust and understanding shimmering within them. His gaze softened, yet the pain lingered. “I haven’t been completely honest with ya, darlin’,” Arthur finally spoke, his voice softening at the tone of endearment.

“Then tell me the truth. I’m here to listen,” Kate answered, trying to hide her restlessness. She was desperate to know what was eating him alive. It was obvious his pain ran deeper than her broken promise.

Arthur sighed and placed a hand on her thigh. Kate immediately placed her hand over his own. “Those stories I told you about Isaac, I… I wasn’t actually there for any of ‘em.” He said hesitantly. Kate nodded ever so slightly, encouraging him to continue.

In moments of introspection, Arthur felt the crushing weight of that legacy. His father had set him on this path, and despite his best efforts to forge a different future, Arthur found himself repeating the same cycle of failure and regret. His father had failed him, just as Arthur had failed his own son, Isaac. The boy had deserved a better life, a chance to grow up free from the violence and chaos that had defined Arthur’s world. Instead, Arthur’s own fears and inadequacies had sealed Isaac’s fate.

“After the kid was born, I didn’t want him raised with the gang. I didn’t want him ‘round that kinda trouble. So I put Eliza and her boy up in a cabin, not too far from where we was, but a safe distance. I promised her I would visit often, bringing her food and money. Whatever they needed.”

His fingers trembled slightly, and Kate gave them a squeeze. “As Isaac got older, he began askin’ about me, wantin’ to see me more. And… I don’t know. Guess I got scared. I was terrified he’d end up like me. Like my father. So I stopped visiting, and I never told Eliza why. She always wrote me letters, telling me stories about Isaac. But I never wrote her back, and then I lost every letter in Blackwater.”

He sighed deeply. Thinking about his first journal, the one he had carried with him for nearly a decade. All those memories, drawings, and letters were gone. Never to be graced by his eyes again.

“The gang had a nasty run-in with the law. So we had to leave and stay hidden for a few months. When things died down, I was able to collect her letters from the post office. Eliza didn’t know if I was dead or alive and yet she begged me to come back, to visit Isaac, to send her money for food. In her last letter, she told me she had borrowed a small amount of money. They were desperate and out of options. I knew she didn’t have the means to pay them back.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I was only days too late. Some bastard had killed both her and my son over ten dollars.” Arthur closed his eyes and pressed a fist to his mouth. “Because I was too goddamn afraid of failing, I was too afraid to raise my own kid. So, I sent them to an early grave.”

Arthur felt a wave of shame wash over him at the memory. Knowing that he had ruined other families, just like his own. When he was sent to collect the gang's money that was loaned out. The thought of his own actions made him sick. How Kate had stuck with him after the mess at Downes ranch was a mystery to him.

Kate's breath caught in her throat as Arthur's words settled into the quiet room. Her heart ached for him, the weight of his past sins and regrets pressing down on her own soul. She had always known there was darkness in him, but hearing it laid bare, raw and unfiltered, shattered her. She understood why her broken promise and Jack’s disappearance had ravaged his emotions. And she felt a deeper understanding of the giant that often consumed him.

Arthur’s fear of failure was an all-pervasive, mind-numbing, greedy serpent coiled deep in his belly. Devouring his strength and will. It changed his world from one of fleeting curiosities and riveting mischief to a cold, airless box. Suffocating and relentless, it whispered of past mistakes and potential losses, dragging him into a quagmire of self-doubt. Each breath felt like a battle, every decision a gamble with impossible stakes. The weight of his regrets, and the haunting memories of those he failed to protect, gnawed at his soul. He feared that every step he took might lead to another disaster, another life lost. And yet, despite the paralyzing dread, he pushed forward, driven by a desperate hope that was as old as his weary soul.

Kate pulled him closer, her arms wrapping around him tightly, as if her embrace could somehow shield him from the pain of his memories. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But you didn't send them to their graves. You can't blame yourself for what happened. Life is cruel and unforgiving, no man can bear that kind of weight."

Arthur leaned into her embrace, his body trembling with the force of silent sobs. "But I do, Kate. I carry that shit with me deep in my chest. I failed them. I couldn’t protect my own family, and I’m terrified I’ll fail you too."

Kate pulled back slightly, cupping his face in her hands. "Arthur, look at me." His eyes met hers, filled with a deep sorrow that broke her heart. Dark blue eyes reflecting his desperate ache.

"You haven’t failed me. And I have faith that you never will. But I need you to trust me too. I need you to believe that I can handle myself, that I can be there for you just as much as you are for me."

Arthur shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you. But the only way I can protect you is if I know you’re safe, if I know you’re not running off to find trouble without me at least knowing about it. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too. Not after everything."

Kate's heart swelled with love for the man before her, so strong and yet so vulnerable. Tears clung to her eyelashes, like shooting stars in the night sky. Threatening to fall down into their world.

She nodded, understanding the depth of his fear. "I promise, Arthur. I won’t run off without telling you first. But you have to promise me something too."

Arthur looked at her, his expression filled with a mixture of hope and fear. "Anything, darlin’."

"Promise me that you’ll let me stand by your side, no matter what. That you won’t try to push me away to protect me. We’re in this together, Arthur. And I want to be with you, through everything."

Arthur's eyes softened, and he nodded slowly. "I promise I will try."

Kate smiled through her tears, "that’s all I ask." She leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. Full of comfort and compassion.

Arthur pulled away from her lips and took a deep breath, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Kate,” he whispered. His blue eyes searched hers, wondering how such a woman was created for him.

“I love you,” he breathed, the words heavy with the weight of his emotions. "I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone."

Kate's heart soared at his confession, her eyes filling with tears once more. "I love you, Arthur.” Her voice breaks with the strength of her words. “More than you could imagine."

Arthur kissed her then, and it was like kissing a new man. A man who had shared the depths of his soul, bearing all of his broken and ugly parts. The kiss was slow and deliberate, every touch of their lips a promise of the love they had found in each other. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, allowing the both of them to soar to new heights. As their lips moved together, the world outside ceased to exist, and in that moment, they were all that mattered.

The warmth of his hand on her cheek, the gentle pressure of his lips, and the soft whispers of their breaths intertwined, creating a cocoon of intimacy and connection. Kate felt the depth of his love in every touch, every caress, and she knew that despite the hardships they faced, they had found something truly worth fighting for, in each other.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate and Arthur sat together on the porch off his room, watching the full moon rise over the distant horizon. The night was calm, the air filled with the soft sounds of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves. The flickering glow of lighting bugs danced across the night. The faint scent of blooming night orchid wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the surrounding bayou. A gentle breeze brushed against their skin, cool and refreshing.

Kate nestled comfortably in Arthur’s lap, her head resting against his chest. She could feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her cheek, a rhythmic reminder of the man she loved. He smelled of tobacco, mixed with cedar and musk. A comforting and familiar scent. Her thumb brushed over the softness of his beard, savoring the quiet moments of peace they had carved out for themselves. She traced the lines of his jaw, feeling the strength and roughness of his skin, the evidence of a life hard-lived.

Arthur’s face was lit by a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the serene glow of the moon. The silver light cast soft shadows across his features, highlighting the creases and scars that told stories of battles fought and survived. He held her close, one arm wrapped securely around her waist, the other gently combing through her wind tousled hair.

After a moment, he spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence. “I’m sorry, for what I said the other day,” he murmured, his deep voice soft and tinged with regret.

“Hmm?” Kate responded, her gaze shifting to meet his.

“Bout you leaving; how I wouldn’t stop you. I’m sorry I said that.” He clarified.

Kate smiled tenderly. “You’re forgiven, Arthur. I knew you didn’t mean it,” she said, her voice gentle and soothing.

“Good. Cause you can bet if you try to leave me now, I’ll hog-tie ya and run away with you on the back of my horse,” he said with a playful grin, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh yeah? Is that a promise, cowboy?” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Arthur chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Damn right it is.”

With that, Arthur pulled her closer, his lips attacking hers with playful, hungry kisses. He nipped gently at her lower lip, eliciting a soft giggle from Kate. His kisses trailed down her neck, each one filled with a mix of teasing affection and unspoken desire. Kate’s laughter mingled with the soft rustling of the night, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his assault of love, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through her entire being.

Kate sighed contentedly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m sorry too. For breaking your promise,” she said finally, composing herself and sitting up in his lap. “If it makes you feel any better, I found those boys who took you.”

Arthur’s expression grew serious, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “I’d imagine you gave ‘em hell,” he spoke. “Still worries me that they saw your face though.”

Kate straightened herself and gave Arthur a serious look, “It’s not like we had time for introductions, besides, one of them already knew who I was. But they can’t hunt me from the grave, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed and looked away from her for a moment, remembering the young O’Driscoll who had stolen his portrait of her. “Colm’s a dangerous man. I’m just worried he’ll use you against me. That’s all.”

Kate sank a little at his words, feeling guilt stir in her belly, “I understand.”

As if sensing her regret, Arthur attempted to lighten her mood, “Oh, don’t give me that look sweetheart. Just invite me next time you’re making house calls and…” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “You didn’t have to do that for me, y’know.”

“I know,” she said softly. “Part of me was just being selfish,” she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of guilt and embarrassment.

Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion and looked down at her, “Selfish ain’t quite the word I would use.”

Kate let out a breathy giggle, appreciating Arthur’s attempt to be sweet. Her heart throbbed at his recent confession, and she felt he deserved the truth behind her actions.

“It’s true. Ever since I lost my family I–” She suddenly felt a frog in her throat, and her face felt warm with oncoming tears.

It was easy to talk about them, to talk about her grief with Arthur. To share memories of her loved ones was as simple as breathing. She could paint vivid pictures of her family's laughter, the warmth of their embrace, and the love that had once filled her life. It was a way to keep them alive in her heart, to ensure they were never truly gone. But what was hard was admitting how her strength and resolve were merely a facade, covering up the darker parts of her. The parts desperate to regain some semblance of control in her life.

Kate's past was marred by tragedy and loss. The day she lost her husband and child had shattered her world. She remembered the suffocating grief, the unbearable weight of their absence. But fate wasn’t satisfied with her loved ones, it took a piece of her as well the day she was taken prisoner. In the aftermath, she had vowed never to feel that powerless again. She built walls around her heart, armor made of determination and resolve. To the world, she appeared strong and unyielding, a woman who could handle anything thrown her way. But beneath that facade lay a deep-seated fear.

“I’m terrified of feeling powerless again,” she continued. Arthur listened closely to her every word. “Unable to save my loved ones or save myself.”

She paused, her voice catching as she fought to continue. “It’s like this relentless force driving me, this need to control everything around me. I’m afraid, Arthur. I’m afraid of losing you, afraid of losing everyone I care about.”

Arthur’s eyes softened with understanding, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. Kate took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the lines of Arthur’s face as if trying to memorize every detail.

“It’s been so hard on my own. I’ve spent so long pretending to be strong, convincing myself that if I can control things, I won’t get hurt again. But it’s exhausting, and it’s not real. The truth is I am not a strong woman, just a scared one.”

This need for control was consuming her. It left her anxious and restless, always on edge, always waiting for the next disaster. Kate's journey had been a solitary one. She had relied on herself for so long, she had forgotten how to lean on others. Her independence was both her strength and her weakness. It kept her moving forward, but it also kept her isolated. She had been so focused on surviving, on maintaining her semblance of control, that she had forgotten what it meant to truly live.

“No,” Arthur sat up abruptly and gripped her hands. “No, Kate, that is not true. You’re bein’ too hard on yourself.” His voice was firm but gentle, filled with a reassurance that made her lips tremble. Silent tears ran down her cheeks as she absorbed his words.

“Goddammit woman. I don’t ever want to hear you speak like that,” Arthur's voice was stern, like he was scolding a child, but it was laced with overwhelming support and love. “You can be both. You understand me? I’m scared too, darlin’. I promise you, I’m just as scared. But that don’t mean you ain’t strong. You’ve done so much for this gang, for me.”

Kate looked into his eyes, feeling the intensity of his conviction. Meeting Arthur had changed everything. He saw through her facade, saw the pain and fear she tried so hard to hide. With him, she didn't have to pretend. She could be vulnerable, could share the darkness that lurked within her. It was terrifying, but it was also liberating. For the first time in years, she felt like she could breathe.

Arthur's grip on her hands tightened as he continued, his voice a soft rumble. “The devil may have dealt you some nasty cards, but you faced that fire and you came out stronger. You’re one of the bravest people I know, Kate. When I look at you I am filled with pride knowing how brave and compassionate my woman is.”

Kate's tears flowed freely now, not from sadness, but from the relief of being understood, of being accepted for all that she was. She leaned into Arthur, resting her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan.” Her voice felt tiny in his presence. Kate couldn’t find the words to express how much Arthur meant to her, but in her heart she knew he understood.

Arthur squeezed her tight to his chest, resting his chin atop her head. “And I love you, Kate McCanon.”

As she sat with Arthur on the porch, the moon casting a gentle glow over them, Kate realized that she didn't have to face her fears alone. She didn't have to be in control all the time. She had Arthur by her side, and he had her by his. She could let go, if only a little, and trust that he would catch her if she fell.

A/N: I know this chapter was super dialogue heavy. But tbh I just love writing conversations lmao. I particularly enjoyed the segment with John, he’s just a fun character to write. I was intending to end the chapter with Arthur’s confession about his father/son. But then i was like nah i really think Kate should open up about this too. It’s time to air out the dirty laundry, you know XD

Anyways. Big things coming my friends. If my little ADHD brain can work with me next chapter will be incredibly steamy. Lots of smut. It’s about damn time!! It’ll be a longer chapter, as there’s some other characters I’ve been neglecting for a while. And I’m also going to another wedding! So I’ll be gone for a few days, and I’ll be working on it when I get back.

