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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

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A Change in the Weather AU (inspired by Cacophonylights's A Change in the Weather) - Chapter 30

Read on AO3.

(Author’s note - the above cover gives hint about this chapter, and chapter 31 :D)

Kurt appreciates drama.

He appreciates it to a degree rivaled only by his dad’s love of NASCAR and Finn’s obsession with grilled cheese sandwiches.

It might even be said, by a select few, that he possesses a flair for the dramatic.

Kurt isn’t, however, a fan of the fact that drama seems to follow him wherever he goes, comes courtesy of big ticket items, and hangs over his head like a sword held aloft by a single thread of red rope licorice.

That he doesn’t appreciate.

The drama Kurt does enjoy happens to be genre-specific, goes hand-in-hand with sweeping, over-the-top, romantic gestures, and maybe a dance number or two.

Like the situation he’s currently in, preparing to perch atop a magnificent red roan mare. Kurt has never been up close and personal with a horse before. The first thing he notices is they’re so much taller - and wider - in real life than they seem on screen. He also didn’t know he’d have to be introduced to his horse before he could mount it (though when you use a word like mount, the need for an introduction makes sense).

Their groom teaches Kurt how to brush his mare’s mane (which he is determined to braid somewhere along the way, get it out of her eyes). Then he earns her favor by feeding her sugar cubes. She plucks them one by one from his outstretched palm, and Kurt falls instantly in love.

If his future as a Broadway phenom ever hits the skids, equestrian sports are beginning to look like an acceptable replacement.

But there is a problem.

Everything about potentially riding this horse terrifies him.

Sebastian rented the horses from a stable nearby, one the Smythe family frequents whenever they’re in town. The horses don’t belong to the Smythes, but according to the man who saddled them, they might as well, as Sebastian’s family reserves the exact same beasts every summer.

Sebastian mounts his own mare with the skill of an accomplished equestrian because of course he does. Kurt, on the other hand, requires the assistance of two bubbly blond stable hands (who remind him enough of Brittany and Sam that he has to do a double take) and a large wooden block. Sebastian watches the calamity go down from his own saddle with intense interest and a twinkle in his eye. Between trying to maintain balance and not roll his ankle, Kurt spots Sebastian sporting his signature smirk and braces for the taunts guaranteed to come, which he plans to volley with comebacks he’s already preparing in his head. But when Kurt finally finds his seat, Sebastian gives him a smile that appears to have nothing devious hiding behind it.

“All set?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Kurt manages, panting from the exertion of pulling himself up and throwing a leg over, doing both so enthusiastically he nearly propelled himself clear over the other side of his horse. “All set.”

“Everyone’s first time goes like that,” Sebastian reassures him with a dismissive wave and only a sliver of innuendo.

“Even Julian’s?” Kurt asks bitterly, his ego stinging. He imagines the older Smythe boy launching himself onto a stallion’s muscular back from the ground using only the saddle horn to boost him up, then galloping off into the sunset, leaving the rest of his family in the dust.

But Sebastian dashes that image with a nod. “Yup. Julian excels at a great many things. But for some reason, horseback riding isn’t one of them.”

“A-ha. Somehow I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve got no reason to lie, babe. And besides - I have videos.” Sebastian bounces his eyebrows, apparently relishing the fact. “Lots of them.”

Kurt’s left eyebrow bobs up. “So you gather blackmail material on your brother, too?”

“I don’t see why you’d assume he’d be immune.” Sebastian’s horse, itching to get on the trail, shifts her weight underneath him. He strokes her neck, shushing her to keep her still. It’s such an endearing gesture, so unlike the Sebastian Kurt once despised … but so much like the Sebastian he’s grown to love. “It’s tit for tat, really. Lord knows he’s got tons of stuff on me. I’ve got stuff on Liv, too, but I’m smarter than to use it.”

“Why’s that?”

Sebastian barks out a laugh that, underneath the surface, is laced with genuine fear. “Are you kidding? She’d murder me in my sleep!”

“Then why have it?”

“As leverage against Julian.”

“And that works how exactly?”

“If I let something I have on Livvie slip but I can convince her that Julian is responsible …” Sebastian sucks a breath in through his teeth, his eyes going distant, like he’s imagining the outcome of such an act, the gruesome devastation that would ensue. “But I’d only do that as a last resort. Julian would have to do something particularly heinous for me to go that far.”

