#the whole “who cares if you made another tall x short or angry x sunshine dynamic!

[esteebarnes94]

I never really got the whole complaining about something being made that's already been done a bunch of times. Like, tropes and themes and aesthetics and all that. Because as long as it's being done respectfully and whatnot, what's the problem? Like, yeah, you're under no obligation to like, like, a 1980s-set slasher film or whatever, but I don't get all the mocking and stuff.

[remsmoonlight]

— title : i need you

— word count : 2.1k words

— pairing : ryuji goda x reader

— summary : convincing ryuji of doing the opposite of what he’s set out to do is a pointless task, yet you will attempt if it gives him even one more day.

— warnings : blood, mentions of violence, some swearing, mentions of imagining of death, angst

notes : inspired by a prompt from here .. i had to do a self indulgent thingy for tumblr .. because why did they have to kill him off like that .. i tried to be dramatic as i possibly could

" none of this would've happened if you had just listened! "

A muffled silence drowns your hearing, the spinning of the Earth decelerates until it feels little more than a crawl with a weak grip. Rough cement scrapes the smoothness of your knee, leaving an angry blemish as grit fights to find its way into your bleeding wounds. No graze can pull you out of the deep end your heart finds itself fighting to stay above of, as you witness your worst fear painted perfectly on a canvas steeped in blood. The stillness of the air leaves you feeling flustered as your mind tries to make sense of what it observes before it, hoping that it’s no more than a deceptive trick played on itself by the fear you felt as you made your way up the tall structure.

A romantic thread of words have never failed in supply, but words left unsaid threaten to crush you under their weight, lost moments to time. A shudder of a breath shakily is let out, the cold air kick starts your body as you push yourself up and scramble to where the battered and bloodied body of Ryuji lays, almost motionless in pain. A childish cry to wake up from this nightmare is all you can think of, but reality does not bend to the whims of humanity, it continues with the path it has set. Resentfully, you can see the similarity that it shares with the male.

“ none of this would've happened if you had just listened! “ A broken cry full of fiery misery lick at the delicate snowflakes that descend from the heavens with a short lived grace, full of threats to burn as they penetrate your space.

The shock of the vibrancy of the liquid that escapes Ryuji leaves time standing still, you care not however, your fingertips gripping a heavy shoulder as the other lends a gentle touch to his cheek. Pain and grief masks itself as anger. You sorely wish to blame someone or something, but you had warned him.. You’d tried to reason with him that this course he’d set would leave him chasing an unattainable taste of sweetness of satisfaction that would dull with each day that dawns. A strong will that had left you in an addictive awe leaves you with a decaying taste in your mouth now, it creates an impossible amount of scars on your soul.

“ ‘Guess I should’a listened to ‘ya after all. “ He reluctantly answers, the humour unable to battle the drain out of his voice completely.

“ Why couldn’t you have just let this lie? “ A ticking pulls your attention away for a fraction of a passing second, a groan causes you to turn back.

“ Was always gonna end this way. “

A weakened grip that belongs to Ryuji ignores the resistance from his body, enduring the pain from the movement in order to experience skin against skin contact for himself once more. He wishes he could have found it within himself to have turned left, but he’d have lost himself without this self imposed purpose, fading into the background. It was selfish, to bring you into his world.. But to him? You’re an unfinished book, your words inked with glittering star dust that etch themselves into existence. He was unable to tear him away from your pages that you may have worn like wings. Selfish. To know how his story would end, yet knowing he would not be around for yours.

“ No. “ Your lips close, pushing against each other to numb the other, your features twisting into an aching grimace.

“ Can’t stop it now. “ he insists, brows drawing together as he scrunches his eyes up from the agony that throbs through every inch of flesh. “ Shit’s set in stone now. “

“ Stop it! “ You sob, hating how vulnerable you sound.

There is a sorrowful beauty in the scene, notes Ryuji. Pale beams of moonlight triumphant until the point of reaching your body that blocks it. Leaving no more than a radiant glow surrounding your head, providing an inhuman glow that illuminates your body as much as your soul — a wistful image that he’s glad to witness once more. Your being here is something of a majestic collision into a door to his person he’d fought to keep locked, if this is a departing gift he would gladly take it. He’d thought the last time he saw you would be when he unwillingly shared his plan, should this ending occur, he could take comfort in there not being a picture of you waiting at the door waiting for the other half of you to walk through the door, only to be met with a crushing realisation of never seeing him again. Only, he’d not expected you to follow in his tracks, not after he’s ignored your pleas of turning away from this path.

“ Ya better get outta here, ‘place is gonna blow soon. “

“ Not without you. “ you argue, refusing his direction — your grip strengthens ever so slightly, fearing the winter breeze has the power to boldly grow and tear you away from the man.

“ Ya got’a whole life ahead of ya. “ A twist of his heart is the dominant sensation he notices at the thought.

He wishes he could be there for it, to see the petals of your success bloom in the depths of your determination. One thing he could never understand was how, despite the tainted reputation that follows him like a shadow, never had been enough to put you off. Not a criminal tie to your name and you voluntarily merged your time and energy with his, with little care. Perhaps that’s where an addiction to his selfishness began. All his life and his Yakuza connections secluded him from genuine human connections and you’d trampled all over that with your impartial view. Many would prefer to cower in their fear, you’d scratched past the surface to see who he could be capable of being.

All the time spent together, and yet he still craves more. To linger in your orbit, time is his nemesis — for he still feels as if there has not been enough. Not the hours spent with the sun setting and you’re there by his side, when he’d spent more time committing the wonder at such a simple thing to his memory. Not the darkened hours spent together surrounded by silken sheets, and all that graced his ears was a musical symphony of breathy moans as you set about learning each other’s bodies. Never were the hours spent talking in order to hear the passion in your voice when speaking about something that interests you enough for him.

“ You can’t do this. “ You whimper softly, almost looking through the man you hold close. “ You can’t come into someone’s life, you can’t make them care about you and leave just because you want to. What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to sit by and let you do this? “

He says nothing, leaving space for a groan of pain to leave his lips as he tips his head back. He’s met with a darkened blanket where millions of stars are scattered so ungracefully, yet do not collide an uncoordinated dance across the sky. Uncertainty overwhelms him, over that is causing more pain — the wounds or the grief in your every word.

“ Just get the fuck outta here already. “ His voice echoes across the large space as he turns his attention back to you.

“ Were you lying all that time? “ You ask with a trembling lip at the thought of being without.

It feels like an endless amount of early mornings had been spent planning and chattering about the most random things. Your mind lighting up with the power of a thousand suns before the world had awoken around you. You can’t pinpoint the moment it happened, but the two of you awoke a little earlier than necessary to bathe in the image of the other — to forge a most perfect illusion of normalcy before stepping out into the real world. Mornings were not your most happiest bedfellow, yet you’d grown to love them just a little more when waking to the most simplest treat to sweeten your tongue.

“ What ya on about? “

“ All that time when we were talking, about what we were going to do? What we could do? ”

“ Why ya going on about that ? “ He asks curiously, eyeing you as you speak.

“ If you die, how are we meant to do any of it? “ Your words are rushed as you question him plainly.

“ Yer gonna .. just won’t be with me. “ Colour from the world feels as if it’s fading, merging into one bland monochrome depiction of a bright, bubbling city.

“ Can you stop?! “ A frustrated shriek tears from the bottom of your throat in response. “ I’m done talking in circles, I’m not dying here and neither are you. If I have to, I will drag you out with me. “

The world pauses in shock for a quiet fraction of a minute. To be spoken to in such a manner is not something Ryuji has experienced much in his life, even rarer by you — words that fell from your lips are always bathed in the sweetness of sugar, not an ounce of poison to anyone. Even the individuals who drew your temper out of its sleep were met with an incredible amount of restraint, he can hear the desperation — acting as a bucket of ice water to shock his nerve endings from the low temperature.

“ You did what you had to do. It wasn’t meant to be, but you can find another purpose. Build something else with your life, just.. Just come with me. Please. “

To be responsible for dragging you down with him, away from providing the world with your bright rays of sunshine in the bland day to day lives of everyone you came into contact with weighs heavily on his chest. Extra time spent with you, perhaps getting to know who his little sister has become are the treats tied onto a stick in front of him, life’s cruel bribe. He’d imagined how his ending would have been sketched by above, yet to have ties keeping him there had not been what he would have included. If he couldn’t be the one dragon, this would be a consolation prize that would allow for the petals of peace to bloom before he’d tear them down once more.

A strength he’d thought abandoned him glows with a dull hue, for a minute, he contemplates using that for Kiryu. Yet the other half of his soul wins the battle, a hand of his reaches out to push himself off from the concrete. It’s not an easy feat after being battered more than once, yet it’s not half as arduous as it could be with you supporting his weight — he’s fully aware how much of your strength he is using from your audible gasps of air.