Thanks for reading guys :)

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #ao3 fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x original female character #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x reader #ao3 #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 arthur #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff and feels #emotional

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neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies · 2 months

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INTRO POST <3

Here's a long-overdue intro post.

NOTE - I LOVE RECIEVING ASKS AND I WILL ANSWER THEM AS SOON AS THE HORRORS WEIGH DOWN A LITTLE LESS.

LINKS SIDE BLOGS: @i-think-im-breaking-down-again - more personal blog @cappuccino-circa-capillaries - mental health stuff /pos @a-bitch-can-write-poetry - poetry and web weaving reblogs, will post my original work if I ever get the courage @honestly-im-honest- silly stuff @edwinpayneshomosexualtendencies - dbda side blog

MEDIA: Pinterest Spotify Storygraph stats.fm

DA BASICS- ABOUT ME: Name - Lisa Avenir (you can call me Lise or Liz) Nationality - Indian Languages - English, Hindi, a1 French, aspiring German, a dialect of Hindi spoken in my home state which is completely incomprehensible to anyone who does not speak it to the point its an entirely new language (which it is but I'm not going to reveal it because I don't want my home state to be known) Age - minor Gender - mostly female Pronouns - she/they Sexuality - ace-spec lesbian Religion - Atheist DNI: Homophobic, Transphobic, sexist, racist, ableist, any kind of phobic in general No assholes allowed either I love receiving asks just no freaky stuff FACTS- 🪶Only Child who keeps losing friends 🪶I love any form of Noodles Soup 🪶I have a huge crush on Maya Hawke 🪶I love biology and anatomy 🪶I need psychological help /srs 🪶I cry a lot, it's an art 🪶I might have a migraine issue which might be getting better :D 🪶I have brown ass basic eyes 🪶Reading mythology is my bae 🪶My vocabulary might be good but I can't spell for shit. 🪶I love making little collages on PowerPoint 🪶I'm touch starved but touch aversed. Yes, we exist. 🪶I'm a nerd fighter 🪶I love dissecting song lyrics 🪶My aesthetic is dark academia, dark feminine(excluding the femcel bs), witchcore and sickly victorian child dying of the plague core 🪶I am a hyper-organized person who might have germophobia 🪶I'm pretty sure I have trichotillomania 🪶I have these sneeze attacks on a daily basis where I sneeze like 15 times over the course of 3 minutes

HOBBIES- 🪶Reading 🪶Writing poetry or songs 🪶Listening to Music 🪶Talking about stars 🪶The Universe 🪶Literature 🪶Science (fuck physics)

INTERESTS- MUSIC: I love listening to albums(like a LOT of them) 🪶Genre - Indie, Indie pop, Rock, Alt-Indie, Basic white girl pop, Pop-rock, Pop-punk, Folk, Old Bollywood, Male manipulator, Female Manipulator, Lesbian Manipulator, ghazal, anything that slaps 🪶Artists - Ricky Montgomery, Lana Del Rey, Chappel Roan, Flower Face, Taylor Swift, Hozier, Phoebe Bridgers, Girl in Red, Clario, Conan Gray, Hank Green, Hayley Williams, Joji, Indila, Sabrina Carpenter, Adele. Kishore Kumar, Lata Mangeshkar, Jagjit Singh, Muhammad Rafi, Asha Bhosle etc etc 🪶Bands - Wallows, Florence and the Machine, Sir Chloe, Hole, The Smiths, Paramore, Beach House, The Jayhawks, The Neighborhood, Fun Guns, Cage The Elephant, Arctic Monkeys, Chase Atlantic, Radiohead, My Chemical Romance, Hayley Kiyoko. 🪶Albums(favorites) - evermore and folklore by Taylor Swift, Montgomery Ricky by Ricky Montgomery, Depression Cherry by Beach House, Ceremonials and Lungs By Florence and The Machine, Superache by Conan Gray, Emails I can't send frwd: by Sabrina Carpenter, Hozier by Hozier, Riot! and Paramore by Paramore, AM by Arctic Monkeys, Party Flavors and I am the Dog by Sir Chloe, Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers, Rainy Day Music by The Jayhawks, Petals for Armour by Hayley Willams, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan, Social Cues by Cage The Elephant, Live through this by Hole, Born to Die(The Paradise Edition) and Ultraviolence by Lana Del Rey, Nothing Happens by Wallows, Baby Teeth and Fever Dreams and The Shark in your Water by Flower Face, Lilt by Hikes, Get up and Move by Fun Guns, The Black Parade by MCR. 🪶Artists that I lowkey neglect but should high-key eat - Nirvana, Tame Impala, Men we trust, Cavetown, Pink Floyd, blink-182, Green Day, boygenius, Mitski, The Smashing Pumpkins, Suki Waterhouse. BOOKS- 🪶Genre - Dark, War pieces, Dystopias, Young Adult, Depressing, Dark Academia, Classics, Psychological Thriller. 🪶Ride or Die- The Book Thief, The Perks Of Being a Wallflower, The Picture of Dorian Grey, MAUS, Paper Towns, Looking for Alaska, All the Bright Places, The Midnight Library, The Handmaid's Tale, The Diary of a Young Girl, The Boy In The Stripped Pajamas, Circe, Before the coffee gets cold, Sharp Objects, The Martian, The DaVinci Code, The Emperor of All Maladies, Turtles all the way down, And Then There Were None, The Catcher in The Rye, No Longer Human, Grandpa's Great Escape, Wild Bird, The Giver. 🪶Honorable Mentions from my TBR - A Little Life, Bunny, If We Were Villains, The Secret History, 1984, To Kill A Mockingbird, Six Of Crows, Lord of the Flies, Piranesi, Cleopatra and Frankenstein, Crime and Punishment, How it Feels to Float, Orbiting Jupiter, Normal People, Fahrenheit 451, The Myth of Sisyphus, Lessons in Chemistry, Slaughterhouse-five, Dark Matter. 🪶Poets - Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, William Wordsworth. Sappho,

MOVIES- Dead Poets Society, Good Will Hunting, Lady Bird, Whiplash, Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse, Forrest Gump, Duck Duck Goose, Rapunzel SERIES- BBC Sherlock, Orange Is The New Black, Brooklyn99, Dead Boy Detectives, Heartstopper, Derry Girls, Modern Family, House md?

RANDOM IMAGES-

USERBOXES-

MOOTS APPRICIATION!!!! @lv3buzzz, @noctilucaa(my wife), @wilsons-three-legged-siamese, @yourfavvgal, @1mlostnow, @arrr-im-a-dead-poet, @perksofbeingpoet, @mighthavebeenmurder, @take-me-to-the-rooftop15, @poetsinnyc, @joonof1989, @deadcrowcalling, @pingunaa, @xxcherryberriezxx @burgundykicks (text me if you would like your name to be removed <3333 ) -🪶

#hello world #intro post #good evening sirs and ma'ams and enby overlords #a lise exclusive intro post just dropped #liz is short for liz bean #i can also be reffered to as gabe itch

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irrelevantwriter · 1 year

Text

Tactus

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Touchstarved!Female Reader/You

Rating: SFW, Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Language, angst, comfort, family shit, mentions of sick/divorced parents, touch-starved reader

Word Count: 2263

Summary: An emotional moment gets the best of you. Eddie comforts you and realizes you need more than encouraging words.

A/N: I made myself cry writing this so I hope you hoes appreciate it. I went with a reader who was having a bit of an emotional breakdown and who also happened to be going through it. Oh, and touch starved. Which is coincidentally what the title of this fic is in Latin. Enjoy and share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.💗

Disclaimer: As always, reader inserts are true reader inserts. If you find any specifics in regards to reader’s appearance, kindly let me know and I will fix that.

Disclaimer: Characters are of age in my fics.

*Check out my other Eddie fics here

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

Tears pooled in your eyes. A sob simmered just under the surface, but you did your best to hide it. You sniffled, taking a deep breath in. The action had little effect. Your lashes were still dotted with wetness, your mascara no doubt transferring to the skin under your eyes.

You shook your head, willing yourself to stop. Crying at work was the last thing you wanted to be doing. It was embarrassing, especially around a group of men who didn’t have the capacity to soothe a crying baby doll, much less an actual human.

You ignored the tightness in your chest and went about your evening routine of closing down the auto shop. You turned off the lights and locked the door, flipping the ancient sign in the window from OPEN to CLOSED. A few of the guys still worked in the garage, a bay left open to let the minimal summer breeze through.

You wiped away an errant tear as you made your way to the break room. You worked on autopilot, setting the coffee maker up for the morning, the men claiming to not know how the machine worked. They insisted you did it better. It was a ruse you were very much aware of, but you also didn’t mind. You did it anyway. It felt nice to be needed. Even if it was only for your subpar coffee skills.

The thought made a stream of moisture trail down your cheek, the movement startling you. Your hands shook as you bit your lip, on the cusp of a full blown crying fit. A faint thud of boots and a melodic whistle sounded in your ears, signaling someone was approaching.

You knew that song. You knew that person.

You hurriedly turned away from the door, patting your face dry as Eddie Munson strolled in. He brought with him an aroma of motor oil and faded Old Spice, the cigarette he’d just smoked lingering on his clothes. You kept your head down, busying your hands with the coffee filters.

“Hey…didn’t know you were still here,” he offered, standing next to you at the sink.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he rinsed his coffee mug, the lettering across the front chipped and scratched. Once upon a time the piece of ceramic read Son of a Bitch with a caricature of the devil beneath it. It always made you laugh. Eddie was far from the devilish persona he liked to portray at times. He’d been the warmest and most welcoming of the bunch when you’d first started.

You cleared your throat, hoping the flood of emotions hadn’t made its way to your voice box yet, “Just finishing up.”

He nodded, placing the mug on the drying rack and making his way over to the fridge in the corner. He pulled out a can of cola, his name scrawled in black marker across the front. He always drank a soda at the end of the day. It was a habit you’d picked up on in your time as receptionist at the shop. All the guys had habits. Eddie’s habits were your favorite.

The pop and hiss of the can being opened reverberated in the otherwise empty room. He made his way back over to you, sipping loudly from the can.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’ve been counting the same stack of filters since I walked in.”

Your fingers stopped, pushing said filters away. You scoffed at his observation, still not meeting his eyes. “Just distracted.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, grease covered forearm shifting closer.

You shook your head.

“Sweetheart,” he called softly. Too soft.

You hesitantly met his gaze, feeling silly for the outburst you’d nearly allowed yourself to have.

His eyes were warm and welcoming, his lips pulled into a tender smile, but when he noticed the redness in your own eyes and the drops clinging to your lash line, his brows furrowed.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shake of your head, wiping the evidence away.

“Did something happen?”

He reached a hand out, but didn’t touch you. He hovered over your shoulder, wanting to but not crossing that line. You were coworkers. Friends even. But you’d never touched one another. Not with intention. And when he didn’t inch closer, you realized how badly you wanted it.

“Just some stuff with my parents. It’s kind of a shit show right now,” you offered, voice betraying your real emotions.

“Can I do anything?”

You smiled up at him, heart warming at the sight of such a selfless human. You hadn’t known they still existed.

More tears came.

“Woah, what happened?” Eddie asked, brown orbs going wide with panic as he set his can of soda to the side.

You’d frightened him. You could see the worry in his face; that he’d said something wrong. It was quite the opposite.

“M’fine,” you sniffled, willing the tears to stop. But they wouldn’t. Everything rushed back to the surface, making you feel vulnerable and way too exposed.

“Says the girl sobbing in front of me,” he deadpanned.

The comment made you giggle, a hiccup following.

His expression flipped at seeing a hint of a smile on your lips. “There she is.”

You were both quiet for a moment, the hum of the appliances a constant in the background. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, feeling Eddie’s gaze on you. Humiliation crept its way up your spine.

And then, a warm caress near your shoulder made you pause. It was slight and hardly noticeable, but you felt it nonetheless. Felt the heavy weight of his rings through your blouse as he rubbed soothing circles. Felt the hard calluses of his fingers rub against the fabric. Felt the warmth.

The unexpected contact had a duality you weren’t prepared for. Your senses came alive while your body succumbed to the comfort, relaxing in on itself. You swore you could feel every microscopic aspect of his touch. And yet it all blended together to create the most all consuming embrace.

A simple touch set you aflame.

“My dad is really sick. And my mom can’t deal with it. I’ve been helping them out. With finances and doctors appointments. But it’s not easy. Especially when my mom talks about divorcing my dad. It’s just…,” you stopped to catch your breath, feeling your lip begin to tremble. “A lot.”

Eddie didn’t say anything for a while. He’d pulled his hand away while you’d been speaking and you already missed it.

“Jesus, M’sorry sweetheart. That’s…shit,” he sighed, scratching at his stubbly chin.

You nodded at his words, laughing at his interpretation. “The shittiest,” you agreed.

You finally turned to face him, no longer hiding your tear-stricken face. You thought you saw something akin to sadness pass over his features before it was quickly wiped away.

“M’sorry,” you apologized with a self-deprecating laugh, accepting the balled up paper towel he’d torn off the roll for you.

“What’re you sorry for?”

“For crying at you. Unloading all my shit.”

“Hey,” he paused, making you meet his eyes at the seriousness in his tone. “Don’t apologize for that. You can always talk to me.”

You simply nodded, fearing words would fail you.