Kurt shakes his head disapprovingly. Poor Olivia. Kurt wonders if she knows that she’s Sebastian’s nuclear option. Sebastian and Julian must be rubbing off on Kurt more than he knows because he also wonders how much that information might be worth. “Oh what a twisted life you lead. You are truly a criminal mastermind.”

“You know it,” Sebastian says, throwing Kurt a wink. He clicks his tongue and leads his horse away, Kurt’s mare following behind as if she knew that was the plan all along.

Sebastian takes them to a rise overlooking the beach, the trail to get there narrower than Kurt likes. He’s sure his horse knows what she’s doing. This isn’t her first time walking this trail, after all. But again, Kurt’s mare is a big animal, and she lists from side to side. This trail, flush up against the cliff side, is one Kurt would think twice about taking on foot before calling it quits, doing an about face, and going off in search of the nearest coffee shop. Since there are no seat belts, the only thing keeping him from sliding off and falling to his death is the strength of his thighs.

Kurt thought his thighs were strong. Only now does he see that cutting the 30 Minute Buns and Thighs video he used to do religiously from his cardio rotation was a huge mistake.

Fear for his life aside, the view from the overlook is spectacular, but the height vomit inducing. Kurt leans forward, barely budging in his saddle to peek over the edge, and his stomach lurches up into his throat.

He has to trust his horse. She wouldn’t go running off this cliff for no reason. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt herself. But what about him? Would she buck him off? What motivation would she have to do so? Horses, like dogs, can sense the good in people, can’t they? Not just the shallow good like, “I put a dollar in a Salvation Army bucket once,” but the deep down, selfless good. Kurt isn’t a bad person, but he can be a bit inconsiderate at times, especially with wait staff.

If this horse decides to judge him, his inability to stop snapping at waiters will be the hill he ends up dying on, he just knows it.

The path takes his mare nauseatingly close to the edge for a brief second, and Kurt bites his tongue to keep from screaming.

“Whoa, Nellie,” he says in a wobbly voice, pulling up beside Sebastian’s mare, stopped on a ledge wide enough to accommodate both animals … and the two of them should Kurt decide to crawl off his horse, lay flat on his stomach, and hug the ground.

Sebastian, watching Kurt’s silent crisis run its course, points out, “You do know your horse’s name is Desiree, right?”

“I do. And by the way, I have questions about that. But whoa, Desiree doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

Sebastian shrugs. “You’re not wrong.”

“So,” Kurt starts, swallowing half a dozen times to stop his voice from shaking, “does your exceptional riding proclivity qualify you as a ‘horse boy’ then?”

Sebastian chuckles. “No. No, Livvie is the horse person in our family. Always has been”

“That’s right,” Kurt says, wrapping the reins around his hand for security so tightly he’s afraid his fingers might turn purple. “She got the pony.”

“Mm-hmm. Pony, private riding lessons, the whole bit. The trails around the beach are perfect for horseback riding. So when we’d come out here, my dad and mom would take her, and Julian and I were forced to tag along. To teach us important life lessons, they said. I think they just didn’t want to leave us alone, afraid of the trouble we’d get into unsupervised. Needless to say, Molly here and I have a special relationship.”

Kurt eyes Sebastian coyly through lowered lashes. “Should I be jealous?”

Sebastian eyes him back, wearing a way-too-suggestive smile considering the subject matter. “Tremendously.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn to ride a horse,” Kurt admits. “I think a lot of kids do.”

“Did you picture yourself as Liz Taylor in National Velvet? Or Robert Redford in The Electric Horseman?”

“More like Viggo Mortensen in Hidalgo.”

Sebastian gives that some thought before commenting, green eyes aimed at the sky, peering at strings of clouds overhead. “I can see that. I think you’d look rather distinguished in a Stetson Diamante.”

“I’ve always thought so,” Kurt says, pulling himself up in his stirrups, a proud expression on his face.

Sebastian’s eyes, tracing the clouds, find the ocean, stare off into the sunset as the tide rolls up the sand. “Julian teased her endlessly for it.”

“Julian did?” Kurt asks with a dubious tilt of his head.

“Yup. Just Jules. I didn’t.”

“Why not?” It sounds like an odd question after Kurt asks it, grilling his boyfriend to find out why he didn’t cut down his older sister over one of her favorite hobbies.