“ Ya don’t gotta yell at me. “ he complains softly as he grips his side with as much force as he can dedicate to.

“ I don’t think it’s the time for this. “ You argue back quickly.

“ The red one. “

“ Huh? “ The sound escapes you as your features turn into a frown over how to get away from the ticking time bomb fast enough.

“ The lift, to get down. Press th’red one. “ He instructs you with a finger barely lifted, pointing in the direction of the button behind you.

You say nothing in response, the wheels in your mind working faster than your body as it moves purely on an instinctive reaction when receiving messages from your brain. Your stomach twists and turns from the descent to below, unable to process the way the city shifts into a state of obscurity from the swift movement. It would be a beautiful sight if it hadn’t attached a violent night as a parting gift.

“ You really scared me up there. “ You confess with barely a whisper. “ Can you promise me something? “

“ What’s that? “

“ That you won’t do something like this again. “ You say, with your heart hoping that he’d shy away from an impossible task should it present itself. Your eyes had seen enough hurt for one night, you’re confident you’d not be able to withstand it once more.

“ Wish I could. “

Teeth grind against the bottom of your lip, you should have known that he wouldn’t. Yet you also cannot find the strength to tear yourself away from the fire that burns within him, like a moth to a flame, you find yourself wondering how close you can stand against the heat before you flee from the pain it brings.

[jornthur]

“Unshaken” Chapter 10

Originally posted: June 8, 2020

Arthur Morgan x Reader, Slow-Burn Romance

Summary: You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

•••••

The first mile was peaceful, and Arthur looked around as the wagon strolled down a narrow dirt path through the thick forest. The trees were tall, the hilly landscape like the huge waves of the ocean. His heart almost skipped a beat when he recalled those monstrous walls of water when he was on board that ship. Never again was he ever going on another damn boat as long as he lived.

He took in a deep breath, the smell and feel of the fresh forest air overcoming and relaxing his senses. It felt so good to be out in the wild again, he had to admit. He’d actually found himself missing the familiar scent of wilderness, reminding him of all those nights when he’d been out on his own, hunting, camping, whatever the hell he felt like doing.

Arthur almost laughed to himself then.

He was still here … still alive … still breathing … And the rest of the world believed he was dead, including his old friends — or what was left of them. Anger began to simmer deep within his gut at the thought of Dutch, Micah’s betrayal, what they’d done to him and John, the rest of the gang. He squeezed his eyes shut, lifting his hand to tug at the brim of his new hat, trying to find comfort in the new gift. All he could tell himself was that Marston was safe. The boy was an idiot, sure, but when it came to his family and their safety, Arthur knew nothing would stand in John’s way.

A gentle gust of wind hit him, blowing back his hair and cooling what little heat had begun to grow in his cheeks from the anger he felt. Arthur let out a sigh, allowing the cool feeling to seep into his skin. Looking around, he took in the surrounding views. He knew he was somewhere far north of Roanoke Ridge, but he’d never been up this far before Y/N and Austin had taken him in.

The place was beautiful, he thought, taking in the towering trees around them. He’d learned a few interesting terms from Y/N’s herbalist books. He’d been drawn to those bookshelves of hers many times while he’d been cooped up in that cabin, if only to avoid dying from boredom rather than Tuberculosis. Turned out he’d ended up drawn to the knowledge.

There were so many kinds of trees he could now identify— Spruce, Cedars, Pines, Oaks, and very many Sequoia trees. These trees were extremely tall, forming a thick canopy of leaves far overhead, the sunshine piercing through them in rays, hitting the ground with glowing warm light.

The air smelled so fresh as well, and Arthur took in another deep breath, relishing the real cool feeling in his lungs and the fresh and unique smells around him. There was so much plant life growing up here, all kinds of colorful flowers and foliage dotting the thick green grass everywhere. Damn, this area was gorgeous.

Arthur reached up again and stroked the feather on his hat gently, the bristles soft as, well, a feather. He gripped the crown and took the hat off, lowering it to his lap so he could examine it further. The black leather was worn, but genuine, and he could tell it was made from real cowhide, examining the hundreds of skin pores scattered all over. He ran a finger over the brown braided leather tied around the crown of the hat, similar to how his father’s hat had the looped rope. The texture was rough, but also soft, little furs sticking up here and there from years of use.

Then Arthur looked at the feather, and he squinted, his brows drawing down tight as he stroked the thing with the tip of his finger. It was that of a great-horned owl, a primary feather from the wing, the black and gold colored stripes giving away its identity. He wondered, then … why an owl feather? Maybe it was just something her grandfather hadn’t thought much about, but sometimes a certain kind of bird feather in a cowboy’s hat had a meaning behind it.

Thinking back, he recalled Y/N telling him that her grandfather hadn’t lived ‘the best life.’ That he’d been some kind of wanderer. Arthur found himself being curious as to what exactly she had meant. A wanderer?

What kind of life had the old man lived that had her hesitating to tell him the whole story? And what of the feather?

A cough escaped him, and he lifted a had to cover his mouth, clearing his throat then.

Austin looked over at him with curious eyes, “You alright, cowpoke?”

Arthur couldn’t help but give a small smile as he turned his head to face the young man, narrowing his eyes at him, “I’m just fine, little feller, how ’bout yourself?”

The brother narrowed his eyes in return, showing that he was clearly offended by the term Arthur had used on him, “I ain’t ‘little.’”

Arthur laughed, “Why, sure you is, little feller. As long as you call me a cowpoke, I’ll keep callin’ you little. Sound fair?”

Austin grunted, “Not really.” He reached up to scratch at his cheek, then added, “But you kinda do strike me as a cowpoke.”

“Well, you strike me as little, boah,” Arthur said with a grin, his voice a low rough tone as he patted his chest with an open palm, “And it’ll be much worse if you ain’t careful, son.”

Austin grunted, letting out a huff as if he wasn’t amused with Arthur’s teasing in the least.

Several more moments of silence passed, and Arthur gently placed the hat back on his head.

“So she decided to give you our grandfather’s hat, huh?” Austin asked, his voice sounding a bit sour as he cracked the reins again.

Arthur looked over at him, noting the expression the boy had on his face. He didn’t look angry, exactly, but from his eyes Arthur could tell there was some kind of story. “What do you mean?” He asked.

Austin let out a long sigh, “Well, I know she told you it belonged to our grandfather, and he weren’t the best man when he was alive. I never wanted to touch the damn thing after he died.” He lifted his eyes to meet Arthur’s, “Kinda feels weird that you’re wearin’ it, s’all.”

Arthur took that moment as a chance to find out what he could, maybe the brother could give him some of the information he’d been wondering about. “Who was he?”

Austin let out a sarcastic laugh, “I don’t think that’s for me to say. If she didn’t tell you, I don’t think I should be the one to do so.”

Arthur’s natural instinct would’ve been to reach out and choke the bastard to get the information he wanted. It was a feeling he was used to whenever assholes gave him a hard time, but he could respect the brother for looking after his sister.

Another curious thought occurred to him then, and he couldn’t help but ask, “What were y’all doin’ before you found me up on that mountain?”

He could see Austin freeze up at the question, and the young man turned his gaze over to look at him, “You mean that night? We were travelin’ back from Emerald Ranch. Y/N needed to do a trade for some of the supplies we needed for the horses. We have a few contacts scattered here and there for supplies we need that we can’t get up here, and sometimes we need to travel a ways to get them.

“We were supposed to arrive home sometime in the late evening, but we ran into this strange man on the road. He looked odd, short gray dreads, green bandana around his head, weird old clothing. Said his name was William.”

Arthur stilled at that.

“But anyhow,” Austin continued, not noticing that Arthur had suddenly froze, “he was camping out on the side of the road near Moonstone Pond, and he had all these strange plants he seemed to be workin’ with. Of course, it grabbed Y/N’s attention and he invited us over, so she and I stopped to chat with him for a while.” Austin chuckled as he recalled the memory, “What was supposed to be a small chat ended up bein’ a two-hour conversation. I didn’t really listen to what they were sayin’ since I was wrapped up in a book I’ve been readin’. Eventually I had to pull her away since it was gettin’ late.

“When we were just about to leave, she mentioned a special plant that grew over by O’Creagh’s Run, must’ve been somethin’ they were talkin’ about earlier. I was about to say no, but she gave me this look. She has this thing that she does with her eyes, drives me crazy ’cuz I can’t turn her down when she does it.

“So we headed over there, and I stopped the wagon by the small lake so she could explore the area. I just hung out under a tree with my book to pass the time … That’s when we heard the sounds.”

Arthur lifted his head and narrowed his eyes, “Sounds?”