“I’ve never seen you cry before.”

“That’s not really unusual. I don’t have many reasons to cry most days. Despite my current predicament,” you joked, gesturing to your wet eyes and sniffly nose.

“You’ve seen me cry,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, when Brady brought that puppy he found near the creek that you wanted to adopt,” you explained with a laugh, thinking back on the memory.

“Because he wouldn’t let me,” Eddie added, pouting.

“Because you try to adopt every animal you come across.”

He shrugged, a wide smile on his lips.

“I’m not big on crying. Or emotions really,” you confessed, wringing the tattered paper towel in your hands. You avoided his gaze, but a gentle tip of your chin made his mahogany stare meet yours. He didn’t move his finger away from you. Instead, he trailed the digit up and over your cheek, cupping your face in his palm.

“This okay?” he whispered, watching you.

“Yes,” you croaked, trying hard not to let your eyes fall shut at the feel of his skin on yours.

“It’s been awhile, huh?”

The question lingered in the air, your silence a response.

“Since someone touched you like this. Like you matter.”

His words made your heart stutter, the burn behind your eyes now unbearable. Could he really see all of that just by looking at you? Could he sense it?

“I-I,” you struggled to respond, shame clouding your mind. The raw emotion of overexposure came back tenfold and you stepped away.

“Don’t. Don’t do that, sweetheart.”

“Do what?” you practically growled, hating that he was seeing you like this.

“Push me away.” He said the words like it pained him to say them.

“Don’t do that,” you threw back. “Don’t act like you care.”

“I do care.”

“Why?”

He stared at you for a long moment. So long that you became uncomfortable.

“What kind of question is that?” he asked with a shake of his head. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it.

He moved forward, closing the distance between you both. You fought against the urge to pull back, waiting for his next move.

He approached you as one would a wild horse. With ease and patience. He extended his hand back towards you, angling for your face. You didn’t flinch when skin met skin. Rather, you basked in it. You closed your eyes and burrowed into his heat.

“Just—just let me help you.”

You'd never heard him so desperate before.

The question was on your tongue, ready to roll off.

Why?

He could see it in your eyes.

“I like you.”

Why?

He shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

You laughed, the sound watery and broken, but there all the same.

A single tear slid down your cheek and into his palm. His thumb lightly traced the curve of your lips, still gently cradling your cheek. You succumbed to him, too weak to deny your body of such intimacy. Because he was right. It had been too long since someone had touched you with meaning. With care. With a fragility you deserved but weren’t often afforded. Too many times you’d been dropped and broken and shattered, put back together in a half-assed attempt at mending.

“Close your eyes,” he softly demanded, his sugary laced breath hitting you in the face.

You obeyed, spine straightening when you felt his free hand land on your other cheek. You waited, anxiety soaring through your veins like the blood that pumped through them.

“S’okay,” Eddie soothed. He was closer, you could feel it. You could practically hear his heartbeat. “I got you.”

His chapped lips lightly touched yours, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted. When you didn’t, he surged forward, kissing you none too gently. Like he’d been waiting for the chance. The notion made you melt. Melt right into his hands.

You kissed him back, albeit with less fervor. It’d been so long. And both your body and mind were struggling to play catch up. But the minute his hands drifted down to your hips, you lost yourself. Finally feeling anchored in a sea of thunderous waves.

You only pulled back when air became a necessity, realizing you’d been clinging to his stained t-shirt. You became bashful suddenly, avoiding his ever observant gaze.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, catching you off guard.

You looked at him in question, hoping he didn’t regret what had just taken place. “For what?”

“For not doing that sooner. For everything you're going through. For the pain you’re feeling.”

The words came out jumbled and entirely too fast, but you caught every syllable. Neither of you were surprised this time when a trickle of tears escaped your eyes.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Eddie.”

He nodded, pulling you close. It wasn’t until he’d wrapped his arms around you that you realized he was hugging you. A full body hug.

His arms held you tight, but not too tight. Just enough to make you feel safe. His chin was tucked near your forehead, allowing you to nuzzle into his chest. His scent wafted through your nostrils, soothing you like a fidgety toddler.

And it worked. Oh how it worked.

“Let me take you home, yeah?” he asked into your hair, his breath making the strands move against your scalp.

“Okay.”

“I’ll stop and get you some food. Anything you want.”

His chest vibrated under you, luring you in closer. The act was physically impossible. You were as close as two people could get. And yet, you wanted more. You were utterly addicted to his touch.

He pulled back too soon for your liking, but he made up for it by dragging his lips across your forehead. You closed your eyes at the sensation, lost in it.

“You’re so pretty.”

You blinked, seeing him staring at you in what could only be described as awe.

“I’m a mess,” you replied with a shake of your head, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“So,” he grabbed your hand, pulling it to his chest. “You can still be pretty and a mess.”

You laughed, unable to come up with a retort. “Thank you.”

And you meant it. For more than just his words. And he somehow understood.

“No problem, sweetheart. I got you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things

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smilesrobotlover · 3 months

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Odyssey notes I took while reading the odyssey since I finished it!:

Imagine surviving the sea, monsters, and curses, and how you die is by breaking your neck LMAO. I guess that’s the nicest way to die compared to the others I guess 💀

Odysseus seeing his mom in the underworld nearly brought me to TEARS HE COULDNT HUG HER AUGHHUFHFHFJHFJ

Dang Scylla is pretty terrifying. Poor Odysseus, couldn’t save his men :c

Can the men listen to Odysseus, for FIVE SECONDS

he probably needed that sleep so bad.

Also those mfs just left him 💀

POSEIDON NEEDS TO COOL HIS TITS!!! HIS GRUDGE AGAINST ODYSSEUS IS GETTING OLD!!!! Bro was gone for like, 17-20 years and he lost everyone, almost died, and was prisoner to Calypso for 7 years. Leave him alone dawg

The freaking fact that Odysseus couldn’t recognize Ithaca and just assumed that he was on an island of monsters or somethin makes me so sad bruh. He’s been through so much that he just can’t accept that he’s back home. Even when Athena herself telling him he’s home he JUST can’t believe it. This man needs so much therapy omg

How did homie come up with that elaborate backstory under his disguise??? Why is Odysseus so extra???

Also that fake backstory kinda paralleled his own. Very loosely but it’s neat.

I bet it was so hard not to sob right in front of Telemachus as soon as he saw him. Odysseus was using all his strength to fight against the tears.

Also Odysseus and Telemachus reuniting also nearly brought me to tears. I am not ok

“On hearing this Telemachus smiled to his father, but so that Eumaeus could not see him.” PLEASE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AKSHDKSBSKSBSK

“Penelope came out of her room looking like Diana or Venus, and wept as she flung her arms around her son. She kissed his forehead and both his beautiful eyes, “Light of my eyes,” she cried as she spoke fondly to him” 🥺🥺🥺🥺 this is making me touch starved lmao. Oh to have everyone kiss my head and shoulders when I return home. Also love seeing momma Penelope

Penelope 🤝 Odysseus

Crying a lot

“As soon as he saw Odysseus standing there, he dropped his ears and wagged his tail, but he could not get close up to his master. When Odysseus saw the dog on the other side of the yard, he dashed a tear from his eyes without Eymaeus seeing it…” WHAT IF I CRIIIIIIIIIEEEEED 😭😭😭😭 HIS DOGGO

NOOOO ARGOS!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭 he died as soon as he saw Odysseus. He was able to see him one last time. I am unwell

“As she spoke Telemachus sneezed so loudly that the whole house resounded with it” THAT IS THE MOST RANDIM THING TO ADD IN THERE HSKDBSKSBSK. It’s so cute tho 😭😭😭 oh Telemachus you’re Adorable. And his momma laughed. Aww.

Nvm Telemachus’s sneeze was apparently an omen that the suitors will die lmao. This story just has things Happen

Telemachus: *sneezes*

Penelope: this is a sign that the suitors will die

Eymaeus: what

Odysseus has THUNDER THIGHS

“This was what she said, and Odysseus was glad when he heard her trying to get presents out of the suitors, and flattering them with fair words which he knew she did not mean.” HE LOVES HIS WIFE!!!!

“…I believe the light had not been coming from the torches, but from his own head—for his hair is all gone, every bit of it.”

Did this mf just make a bald joke 💀

Me and my homies hate the maids and suitors

Also Penelope rocks. Deceiving everyone cuz she doesn’t want to get married to those douche bags. Pop off queen. Poor lady, forced to get married :((

Odysseus trying not to cry upon talking to his wife after years 😭😭😭 that dude is TOUGH

Odysseus: oh yeah, I met Odysseus. He was wearing fancy clothes and was hot af.

Odysseus is trying so hard to convince Penelope that he’s coming home. Ough… sweet man

Ok so Odysseus was officially gone for 20 years. Ok Coolio. Yikes

Bro went on a huge tangent about the boar. It’s neat to hear about but sheesh.

Penelope had a dream that explicitly told her that Odysseus was coming home to kill the suitors and she’s like “can you interpret it for me?” I assume she’s trying to mess with Odysseus, cuz even tho he’s in disguise, she’s sensing something with him.

Oh she knows Odysseus is somewhere. Why is she setting up a tournament that only Odysseus could do now?? She knows…. She knows….

Book XX: Odysseus cannot sleep. What else is new?

Odysseus’s name meaning anger is starting to make sense now that he’s home and wanting to murder people out of anger. I guess the fact that he pisses everyone off to is also an indicator of that 💀

Oh the Odysseus and Penelope parallel augh

Odysseus is just brooding all the time huh

I like the idea that Telemachus is very timid and soft spoken. Everytime he speaks against the suitors they’re always surprised; now that he’s older with Athena and his father by his side, he’s beginning to break out of this shell and become more bold. It’s neat for his character. wonder how he’d feel about himself compared to his lion-hearted father

Telemachus is sooo cuuuuute he tried to do that trial for his momma… he was so excited too. My son

Love how Odysseus is absolutely JACKED. Just super strong. An absolute tank. Love him

“Eurymachus,” Penelope answered, “people who persist in eating up the estate of a great chieftain and dishonoring his house must not expect others to think well of them.” EAT EM UP PENELOPE!

I FREAKING LOVE THE ARROW SCENE. GO ODYSSEUS GO

I guess people in Ancient Greek times just killed each other without any thought lmao. I have a feeling that it’s less about the law and more about the revenge that would fall upon you if you killed someone. It was satisfying to read the suitors and maids die tho. Heck yeah

Athena is a great wing man. Just making Ody hot and godlike

Love Penelope testing Odysseus to make sure it was him. Very good. She’s a very cunning women indeed

OUGHHHH THEYRE HUGGING HDBSBSKSBSKSBSKSBSSKSBKWKW 😭😭😭😭

Gosh. The love and chemistry between Odysseus and Penelope is so strong, even tho they’re barely together in the story. Like, it’s interesting to hear how much love they poured into each other that night, (especially compared to Circe and Calypso. Odysseus clearly did not love them.) and then they talked and explained their times away from each other. Augh they’re so in love 😭😭😭

Odysseus just tell your father that you’re home why are you LIKE THIS

WHY ARE YOU MAKING UP ANOTHER ELABORATE BACKSTORY JUST TELL HIM WHO YOU ARE

Dang, that was an abrupt ending. But why did Athena like… tell Odysseus’s father to kill the guy and then told them not to kill each other lmao. Idk. But overall yay. Interesting how Odysseus didn’t listen at first. I think he’s truly changed since his adventure

Something I noticed was that Odysseus was probably a very happy and joyful man. He had family and friends, a wife and a newborn son. He treated everyone fairly and with kindness and everyone adored him for it. But after his adventure, he seemed far more somber and angry. Sad change of character, but ultimately he didn’t change too much. I love him. I enjoyed that WAAYYYY more than I thought I would. Sure the writing was different than what I was used to—there was so much yapping and tangents and metaphors—but it wasn’t impossible to follow! I’ve read difficult stories from Shakespeare to scriptures and this was an overall easy read. The culture of Ancient Greece is very…. Strange to me, but it’s always neat to see differences in cultures, no matter how uncomfy it makes me feel. Love how both Odysseus and Penelope remained faithful to each other and cried over each other a lot. They got married for a reason <3 and Telemachus my son. He’s so precious. Good good story I enjoyed that a lot

#sorry kinda messy but there #finished it and loved it way more than I thought I would #I’ll talk about it more later #but for now #brb #smiles reads the odyssey #also I’m pretty sure Venus is Aphrodite and Diana is Artemis but I don’t want to guess wrong #remember the names are different in the version I own #odysseus is called Ulysses for example #anyways lol #hope you like my many ramblings #smiles rambles

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alostlovergirl · 2 years

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Locked in-Tony stark x reader

Summary: when Y/N gets locked in during a snow storm with her best friend, Tony, he confesses his feelings of an deep obsession he has with her since he met her 6 years ago, the winter storm prevents her from getting away from his fantasy.

Warnings: kidnapping, trapping, tying up, insanity, tony going insane, crying, slight gaslighting, implied rape, abuse, violence,and possession

Minors do not interact. This story gets does get pretty dark, just to be warned.

Tony has always been a playboy and never had a serious relationship for as long as he can remember. That is until he met her. Y/N L/N. Good was she perfect. Her perfect little laugh and the way her braces showed when she smiled. The fact that she was always a caring soul, especially when tony drank to much. Her thick thighs and rolls that she always tried to hide when she went out any where. He was in love with her, no, he was obsessed with her. When she gets a partner, he gets overprotective and angry, completely driving her young lover away without her knowing. He always makes sure she eats. He makes sure that she feels good. He will do whatever she wanted and gave her whatever she wanted.