“I envied her her love of riding,” Sebastian replies without turning to look Kurt’s way, the way Kurt had expected. “You know, when kids ask their parents for a pony, it’s usually because they think it’s going to be fun and exciting, make them look cool, turn them into a superhero or something. Not her. She loved riding for the sake of riding and for no other reason. She loved horses simply because she wanted to take care of a horse, even before she ever sat on one … or so my parents tell me.” He looks at the reins pooled in his hands, the horse’s mane beneath them chocolate brown, close to the shade of his own hair. Sebastian sniffs … or Kurt thinks he does. He only sees the subtle movement, doesn’t hear from where he and his horse are standing. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything that way.”

Kurt nudges his horse closer, feeling too far away with the few feet of space between them. “Not even your car?”

“Oh, well, cut me to the quick, I guess.” Sebastian throws his head back and laughs. This time Kurt definitely hears him sniffle, sees him wipe a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. But there must only be the one because when he turns to look at Kurt, his cheeks are dry. “No, Olivia is special. When you take riding lessons, the first thing your instructor tells you is that riding is less about getting on a horse’s back and flying down the straightaway and more about taking care of something other than yourself. You put your horse first at all times. Its comfort is paramount.” Sebastian looks back at the ocean, clears a catch from his throat. “To ride a horse is to put your trust in someone else, and have someone else trust you back. Whatever you do, you do to bring out the best in the animal you choose to ride. If you hate horses, you’re going to be a lousy horse person. Olivia doesn’t see things the way they are,” he says after a pause. “She sees things the way they could be. People, too. Always finding the best in everyone. She’s not a cynic like me and my brother. She inherited the lion’s share of my parents’ optimism and goodwill. She didn’t leave any for the rest of us. And she knows what she wants, has since she was little. She launches into life with both feet. So does Julian, though, in his case, he doesn’t always land on them.”

“What about you?”

A hint of the cynicism Sebastian mentioned comes to rest in the corners of his mouth, pushing it into a half-grin. “I’m not quite as brave as they are.”

“I think you are.”

“Reckless isn’t the same as brave, babe.”

“I think it depends on how you look at it, on how you define reckless. But you have so many opportunities available to you. And a built in safety net. You can afford to be reckless.”

Sebastian chews his lower lip, seems to contemplate his next words carefully. “Because I have money, right?”

“Right,” Kurt answers quickly, then suddenly feels like he’s taken a wrong turn down a one-way street.

“Money doesn’t help when you don’t have a path.”

“Yes it does!” Kurt says, wondering why it is that Sebastian doesn’t see his wealth as a boon when it’s as clear as day to Kurt. Enjoy all the things his wealth can buy him. Sebastian had repeated that sentiment last night when they were talking about Kurt going to NYADA, and taking that $10,000 check so he could get there. Which proves that wealth can definitely buy a future. A good one, even if Sebastian might be on the fence about which way to go. “It can help you build your own path. It can build you a dozen paths!”

“But where would they lead?” It’s a rhetorical question, but one that sounds like he’s pleading with Kurt to give him an answer. Not in general terms, but a specific destination. “If I don’t know which direction I want to go, what good does a path do me?”

“It gets you started going somewhere! Anywhere!”

“And what’s wrong with staying where you are when you don’t know where to go?” Sebastian asks, his voice so thick under the weight of his emotions, it cracks. This isn’t just a friendly discussion they’re having anymore, Kurt realizes. This is something else. Something Kurt doesn’t fully understand. “Isn’t that what they teach you in wilderness survival? Stay where you are until someone finds you? Hug a tree and shit?”

That remark strikes Kurt as so absurd considering the context of their conversation, he almost bursts out laughing. “Do I look like I would know the answer to a wilderness survival question?” But then that context becomes clearer, and Sebastian’s remark even more absurd. Wait … is he thinking about … staying in Ohio!?!?

“Do you think money solves everything, Kurt? Do you think those rich people on the Titanic could buy their way off that sinking ship?”

“They kinda did,” Kurt says sheepishly, face scrunching apologetically knowing that’s not the answer Sebastian wants to hear. “They were the only ones allowed on the lifeboats, so …

“Yeah. Right. Okay,” Sebastian says, each word clipped within an inch of its life. He turns away in frustration, focusing on the sunset as if he has to watch every last minute of it or suffer dire consequences.

“But you’re not on a sinking ship,” Kurt continues, watching his step with every word. “You can literally choose any direction and go. You wouldn’t have to know what’s there or even have a reason why. Just pack a bag and start walking.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Sebastian mutters grimly, followed by something else Kurt doesn’t catch, although he does hear the words know what you want to do.