“Gunshots, shoutin’ — We was goin’ to leave the area as quickly as possible, but — well, Y/N could hear the struggles, fighting, a man in pain, and she couldn’t stop herself.” Austin paused, as if he were deep in thought, “We saw someone runnin’ away from the mountain before they disappeared into the trees. I didn’t really get a good look at the man, but it looked like he had dirty, long blonde hair … someone you knew?”

The fury that suddenly welled in Arthur’s chest didn’t surprise him in the least damn bit.

Micah.

That damned rat.

The rat that weaseled his way in and ultimately destroyed the Van Der Linde gang in such a short amount of time.

Twenty goddamned years of loyalty and service to Dutch, and the old fool had decided to listen and believe someone who’d just joined the gang not half a year ago, a man who’d only been out for himself in the end … Just like Dutch …

“Arthur?”

Austin’s voice interrupted Arthur’s thoughts and snapped him back to reality. “Yeah, sorry ’bout that, kid. Just thinkin’.”

Austin seemed to have picked up on Arthur’s mood, no doubt from the gravel Arthur felt in his throat from the emotion that had just been about to take him over. He couldn’t dwell on such things, not right now. What good did it do?

At that moment another thought occurred to him, “You didn’t want Y/N takin’ me in, did you?” He stated it as fact since he knew the answer, but he found himself wanting to hear what Austin’s response would be.

The boy chuckled darkly, looking straight ahead at the narrow dirt trail. “Honestly, when we heard the gunshots, I thought it was going to be a trap, an ambush of some kind. But Y/N … When we reached that mountain and found you laying on that rock, it was like she didn’t care about anythin’ else in the world but you.” He cleared his throat, “The whole time I was worried that she was going to get herself killed, being so close to a stranger. I feared that something terrible would happen, like you would have a knife hidden on you, or a friend of yours would come leaping out of a hiding spot and shoot her dead.” Austin lowered his head, looking down at his lap as if lost in thought, “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what I would’ve done had that been the case. Y/N is my whole world right now, and she matters to me more than anythin’ else in my pathetic life.”

Arthur’s eyes softened, almost finding himself sympathizing with the poor boy, but he continued to listen.

“When she insisted on taking you to our cabin, I nearly lost it. Watching her take you in and nurse you back to health every day, I couldn’t help but fear for the worst. I still thought you had something evil planned. Some monsters would go to any length to take advantage and trick people like us to get what they want, even if it’s hurtin’ one of their own.”

The boy was smart, Arthur admitted to himself. There were definitely men like that out there, and he should damn well know.

“But when she mentioned you had Tuberculosis, and I began seeing the signs from you, how truly sick you were — I guess … Well, I guess I noticed how stupid I was bein’ at that point — but I was too proud to admit it.

“After you showed your skills with the gun, I realized you could’ve killed us both whenever you wanted long before that point. The thought was scary, of course, but finally seeing that all you needed was a gun or your bare hands to take us both out and you never did? Well, I guess you can say my stupidity wore off a lil’ bit at that point.”

Arthur grinned, amused with Austin’s confession at how much of an idiot he had been for all the trouble he’d given him.

But could he fully blame Austin? The boy was just looking after his sister, and Arthur couldn’t do nothing but respect him for it. “Don’t hurt yourself too much over it, boah. You’re just lookin’ after her, I understand. In fact,” he leaned back and rolled his shoulders, stretching out the tension in his back, “I kinda like that.”

Austin acknowledged his statement with a small nod and a smile. “I love her, I really do. She’s family, and the most wonderful person I know.” He narrowed his eyes at Arthur and teased, “If you ever hurt her, though, I’ll make sure to shoot you square in the chest, got it?”

Arthur threw back his head and laughed at the threat, “If you say so. But don’t you worry — I ain’t got plans for that.” The fact that the young man had the courage to actually threaten him was truly entertaining, and Arthur couldn’t help but note how much smaller the man actually was compared to him. Arthur had a good six inches on him in height, and a whole lot more muscle, despite the fact that he was still sick. The boy worked hard, but they clearly didn’t eat enough for him to gain a whole lot of meat on his bones. He was about as contrasted as he could be compared to Arthur.

He was grateful Austin had finally swallowed his pride down enough in order to ask him how to hunt. They truly did need it, and he would do his best to teach them. It was the least he could do for him and his sister after everything they’d done for him.

The next several moments were quiet, minus the sound of Lily’s hooves hitting the ground and the tittering of birds high up in the trees.

“So what’s it like livin’ up here?” Arthur asked. “It don’t seem too bad.”

“It ain’t,” Austin replied with a shrug, “It was tough for the first few months, but we managed. Built ourselves a camp, then eventually built ourselves a cabin — then the stables for the horses and other animals.” He cleared his throat, “Of course it’s been hard, what with my lack of huntin’ skills, but Y/N absolutely loves it. She enjoys bein’ surrounded by all the wildlife and plants.”

Arthur found himself suddenly more invested, wanting to know more about Y/N and her passions. “And her garden?”

“She’s been in love with flowers since she was a tiny thing. When we came up here, she brought a few supplies that belonged to our mother, and she got to work on that garden right away.” He let out a small laugh, “What started as a small batch of flowers and herbs turned into a small estate of all kinds of plants. She’s been finding different herbs all over the place and replanting them here for the past three years. Every month it gets larger and larger. I’ll admit, it looks pretty damn beautiful.”

Arthur grinned. “That is does,” he agreed with a nod. It did indeed, Y/N’s garden was a pretty good size, and the colorful shrubbery was a marvel to look at, truthfully. He’d been able to see it out through one of the windows as he’d been recovering on that couch all that time …

“So how are you feeling, Arthur?” Austin asked, breaking the silence.

Arthur turned his head to look at him, “What?”

Austin lifted a hand to point at his chest, “Your TB, you were coughing a bit earlier, just checking to see how you’re feelin’ now?”

Arthur rubbed his own palm over his chest, “I’m just fine, you’re sister’s got some healin’ magic goin’ on with those herbs of hers.”

The boy’s laugh was loud and sharp, “Y/N has a talent with nature, that’s for damn sure. I swear she may be Mother Nature herself.”

The two men’s laughter echoed through the trees as they travelled further down the trail. A squirrel skittered across the ground, and Arthur watched it disappear into the thick foliage on the other side.

More time passed, until finally they reached a small clearing. Arthur lifted his finger to point over to a small grassy area. “That’s a good spot to start.”

Austin pulled back the reins until Lily stopped, bringing the wagon to a halt. He looked over to where he was pointing and lifted a brow, “Really? Doesn’t seem like the kind of spot wildlife would be, it’s too open.”

Arthur gave him a bewildered look. “Wildlife don’t always need to be in a particular spot in order for you to track ’em, Austin.” He said, his drawl annoyed, letting the young man know through his tone that what Austin had stated was completely idiotic. He got up and climbed down out of the wagon, walking towards the small patch, “This area’s got plenty of plant-life, tellin’ you it’s a good spot to start pickin’ up trails.” He narrowed his eyes as he placed his hands on his belt, turning his head as he took in the surrounding forest. “It’s perfect for grazin’, plenty of cover ’round here if they need it.”

Austin crawled out of the wagon, grabbing his carbine repeater. It was smart — even though they didn’t need it for killing today, it was better to be safe than get caught off-guard by any wild predators. He walked over to Arthur, and Arthur began walking slowly across the grass, looking down to examine the dirt. “Now whatchu wanna do is look for any signs, footprints, fur, dung, broken branches and whatnot.” He took several steps forward, crouching low so he could see better.

Austin did the same, crouching to help look around for anything they could pick up. “So look for those things, got it.” He said, crawling low to the ground.

“You also wanna be quiet as possible, don’t wanna draw any attention towards yourself or you’ll scare off anythin’ nearby. Same thing can be said about your gun.” Arthur looked over his shoulder at him, “You ever use a bow before, boah?”

Austin shook his head, “Only a couple times when I was young. We got one up by the cabin stored in the shed. Another thing that belonged to our grandfather, but I never touched the damned thing.”

Arthur huffed, amused at the other man’s stubborn nature. “It’s a useful weapon, kid, it can be used to make quiet kills so you don’t frighten off any wildlife in the near vicinity.”

The young man just let out a grunt, “I ain’t touchin’ that thing.”

Arthur just shrugged at the boy’s pride, “Up to you, but I highly suggest you start learnin’ how to use it.”

Over the next several minutes, they examined the grounds, both of them crawling quietly through the tall grass.

“Arthur?”

Austin’s whispered voice reached Arthur’s ear, and he turned to see him waving his arm, gesturing for him to come over. He made his way over, and once he was beside Austin the kid pointed at a few small hoof prints in the soil. He smiled, “Good job there, feller, now see if you can follow them.”