Now, he wanted her... Not as a repayment, but it was staring to get unbearable to see her pretty self leave his penthouse to go back to her drab apartment. He just wanted to spoil her. To keep her. Hell, maybe even have a family with her.

" Tony!” he walks out his kitchen with a cup of bourbon for him and some creamy hot chocolate with plushy marshmallows for her. He watched her with a warm smile as she complained about the snow. " I don't wanna be stuck here! My poor whiskers is stuck at home with probably empty food bowl!" she puts her hands on the window, whimpering about her cat, whiskers, that Tony bought for her. She always forgot to feed him or if she did, she would always worry that he already ate it all up. He walks over to her and taps her with the warm mug.

" hmm.... Welp, you are stuck with me. Lets hope he don't starve." he chuckles and she slaps his arm,

snatching the mug.

"that's not funny, Mr Stark." she grumbles and tony watches as she sips the hot chocolate, the marshmallow touching her nose and her humming in response. She gets all giddy from the hat chocolate, like a 5 year old that got their first taste of sugar. " thank you very much, sir"

Sir. She called him sir and unknowingly made his cock twitch. She walks past him to the couch, by the fireplace. He took a sneak peak at her ass and thighs, biting his lip at the plumpness. She plops down on the couch and her tits bounced nicely, with how perky they were. He hums and drinks down his alcohol before walking into the kitchen and getting another drink.

" Mr. Stark... You better chill out with alcohol. I am not being stuck with a drunk stark." Tony loved that she cared about him and it only made him hornier. He just hums in response and walks out with a fresh, larger glass of bourbon. He plops down beside her and lays his head on her lap. She doesn't say anything and treated her chubby fingers through his tangled hair, breaking the knots here and there.

He looks up at her and she was staring at the fireplace, entranced by the orange, yellows, and reds. He puts his glass on the floor and gently nuzzled into her plushy stomach. She stifled a laugh as his breath was tickling her through her shirt.it was such a shame that men already took her virginity. Why did she have to go fuck other men. Why couldn't she fuck him. He would spoil her with money and good dick. He would love her so much that he would be called clingy.

She moves a bit and he was pushed towards her crotch. He thought she would move his head, but she didn't. She didn’t even ask him to move. So, he didn't. He stayed right there and relished in being that close to an area so sensitive and private. He wanted to fuck her cunt and pump her full of his cum. Make her belong to him.

Maybe he should just tell her his feelings. Yeah, let’s do that.

" hey, honey. Can I talk to you?" he looks up at her and she stops looking at the fire, looking down at him. She gives him a weird look and moves his face away from her crotch. He sits up and looks her in the eyes.

" what is it?"

" I am in love with you. "

"what?" she looked concerned and confused. She tries to laugh nervously, “ are you drunk, Tony? "

He shakes his head and that scares her more. He tells her how much he loves her and that he wants to be with her. She looks at him with a disturbed look and standis up, putting the dirty mug. He grabs her hand and she tanks it away, completely terrified now. She was just gonna sit on the other cough, cause he was really creeping her out. But, he grabs her and yanks her back down, onto his lap.

Finally, he can touch her. She struggled against him, scared and he shushed her, smiling. " Please baby. I love you very much and I want to treat you right. Just let me' he plead with her, wrapping his giant arms around her waist. She yelled Ana punched him in the face.

"Get the fuck off of me, Tony!" she pushes him and pulls away from him. "No! I don't want you and you are creeping me out!" Tony was holding his bloody nose, not saying anything. He stands up and slaps her in the face. He completely loses his temper and grabs his glass of abandoned bourbon, breaking it over her head.

He watches his best friend of 6 years crumble to the floor. He comes back from his blackout rage. He acts quickly, tying her up and tending to her face wound. He couldn't mess up her face. Not her perfect face. "please don't be dead. Don't be dead." he felt like he was going insane. His mind was racing and it was mostly about him being rejected by the love of his life. She couldn't reject him. He was gonna keep her. He would move all her stuff in his penthouse. She was gonna be his.

————————————————————————————————————————————

When Y/N wakes up, she was tied up on the couch and Tony was cuddling her close. He was pressing warm kisses to her face, while rubbing her inner thigh. She had duct tape on her mouth and her face was burning with pain. He kept muttering ‘ I love you’ over and over. He was acting insane.

She struggled and yelled out, only for it to be muffled. He pulls her back and shushes her, softly. "its okay, baby girl." he squishes her thighs and draws a little heart on them with his finger. He nuzzled his face into her neck, sucking red hickeys on her soft neck. " just relax, and I won't have to hurt you. I wanna keep you here and we will be together. You are mines and I am yours." he says, intertwining his fingers with hers. He was professing his love for her and she had to know that she was never stepping a foot back outside.

" let me take care of you." he purrs, licking her neck. She shakes her head, viciously. He doesn't listen to her and stands up, undoing her pants.

She was stuck inside because of this snow storm. She was never gonna be able to leave Tony ever again. He wasn't ever gonna allow it.

#dark marvel #marvel #new #tony stark x reader #x reader #possessive #kidnap tw #gaslighting mention

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theiceweaver · 9 months

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@thevampiremael

Nolwenn stumbled down the dark street of Ravenna. Moving sent stabs of sharp burning pain through her but she couldn't stop and rest. She had to keep going. She didn't know where, but she couldn't just stay here alone in the streets. She was sick, exhausted, starving, and injured but if she let herself rest in an alley or park, she was sure someone would snatch her and kill her. Ever since she'd been set on fire she had only managed to get a few hours of sleep, just enough to keep her from collapsing.

The clothes she wore concealed most of her injuries. The burns on her face were still visible though. She wore a dark blue long-sleeved linen shirt, a long multi-layered black skirt, and black combat boots. Her original clothes had been burned when the vampire had set her on fire but luckily her bag was only singed and its contents weren't damaged.

Her entire body hurt. Still-healing second-degree burns covered most of her body. It felt like the heat was trapped inside her skin. Blisters covered her red, itching, swollen skin. Both fresh and dried blood and pus covered her skin and clothes.

Pain, fear, and stress radiated from her in thick waves. Tears ran down her face and stung her burned skin. She couldn't stop crying. Her body violently trembled from fear and pain. She felt terrified and hopeless and didn't know what to do. She fantasized about slipping out of her body like it was a heavy coat, leaving behind the sack of meat and bones and letting her soul go wherever it was meant to go.

The burns were only six days old but looked older --- the pricolici and strigoi blood in her body had helped accelerate the healing process but they were still there and still sensitive. The feeling of cloth touching them was unbearable. She fantasized about drinking the healing blood and her burns fading away. She wished she hadn't drunk the bottles of blood so quickly.

I'll go back to Gwenhael. He can heal me. I'll let him give me enough of his blood to change me into a pricolici, she thought to herself. If she hadn't run from him, none of this would've happened. She wouldn't have been attacked by a strigoi who had violently torn her throat out and had only saved her from dying because he'd seen Gwenhael in her memories. She wouldn't have been almost kidnapped by two torturer-rapists. She wouldn't have been lit on fire by a vampire who'd wanted to kill her because she'd known about vampires.

Nolwenn chewed on her lip as she continued walking. If she hadn't been attacked by those two men, she wouldn't have killed them. If she hadn't killed them, they would've continued to torture and kill more people. They'd already done so five times before. Hell, they'd already had a 15 year old girl locked in their house when they'd tried to kidnap her. After she killed them, she went to the house to rescue the girl; thankfully, nothing bad happened to the girl yet when she got there. At least one good thing had come from her running from Gwenhael --- she'd prevented someone from being raped and tortured.

All those many different thoughts swirled and roiled in her mind as she slowly made her way down the street. She was so lost in her pain and thoughts that she didn't notice if any vampire or other nonhuman creature was nearby.

#(u don't have to match. length's mostly for set up)#(have a thing if you want!)#thevampiremael

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courtingchaos · 11 months

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I am staring down the barrel of 35. It’s a loaded gun but there’s no finger on the trigger yet. It inches closer every year but turning 33 means I can feel it pressed into the bridge of my nose. Cold but warming to my touch.

I don’t know what to do about it because I never thought this far, at least not realistically. Objectively I’d have had a degree in fine arts and I would be story boarding my own show right now. I would have toiled away in Orlando or Anaheim at a Disney studio until I’d had my million dollar idea and I’d be making my own Steven Universe or Over the Garden Wall. Being weird and artsy would have paid off and I would have made friends in the right places and I would have been able to show everyone that I did know what I was talking about, thankyouverymuch.

I went to school. 4 times actually. First time for art and I failed out of two math classes. Second time for English and I failed out of one of those math classes again. Third time was the charm I thought and I ended up not going back to my culinary class because they got rid of my chef. Fourth time was for carpentry and I got sick of listening to old men tell me what I was going to have to put up with on sites so I didn’t go back when the semester ended. I don’t think I’m built for school, the thought of it terrifies my little mammal brain. The only time I ever wanted to pursue anything I was told I’d be a starving artist and I let any of the threads of talent unravel.

My whole life my parents have always told me that they support me. I’m an only child who’s always been a homebody so they never had anything to worry about. I didn’t sneak out, I didn’t party, I didn’t date anyone until I was 16. They’re proud of me but every time I’m home I’m asked when I’m going back to school. When I’m quitting my job that I hate. When I’m having a kid. A lot of questions from people who have given me, in writing and words, their pride.

In my daydreams at 15 I’d said I wouldn’t get married until I had a degree and I wouldn’t have kids until I had a career, until I was stable in some way. It’s fun getting to your thirties and finding out your mentally unwell and then all the pieces fall into place. A lot of what ifs and could have beens if my brain worked correctly. I think a lot about things I wished I’d done when I was younger and I realize I never could have done these things because it was just never in the cards. People talk about a squandered youth when they mention parties and friends, trips for nothing other than to drive somewhere for the day and I want to cry.

I have a squandered youth and she’s holding the barrel to my nose for all my regrets. I’ve been angry my whole life and I’ve never found peace with it. It’s never carved a home out in my chest to lay in, to rest in. It paces tirelessly through my ribs and makes my chest ache. It blurs my vision and makes my thoughts run quick while it hangs like a ghoul in the background of my life. I joke that I do all things out of spite but it’s not a joke anymore. I spitefully get out of bed every day. I spitefully do my job well. I spitefully try to curate my hobby and hone my craft. I spitefully keep friends in my life to prove to myself that I’m not as miserable as the girl holding the gun to my face likes to make me think I am.

I am tired and I am unfulfilled. My life feels too small for my body, or maybe my body is too big for my life. I feel like Alice growing out of her home, arms pushed through windows and legs out the front door. I keep growing in weird spots and no one knows how to help me least of all myself.

All things through spite though. I’ll break out of the house and I’ll slap the gun away. I’ll wrangle my youth into a bear hug and when she least expects it I’ll put her in a headlock and we can start this whole game again when 40 is coming down the line.

#talking into the void #I say ignore this #just like #you don’t have to interact #I’m getting some things off my chest and putting it here out in the open in front of god and everybody just feels better #normally this time of year makes me feel better #but this year has kicked my ass from Maryland to Florida and back #There and Back Again a Barista story

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joshriku · 2 years

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hi! I really enjoyed your last cherik fic list, you have great taste. do you have more recs about old cherik? maybe also some post dark phoenix (I mean, they were supposed to be old but they forgot lol). only when you have the time!

you're so lovely omg thank you! i do!! here u go

get out of town by firstlightofeos: i recently read this and it's so fucking good omg. i am not immune to tropes where a 3rd character has to be like 'can you guys get over yourselves and FUCK' and especially if it's old men cherik :sob: OF ALL PEOPLE. THEY NEED IT SO BADç

all you are made of by fengirl88: oghgojoOGH theres this bit:

“Two minutes to make you drop it,” Charles says, mock-outraged. “I must be losing my touch.”

“Menace,” Erik says lovingly, “stop distracting me.”