“It sounds to me like you’re making excuses,” Kurt counters but not unkindly, “and I don’t know what for. To tell you the truth, I feel like I’ve entered an argument already in progress.”

Sebastian bristles, his back going rigid. Kurt holds his breath, unsure what he’s about to do. Would he turn his horse around and leave without a word, abandon Kurt there on the top of this rise in the dark?

No. Kurt is confident he wouldn’t. Sebastian isn’t that person. Not anymore. He wouldn’t do that.

Besides, Kurt’s mare would simply follow his. He’s really in no danger unless Sebastian comes up to him and shoves him off his horse.

Kurt isn’t convinced his thighs would protect him.

Kurt’s words seem to take the steam out of Sebastian. When he turns around to face Kurt, he looks tired. Worn down. “I’m sorry. Kurt. I’m not trying to start a fight. And don’t think I don’t understand where you’re coming from. I do. I really do. Maybe not from first hand experience but I get it. And you’re absolutely right. When you don’t have money, when you have to worry about where your next meal is coming from or how you’re going to pay your rent, it sucks. Money greases so many wheels, can take you to so many places. I’m fortunate. So fucking fortunate. But there’s something to be said about having an identity that doesn’t revolve around money.”

“I don’t … I don’t think I understand.” Kurt says it, but then he realizes that’s not entirely true. On some level, he does. For a good portion of his high school career, he had to contend with being known as the one out-and-proud gay kid. To most people, it was his sole descriptor. But there’s so much more to him.

Just like there’s so much about Sebastian’s situation that Kurt doesn’t understand.

“No matter where I am, if I’ve been there longer than a week and you ask someone about me, ask them to describe who I am, they’ll tell you I’m some rich douche. That’s it. That’s what I am. That’s who I was at Dalton. It doesn’t matter that I was a straight A student, 5.0 GPA, on the lacrosse team, that I was a Warbler, or any of that. I’m an asshole and I have money. That’s it. That’s my identity. But not you,” Sebastian says, his voice becoming hard and soft at the same time. “You’re Kurt Hummel. You’re a trail blazer. You’re compassionate and brave and talented ...”

“Who told you that?” Kurt interjects, squashing uncomfortable laughter with disbelief.

“Blaine for one,” Sebastian admits, though from his expression, he would rather pry up his fingernails than say that name. “The Warblers, your friends at that public school you went to, your teacher Will Schuester, your father, your stepmother, Finn and Puck. You do your own thing no matter what other people say. And even if they knock you down, you stick up for them. You ran for student body president on a platform of stopping bullying. I would never do that!”

“You don’t want to stop bullying?” Kurt asks, appalled enough to overlook the fact that Sebastian knows any of that. But when Sebastian shoots him a You have got to be kidding me! look, Kurt is immediately confronted with the reality of who he’s talking to. Sebastian was a bully! He blackmailed and schemed. He photoshopped vulgar pictures of Kurt’s stepbrother, and tried to steal his boyfriend. He’s only recently redeemed himself for any of that. There are people who would still consider him a bully - Kurt’s friends, people he loves - who haven’t had the opportunity Kurt has to get to know him.

But it’s also an unfair question. From what Kurt has learned, Sebastian wasn’t always that way. The person he was while he was at Dalton - that person was created, and by someone other than himself.

“I would never run for student body president in the first place!” Sebastian yells. “I don’t care about other people’s problems! I can’t be bothered! If I went to your school God forbid and people bullied me, I wouldn’t want to help them! I’d want to watch the place burn to the ground!”

“That … that’s not true!”

Sebastian leans towards him threateningly. But not threatening to hurt him. Threatening to make him see the truth. “Isn’t it!?”

“I …” Kurt puts a hand to his head and closes his eyes. Sebastian’s words pound in his brain. They connect a bunch of dots, but they also leave other sections of the overall picture blank. “I’m sorry, I … I don’t know what’s going on. We’ve gone from horses to your sister to student body president to arson and I … I think … I may have missed the point somewhere.”

“The point I’ve been trying to make,” Sebastian says slowly, bringing his mare closer to Kurt’s, “and very badly is that money is a wonderful thing to have. But it shouldn’t be your identity. You need to be something more. Money will never make you a whole person if you can’t be one without it.”

Kurt nods, relieved to have it summed up so nicely before either one of them accidentally says something they’ll both regret. With his own deadline of NYADA looming, Kurt forgot that Sebastian said he hasn’t chosen a college yet. What if that’s not the entire story?