The boy nodded and did just that. Over the next half hour, Arthur continued to help him by pointing out other signs, such as crushed grass, a couple broken branches, and bits of fur here and there. The last sign was several strange marks on one of the trees twenty yards away. ‘Tree rubs,’ of course.

“This way,” Arthur whispered, leading them quietly through a few tall bushes.

Finally they reached a new wide-open clearing. This one had a small pond directly in the center, and in the distance, Arthur spotted the white-tailed buck grazing on some of the lush green grass at its feet.

For a moment, Arthur froze, recalling all the dreams he’d been having. The buck looked so similar to the one in his dreams; the size, the coat, the large antlers it displayed. Every single detail was precise.

Austin sat beside him, and Arthur felt rather than heard the boy lifting his gun.

At that moment, a doe and two young fawns appeared from behind one of the large boulders, the three of them approaching the large buck.

Arthur grabbed the barrel of the gun before Austin could aim the thing.

He watched as the doe came over to the buck with the two young close behind her, and the creatures nuzzled each other lovingly.

It was a sight that Arthur found himself lost in, and he couldn’t help but think of his own family, what was, what could have been, what might have been … If he’d only chosen a different life for himself …

What the hell was wrong with him?

“What the hell are you doin’, Arthur?”

Austin’s voice echoed his thoughts, snapping him back out from his mind. Arthur cleared his throat, “Let’s leave ’em be, kid.” He was going to leave it at that, but then he added “We promised Y/N, remember? Just trackin’.”

Austin gave him a strange look, but after a couple of moments he seemed to decide not to argue with him. “So what now?”

Arthur gazed at the family of deer a few seconds longer, then he flicked his gaze over to Austin, “I don’t know. I reckon we should head on back,” he turned to face the younger man, “You suppose your ready to travel back?”

Again with that strange look, what the hell was Austin seeing? Had Arthur suddenly grown his own pair of antlers? What was running through that boy’s mind?

Finally, he answered, “I guess so, I think I learned plenty today.” They both stood quietly and started heading back towards the wagon. Austin tucked the gun strap over his shoulder, reaching up to scratch at his cheek again. “I’ll admit that was actually quite fun. Thanks, Arthur. You’re a pretty great tracker, in all honesty.”

The compliment felt strange, Arthur thought, especially coming from Austin of all people, but he supposed he would take it. The boy was grateful, having learned something that would be incredibly useful for him and his sister when it came to their survival. “It ain’t no cake walk after this, boah. We still got a long way to go, trackin’ requires a lot of patience — an eagle’s eye.”

Austin nodded, giving him a small smile, “I suppose that makes sense. A lot of patience — kinda like fishin’?”

Arthur let out a genuine laugh at that, “I guess you’re right.”

2 Weeks Later …

Birds tittered high up in the trees, singing there own unique songs as the sun’s rays bore down on your back. The weather was absolutely gorgeous today, you thought to yourself as you knelt in your garden. You were in a cheery mood, humming softly as you pruned several of the herbs and flowers. You looked over your shoulder to see that Arthur was still relaxing on the porch swing, working on something in his journal. Writing or drawing? You had no clue, but you were going to leave him to his privacy.

The last two weeks had been quite the ride.

Arthur’s body was improving, his skin and muscles filling back out with each passing week. Even though his blood still showed signs of leftover Tuberculosis bacteria, it was clear his body was slowly but successfully fighting it off. You continued to give him treatments every other day, and he still took daily doses of honey per your instructions.

But despite the fact his body was getting better physically, you knew the herbs and medication still had a large impact on both his physical and mental state, so you still urged him to be cautious with his actions so that he didn’t overwork himself too much. It was crucial for him to stay in a calm state so his mind and body wouldn’t somehow become unstable.

He’d been sleeping a lot better. Every night you woke up to check on him, and Arthur was sleeping peacefully every time. Truly, it made you happy to see him so relaxed now. Ever since you’d sung that lullaby for him so many nights ago, that nightmare of his hadn’t seemed to come back. Though you still wondered who this John was, no matter how much it bothered you, you didn’t want to risk bringing anymore pain to Arthur.

For the past several days Arthur had been on his feet helping out around the cabin, whether it was doing chores or hunting with Austin, he managed to keep himself busy throughout the day. He was regaining the muscle and healthy tone he’d no doubt once had before, his face, eyes, and cheeks becoming full once more, and he was beginning to gain a tan from being out in the sun so much now.

Ever since you had given it to him, not once had Arthur ever taken off his new hat. Unless he was asleep or bathing, the thing rarely ever left his head.

It really did look good on him.

You had to admit, the man was absolutely stunning. Whenever he worked or did any kind of physical labor, you couldn’t help but watch those muscles in his body sometimes, how they moved and flexed beneath his skin, noting the healthy shine of sweat on his face, his neck, his forearms, and God help you, but sometimes he went shirtless when he worked, and it was all you could do not to throw yourself at the man. Push him to the ground and take him there and then —

What on earth was wrong with you? You shook your head hard, trying to perish those dirty thoughts from your mind. You weren’t exactly a plucked flower, but you’d read enough romance novels to give yourself plenty of naughty imagination.

Letting out a sigh, you plucked another dead leaf. There were so many scars across his body, old and new, but one stuck out to you the most. You recalled the scar you’d seen on Arthur’s chest, just above his left pectoral. There was no doubt it was a gunshot wound, the scar tissue around it having sunken down into the ruined flesh. It had long since healed, but the skin there was still pink, still soft, so it hadn’t been too long since it was inflicted on him. Again you wondered, what had happened to him? Who’d shot him? Why? The thoughts of possibility raced through your head, but going off his nature and what you’d seen of him thus far, you couldn’t come to a conclusion or even imagine why anyone would want to hurt that man.

Reaching out to crush another dead leaf, you smiled to yourself.

Arthur was strong … indeed he was a fighter.

You’d slowly been getting more and more comfortable with the thought of Arthur going out with Austin on his hunting trips, allowing them to start traveling out as far as they needed to go. Food was getting low, and finally you’d told the two boys that they could start hunting for game if they wished. You were proud of them both, for keeping to their word and staying safe.

You could tell your brother was improving with his skills thanks to Arthur, just last week they had managed to bring back a boar, and Arthur had told you that your brother had managed to track it down on his own, but Austin had admitted that he’d missed the first few shots, and Arthur had to kill the boar himself. The two had slowly been getting along, you’d noticed. It was more than refreshing to see.

Arthur had been helping Austin out with his aim several times over the last two weeks, the two of them practicing down by the stream in the late evenings.

You would stay back and watch to observe every chance you got. Honestly, you secretly wished it was you Arthur was teaching. To show you how to handle a gun, how to aim it, how to shoot. You had no idea how to use a weapon, so you picked up whatever you could from the two of them.

Your brother had recently started working with your grandfather’s bow, which confused you at first, since he’d always insisted on using his own carbine repeater. But then he’d explained to you that Arthur had told him it was a stealthy hunting tactic in order to capture more game.

Finally, you’d understood. Winter was slowly approaching, and it was more than important to learn how to use a much quieter weapon, especially when wildlife was so much more scarce during the cold parts of the year.

But — despite countless hours of practice — Austin hadn’t managed to get the hang of it, which worried you somewhat. Poor man, each time he tried aiming an arrow, the thing would wobble in his grip and the shot itself ended up with the arrow landing on the ground only a few feet away. No matter how Arthur instructed him, it seemed hopeless. At one point Austin had nearly thrown the thing into the stream, shouting something about how the bow wasn’t working properly. But Arthur had tested the thing for himself, and of course it worked flawlessly when he’d used it, the arrow finding its mark perfectly on one of the trees he’d been aiming for..

You’d found yourself strangely drawn to the weapon, you had to admit, though you weren’t quite sure why.

The bow itself was very beautiful. The long round limbs were made of dark maple wood, painted with some kind of glossy coating to protect the wood from wear and tear. The handle was wrapped in finely engraved black leather strips. There were several more curly engravings that ran along the weapon itself, and two small metal owl heads were placed at each end, the beaks holding the tight silver bowstring.

A part of you really wanted to try it out for yourself at some point.

The two men were planning on going on another hunting trip today, so it was going to be another quiet evening alone at the cabin for you. Strangely enough, even though you finally felt comfortable with them both being gone, you still weren’t quite used to it.

“How you doin’ there, Y/N?”

Arthur’s deep voice nearly had you jumping out of your skin. You leapt to your feet and turned around to face him. “Arthur!” Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat, “I didn’t hear you comin’ over.”

Grinning, he let out a soft chuckle, “Sorry bout that, honey, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re fine,” you said, waving off his apology.