IT REALLY LIKE......FUCKS UP WITH MY MENTAL HEALTH...........LIKE SHUT UP HE LOVES HIM SO MUCH. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH. IM GOING TO DIE

tempus fugit by franzbibliotek: the character writing on this one is so fucking insane. you have to work with me here bc this is comic cherik and comics just have things happen in them. . anyway charles comes back from the dead after stealing a body that's like in it's mid 30s, jsut, your casual stuff. anyway. holy shit. charles' inner monologue on this mmmmmwah im fucking obssessed

pillow talk by pearl_o: i might have recced this already BUT IT BEGS RECCING AGAIN this is literally my favorite kind of fics where they just. lie next to each other. talk for a while. they're old and in love :(

a day when we can finally rest by pocky_slash: i am no timmune to fics where they depict how long they both have waited and waited to be together because it makes me cry ok. wow. love can thrive and continue and they jsut lvoe each other so much :( FUCK!!!!!

pity the man by franzbibliothek: this is kinda angsty i will warn you since i usually just read happy stuff but it's GOOD ok. pre dark phoenix when charles is just like on his 90th mental breakdown,. my g od. the way op writes charles. you get it.

adventures in babysitting (worried grandpa remix) by sebastian2017: literally my favorite thing about erik is that he's a grandpa. okay. it might be bc tommy is my fave character but i am just,,,,,,,,SOBSBSBS... DO U KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

one night in westchester by brotherfromanothermother: this is literally the funniest fuckign fic in the world. just. old man magneto buying condoms. it makes me cry. i lvoe it

close enemies by andraste: i might have recced this? MAYBE? but this is animated series cherik. and if i have recced it..THEN ILL DO IT AGAIN. THOSE SAVAGE LAND EPISODES WERE INSANE

habitual by xtinethepirate: i love dark phoenix cherik. i love erik in this fic. i like when fic writers write erik caring for charles but not being overly indulging like he Is willing to call him out. ESPECIALLY post dp cherik. SO GOOD.

marks by unforgotten: i love. i love. love the idea of erik 'kidnapping' charles and him being too busy grading to pay attention to him. which offends him greatly. i think magneto should always be funny and dramatic.

necessary downtime by unforgotten: AND THEYRE MARRIED. OOOH MY GOD THEY WERE MARRIED. not related to me also being a teacher but i love when it's just fics like charles being really tired from school work. he's so me. that's also me. finally realistic mcs

fossils (the something old, something new remix): AHHGHGHG I LTIERALYJL CANNOT GET ENOUGH OF FICS WHERE THEY GET TO ENJOY BEING MARRIED LIKE. ITS SO GOOD. IT MAKES ME CRY SO MUCH . MAYBE OLD MEN IN LOVE ARE MORE EFFECTIVE THAN THERAPY..? JURY IS OUT ON THIS ONE

rue de la paix by ireliss: (THROWIGN UP AND CRYING) GOODNESS. MOURNING. OLD MEN. TOUCH STARVED CHARACTERS. IT CANT GET ANY BETTER THAN THIS. post dark phoenix

everything about it is a love song: if i told you how many times i cried reading this id have to be taken out and immobilized. it's bad out here. it is really bad out here!!!!! (ITS A REALLY GOOD FIC!! I LOVE IT!!) it's probably one of my fave old men fic ever just like someplace that is green which was on my other post but its osjhfddohfdj ITS OSO OGHG OGGH OGH!!!!!!

sing me to sleep: i love dofp cherik. I do. i love them so fukcing bad i love seeing those old men reunited and helping each other and being deeply in love despite the world going to shit it is SO deeply personal to me this fi ci ss os much.

the o(l)dd couple: i love fics that involve the press and such reactions to Them. and outsider pov is always so enjoyable. i love this fic i think its one of the first few i read?? SO GOOD

into the open by clockworkrobots: i just. this fic is so good. it's like the first fic i bookmarked almost. the tag erik's gay socialist farm island cracks me up every time then ir ead this and i sob and cry again fr

hope u enjoy!!

#asks #cherik #ty for saying i have good taste i will never let it live down next time someone says my taste sucks ill refer them to thsi

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jinkicake · 2 years

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And then back to Lucifer!! Like every time I see fanart if him I’m like god I LOVE old men😭 like him and Zhongli really scratch my “tall hot serious men” itch and they’re so corny it’s great!! Zhongli being like “someone said im dummy thick what does that mean?” And Lucifer texting “you are shaving years off my life” in every in game chat is hilarious 😭 like I read a fic where mammon traps you both in a closet unaware his prank backfired and you’re stuck in there too and Lucifer trying his best not to fuck you in this cramped closet(spoiler he fails) and he’s like “hmm maybe o need to look into human anatomy I could be too big” sir🥴 like outside his dom aura he’s so soft and will flusted if he notices he’s been holding your hand for too long. Like if I want to see him melt I just have to kiss his forehead a few times!! He’s so touch starved and experiencing unconditional love and care WILL have him tearing up. Omg remembering the paws and claws event! Wish mc got to spend a few chapters as a sheep bc Lucifer was already struggling to not whip it out being a wolf. He sees cute soft sheep mc shaking in fear he’s going to take you in the foyer😭 but if I remember correctly sheep go into heat every 17 days and stay in heat 30 to 36 hours👀 so I will cry much have to tie him to the bed. The brothers having to call up Michael im the Celestial realm💀 “tf do YALL want??” “So maybe giving humans the capacity to overindulge in worldly desires was a bad idea🙂” lmao the angels aren’t safe either im gunna get a cease and desist from sky daddy bc they were here to be students!! And they got a sex tape floating around on devilhub😔

LUCIFERRRRRRR </33333 ive been waiting for this one!!!!

there is something about old men that just makes me fucking foam at the mouth like i think about gray-haired zhongli and i just want to rip my hair out-

NO EXACTLYYYYY i love how luci is an asshole but also such a big softie like it makes my heart so soft.... you can be mean to me luci but you have to pamper my ass to make it up to me!! (i talk about this man way too seriously for him not to be real it's kinda concerning like i think we should be concerned about it but i dont care!!!)

the way he kisses us any chance he gets and then always promises to fuck us too heheheh he's been waiting centuries for us!!!!! OH- NOT THE PAWS AND CLAWS EVENTTTTT i never played it but watched youtube videos and ugh- i wish i had-

hmm every 17 days being stuck (GLUED) to Lucifer for 36 hours... I could do that... yeah I could take him!!! .... i could take him.

not devilhub LMFAOOOOOOOOOO T T

i just..... i love luci T T

#sarahandoikawatalkshit

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twerkingoftheshrew · 1 month

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I made a list of things that are "mecore" for fun. Here's mine.

TW: mention of self harm, NSFW as hell

Soxcore:

Silly knee socks, cannabis, gin and limeade, mismatched footie socks, foxes, fuzzy blankets, cute plushies, creepy plushies, stained glass, colored glass, granny aesthetic Halloween decor, big cocks, 2D muscle men, 2D hot twinks, 2D dommy mommies, cryptids (esp. Mothman), ghost sex, monsterfuckery, jean overall shorts with rainbow straps, band/punny/nerdy tshirts, silky fabrics, stupid adorable cats, mint and dark chocolate KitKats, sprite, original ramune, instant ramen, sailor moon, David Bowie, InuYasha, Fruits Basket, eeveelutions, pins and buttons, pet play, shibari, restraints, holding hands during sex, kitchen witchcraft, wholesome witchcraft, baking sweets for people you care about, one man show in the kitchen, rain in every form, distant thunder, reading smut, toe beans, male ahegao, soft yanderes (all yanderes), impressionist art, making a playlist for every occasion and mood, 2D simping, Ren faire, overcast days, having a moody day, spending the day in bed, cute shoes/boots/heels, rubber toe sneakers (high and low top), cardigan sweaters, nightmare before Christmas, dad hats, witch hats, flower crowns, silver or gunmetal jewelry, vampire movies, goth femmes from 90s cartoons, hugs, gentle casual touches, surprise kisses, tickles and cute pokes, tappy fingies, blushing, being flustered, being oblivious to flirting, being clumsy, being derpy, string led lights, cool spectrum colors (miss me with those warm tones), the sound of water (especially underwater sounds), the moon and stars, walking at night, soft nighttime breezes, running through the woods, shoulder freckles, weirdly good with animals, being shy but polite, being an open book in a comfortable conversation, constant body language, can always read their emotions plain on their face, hand gestures while talking/talking with hands, wild arm flailing (muppet flailing), muppets, tabletop gaming, spring, daffodils, hyacinths, lavender fields, heather meadows, orchids, weeping willows, big old trees, passionate infodumping, platonic cuddling and spooning, granny floral prints, paisley, tarot cards, reading tea leaves, reading runes, amethyst, goldstone, lapis lazuli, smoky quartz, geodes, found animal bones, fangs and claws, pointed ears, oddly shaped pupils, burying your face in things (pillow, crook of lover's neck, cat belly, etc.), early emo shit, random hodgepodge of different 90s aesthetic and nostalgia, those fuckin cups from the 90s with that purple and blue pattern, wildberry poptart colors, wildberry poptarts, smutty dating Sims, hot fictional men who will kill my character, dead doves, the most toe curling fucked up fanfics imaginable, romcom BL, crying a lot, crying from any intense emotional response even if it's positive, crying because of a piece of media, crying for release, crying in the shower, curling up on the floor and clutching yourself tightly while you sob, singing in the shower, singing around the house, singing to my fur children, a live narration of my actions done in song, changing song lyrics to be about silly things, doing character voices in everyday conversation, speaking in meme references, referencing old vines and then having to explain them because someone hasn't seen that one,

gin gins (ginger hard candy), being touch starved, touch as primary love language, sleeping while hugging a pillow, side sleeping, sleeping in, suddenly realizing you've been awake far too long, coming out of a hyperfixation like time travel and figuring out what year you're in now, surprise naps, nap roulette, garlic rye chips, cheese, cheesecake, baby, so so baby, masking mental health in public and to unfamiliar people, thinking no one would ever put up with you, cutting, cutting scars, tattoos that cover scars, piercings and body mods, Oreos, walking down train tracks with a friend, cosplay and LARPing, musical theatre, standing in the rain just to feel it on your skin, stretching like a cat, nose and feet are always cold for some reason, mushroom swiss burgers, psychedelics, MLP:FiM, beanies all winter, choker necklaces, space as an aesthetic, glass pipes and bongs, glassblowing, small venue punk and rock shows, the concert poster plastered bathrooms of a small punk venue, please pet me uwu, neon hair dye, anatomically inaccurate plastic Halloween skeleton animals, clingy but pushes it down, needy but won't ask for things, multiple texts in a row, reading constantly, crowd anxiety, corvids, cephalopods, freshwater shrimp, dying after a fat bong rip/fat dab, simping, passive darling, needing a caretaker relationship, Alolan Vulpix and Ninetails, Greek food, dumbass fudanshi, animal crossing, pop punk, early techno, sad indie, 80s-90s goth kid music, red bean ice cream, ramune flavored candy, Marius from Lez Miz, hobbits, DC, drawn/animated furries, hugging people in fur suits at cons, nigiri sushi, onigiri, the works of Neil Gaiman, femme authored classic literature, classic and modern poetry, occult nonsense, romantic literature, the works of D.H. Lawrence, fantasy fiction, bi panic, "you're so funny" thanks it's a coping mechanism, cast iron wood stoves, generational cast iron pans, family recipes, emerald and silver, dainty works of metal art like broochs, pins and hair pins, band and random sew on patches, night mist, kintsugi (using liquid gold to fix broken things), memories that are so obscure and buried in references and inside jokes it's almost a two person play to explain them,

looking like a Victorian ghost, looking like the host of a punk rock children's show, seaside cliffs, sea storms, Vicky's story in The Gargoyle, The Gargoyle, househusband vibes, chill edits of toonami anime, stupid puns and wordplay, over the shoulder glances, over the edge of sunglasses glances, not getting rid of plushies because you don't want them to be sad and miss you and you're worried about whether or not they'll have a happy life elsewhere, having spoiled fur children because you're a pushover, kissing while crying from happiness, walking arm in arm, face touches, hand on face, hand over hand on face, soft neck and shoulder bites, bite marks, hugging from behind and kissing the top of someone's head, headpats, rubbing your nose on soft things, judging a mug solely by how it feels in your hands, loose leaf tea, having a tea shelf/cabinet, a nice, comfortable pair of boots, lemon, vanilla, clove, sandalwood, sage, lavender, bed head, wants to make you breakfast, embroidering memes and shit posts, wooden rocking chairs, owns way too many accessories, various collections of seemingly mundane items that have more meaning than they should, casually sex/sexual health positive but shy about personal tastes, awkward creetchur vibes, gives genuine compliments to strangers often, always gassin up the homies, forced optimism, character/pop culture mini backpacks, sunglasses with colorful lenses, I like you so I did a deep dive of your Spotify, can and will remodel the house for you, "I can fix that", "please let me put together the furniture it's like a big puzzle!", painting/customizing bits of furniture or clothing because I got bored, making friends in the smoking area, smoke breaks because I'm anxious/overstimulated, telling the band "great show" at the merch table, things that glow in the dark, fireflies, forest rivers and streams, moss covered stones, trees or tree roots that have a surprisingly comfy place to sit, reading a book outside, the smell of books, libraries, old libraries, book spines under fingertips, page edges and corners against fingertips, holding a book to your chest to feel the story close to your soul, overcast days that press down on your soul a bit and make everything feel slightly heavy and bittersweet, crock pot meals on cold days, clutching the edges of sweater or hoodie sleeves, frost covered grass, misty dawns, museum dates, chai lattes, nose boops, edible mushrooms, flowering trees, needing white noise/music to sleep, borrows your hoodie because it smells like you, walking through a cemetery together reading the stones and imagining the lives of the people buried there, "ooo they have a charcuterie board!", Ghibli food and domestic fluff vibes, will absolutely cook with you or for you, spooky cute, gently bonks my head against you like a cat, slow blinks/bleps of affection, book dragons, I really like this new song so I'm going to listen to it on repeat for hours on end, corner store snack runs, PS2 startup noise, "not technically a shota, but his vibes are unmistakable", vine covered brickwork, nitro+chiral BLVNs, toxic/doomed yaoi, old man yaoi

#about me #soxcore #me

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huntingingoodwill · 3 months

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Hiiii

Perfect time for me to unload those dreams on you cuz I’ve gotten my period yet again 😀 (relating to my Daniel dream)

Your opinion on rafe is maybe half true? I think he’s supposed to hate his dad although I’ve no clue, I still have not watched the show. I only like him cuz he’s hot 🙈

The dream with him was so like out of body but not cuz it rlly felt like I was there?? Idek how to explain it was wild. I think it had to have been a rlly old college campus and we were just chilling on the couch of this beautiful house. It was prob a frat house or something but I think I was watching too much scream queens so the house is just huge and beautiful with so much warmth and wood everywhere. Drooling for the interior design here before I even get to the man 😭