What if he doesn’t know what he wants to do with the rest of his life? And what if that scares him?

“Okay,” Kurt says, accepting Sebastian’s hand when it finds his. “I … I think I get it. That makes sense.”

“I’m glad. Because believe it or don’t, I didn’t bring you up here to start an argument. I just wanted to watch the sun set. Show you one of my favorite thinking spots. To be honest …” Sebastian shakes his head “… I don’t know where half of that came from.”

Kurt gives Sebastian’s hand a comforting squeeze. He hopes that Sebastian might be willing to bring this subject up again at the beach house when they’re both a little more level-headed, better equipped to handle it. “Where would you say you fall on that spectrum? Between being whole and being not?”

“I’d have to say I’m extensively ventilated …” Sebastian brings Kurt’s hand to his mouth for a kiss, disarming smile locked back in place. “But on the mend.”

Kurt watches Sebastian run his thumb over his knuckles, hesitant to give his hand back, even with the darkness settling in around them. “You know,” Kurt says, “this picture you’re painting of who you are … if I wasn’t here, seeing it for myself, I don’t think I would ever believe any of this about you.”

Sebastian frowns, looks like he’s about to rush to his own defense, but he stops. “I guess I didn’t really give you the chance to find out for yourself.”

“Why isn’t this the foot you put forward all the time?”

“Because … I don’t like being vulnerable with people.”

“You don’t have to be vulnerable. But nice would be …” Kurt searches his head for the perfect word, but only comes up with “… nice. You know what they say - more flies with honey and all that.”

Sebastian sputters. “There you go again with those archaic expressions! Who on earth wants to be surrounded by flies? Being this version of me is too much work for too little pay off most of the time. For what I usually want, my methods get me results quicker.”

“So … what does that say about me?” Kurt asks. “You and I have been at this for months. And it’s not as if I rolled over for you the first chance I got.”

Sebastian tugs Kurt’s hand, brings him close enough to give him the whisper of a kiss against his cheek. “That says you’re worth the effort.”

***

It’s been well over a week since the Smythes descended on the beach house, and as much fun as it is having them there, Kurt is steadily becoming paranoid. He wouldn’t have had Olivia not made that remark about keeping an eye out for her mother. Now he’s convinced that every look Charlotte tosses his way holds significance.

A silent warning.

That she knows about him and Sebastian, and that the two of them are royally screwed - Sebastian more so than he, of course. Only she’s too nice to shred him to pieces in front of the family, so she’s waiting to do it in private.

He won’t know for certain until she corners him and they talk.

So he does the mature thing.

He avoids being alone with her at all costs.

He doesn’t hide behind curtains or vault over furniture when he sees her approach. He simply makes certain he’s never by himself for longer than a few minutes. That amounts to trips to the bathroom and any time he needs to change clothes, which (and he’s not proud of this) he’s done twice as an excuse not to talk to her. With Sebastian’s new found need to be with Kurt every conceivable second, that takes care of every time else. Still, in the confines of the beach house, Kurt knows it’s impossible to dodge Charlotte forever. He just hopes he can figure out what he’s going to say when the time comes, how he’s going to defend his and Sebastian’s actions.

How he’s going to make being a boyfriend-for-hire in order to deceive her in specific sound not so bad.

Sitting on Sebastian’s lap on the porch swing, Kurt’s favorite place in the house to be hands down, he’s finding it difficult to relax. Even though she’s nowhere where she can see them, Kurt feels her eyes on him. Several times he pops his head up and scans the beach to see if she’s walking along the shore, but no. She’s not there.

This is all in his head. He knows it. He’s building it up to something bigger than it needs to be. But if he doesn’t deal with things soon, he’s going to give himself a nervous condition.

“Hey, babe. I have to run to the bathroom,” Sebastian says, sliding his hands underneath Kurt’s rear and relocating him to the far side of the swing.

“O-okay,” Kurt says, a knot starting in his stomach, like a stop watch zeroing out before a tie-breaker race. “Don’t take too long.”

“Yeah, alright. I … won’t,” Sebastian says, giving Kurt an odd look before heading towards the door to his room. Kurt watches him go, crossing every finger on both hands and his toes in his socks, praying Sebastian returns before Charlotte discovers he’s alone and swoops in. Kurt doesn’t see her, hasn’t seen her for most of the day actually. He’d be hard pressed to say whether or not she’s even there.