He looked over your shoulder at the plants behind you, “So what’re you doin’?”

You turned to look down at the herbs you’d been working on, “Oh, well I was just pruning some of the plants.” At his questioning look you added, “Sometimes some of the leaves or stems die and I need to take them off, otherwise it could cause disease and the nutrients inside the plants are wasted trying to feed what’s no longer alive. When I get rid of the dead pieces it allows them to focus on keeping the rest of the plant strong and healthy.”

Arthur nodded, though you had the feeling he was only pretending to understand what you were talking about in order to make you feel better, going by the confused look and his face; his eyes narrowed, his mouth her in a small grimace. “So these herbs,��� he cleared his throat, “them what you used to treat my TB with?”

His curiosity nearly had you taken aback. Honestly, you hadn’t really expected him to care enough to ask such a question. “Yes,” you said, your voice soft as you looked up at him, “I — I gather pieces from them from time to time and make several elixirs and medications from their properties.” You pointed to one of the plants, “That right there is Ginger, it’s used as an antioxidant, which can help take care of some of the negative effects caused by most bacterias.” You pointed to several others, giving the names and explaining what each of them did.

By the time you’d named a few more, you looked back at Arthur, and his brows were drawn down tight, his hand rubbing at the side of his temple as if he’d gotten a headache. You nearly laughed, “I’m sorry, Arthur, I tend to get carried away sometimes.”

Arthur lifted a brow as if he were actually amused, “I can tell you really enjoy your work,” he said, a wide grin stretching those lips of his, “It’s really amazin’. You should be proud, honey.”

You lowered your eyes, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks, “Thank you, Arthur. I honestly wouldn’t know as much as I did without my mother’s journal. She taught me so much.” You voice nearly hitched, and you blinked several times in order to keep any tears from welling.

Arthur reached out and laid a warm hand on your shoulder in an effort to comfort you, “I’m sure she’d be real proud of you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t speak, so you just nodded in answer.

Several moments passed, and Arthur spoke again, “Austin mentioned to me that you ran into a man named William?”

Your head jerked up that that, surprised. “He told you about that?”

Arthur nodded, “The night you saved me from that mountain, told me you met an herbalist the same day. Quite a character.”

Your brows lifted, “You know him?”

“Yeah. Met him a few times, a long while ago, before — Well, before all that shit went down.”

“Language, Arthur!”

You both laughed, and he tipped his hat to you.

He was truly adorable, you thought as you smiled at him. You lifted your gaze to look at the hat. “So, how you liking your new hat, Arthur?”

Your question had him letting out a laugh as he ran his fingers across the leather brim. “Keep’s the sun outta my eyes, like you said,” he teased. His eyes softened then, those beautiful sapphire-emeralds seeming to stare directly into your soul. “Thank you, Y/N.”

His grateful smile alone nearly overwhelmed you, and you quickly spoke your next words before you found your idiot-self getting lost in his gaze. “I’m glad you like it. My grandmother made that hat for our grandfather when they were both young. It was … meant to stand for something … but he didn’t do it justice with the life he led. It needs to be worn by a good man. Someone like you.”

Arthur’s expression seemed to change at that moment, and you couldn’t help but notice the softness in his eyes suddenly grow hard.

•••••

A good man.

It was all Arthur could do not to lose himself then and there. To take the hat off and give it back to her immediately, to leave and never turn back even once. Dammit, he didn’t deserve to be here. He didn’t deserve the treatments he’d been given, all the hospitality, the food and shelter that Y/N and Austin had so generously given.

He wasn’t a good man, and he damn well knew it.

It was the second time she’d called him that, and he nearly had to bite his tongue. But what could he possibly say to her at that moment? That he wasn’t the man she truly thought he was? That he’d been a liar? A thief? A ruthless killer?

An outlaw …

Arthur did his best not to squeeze his eyes shut from the sudden pain that welled in his chest. What the hell was wrong with him? There was nothing he could say or do to get past the ache in his heart from those words.

For once, he was extremely grateful to hear that sill boy’s scratchy voice calling out to both of them.

Y/N smiled, looking over Arthur’s shoulder, “Austin, how are ya?”

Austin came jogging over, his face and clothes covered in dust and dirt from whatever work he’d been doing earlier. He stopped a few feet in front of them, “I’m doin’ just fine, sis,” he panted, nodding at Y/N and meeting Arthur’s gaze. “Hey, Arthur, so you ready for our next huntin’ trip?” The young man asked him, a naive yet excited smile spread across his face. Over the past two weeks he’d learned to enjoy the trips, getting to learn something new from them each and every time.

Arthur shrugged with a small chuckle, “That depends, are you?” He nodded at the dirt covering the boy.

Austin scratched his cheek, “Yeah, sorry about that, sir.” He brushed off the dirt from his clothes, “It ain’t nothin’, Just noticed the two of you over here and I wanted to see if you were prepared to head out.”

Over the last several days, Austin had grown the strange and somewhat annoying habit of calling him sir, and Arthur didn’t really know why. Was he trying to show some sort of respect toward him? Maybe after acting like such a dumbass over the past month, he might’ve thought addressing Arthur in that way would gain him redemption? It felt odd, and Arthur really wished he wouldn’t call him that, but he’d go along with it if it made the younger man feel better.

“Well, Austin,” Arthur said, clearing his throat, “Ready when you are, then.”

“Dandy! I found an interestin’ new spot I think we should go check out a ways up north, the wagon’s already loaded up and ready to go.” Austin stated, pointing over toward the stables where the coach stood, with Lily already attached to it. The boy was quick, Arthur thought. He must’ve been busy getting everything prepared while he and Y/N had been working on their own tasks.

Arthur lowered his eyes. On one hand he didn’t want to leave Y/N so abruptly, but on the other he needed to escape the tension that had suddenly risen in his gut from her words. A good man … how could he follow up that line with any further conversation? It hadn’t angered him, but he was tired of hearing it — from anyone. He gave a single nod, “Let’s head out, then.”

As Austin nodded and headed off toward the wagon, Arthur looked back over his shoulder to meet Y/N’s gaze, “We’ll be back soon, honey.” He said softly, winking and giving her a small grin. He hoped she wasn’t disappointed, but he needed to get out of there. Clear his head.

But she didn’t look upset. No, instead her eyes absolutely glowed as she gave him another one of her beautiful smiles. “Y’all stay safe, Arthur.” After a slight moment of hesitation, she returned his wink, “You keep Austin safe now.”

Her teasing helped the tension ease away somewhat, and he let out a chuckle, “Don’t you worry, I’ll keep him in line.”

With that, he headed over to join Austin on the wagon.

•••••

“So where we headed?” Arthur asked as Austin steered Lily up the narrow trail through the tall sequoia trees. He and the younger man waved farewell to Y/N with her returning the gesture as they disappeared around a large rock.

Austin lowered his hand, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to Arthur, “There’s this new place I wanna check out, passed by it a few days ago while ridin’ Butch. Seemed interestin’.”

Arthur took the map and held it up, looking over a simple drawing of directions. They appeared to lead up north towards the larger mountains, further into the forest.

The kid pointed at a thick scribble he’d made on the paper, “That area right there, it’s right at the foot of the mountains between the trees. A small area of tall grass. I saw a family of elk there a couple times. If we can spot them again, I’m sure we can bring back enough food to last us for a month.”

What he said was true, one elk could last them quite a while. If they managed to kill one, they’d be set for weeks. Arthur folded the map back up and handed it back, “You seem to know what you’re doin’,” He said with a light laugh.

Austin shook his head, “Only a little, sir, it’s why I thought it best for you to come along on this one.”

Arthur shrugged, “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough, kid,” He reached out and patted the man’s shoulder. “I’ll look after ya.”

The younger man narrowed his eyes, “I don’t need no hand-holdin’, Arthur.”

Arthur’s heart suddenly skipped at those words, his smile dropping from his face as his eyes grew flat.

Those words … when had he last heard those exact words —

A memory flashed through his mind … Lenny …

He flinched, lowering his head as he reached up to tug down the brim of his hat, hiding his expression from the brother. The pain was almost unbearable … coming back to bit him in the ass once more.

The loss of his friends, of his family — it had only been a couple months, and the agony still felt just as sharp, as though it had only been yesterday when his life had completely fallen apart.

… What life, though?

Arthur nearly wanted to laugh at himself from the thought.

His family had meant everything to him, the bond they’d shared more real than anything else in the world.

But Arthur would be lying to himself if he’d thought what they had was any kind of real life. He’d spent the majority of his chasing a dream for a life he weren’t even sure about, along with the rest of the gang who’d followed over the years. He’d failed all of them. Hosea, Lenny, Kieran, Sean, Grimshaw, Mac, Davey, Jenny … they’d all had their own lives snatched away from them so abruptly.