I am truly just so touch starved and wanting to be in a relationship cuz legitimately it was the most cozy and domestic vibe ever we are just lazing on this couch him laying back on me I’m playing with his super soft hair😩 also somehow my younger sister is there? Jump scare😳 we’re just arguing about this amazing flowering tree in the neighbors backyard (it must have been the prettiest tree ive seen in my life) and I’m going to google it cuz I must prove my point duh and I do this in real life where I sometimes need a moment to think about how to phrase a question or search to actually get the answer i need and of course he knows that so being the bestest boyfriend there is he just grabs the phone from me and searches up my first attempt at phrasing. I took it in the best casual dominance way ever paired with silence encouragement that my phrasing was right on the first try and I don’t need to overthink so much 😍😍 and then he just grabs my hand and interlocks (SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP MY ROMCOM DREAMS COMING TRUE) and everything just settles I completely forget about what I searched and don’t even care about the answer anymore just enjoying the feeling of holding hands and staring at this tree and the breeze coming through the window 💖💖💖

And then of course since it’s on a college campus I’m somehow whisked away to help at some random event and then I wake up 🥲

This was terribly long for me to truly relive this amazing dream that I hope I’ll never forget

Pls share any cool dreams you’ve had and I’ve rlly gotta find someone to request writing a fic for this 🤔

-😊💕

hiiii

lmao at this point i feel like you send me asks based on your cycle which im not really mad about bc that’s hilarious

girl i know all about liking men just because they’re hot don’t worry

shut up i LOVE SCREAM QUEENS nobody talks about that show enough. im very much a chanel oberlin.

dan kinda has frat bro vibes. is that controversial.

wait this is such a pleasant dream 😭😭 that’s so nice all my dreams are fucking weird. like ive had multiple dreams where i shot my friend and everytime it happens i report it to them irl and we laugh about me murdering them in my sleep that’s how u know ur friend is a ride or die

ALSO IM SORRY ik u sent me another ask and i was in the middle of replying it and it disappeared 😭 like it’s not in my inbox or drafts or anything 😭😭😭 sorry about that

#asks

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moeitsu · 4 months

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 16 - The Past Is The Eternal Past

Summary: Kate and Arthur welcome a new life into the world. The scene brings back tender memories of Arthur's past, he finally finds the courage to open up to her about his family.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: So much fluff and feels!! This is day 2 at Emerald ranch, solid 8.3k words. Thanks for being patient with my updates, I know things have started to slow down. I'm hoping that in a few weeks I'll be able to get back to consistently posting again!

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

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

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

Arthur drifted into a peaceful slumber, a rarity in the tumult of his existence. It felt as if he had never experienced such peace before, as if the world had paused just for him. Seamus' small ranch house offered no spare room, yet Kate, with her selfless nature, offered to sleep on the couch for Arthur's comfort. But he politely refused, urging her to share the bed with him, a sanctuary meant for two souls to find sleep in each other's embrace.

As they kissed and conversed late into the evening, the storm outside began to wane, its fury subdued by the soothing melody of raindrops dancing upon the roof. Their words mingled with the gentle winds, weaving a blanket of intimacy that cocooned them in warmth. Wrapped in each other's arms, Kate held him close, her embrace a shield against the uncertainties of the night. With his head nestled beneath her chin, Arthur found refuge in her presence, his breathing synchronizing with the rhythm of her heart. And as sleep finally claimed him, she tenderly caressed his hair, her melodic hums blending seamlessly with the whispering wind and the gentle creaks of the old house. The smell of the bath still lingered on his skin, and she could hear his gentle snore, soon Kate found herself slipping into deep sleep.

As the morning sun filtered through the mesh curtains, casting a golden glow into the room, Kate stirred from her slumber. The distant call of roosters heralded the arrival of dawn, their voices resonating loudly in the air. Yet, despite the warmth of the sunlight, a chill swept over her as she realized the space beside her was empty, void of Arthur's presence.

With a languid stretch, Kate rose from the bed, her movements fluid as she dressed herself. She resolved to seek out Arthur, knowing well his penchant for being useful and tackling the early morning chores. She savored a quick breakfast, the aroma of freshly cut strawberries mingling with the crisp morning air, before setting off on her search.

Her footsteps echoed softly in the quietude of the barn, the scent of hay and animals enveloping her in familiarity. And there, amidst the rustic charm of the wooden beams and the soft whinnies of the horses, she found him, just as she had anticipated. But what captured her attention was the tender scene unfolding before her.

Arthur stood beside Dolly, the massive mare, his presence calm and assured. He gently coaxed her to eat from his hand, his other hand gliding smoothly down her snout and neck in a gesture of reassurance. The sunlight streaming through the barn’s wooden slats highlighted the tender scene, casting a warm glow on their interaction. Arthur's voice was a soft murmur, whispering soothing words to the horse, his touch both gentle and firm, embodying a patient strength.

Kate watched in awe, her heart swelling with admiration for Arthur’s ability to connect with the mare. Every movement he made was deliberate, a testament to his respect for the animal. The way Dolly responded, bowing her head and accepting his touch, spoke volumes of the trust he had earned.

A soft smile played on Kate's lips as Dolly greeted her with a friendly nicker, the mare's ears acknowledging her presence with a flick. “Good morning,” Kate called to them, her voice breaking the serene silence of the barn. “Seems like she’s takin’ a liking to you.” She stepped into the stall, her gaze fixed on Arthur.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” Arthur greeted her, enveloping her in a warm embrace as he wrapped an arm around her waist and placed a lingering peck on her lips. They tasted like his morning coffee. His touch was filled with affection, and Kate blushed, the warmth spreading from her cheeks to her chest—a sensation she was still getting used to.

Kate leaned into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck as she stretched up to meet him. “Was a tad surprised I woke to an empty bed this mornin’,” she whispered teasingly, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief. Tipping his hat back slightly to give herself better access to his features.

Arthur grinned at her insinuation, his deep blue eyes filled with admiration. “I’d love nothin’ more than to lay in all day kissin’ a pretty lady,” he said in a low, tender voice. With a soft sigh, he added, “But there’s work to be done. ‘Sides, I think Miss Dolly here is havin’ her baby today.”

Kate’s brows shot up in surprise, and she turned from his arms to evaluate Dolly’s condition. Sure enough, the mare was showing early signs of labor. Her belly contracted softly, and milk leaked from her teats. “Well, I’ll be,” she said quietly, a smile spreading across her cheeks as she rubbed the mare's belly affectionately. “You ever delivered a foal before, Arthur?”

Arthur’s grin widened, a mix of excitement and apprehension in his eyes. “Can’t say I have, but I reckon there’s a first time for everything,” he replied, rolling up his sleeves. “Guess I’m in for a lesson today.”

Kate chuckled softly, her hand still gently rubbing Dolly’s belly. “I’ve done it a few times, long ago back on my family’s farm. We just need to keep her calm and be ready to help when the time comes.”

Arthur nodded, his expression serious yet eager. “I’ll follow your lead, then.”

The two of them worked quietly together, their actions synchronized as if they had been doing this together for years. They took turns feeding the other barn animals their breakfast, ensuring they had fresh water and clean stalls. The morning was filled with the soft sounds of munching hay, clucking chickens, and the occasional grunt from the pigs as they discovered fresh mud puddles left by the storm.

Periodically, they checked on Dolly’s progress, making sure she was comfortable as her labor advanced. Each time Arthur approached the mare, he spoke to her in soothing tones, his hands gentle and warm. Kate watched him with admiration, her heart swelling with affection for this man who had become her partner.

They exchanged smiles and glances as they worked, falling into a rhythm that felt as natural as the breeze blowing around them. The storm had left the grasses glistening with dew, the air fresh and crisp. Sunlight filtered through the barn’s open doors, casting warm, golden patches on the ground.

As the afternoon approached, they sat together on a wooden crate outside of Dolly’s stall, sharing a simple meal of bread, cheese, and apples. The air was filled with the scent of fresh hay and the earthy aroma of the barn. Kate leaned back against the barn, her eyes half-closed as she enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face.

“This feels good,” Kate said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. “Sittin’ here with you, takin’ care of things. Feels right, don’t it?”

Arthur turned to her, his smile soft and genuine. “Makes me wish we could do this every day,” he chuckled, taking a bite of his apple.

Kate could hear the subtle longing in his tone. Arthur craved a simple life, yearning for it amidst the chaos of his existence. His situation was unique, tangled in a web of crime and infamy that made it impossible to simply run away and start anew. He was wanted in every state, raised on a life of crime and rebellion. Kate knew it wouldn't be easy to break him from that cycle, but she hoped this was a start. Sowing the seeds of domesticity and honest living into his heart, she dared to dream that one day he might leave the gang and take the reins of his own life.

Arthur gazed out over the plains, watching the horses and cows grazing peacefully. The sight seemed to soothe him, the simplicity of the scene a stark contrast to the life he led. Kate watched him, admiring the way his side profile was illuminated in the afternoon glow. The sun cast a warm, golden light on his rugged features, highlighting the sweat glistening on his cheeks. His eyes, shadowed by the brim of his old leather hat, were filled with a longing.

Kate let her thoughts drift, imagining a life where they could find peace together. She envisioned a small farm, nestled in a quiet valley, where they could wake up each morning to the sound of birdsong and the gentle rustling of leaves. She pictured Arthur working the fields, taking care of the animals and while she maintained their home. Daring to dream of a family again, perhaps even children someday, she thought. She shook her head at the idea, getting ahead of herself. But in the back of her mind, they lived a life of simple pleasures.

Kate reached out and placed her hand on Arthur’s arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. “Maybe one day, we will,” she said softly.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The sun was kissing the horizon as Dolly eased herself down into the soft hay, finding a comfortable spot to lie on her side as her instincts took over. The mare's heavy breaths mingled with the sounds of the barn, creating an atmosphere of anticipation and gentle urgency. Kate and Arthur remained close by, their presence a comforting reassurance for the laboring mare.

Kate settled near Dolly's head, her fingers moving soothingly along the mare's neck. She whispered calming words, her touch gentle, ensuring Dolly felt secure. The warmth of the barn and the scent of fresh hay enveloped them, creating a cocoon of calm amidst the imminent arrival.

Arthur leaned against the wall of the stable near Dolly's rear, his eyes focused and attentive. Ready to inform Kate the moment the foal's feet appeared, he prepared himself to leap into action when Dolly showed signs of struggle. The tension in the air was thick, a mixture of concern and excitement as they awaited the new life about to enter the world.

Kate’s voice, calm and steady, broke through the quiet hum of the barn. “When the foal’s legs are out past the first joint, grab hold and tug gently,” she instructed. “But only when Dolly pushes. We don’t want to hurt her or cause any tears. Just enough to help the baby along.”

Arthur nodded, leaning down on one knee, his hands steady and ready, heart pounding with anticipation. He admired Kate’s calm authority, her knowledge and experience guiding them through the moment. His respect for her deepened.

A memory crossed Arthur’s mind, transporting him back four years ago to when Abigail had gone into labor with Jack. The scene was etched vividly in his heart. Arthur knew he could never make up for missing the birth of his own son, so when little Jack came along, he resolved to support Abigail in every way he could. John’s refusal to accept the child as his own infuriated Arthur. It angered him that John wouldn't even step in to help Abigail in her time of need.

He recalled how the girls had spoken softly and encouragingly to Abigail, their voices a lifeline amidst the pain. It was much like how Kate now spoke to Dolly, a soothing murmur that went beyond species, connecting mother to mother. The memory of Abigail’s grip on his hands, fierce and unyielding with each contraction, came flooding back. Arthur had known then that Abigail was far stronger than she ever let on. Her cries and grunts had filled the night, and Arthur had been there, wiping the sweat from her brow, rubbing her back and even holding back her legs when exhaustion threatened to consume her. It was an experience that solidified his connection to the girls, he was and always will be their protector.

A profound guilt gnawed at him when he thought about what Eliza must have gone through, alone. The thought of her enduring the pain of childbirth without him there to support her was a wound that never fully healed. But that feeling had been momentarily washed away the moment Jack took his first breath, followed by a triumphant cry as if announcing, “here I am, world!”

Arthur remembered the overwhelming rush of emotions that had washed over him as he left the tent to give the new mother some privacy, but also to hide his empathy. Silent tears had flowed freely, a mixture of joy for Jack’s healthy birth and sorrow for the child he had forsaken.

The minutes stretched on, each one filled with the soft sounds of Dolly’s labor and the reassuring presence of her human companions. The barn was a world unto itself, a sanctuary where the outside ceased to exist. It was just them, Dolly, and the new life beginning to make its entrance.

As Dolly pushed, Arthur saw the tiny hooves begin to emerge. “Kate, I see them,” he called softly, his voice laced with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Kate moved slightly, her focus sharpening. “Alright, Arthur. Remember, only when she pushes.”

With careful precision, Arthur followed Kate’s instructions, his hands grasping the foal’s legs gently. He waited for Dolly’s next contraction, feeling the tension in the air heighten. When the mare strained, he pulled gently, his movements synchronized with her efforts. The foal's legs felt incredibly tiny and fragile in his hands.

Time seemed to slow as they worked together, a seamless dance of trust and cooperation. Dolly’s powerful contractions and Arthur’s careful assistance brought the foal further into the world with every moment. Kate continued her soothing ministrations, her voice a constant source of comfort for the laboring mare. She guided Arthur through her contractions, telling him when to stop pulling and when to grab further up the body as it slowly came into the light.

Finally, with a final, triumphant push, the foal slid free, landing in the soft hay. Steam rising from its warm wet body as it blinked its large blue eyes for the first time. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as he marveled at the tiny, fragile creature now lying before them. Kate moved quickly, joining beside Arthur as her hands helped clear the foal’s airways and stimulated its breathing.