Kurt and Sebastian ate dinner on the porch, intend on sleeping out there, too, in the tent still set up in the far corner. Did he see her before dinner? Or did Greg take her out to eat? They’d been discussing an Italian place not too far from the beach. They could be there, enjoying a romantic evening alone, with not a single thought to the deceptive practices of her son and his boyfriend. Or did she go shopping with Olivia? Olivia mentioned wanting to hit Yankee Candle for apple pie scented wax melts after stumbling across one of Kurt and Sebastian’s vanilla scented votives. That’s a possibility.

Unfortunately, there’s only one way for him to inconspicuously check. He’d have to go inside and take a peek for himself. If he texts Olivia, he runs the risk of her coming out to ask him what��s up with her mother in tow.

Kurt gets so wrapped up in thinking about where Charlotte could be that he misses her sweeping through the door right as Sebastian leaves, stopping her son to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Kurt!” she says brightly, striding across the porch toward him, wrapped in the coziest looking, camel-colored, cashmere duster. He’s been looking for one just like it - not super chunky the way knitted dusters tend to be. This one looks soft, and clingy in all the right places. And that color - super complementary. Once she’s done verbally disemboweling him, he’ll have to ask her where she got it. “I was hoping I’d get you alone! You and my son seem to be locked together at the hip lately! I’d need a crowbar to separate you two!”

“That seems to be the consensus,” Kurt says, banishing the image of sweet matriarch Charlotte Smythe wielding a crowbar. He shouldn’t be this nervous around her. She’s never given him reason to be. She treats him like he’s part of the family. Besides, Sebastian and Julian both agree that Olivia is the scary one. Not their mother.

Then again, where do they think Olivia gets it from?

“That’s not a bad thing. I remember being your age, locked at the hip with my boyfriend,” she reveals, a speck of wickedness coloring her smile. “But as much as I adore my son, I was hoping I could talk to you - one on one.”

Kurt’s stomach flip-flops the way it did during his NYADA audition. The only difference is, at his audition, he had a pair of gold pants to give him strength. He loves borrowing Sebastian’s Ralph Lauren lounge pants, but it’s not the same. “Absolutely. What’s on your mind?”

“Well, I feel like you may be avoiding me … just a little,” she says, bringing a hand up, putting her thumb and forefinger together for emphasis.

“Oh, uh … no. No I haven’t. Not … consciously,” he fibs, but she stares him down. Even if she doesn’t know about him and Sebastian pretending to be boyfriends, she knows that Kurt has been lying about something. Charlotte is an intelligent woman. Kurt is not about to disrespect her. “I’m sorry if it seems that way. That wasn’t my intention.”

She stays silent a moment longer, scrutinizing him the same way Carole does him and Finn when her motherly instincts tell her not to trust them. And Carole’s instincts are pretty much consistently on the nose. But Charlotte may not feel comfortable scolding her son’s boyfriend.

She may have decided to let the guilt eat Kurt away for her.

“Sebastian says you have quite a fondness for this old swing,” she says. “But before you came along, he’d never come out here. Ever. You would think he was afraid of heights or something the way he avoided it, and my son is definitely not afraid of heights. In fact, if someone were to ask me what Sebastian is afraid of, I’d have to say there isn’t a thing … except losing you. And your good opinion of him.”

Kurt goes temporarily speechless. He wants to say he knew that, but he can’t. Because he didn’t. “Really?”

“A-ha. So imagine my surprise when I found out that the two of you weren’t actually an item.”

Kurt’s eyes pop open. He hopes he looks stunned, hurt, maybe even a little too scandalized for words. But he knows he’s not that good an actor. Not yet. Give him a couple of semesters, maybe a year abroad …

But right now, he probably looks exactly the way he feels.

Busted.

“That’s … that’s not …” Kurt tries, but he can’t get the rest of the words out. They physically refuse to leave his tongue.

“It’s not what?” Charlotte asks in that stern way mothers do when weeding out the truth.

When they know for a fact that they’re being duped.

“You’re … you’re right.” Those words are a bit harder to say but at least they come out. “We weren’t a couple. B-but we are now,” he adds, praying that makes everything right, that he didn’t inadvertently toss Sebastian under the bus and lose him everything.

“As of …?” she presses.

Oh God, Kurt thinks, losing the feeling in his entire body. Even his tongue goes numb. Nope. He didn’t lose Sebastian everything before. But he may right now. God, he wishes he’d thought to talk to Sebastian about this! Gotten some sort of story straight. “A…after the gala?” More like after they got to North Carolina, but Kurt is not about to split hairs.