They’d never had the chance for the life they’d so desperately fought for.

And the others … Charles, Sadie, Tilly, Mary-Beth, Uncle … Karen, Swanson, Trelawny … Where were they now?

The wonder of their whereabouts prodded his mind like a hot poker every single day. Even though he tried so hard to move on in hopes that they would do the same and lead normal lives, it was extremely difficult to do so. He only hoped they were all safe. They all deserved so much more after all the shit they went through in the gang.

And Jack, Abigail, John …

Arthur lifted his eyes to stare up at the sky, the sun’s bright rays peeking through the small clouds.

‘You’re my brother.’

Those words echoed through his mind, and he allowed himself a sad smile. He thought back to Sister Calderon, the words she’d spoken echoing in his head. ‘Take a gamble that love exists.’

Arthur wasn’t the religious type, but deep inside his heart he prayed for the sake of John and his family, for their safety, so that they may go on to live the lives they’d damn well earned.

John Marston. The man was a goddamn fool, but he loved Abigail and Jack, and Arthur knew he’d do anything to protect them. 

They were safe.

He knew, deep down in his heart something told him. They were out there.

Time passed by quickly, and finally the wagon stopped. Arthur felt the seat lift as Austin hopped out, and he shook himself out of his thoughts, realizing that they’d arrived at the foot of the mountains. Arthur looked around, taking in the small grassy clearing. He raised a hand to lift the brim of his hat, looking up at the base of the mountain, a tall cliff that encircled half of the area. The other half was enclosed by the thick forest of trees that towered over them, their green and multi-colored coming-autumn leaves providing cool shade to the tiny meadow.

“We’re finally here,” Austin said cheerfully as he rolled his shoulders, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs. He walked behind the wagon to grab his carbine repeater.

Arthur examined the area closely. Indeed, it was a great area for wildlife of all kinds. Plenty of grass, soft ground, perfect temperature, and shelter. He narrowed his eyes, noting a small cave opening at the base of the cliff. It was too small for a bear or cougar, so it was probably just a family of deer, he thought. Still, they had to be cautious. It was an unexplored area. He looked over his shoulder as Austin approached him from behind and stared at the gun he held, “You need to get a handle on that bow soon, kid.” He said teasingly.

“I know, I know, and I ain’t a kid!” Austin snapped, “I’ve been tryin’ but I’m just hopeless with the damn thing!”

Arthur nearly laughed at the blush that crept into Austin’s cheeks as he looked away, unable to meet Arthur’s gaze.

He really had been trying his best, Arthur did notice, but the bow was turning out to be the boy’s natural enemy. Either he weren’t a good teacher, or the bow was truly hopeless for him. Where was Charles when he needed him, Arthur thought almost sadly.

Arthur shook his head at the thought, then threw his hand up in the general direction. “Lead the way.”

Austin gave a small but nervous nod, stepping forward and leading them both across the grass towards the cliff. They crept slowly and quietly, staying low to the tall grass to avoid being spotted by any of the nearby wildlife. There were small sounds here and there as Austin examined the grounds, but they were mostly from squirrels or small rabbits. Since Austin only had the gun with him, they weren’t going to risk scaring off any larger game by shooting and possibly missing smaller targets. Arthur had taught him to be careful with such things.

Gradually they got further and further away from the wagon, and Austin led Arthur towards the foot of the cliff. “There,” the younger man whispered, pointing toward some hoof-prints that had been left behind in the ground. They created a trail, and the two men followed it, making their way around the cliff. Finally, the tracks stopped at the base of some large rocks that formed a small ramp towards the top of the cliff. Austin began to climb, and Arthur followed behind him, as quiet as they could possibly be.

Suddenly a small rock bounced down from atop the cliff, landing in the small meadow below, and Arthur looked up, spotting a small glimpse of large antlers just over the peak. “There’s one,” Austin whispered next to him, having seen them as well.

“Alright, get your gun ready,” Arthur whispered back as they approached the top. His heart was racing, but he forced himself to calm down as they reached the top of the plateau. The elevated area was covered in thick foliage, and the two men hid behind the thick shrubbery as they made their way over to a large rock that provided solid cover.

Austin slowly and quietly cocked the gun, peering over at the large creature nibbling on some of the grass by the cliff-edge. It was a huge bull elk, appearing to weigh at least seven hundred and twenty-five pounds. The creature was definitely large, larger than any Arthur had seen in a long while. The creature was magnificent, he thought. The meat on its bones could definitely keep them fed for weeks.

He looked over at Austin, noticing that the boy was breathing hard, creating too much noise. “Calm yourself,” Arthur muttered, “Elk can hear very well, take a deep breath and let it out slow.”

Austin did as he was told, closing his eyes as he did so. “Alright,” he whispered, then he slowly began scooting forward. He crouched carefully, propping the barrel of the gun on the tip of the boulder.

A small loose rock was knocked off as the weapon was adjusted, landing with a small crack on the hard ground. The elk snatched its head up, its ears perked in their direction. It looked over toward their spot, and before Arthur could stop what happened next, Austin quickly stood from behind cover and fired the repeater.

It was so quick, the kid having not given himself the proper aiming stance, and the recoil shot him backwards, the bullet missing the elk as it pinged off the one of the rocks several feet away. The creature jumped, bounding off quickly in the opposite direction. Austin lifted his gun and fired a few more rounds as it fled down the cliff.

“What the hell are you doin’?!” Arthur grabbed the man’s firing arm as the elk disappeared into the forest below, Lily whinnying and rearing in the wagon as the creature sped by her.

The boy grunted from the small pain of his fall, “I’m sorry, sir,” he grimaced as he stood slowly, “I thought — I thought it heard us, I wanted to try and get it before it ran away —”

“Of course it heard us, you goddamn fool!” Arthur snapped, anger boiling in his blood. “But it didn’t see us! Now the whole damn forest knows we’re here.”

Austin lowered his head, no doubt feeling ashamed from his actions.

“All you had to do was stay still,” Arthur growled, snatching the firearm from Austin’s grip. “Start headin’ down to the wagon. Ain’t no hope of gettin’ anything out here now.”

The boy didn’t say anything, only giving a small nod as he turned away and headed towards the rocks. It was more than clear the man knew he’d made a mistake, and Arthur was more than upset with him. The next few moments were quiet as they started making their way down the way they’d came.

As soon as they reached the meadow, Arthur halted in his tracks, placing a hand to Austin’s chest to stop him, “Hold on.”

Austin looked at him questioningly, “What is it, sir?”

Arthur didn’t answer as he skimmed his gaze over the tall grass. Something wasn’t right. It was way too damn quiet …

Just then, a massive wolf lunged out of the shrubs from behind, jumping up and catching Arthur on his left shoulder, its sharp teeth sinking deep as its claws caught his flesh.

“Arthur!” Austin yelled.

Arthur shouted in pain as the force knocked him forward, his hat falling away as the heavy weight of the wolf bore down on his body. The gun was knocked out of his hands, and he hit the ground hard. His heart began to beat fast as sharp snarling noises pierced his ears, sharp claws digging deep into his shoulders, Arthur cried out as his flesh was torn open, and he began to struggle, trying his best to flip onto his back. He wasn’t going out without a fight.

The massive gray wolf was unbelievably strong, but Arthur managed to grip the wolf’s head, crushing its skull between his hands as hard as he could until the wolf let go, jumping off his body momentarily. He looked over to see the gun lying on the ground just a couple feet away.

Arthur flipped himself over just before the beast made another attempt and leapt back onto him, its teeth bared for another bite as it aimed for his throat. But Arthur barely managed to block its target by taking hold of the wolf’s neck with a single hand, using the other to try and reach for the gun. Blood was seeping from his neck and shoulders, and his heartbeat began rushing throughout his entire body as the sharp teeth gnashed and snapped just inches away from his face, getting closer as his strength grew weaker.

He let out a loud guttural sound and gathered all the strength he had left, finally managing to grip the gun and swing it through the air, using the butt of the handle to knock the large beast off of him. He staggered to his feet, aiming quickly as he fired the weapon, hitting the wolf square in the chest just as it rushed towards him again. With a loud whine the thing fell to the ground dead, and Arthur’s head whipped around as he heard more growling.

Two more wolves had crept out of the bushes and had cornered Austin near the cliff. The kid looked absolutely terrified as the beasts stalked toward him, his body having frozen entirely.

“Austin!” Damn him if he was going to let another person die on his watch.

Arthur’s gaze began to spin as he aimed at the wolves. He cocked the weapon, but he was seeing damn near triple of everything around him. He was losing blood fast, and he nearly collapsed as he began to feel light-headed. With no other choice, he let out a hard huff, and with everything he had left he lurched across the grass and lunged forward, pushing Austin aside just in time right before one of the the wolves ran towards them.