Dolly turned her head, her large eyes filled with maternal instinct and curiosity. Kate guided the foal closer to her, ensuring the bond between mother and baby was immediate and strong. The foal, a beautiful chestnut brown with a black mane and light blue eyes, shared the distinctive white stripe down his snout with his mama. As he nuzzled against Dolly, searching for his first meal, Kate and Arthur exchanged a glance filled with shared joy and pride.

Arthur couldn't take his eyes off the tender scene before them. Wiping his dirty hands on his jeans, he sank back down into the hay, releasing a satisfied exhale. “I reckon he’s gonna be a fine young colt someday,” he said with a smile. “We’ll have to come visit him when he’s older.”

Kate giggled softly and slid down to sit by his side, their arms brushing together. She leaned her head gently on his shoulder, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence. “Oh absolutely,” she agreed, her voice filled with affection. “You wanna name him?”

“Me?” Arthur’s voice raised with a hint of surprise.

“Well, you are the one who delivered him,” Kate assured, her eyes twinkling with encouragement.

Arthur thought for a moment, his mind wandered to the nights he spent recovering, when the fever ravaged his body. He recalled the night Jack had read to him, a story of adventure and friendship that had brought him comfort during those long, painful nights. A smile crept onto his lips as the perfect name called to him. “How ‘bout Huckleberry?” he suggested, his voice soft and thoughtful.

Kate’s eyes lit up. “Huckleberry,” she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue. “I love it. It suits the little guy.” She grinned from ear to ear, memories of Jack’s kindness during Arthur’s time of need made her heart surge with warmth. Especially since Arthur remembered the moment too.

Arthur’s smile widened, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. “Good ol’ Huck,” he said, wrapping an arm around Kate. They watched the little foal as he suckled contentedly. His tiny black tail swishing reverently. “He’s gonna be a brave one, ‘specially if he takes after his ma.” He chuckled.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As evening settled upon Emerald Ranch, the golden hues of the setting sun painted the sky, casting a gentle glow over the fields and buildings. The ranch was tranquil, the storm's remnants now only a memory. Kate and Arthur worked side by side, diligently completing the day's chores to ensure everything was in proper order for Seamus and his family’s return the following morning.

They mucked out the stalls together, the sounds of their shovels mixing with the soft murmurs of the animals. Arthur's returning strength and Kate's efficiency made the work go quickly, their coordination spoke volumes of their growing bond. They fed the animals, the barn filling with contented munching and occasional snorts. The simple tasks brought a sense of normalcy and domesticity. Kate hummed a tune and Arthur whistled quietly as the two worked together.

With the chores done, they found themselves back in Dolly’s stall, the heart of their day’s labor. The soft light from the lanterns cast a warm glow on the new family, highlighting the tender scene before them. Dolly lay in the hay, her eyes half-closed in contentment as she watched over her newborn foal. Huckleberry, the beautiful chestnut filly with his striking blue eyes, was beginning to explore his surroundings. Sniffing about and attempting to stand on his skinny legs.

Kate and Arthur settled down in the hay once more, their shoulders touching as they sat close together. The warmth of Arthur's body was comforting against the coolness of the night. Kate leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched the foal with shared anticipation.

“Look at him,” Kate whispered, her voice filled with awe. “He’s so full of life.”

Arthur hummed quietly in agreement, his hand resting gently on Kate’s thigh. His thumb traced lazy, comforting patterns over the fabric, grounding him as he watched the tender scene before him. Huckleberry wobbled, his little knees buckling under the weight as he adjusted to standing on solid ground for the first time.

With a gentle nudge from Dolly, the foal stood up proudly, his legs straightening as his mother’s large snout supported him. Kate held her breath, her eyes filled with hope and encouragement. When Huckleberry took his first tentative steps, only to plop back into the hay with a soft grunt, she chuckled warmly. “Keep tryin’, Huck, you’ll get there,” she quietly encouraged.

Arthur was transported to another time, another life. He thought of Isaac and the milestones he had missed. Eliza had been kind enough to write to him about their son's progress, telling him how Isaac had taken his first steps and would soon be running around the house. She had always ended her letters with a plea for Arthur to visit them, to stay. Her hope and prayers that he might one day choose to abandon his life of crime weighed heavily on him now, adding to the regret that he carried.

The tenderness of the moment with Kate and the foal stirred something deep within him. He felt an overwhelming need to share his burdens with the one person he felt truly understood him. Perhaps Hosea’s words held some truth. Kate had remained by his side through the worst, and this moment felt right.

Arthur’s heart pounded relentlessly in his chest as he mustered the strength. “Kate,” he began softly, shifting his position so he could look her in the eye. “I had a son.”

Kate’s eyes widened slightly in shock at the sudden news. Arthur drew a shaky breath and continued, “He passed away, long time ago.”

Kate gently took his hand, her expression shifted to one of deep sympathy and understanding “Oh Arthur, I’m so sorry for your loss.” She was inclined to believe there was more to this outlaw than meets the eye, his gentle and reserved nature foreshadowing a past similar to her own. The loss of a child connected them in ways she could not have imagined, and her heart ached for the man she was only beginning to discover.

“I know I shoulda told ya sooner. It’s just—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “It’s just hard to talk about them sometimes.”

Kate nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “You told me when you felt it was right, Arthur. I know it’s probably been on your mind now for some time.” She thought of all the times she had talked about her daughter with him, knowing now that he must’ve been thinking of his own child in those moments. Unsure how to tell her of his own loss, she knew it must've scarred him deeply. Arthur nodded quietly.

Understanding washed over her, and she suddenly grasped the depth of the bond between Arthur and Jack. Abigail trusted Arthur with her son because he once had a son, and he had extended that parental love to his nephew. He sees his son in Jack, and Kate knew from their first interaction that he had a protective aura that only a father could provide.

“That must have been very hard for you and Mary,” she continued softly, moving her hand to his cheek. Her touch was warm and soft, it eased his wounded heart.

Arthur leaned into her touch, closing his eyes with a sigh. He knew he couldn't talk about Isaac without mentioning Eliza. “No, he wasn’t Mary’s kid,” he began, his eyes searching hers for understanding. “It was a different girl. Met her in a bar one night, and next thing you know...” He shrugged his shoulders, he knew it was taboo to have a child with a one-night stand but Kate made no judgment. “But she passed away too.”

“What are their names?” Kate asked gently, surprising Arthur with her question. She didn’t ask how they died, and he was grateful. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to relive that part of his past yet. Talking about them as if they were still around eased his heart.

“Eliza and Isaac,” Arthur breathed the names like a prayer on his lips. “I don’t much like talkin’ about them. The grief, I still don’t understand it. Even after all these years.” His voice was thick with emotion, the weight of his loss pressing down on him like a heavy shroud.

Kate nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. “Grief ain’t meant to be understood,” she said softly. “It’s meant to be felt, lived through, and carried with us. It shapes us, but it doesn’t have to define us.”

Arthur chuckled dryly, a bitter edge to his laughter. “Wish I had that wisdom sooner. Their deaths hardened me, turned me into a man I couldn’t recognize.” His gaze drifted away from her, shame creeping into his belly as memories of his drinking and fits of rage swam back to the surface. He remembered the nights he spent at the bottom of a bottle, trying to drown out the pain, and the mornings he woke up with fists clenched, ready to fight the world.

Kate’s light laughter pulled him from his dark thoughts, like a soothing melody. “Death hardened me too. I mean, take one look and tell me. Do I still look like a picturesque housewife to you? Certainly not.” She chuckled, a sound so full of life and resilience it made Arthur’s heart ache. It mattered not how proper she looked to the rest of the world, to him she was just perfect.

“I miss my family dearly, but nothin’ I do will bring ‘em back. So I just keep movin’ forward, trying to do right by them, be a good person for their sake,” she added, a small reassuring smile spreading across her lips. “But you know, it wasn't always like that,” her eyes glimmered with a mix of sorrow and conviction, the strength of a woman who had faced unimaginable loss and emerged stronger for it.

Arthur was in awe of the way she could talk about death and grief, turning it into something positive. To take the torment and break it like a bad horse, polishing it down to what it really was: love. His grief and regret may have looked ugly on the surface, but beneath it all, it was an overwhelming love with nowhere to go. Kate had found a way to channel her love into something beautiful, a tribute to those she had lost.

“How did you do it?” Arthur asked quietly, his thumb tracing the knuckles of her hand, seeking solace in her touch. His voice was a whisper, filled with the raw vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.

Kate sighed softly, her eyes reflecting the depth of her own pain and resilience. “Well, it wasn’t easy,” she began. Arthur recalled the night she had shared her past with him, the way her voice trembled with rage and agony as she recounted the woman she had chosen to leave behind. The woman who had faced unimaginable loss and yet stood before him, stronger than ever. “I struggled on my own for a long time. And even when I thought things were getting better, grief would sneak up on me once again.”

Arthur listened intently, his heart aching for the pain she had endured, a pain that they now shared. He could see the flicker of old wounds in her eyes, the shadows of memories that still haunted her. But there was also a strength that shone through the darkness.

Kate continued, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “Eventually, I learned that it can’t hurt me, so I stopped fighting it. I let it come. I feel that pain, but I don’t let it take hold of me.” She paused, her gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath catch. “I let it wash over me, and then I let it go. Because I know that the love I have, the love I’ve lost, it’s all a part of me. And I had the choice to do something good with it.”

Arthur nodded, absorbing her words. “I carry a lot of regret with me,” he admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his past. “I wish I knew how to feel it without it taking hold of me.”

“It’s a form of self-punishment, Arthur,” Kate said softly. “You can either suffer the pain of regret, or learn from your past and move forward from it.”

He looked at her with hopeful eyes, each flicker of self-doubt met with her unwavering reassurance. Her words gave him a sense of peace and clarity he had longed for years. Hearing it from her lips healed something deep within his heart. For the first time, he dared to believe he could move on from his past.

They sat in companionable silence for a bit, the quiet moments filled with a shared understanding that spoke louder than words. Arthur gently brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and Kate responded by peppering a few tender kisses against his rough lips. His troubled memories of loss were met with the warmth of her affection, earning a light smile that softened his features.

“Will you tell me about your son?” she asked suddenly, her voice curious but gentle. She gave him the choice, leaving the door open for him to decide if he wanted to open up.

Arthur took a deep breath, his gaze distant as he collected his thoughts. “Isaac,” he began, his voice wavering slightly. “He was a bright kid, full of curiosity. Always askin’ questions, always wantin’ to learn. Eliza used to say he’d grow up to be a scholar or somethin’.”

Kate listened intently, her heart aching for the pain she could see etched in his eyes. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “He sounds like he was a wonderful boy.”

Arthur nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “He had this smile that could light up a room,” he said, thick with emotion. “Loved animals, just like his old man. I remember one time, he found this injured bird. Brought it home and insisted on takin’ care of it. He and his Ma nursed it back to health, and when it was strong enough to fly, he let it go. He was so proud of himself.” Arthur didn’t mention that he was absent for most of these stories, only knowing the details through Eliza’s letters.

Kate’s eyes shimmered with warmth as she imagined the scene. “He had a kind heart, just like you.”

Arthur chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know ‘bout that, but he was good. Better than I ever was.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Arthur’s words hanging in the air. Kate reached out and gently wiped a single tear from his cheek, her touch tender and comforting. “Thank you for sharing him with me, Arthur. I know how hard it can be to lose a family, and I’m proud of you for how far you’ve come.”

Kate’s words encouraged more silent tears, he quickly wiped them away. Clearing his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. “He was a real good kid. Just wish I had more time with him.”

“I do too, honey.” She said softly, almost motherly. Her thumb tracing his jawline in a comforting gesture.

Arthur breathed deeply, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. “But it helps, talkin’ ‘bout him. Keeps his memory alive.”

Kate nodded, her heart swelling with love for the man beside her. “And I’ll be here, whenever you need to talk about him. Or anything else.”

Arthur leaned in and kissed her softly, his lips conveying the depth of his gratitude and affection. “I’ll remember that, Kate. Thank you.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Later that evening, the newly coupled pair found themselves back in the cozy confines of the little ranch house. The day's labor left them both weary but content. Kate prepared a simple dinner of rice and chicken while Arthur freshened himself up. The aroma of the meal filled the house, mingling with the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. After dinner, they made their way to the bedroom, savoring every moment of their last night together away from the gang, the world of outlaws, and the endless running. For one more night, they were just a couple of simple ranch hands.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt unbuttoned, and the bandage wrap over his shoulder wound removed. He rolled his arm uncomfortably, the day's labor catching up to him, bringing a throbbing sensation and the familiar tingling in his fingers.

“You alright?” Kate asked softly, unplaiting her braids and combing through the locks with her fingers. Her eyes were filled with concern and tenderness.

Arthur nodded wearily, stretching his arm. “M’fine. Just sore. Pain medicine’s wearin’ off.” He gestured to his satchel with a tired smile.

Kate understood and moved to the satchel on the table, searching through its contents to find a tonic for his pain. She grabbed the balm for his wound as well as the little bottle of elixir, but something small and round caught her attention. She pulled out a peach pit and looked at it, confused for a moment, before realization dawned.

“You kept this?” She asked with a light chuckle, holding up the pit. Memories came flooding back from the first night she stayed in camp.

Arthur looked up and smiled, a light blush creeping up his cheeks. “Yeah, your kindness meant a lot to me. I couldn’t throw it away.”