Charlotte, who had been sitting with her legs crossed, an elbow resting comfortably on one knee and her chin cradled in the palm of her hand, straightens in surprise.

Oh no! Kurt panics, knowing by the look in her eyes that she’s putting two and two together, time lines readjusting, figuring out just how long they haven’t been a couple.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for lying to you! It’s … it’s all my fault!” he says, hoping that if he keeps her attention locked on himself, that if he can somehow spin it so he’s the perpetrator here and not Sebastian, she’ll forget that they were going to empty out his bank account and take back his tuition money. They can’t do that! Not after what Sebastian told him today! Not after everything he might be afraid of! “Are you angry? Disappointed? I’ll make it up to you somehow! I swear!”

“Calm down, dear.” She has an exquisite poker face. Kurt has to give her that. He doesn’t have a clue what she’s thinking. But the parts of her expression that aren’t blank are slightly sad. “I’m not disappointed. Or angry.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Kurt says, feeling like he’s walking on eggshells made of plate glass and battery acid, “how did you figure us out?”

Charlotte smirks. “Well, whether they like it or not, I know my children. And to be honest, because he’s my youngest, I probably know Sebastian best of all. Which is how I know this arrangement the two of you had …” She wiggles her forefinger between Kurt and an invisible placeholder that represents Sebastian “… whatever it entailed, wasn’t your idea. But I can appreciate you throwing yourself on that grenade, and don’t think I don’t know why.” Kurt is about to launch into a new line of disagreeing, but Charlotte sighs uncomfortably, and that makes him hold back. “Kurt, I’ve walked in on my son mid-coitus more times than any mother should, and what I saw when I walked in on the two of you … that wasn’t Sebastian. Not the one I’ve seen torturing himself with different sexual partners for years. The giggling, the smiling - that was different. It was honest. It’s what I’ve wanted for him for longer than I can tell you. And I was so happy to see it. But in a way, because of that, I knew it wasn’t real.”

“But … why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Because of all the boys my son knows, he chose you. So he had to have a reason. And aside from that, I like you, Kurt. My husband husband likes you. We think that you’re good for our son. So I thought that, given enough time, what you two were pretending to be might become real.” Charlotte smiles. “As it turns out, it did.”

“Yes, it did,” Kurt agrees shyly.

“And I don’t want you to worry. Sebastian is safe. And that’s not contingent on you or on anything the two of you do. Gregory and I, we both bear some responsibility for Sebastian hatching this little scheme. Ultimatums don’t always work the way you intend them to.” That should sound like she’s admitting defeat, but the wink she gives Kurt admits anything but. “Just make sure you get what he promised you.”

“I did,” Kurt assures her. “It and a lot more.”

“Good,” she says. “Very good. You know, being a parent, you raise your kids the best way you know how, in the hopes that they grow into adults that can make good decisions on their own. I may not agree with all of the decisions my children have made, but they are their decisions to make. I can’t micromanage their lives. I have to trust them.”

“I think my dad would agree with you,” Kurt says, thinking back on all the times his father stressed that Kurt was an adult, that he’d be out of the house soon, and that his decisions were his own. And as much as Kurt appreciated the sentiment, the look in his father’s eye when he said it, one he probably thought he was covering so well, gutted him.

“Your father is a good man,” Charlotte says, giving Kurt’s hand a pat. “And from what I can see, he did a wonderful job raising you.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says, feeling way more at ease now than he did when this conversation started. “For what it’s worth, I think you guys did an amazing job as parents, too.”

Charlotte’s smile dips, wobbles at the corners, and Kurt wonders if he said something wrong. She sits back in the swing, turns her head slightly away. She gazes down the beach, the same way Sebastian does when he thinks about something sad, watching the water rush in to meet the shore, then out to join the waves. “Thank you, Kurt,” she says finally. “That does mean a lot.”

***

Julian’s demeanor has been changing in increments.

Kurt thinks he may be the only one who notices since he’s spent time alone with every member of the Smythe family and no one else has mentioned it. But Julian has become sullen.

Downright sulky.

He hasn’t gotten on Sebastian’s case recently half as much as when he got there, hasn’t flirted with Kurt in the past few days other than to tell him he looks good wearing his clothes (a black Henley Kurt thought was Sebastian’s, which had found itself in Sebastian’s room due to an unfortunate dry cleaning mishap).