The heavy creature tackled Arthur’s body hard, causing him to collapse again as the weapon was knocked out of his hands once more. The butt of the cocked gun hit the ground and went off, a sharp whine echoing through the trees as the stray bullet miraculously hit the other wolf. It ran off, leaving a heavy trail of blood in its wake.

As the last wolf held Arthur to the ground, he thought this was going to be it. He had nothing left, he felt absolutely nothing, his mind having completely turned off as his own blood seeped out onto the ground beneath him, his weak limbs refusing to move as his vision began to dim.

Suddenly, another gunshot went off, and he felt a heavy weight fall onto his body. It was soon pushed off, but he found himself unable to care as his heartbeat started drumming between his ears.

Arthur looked up at the sky, his breathing barely audible as he struggled to take in any air. Everything had happened so damn fast … He could hear someone calling out his name. A man’s voice, but who? A blurry figure appeared over him as a dark red haze began to creep in around his vision, or was that just his imagination? Something hard pressed into his shoulder, and the pain shot through him like a lightning bolt.

Flashes began going through his mind, each one followed by his slowing heartbeats.

Two crosses, placed side by side …

… A large buck, lifting its head as it gazed off into the distance …

… The sun, setting just over the horizon.

Arthur thought of watching the sunrise … the last time he’d had this ethereal feeling … back wherever he’d been. A sunrise, now a sunset …

He felt his body getting lifted … was he finally leaving?

Just before he closed his eyes, a long howl echoed through his head.

•••••

— To Be Continued

[peachywise]

ailing confessions

stanley uris x reader

– one-shot

– synopsis: Dating in secret sometimes had its perks, but when Stan got sick and all he wanted was you, it got a little hard to come up with a convincing lie to tell the rest of the losers. Hopefully, it didn’t blow up in your face. 

– notes: okay so some of you have asked for a part two to basement confessions, so here it is! it’s unofficial, so you by no means have to read basement confession to read and understand the context of this story. it also works just as well as a standalone. as always reader is they/them pronouns!!! it's an au aged around 19 years old.  

_____________________________________

"What's going on, what's wrong? Is Stan okay?" you shouted out near-breathless, pushing open the slightly ajar door to his bedroom, frantic eyes scanning for any sense of disaster.

When Richie called you, all you heard on the other end of the line was his stifled voice and arguing in the background. You couldn't exactly make out what Richie was saying, but you heard enough to piece together between his swearing trash mouth that you needed to come to Stan's place. You also caught the very alarm-ringing word of "dying." Putting those two things together within the same breath was enough to kick your ass into gear and bail out on work. You didn't even give a passing "bye" to your manager. He owed you one anyway. Last time he went out of town, you babysat his cat and the… the thing threw up on everything. Your shoes, your clothes, in your bag, and even once on your hair as you slept. But that's beside the point. Stan was allegedly dying, and you needed to get to him.

Or that's what you thought.

Taking in the full scene in front of you, your eyes first drifted towards Ben in the corner, pleading for the angry shouting to stop at a safe distance while wearing his puppy-dog eyed disappointed look that worked on you every single time, but barely on the others. Then you saw Bev sitting on the window sill, hand resting on her cheek as she watched the whole thing with a bored but partially affectionate look—like she'd given up on stopping it long ago, though probably hadn't tried very hard to do so in the first place. Eddie was trying to manhandle Stan's to open his jaw, juggling medicine in one hand as he shouted in his particular high-octave, "take the fucking pills, damn it!" Stan, who you might add was also bare-chested, was slapping his hands away like an indignant child, turning his face every which way to avoid Eddie's hands, letting a trail of "no, no, no, no, no," leave his mouth. Eddie managed to actually get the pills in there at one point, but in the end, Stan just spat them back into Eddie's unwitting hand. Eddie shrieked.

Richie, however, had no such panicked fear in his gaze or tone as he had portrayed in his earlier phone call. Instead, he was stood at the base of Stan's bed, cheering the whole thing on like it was some match to the death. And it was about to be. Just not one between Stan and Eddie.

You silently promised to at least give Richie a beautiful funeral-- a dick drawn on his casket and all.

"Hey, trashbitch!" You hollered, stomping up to him and wrapping an arm around his neck, locking him in an unrelenting hold while jerking the tall, gangly boy down to your height. He let out an exclamation of pain followed by a whiny, "what the fuck?"

"Is this the reason you brought me here? To watch Stan not take his medicine? He does this every fucking time! I thought you said he was dying!" Tightening your hold until you brought him to the ground, you both began to pseudo-wrestle. He managed to block any of your pathetic attempts to hit his body. Though, you did manage to smoosh his face against the floor with your hand. Your laugh was victorious, albeit a little maniacal as well.

It was true. This scenario has happened before. While Stan barely ever did get sick, when he did, he made every step on his recovery as tricky as humanly possible. Demonically impossible, even. He was responsible. Probably the most responsible out of all of you, but the moment sickness overtook his body it was like he shifted into this evil brat from hell who only got his kicks on making everyone around him just as miserable as he was. However, you all cared about him too much to just let him get sicker and sicker and sicker by just not doing anything about it. And he knew this.

In short, Stan was a sadistic son of a bitch.

Grabbing your wrist, Richie pulled it off and away from his face, forcing you from your balancing act above him and onto your side. A small gust of air left you at the painful contact of your body hitting the carpet, but your eyes only narrowed in amplified determination. Though his glasses always magnified his eyes anyway, he widened them in a fear that made him look just like a bug so easy to squish.

"Wait, shit, stop," he started, scrambling back as he outstretched his hands towards you, "I meant I was dying because he wouldn't stop fighting us and kept saying all he wanted was you here. Care to explain why that is?"

That stopped you.

Freezing all your limbs like if you didn't move everyone in the room would suddenly forget you were there, you racked your brain for something to say. Another lie, another excuse.

So, maybe you hadn't been exactly honest with them. For a while.

Like… four months.

You and Stan hadn't always gotten along. It was no secret. It had been that way ever since you were at kids. If you were in the same room together, an argument would inevitably follow, and while that still happened, it had changed into something a little different a few months back. During a game of truth or dare, your friends had both dared you and Stan into Bill's basement where you were promptly locked in. You had a substantial freakout. That place gave you the creeps ever since you were a kid—a long story for another day that ended with you having a broken arm—but Stan had calmed you down. And then he kissed you. And you kissed him. And then you made out. And uh, it hadn't exactly stopped since then.

What can you say? You were weak.

The only one of your friends who knew was Bill, and that was because he had caught you two in his basement and promised to hide it from the rest. He'd been pretty good with it so far, apart from the knowing looks and laughs he gave you two whenever you so much as even looked at each other too long. You'd kept up the façade of the still 'friendly' rivalry so far, but it was extremely out of place for Stan to ask for you specifically if he was sick, considering he didn't want anyone around him at all when he was.

You also realized you probably looked a little too panicked running in here and literally attacking Richie because of how freaked you were about Stan.

Couldn't blame yourself for dating a dumbass when it seemed you were one too.

Opening your mouth to finally retort back something along the lines of 'well he probably wanted to torture me by being around him,' instead, you were cut off pretty quick by Stan's voice timidly saying your name, almost like a question. No—hopefully imploring. Blinking once at Richie, you let his question hang in the air as you popped your head back up. Looking over the edge of the bed, Stan repositioned himself to sit up properly, his head slightly tilted to the side, his sleepy eyes surveying you behind his messy golden curls that surrounded his flushed face. Eddie looked like he'd just run a mile, absolutely wrecked as he stepped back with a huff. Stan just looked…adorable. Too adorable. Oh, God.

"You came?"

Stan didn't exactly smile, but his voice took on a sort of up-turned infliction of rosiness that pulled at your heart. He was something akin to sunshine; just his warm look thawed out any of the dread and frustration that had encapsulated you upon arrival. There weren't many moments you two have been able to steal alone as of late. Dating in secret had its own perk of making it more personal, something so securely special between you two and utterly consuming. Unfortunately, when you had a group of friends who barely ever hung out without each other, it left little time to be able to sneak away and successfully have a moment alone. You'd managed okay so far, but in the past month, it'd been hard to pull away from the others. You only got brief little moments of these teasing sunlight streams.

You'd missed him. Yes, you still saw him quite often, but you missed him. Pretending to continually get on each other's nerves is fun sometimes until it gets devastatingly hard and lonely as well. You didn't want to go back to how it was before.

"Of course I did," you spoke softly, your lips twitching up into a small smile that matched the sudden gentleness of your tone.