“I never knew you were the sentimental type,” she said, her smile widening as she closed the distance and handed him the small vial. Arthur popped the cap off and downed it in one swig.

Kate opened the salve, gathering it on her fingers before she began to massage it into the flesh of his scar. He moaned softly, closing his eyes as she spread the balm, her fingers working his muscles, squeezing and rubbing his aching body. His hands moved to the back of her thighs, encouraging her to stand between his legs.

“Maybe we can plant it someday,” he said finally. “On our own land.”

Kate giggled softly. “You wanna be a peach farmer now?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with affection.

Arthur opened his eyes and looked up at her, his gaze intense and sincere. “I'll be whatever, s’long as I’m with you.”

Her heart melted at his words and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Arthur. You are sweeter than any peach, you know that?” she murmured, the corners of her lips tugging into a smile.

Arthur suddenly tugged her body down to him, pulling her into his lap. Kate let out a surprised yelp, quickly followed by a delighted laugh. He pulled her into a deep kiss, his large hands roaming her back, snaking their way up her spine and into her hair. She sighed blissfully at his touch, radiating tenderness. His large body was intoxicatingly warm, she could feel the heat of him through the fabric of her clothing.

Their lips met and broke with a light smack sound, engaging in a dance as they explored each other's mouths. An intimate melody of resonant hums and breathless pauses, the quick intakes of air, and the subtle, almost imperceptible sounds of lips moving against each other, slick with desire. Intense and consuming, echoing their fervent connection.

Arthur’s lips were rough yet gentle, filled with a raw passion that matched Kate’s soft and eager ones. Her hand cradled his head, occasionally tugging on his soft hair, eliciting a groan from his throat. Kate swallowed the sounds, their passion heating with each passing moment. The room around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other, in a world where nothing else mattered.

Arthur moaned as Kate's lips moved against his with a fervent urgency. Their kiss deepened, mouths opening to explore each other with wet tongues. They pressed their lips together hard, feeling the heat of their breath mingling. There's a sense of hunger, of wanting to consume and be consumed. A newfound fervor to pull each other close, eliminate any space between them as their two bodies pressed together. Every touch, every movement feels electric.

Kate’s hands began to wander, tracing the contours of his chest and feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. Arthur’s hands were not idle either. They roamed up and down her back, fingers tracing the lines of her spine and the curve of her waist. His touch was gentle yet possessive, as if he couldn’t get enough of feeling her close to him. His fingers played at the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in a swift motion. He ran his hands over her bare skin, marveling at the warmth and strength beneath his touch.

Arthur groaned softly, his head falling back as Kate’s lips left his to trail a line of feather-light kisses down his neck. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled slightly under her touch. Her lips brushed over the pulse point in his throat, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

“Is this alright, Arthur?” Kate whispered against his skin, her voice filled with both desire and concern.

Arthur’s eyes fluttered open, meeting her gaze with a mix of adoration and longing. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice low and husky. “S’more than alright.”

Encouraged by his words, Kate continued her exploration, her lips moving down to his collarbone, then kissing back up the other side of his neck, sucking at the soft skin. The press of her lips sent a shiver down his spine, he felt relaxed and electrified. A deep desire and craving for more. He moaned softly and squeezed her thighs, massaging her flesh.

She could feel the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under her touch, the way his breath came in shallow gasps. Her hands wandered lower, tracing the lines of his abdomen, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the soft skin of his belly. She was grateful his weight returned with his recovery, preferring her lover to be healthy and robust, finding comfort in his solid presence.

Arthur wrapped his good arm under her bottom and suddenly lifted her up, with a gasp she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. Kate's breath hitched as Arthur turned and pressed her into the mattress, his body a warm and comforting weight above her. His lips found hers once more, kissing her deeply, passionately. Their tongues danced together, wet and eager, exploring each other's mouths with a hunger that only seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

She could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh, a hard and undeniable presence that sent a thrill through her entire body. Recalling their previous night, Kate made no move to initiate anything further. Wanting to wait until Arthur felt comfortable and letting him take the lead. She focused instead on the heat of his kisses and the way his hands roamed her body, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through her.

Arthur's lips trailed down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. He reached her chest, his breath hot against her skin as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. Kate moaned, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure washed over her.

“Arthur,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to worship her chest. The sound of his name on her lips, filled with such longing and need, seemed to spur him on. His free hand slid up her side, caressing her soft skin, while his mouth moved from one breast to the other, lavishing equal attention on each.

Kate's breath came in shallow gasps, her hands wandering over Arthur's chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breaths. His fingers traced the curves of her body, sending shivers of delight down her spine. They moved together in a seamless rhythm, each touch and caress deepening their connection.

Arthur's mouth left her breasts, trailing kisses back up to her neck. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. He sucked gently at the soft skin, leaving marks that would remind her of this night for days to come. Kate's moans filled the room, mingling with the sounds of Arthur’s husky groans, creating a symphony of desire and passion.

Their hands continued to explore, each touch a promise of more to come. Kate's fingers traced the lines of his abdomen, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. Arthur's hands roamed her body, squeezing her thighs and massaging her flesh, his touch gentle and possessive.

Despite the intensity of their passion, Kate could sense the restraint in Arthur, the way he held back, unsure of how far he could go. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her eyes meeting his with a look of understanding and reassurance. “We don’t have to take it farther, honey,” she whispered against his lips. “I could lay here just like this, all night long.”

Arthur nodded with a smile, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. “Thank you,” he murmured, capturing her lips once more in a kiss that spoke of all the things he couldn't yet put into words. His hand slipped back under her, lifting her slightly to deepen the kiss, their bodies pressed together in a perfect fit.

Kate's heart swelled with love and desire, each touch, each kiss, strengthening the bond between them. As they continued to make out, she could feel the barriers between them dissolving, replaced by a deep and abiding connection that would see them through whatever challenges lay ahead.

They kissed and touched, their passion growing with each passing moment, yet always careful, always mindful of Arthur’s comfort. Inside the little ranch house, all was calm, a sanctuary of love and desire, where they could be themselves, free from the burdens of the past and the uncertainties of the future.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally pulled away, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Their lips swollen and red, soft pink bruises marred the exposed skin. A sign of their heated passion where lips met the sensitive flesh.

Arthur rested his forehead against Kate’s, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his jaw. “I’m going to miss this,” she whispered, her voice filled with a bittersweet longing.

Arthur's brow furrowed slightly. “Miss what darlin’?”

“This,” she said, gesturing to the space around them. “Being here, just the two of us. Away from everything.”

Her words were vague but Arthur understood what everything meant. The chaos that was his life back in the gang, his role as Dutch’s right-hand, and most importantly his title as an outlaw.

Arthur's expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. “Sweetheart, you know I—” he began, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. “I wish things were different. But the gang is the only family I have.” He spoke. Arthur longed for the same dream, a simple quiet life. But there were certain duties he needed to uphold, people that he couldn't abandon.

Kate nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. “I know, honey. Trust me, I know. You would kill for them and you would happily die for them. I just hope that you will choose to live, for me too.”

Arthur's eyes darkened with emotion, his hand tightening around her waist and pulling her close to his chest. “Kate, you mean more to me than you'll ever know.” He breathed against her skin. “I promise you, I'll do my best to make it through this. For us.” The words came out with such intensity it may as well have been a vow.

Kate smiled softly, her heart aching with love for the man in front of her. She knew the path ahead would be fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she also knew that together, they could stand unshaken. “I believe you, Arthur,” she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The first light of dawn crept into the room, casting a gentle glow over Arthur and Kate as they lay entwined in the warm embrace of their shared dreams. Arthur stirred first, blinking against the soft light, a peaceful expression settling over his features as he admired the sleeping woman beside him. Kate woke soon after, her fingers brushing tenderly against his cheek as she whispered, “Time to get up, love.”

They rose together, the intimacy of the previous night lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. With a shared glance and a soft kiss, they began their morning routine, dressing quickly and heading outside to greet the day. The ranch was bathed in the golden light of early morning, the dew on the grass shimmering like a thousand tiny diamonds.

Arthur and Kate worked in quiet harmony, cleaning up the barn and ensuring everything was in order for Seamus and his family. Arthur mucked out the stalls, his muscles straining but his heart light, while Kate fed the animals and refilled their water troughs. The work was satisfying, grounding them in the simplicity of ranch life and the shared purpose they found in each other.

As the sun climbed higher, a cloud of dust appeared on the horizon, signaling the return of Seamus and his family. Kate wiped her brow with the back of her hand, glancing at Arthur with a smile. “Looks like they’re back.”

Arthur nodded, leaning against the stall door as they watched the wagon approach. Seamus jumped down, a wide grin spreading across his weathered face as he spotted the two of them. “Kate! Good to see you. How’d it go?”

Kate stepped forward, her smile warm and welcoming. “Went just fine, Seamus. Dolly gave birth to a beautiful colt. We named him Huckleberry.”

Seamus’s eyes lit up with delight. “Well, I’ll be! That’s wonderful news. Thank you both for taking such good care of the place.”

Arthur tipped his hat, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Was our pleasure, Seamus.”

Seamus clapped Arthur on the shoulder, his gratitude evident in his eyes. “You two are welcome here anytime. Don’t be strangers, you hear?”

After exchanging a few more words and ensuring everything was in order, Arthur and Kate made their way to the hitching post where Lorena awaited them. Arthur saddled her up, the familiar motions bringing a sense of calm and purpose. Kate stood by, her hand resting gently on Lorena’s neck.

Once Lorena was ready, Arthur swung up into the saddle, then reached down to help Kate up behind him. She settled in, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back. With a gentle nudge, Arthur urged Lorena forward, the horse moving with a graceful ease as they left the ranch behind.

As they rode together back to Clemens Point, the weight of their recent confessions lingered in the air, a tangible presence between them. The steady rhythm of Lorena's hooves was the only sound, a soothing backdrop to their thoughts. The camp was not far off now, the familiar landscape bringing with it a sense of impending reality.

Kate broke the silence, her voice uncertain yet curious. "What do you wanna tell the others?"

Arthur's response was gentle and kind. "Whatever makes you comfortable sweetheart. But if you plan on hidin’ it, just know nothin’ gets past those girls,” he chuckled. “John too."

Kate knew the women in camp were incredibly perceptive. They spent their days in close quarters, becoming experts at eavesdropping and reading the silent language of the other camp members. But John surprised her. "John too, huh? Didn’t strike me as the observant type."

Arthur's gaze was fixed on the path ahead as he spoke. "Well, he’s not. But he knows me pretty well, sometimes too well. Can’t blame him though, we were practically raised together.” His voice carried a hint of nostalgia. “But he knows how to keep his mouth shut. If not, I’ll just shut it for him." He added, Kate chuckled lightly. Imagining the banter between the two brothers.

After a moment of silence, Kate hesitated before speaking again. "You know,” she began. Her tone was cautious. “John told me he got a lead on them O’Driscoll boys. Says he wants to form a posse and go after them for what they did to you."

Arthur's jaw tightened, and frustration crept into his voice. "Then he’s a goddamn fool. No sense in takin’ revenge for my sake. Does Dutch know this?"

"Most likely not," Kate admitted. "Dutch told me he had a plan a while back when you had the fever. But you know how that goes. John mentioned it to me the other night ‘round the fire. Sounds like he’s got a decent lead to get a jump on them."

Arthur's tone grew darker, his concern palpable. "Kate, revenge is a fool’s game. I’ve seen it kill too many folk. Promise me you won’t get swept up in that mess."

A fierce determination sparked in Kate’s eyes. "Those men deserve hellfire for what they did to you, Arthur." Her vow to cease taking another person’s life lingered in the back of her mind, but all of that changed the day she protected the Marston’s wagon from the raiders. The thrill of the fight no longer brought her joy, but she understood the dangerous reality of life within the gang. When push came to shove, she would have to kill out of necessity. Arthur’s captors may not be a necessity, but the thought of them almost taking him from her ignited a deep-seated rage within her, like a coyote in the night waiting for the right moment to strike its prey.

Arthur sighed, his grip on the reins tightening. "I’m sure the families of the men I’ve killed said the same ‘bout me. But you know what happens when they come to get revenge? They end up dead," he said gravely. "By my hand," he added bitterly.

Kate’s resolve wavered, her voice softening. "I know, but Arthur—"

Arthur cut her off, his voice firm and unyielding. "Enough. Promise me you won’t go with him, Kate."

The weight of his words settled heavily in the air. Kate could feel the depth of his fear, the terror of losing her to the same fate he had narrowly escaped. She took a deep breath, her voice steady. "I promise, Arthur."

As they approached Clemens Point, a mix of emotions swirled within Kate. She felt a deep sense of relief and happiness knowing that she and Arthur were finally together, bound by their shared understanding and the thread of fate. Yet, a shadow of uncertainty lingered, aware that Arthur would soon plunge back into the perilous abyss of whatever schemes Dutch had conjured. The ever-present threat of danger felt closer than ever, a dark specter gnawing at the edges of her heart. The thought of him stepping back into harm’s embrace sent shivers down her spine. Despite this, she clung to the hope that their love would be the anchor to keep them grounded amidst the chaos, giving her strength to face whatever lay ahead.

~~~

A/N: uh ohhhh is there some foreshadowing here at the end? I won't say. But things are gonna start picking up pace again and I'll be returning to the game plot in the next chapter. Their lives are about to get a little crazy! Sorry if I bore anyone with these filler-chapters but I needed a break after what happened w/ Arthur's torture....and I wanted them to get their feelings out there in a safe space away from all the camp nonsense. I think they had a good time wouldn't you say? As always thanks for reading!!!! <3

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