Then a bottle of Tylenol smacked into your chest in a broken moment, followed by Eddie's exaggerated huff of, "great, it's your turn to babysit now!" He very quickly stormed out of the room, muttering as he did.

Picking up the bottle of pills, you stood up and tried to look anywhere but at your friends. Okay. Maybe no one thought this was weird. This is fine. Normal.

"Of course I did," Richie mocking voice grated your ears, his tone carrying a lilt of impish laughter as he repeated your words back.

Turning your head towards him, you let your smile curve into something more sinister. It was the only warning he had before you launched yourself at him again.

Ben's arms circled around your waist, pulling you away before you got your hands around Richie's neck. Bev placed her small hand on Richie's shoulder as she moved up from her spot to stand behind him. The asshole was startled enough that he actually jumped. I mean, you were talented, but it's not like you could fucking teleport.

"Mike and Bill are going to the pharmacy to get some more medicine, so while we wait, how about we go make Stan some soup?" Bev offered, flashing a look towards Ben who dropped his hold on you as soon as you stopped struggling.

Ben smiled. "That sounds like a good plan." As both moved towards the door, you turned to watch, thankful that they were giving you the chance to be alone with Stan but wary of the knowing looks they were casting to each other as they went. Richie, however, stayed right where he was. Bev stalled at the doorframe, raising a red brow and offering a short, "Rich, you coming?" It seemed to snap Richie into place immediately, as he grumbled something about unfairness and how they never made soup while he was sick, before exiting the room and shutting the door behind him with an almost resounding click.

Finally alone.

"Hi."

Turning back around, you watched as Stan's face broke in a feverish looking smile, happiness seeping out of him, unrestricted. You'd never quite seen him that way before. Giving an amused shake of your head, you motioned for him to scoot over a bit before sitting on the edge of his bed, setting the medication on his side table. "Hi," you repeated back with your own little smile, reaching over to press your hand to his forehead.

He closed his eyes at your touch, practically melting as he reached up to clasp your hand, though still keeping it against him. "You're cold," he murmured, his voice taking on a sleepy tone.

"I'm not cold, you're just hot," you pointed out with a short chuckle, removing your hand to drop it back on your lap, though he still clasped onto it.

"And you're beautiful." His smile was languid as he obviously either ignoring your hot comment was because he had a fever or because he was utterly ignorant to your actual meaning due to his muddled mind. Either way, it was all the same. Your cheeks still got warm at his comment, still unused to such compliments coming from him.

"Wow, sick Stan really lays it on thick, doesn't he?" You joked, standing up from your position. Stan reached out to grab your hand again, an almost panicked expression crossing his face. You let out an amused laugh. "I'm just taking off my jacket, you baby." Slipping off the restrictive article of clothing, you tossed it onto the corner chair before moving back to his side. "Wanna tell me why you asked specifically for me? It wasn't enough to stress Eddie out of ten years of his life?"

Stan slipped back to lie down, bringing his comforter up close to his face as he clutched it, glowering at you like you'd said the most offensive thing in the world. "No," he murmured, "I just wanted to see you. I miss you."

You sat back down on the bed and slightly brushed his curls off his forehead, letting your fingers linger slightly as you stroked his hair a few times. It seemed he felt the distance between you two just as jarringly. Continually holding back in front of the others, unable to touch his hand, or let your gaze linger too long without being watchful. It was exhausting. "I miss you too," you spoke in almost a whisper. Stan leaned into your touch.

You both sat like that for a bit in companionable silence, merely taking each other's features in, a scene of subtly intimacy and comfort. It only broke when Stan scooted over more, lifting the blanket up and stating a simple, "come here."

And then you realized what that little shit was actually doing.

He was trying to distract you. And he almost succeeded.

Straightening your back a bit, you gave him a coy look as you grabbed the medication bottle from the table and the glass of water sitting next to it. Holding it out to him, almost like a trade, you asked, "will you take your medicine?"

Stan's face scrunched together, showcasing his deep consideration at the challenge presented to him. Such a thoughtful look would rival those of the best Philosophers. Fuck you, Aristotle.

"No."

Well then. Fuck you, Aristotle and Stan.

"W-what?"

Shit. You said that out loud.

Ignoring that, you set the medicine and water back down again, standing up and moving towards your coat. Without a word, you began to shrug it back on. Stan's scrambled at that, clawing out of his covers and sitting up straight, a panicked question of "where are you going?" escaping him.

"Clearly you don't need my help," you shrugged, turning back to face him with a knowing look. "You have it all under control. I don't need to comfort someone who's not sick enough to take their medicine."

Stan narrowed his eyes. Like actually, physically narrowed his eyes at you like you were the one being the brat in this situation. You just glared back at him. The tension between you two may have started this impromptu staring contest, but there was no way you were losing it.

And then it began to reach over the two-minute mark, and your eyes started to water. Fuck.

Blinking your eyes with a groan, you cut Stan off before he could rub the win in your face. He always did that. "Let's make a deal!" you nearly shouted, walking back up to his bedside. "You take your medicine, and I'll lay down with you for just a little while. We don't want your body temperature going up any more than it is."

Stan crossed his arms over his chest. He was silent for a moment, taking on that contemplative look once again. "Deal. But you also have to kiss me."

Wow. Such a romantic proposition.

Your hesitation in accepting wasn't so much the fact that he was sick-- though, it really should have been-- or the fact that you didn't want to. You did. You really, really, did. It was just the fact that all your friends were outside that door, and knowing them, they would burst in here at any moment.

Stan seemed to read your hesitation for what it was. He always seemed to know what you were thinking. You thought he was going to argue, or simply retract his statement, but Stan surprised you. "I don't care." Your face must have turned perplexed, because immediately he began to clarify, "I don't care if they know. I'm tired. I'm tired of missing you, I'm tired of holding back and pretending like all we want to do is rip each other apart, when quite frankly there's only one thing I want to rip off of you." Okay, either you were getting his fever, or your whole body flushed at that single comment. With a hard look, he leaned over and grabbed the pill bottle, shaking two out and swallowing them back without even any water.

"So what's it going to be?"

Sick Stan was slowly turning into your favourite Stan. Guess he wasn't taking no as an answer. And who were you to not reward him?

Letting out a light laugh, you took your jacket back off and sat beside him. "It's a deal," you smiled, setting a gentle hand on his warm cheek. "But you're the one who's going to have to tell them. It's only fair since you're obviously getting the better end of the deal." Leaning down, you shut your eyes as you placed a soft kiss on his lips. Stan put a gentle hand on your arm, almost sighing contently at the contact. Affection rolled off you two in waves, but before you knew it, you'd both parted with tender smiles, foreheads touching.

"That's not a real kiss."

Confusion crossed your features, but it quickly turned into shock when Stan gave your arm a hard tug, bringing you down to the bed on top of his chest. Wrapping his too-hot arms around you, essentially caging you against him, his lips met yours again in greedy haste. Bracing your hands on his chest, you moved them up closer to his neck as every part of you lit up where you touched. His hand snaked under your shirt and up, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his thumbs brushed your skin so gently. You still shivered despite the heat. The kiss was almost persistent, desperate as he tried to pull you closer, tighter. He didn't want to let go, and neither did you.

He broke off for a moment, his lips trailing to your jaw to give you both a moment to breath. His kisses turned breathless and gentle once more, and you pushed up from your position to stare at him with an incredulous look. "You sure you're actually sick?" you chuckled, twisting off to lie down next to him, snuggled into his arm.

"I feel great," he argued back, just before a small coughing fit racked over his entire body. Liar, liar.

Moving away, you began to sit up, laughing as you said, "okay, okay, I don't want your germs." Stan pouted as he rolled on top of you and rested his arms on either side of your head, trapping you once again.

"Don't leave," he complained, bending his head down to leave a trail of kisses on your neck, cheek, lips. "You love me and my germs," his voice murmured against your skin, his lips pulling up into a grin. You playfully began to swat him away, laughter really erupting from his onslaught attack. He captured your lips once more, hands sliding up your sides, devastatingly unrelenting. But there was no struggle from you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, moving your lips against his after he teasingly nipped your bottom lip.

He didn't even make a motion to pull back after Eddie's angry voice seemed to bounce off the walls of the room with the jarring statement of, "oh that's so gross, you're going to get sick!"

Turning your head as Stan grumbled into your neck, something along the lines of 'they always ruin everything,' you saw all of your friends at the doorway gaping at you two without a damn word to say about it. The only one who made any motion or reaction was Eddie who literally threw his hands up before storming out again, going on about how "it's not my job to take care of two idiots. I'm not going to do it, I'm not!"

With a small smirk, Bev pushed past both Richie and Ben and shut the door with them behind it, giving you a little wink.

Looks like the cat was out of the bag.

And oddly enough, as Stan smothered you up, you couldn't care one little bit.