The change started about the same time Kurt began to notice that the long phone conversations Julian had been having with Cooper - the ones that started in the family room or in the kitchen after dinner but eventually sent Julian outside searching for privacy - seemed to happen less and less, and with no estimated time of Cooper’s arrival in sight. Kurt reminds himself that Julian and Cooper’s relationship has always been a volatile one, so maybe this is just the way things go between them.

But it’s still heartbreaking.

Julian seemed so happy when he first arrived, first told them about Cooper spending the summer with him, and now ...

Kurt hopes that their flame hasn’t burned out so quickly, the way he feared his with Sebastian would, the thrill of the chase gone, the shine of the taboo beginning to take on a matte finish.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Julian says, catching Kurt off guard and staring as he makes his way up to their towels spread out on the beach. Kurt wasn’t staring at Julian, even though he’d been looking in the man’s direction. He was just staring, lost in his own thoughts. But he’ll never convince Julian of that. “Why don’t you take a picture? It lasts longer. In fact, I have a few I can text you, save you the trouble. They’re organized by various states of undress …”

“That’s a surefire way to end up with a broken screen,” Olivia says while Sebastian scoots his towel over, scoops up his boyfriend.

“Happen to have any of you in a Franciscan robe?” Kurt counters. “Maybe even a kaftan?”

Julian smirks, and even though it makes him look as handsome as ever, it doesn’t brighten his face, doesn’t reach his eyes. “You know, I might.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Olivia snickers, “so be careful what you ask for. Even if he does, nothing says it’ll be PG.”

“Speaking of, what are you two gentlemen doing tomorrow night?” he asks. “I mean, between the sex, sex, and more sex.”

“Have they been having a lot of sex?” Olivia asks offhandedly while she scrolls through her phone.

“As far as I can tell. I don’t know one hundred percent. They haven’t invited me to join in.”

“We don’t have any hard and fast plans,” Sebastian says, diverting the topic of conversation away from his and Kurt’s sex life. “Why do you ask? And before you say anything, threesomes are out.”

“Airiel Down is playing at Red Hat,” Julian says, reaching into the pocket of his shorts for his phone. “I got two tickets. I was going to take Cooper, but he hasn’t …” Julian’s voice waffles, goes minutely hoarse.

Olivia’s eyes dart his way.

No. That didn’t go unnoticed, Kurt thinks when her gaze shifts to Sebastian, and then Sebastian looks at Kurt. All three of them had heard the same thing.

“Anyway, anyway,” Julian says, pushing past it, “no reason for them to go to waste.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you could still go. Scalp the other ticket,” Sebastian suggests, but from the tone of his voice, it sounds like he’s asking another question entirely.

“I’m sure, little bro. No worries.” Julian chuckles, but it’s as dry as the sand they’re sitting on. They watch in silence as Julian types out a text and attaches the electronic tickets. A second later, Sebastian’s phone in his pocket beeps. “Your boyfriend here needs a night out, and exposure to some of our fine North Carolina culture.” Julian grins. For a moment, he’s closer to normal than he’s been in days. “Besides, you two need to give that beautiful ass of his a break.”

#acitw #acitw au #kurtbastian #sekurt

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marvel-redemption-omega · 4 years

Text

Of Outlaws and Family

https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620348987402256384/of-outlaws-and-familyChapter Seven: Ride of Passion

A/N: AHHHH I am happy we are here! This was such a treat to write! Being this is a story, obviously things are not at all accurate (you’ll see what I mean once you read it) buuuuut it is a story so, yeah. Shh we’ll just play it off as super high pain tolerance? Yeah, that’s what we’ll do, lol. Don’t judge me for my choices, I’m living vicariously through my own writing okay? Oh, guess I should mention this is High Honor Arthur, it’s the only way I’ve played him. Haven’t done my Low Honor run yet. Unbeta-d, all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: Cursing, gang violence, sexual references/innuendos, domestic violence, threats, character injury, character death (O’Driscolls), worried/protective Arthur, protective John, asshole Jessie, 18+/sexual themes: ADULT THEMES; IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 TURN AROUND; GO AWAY; DO NOT PASS GO; DO NOT COLLECT TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS

Start here: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620167374619951104/of-outlaws-and-family-chapter-one-new-beginnings

Last Chapter: https://marvel-redemption-omega.tumblr.com/post/620348987402256384/of-outlaws-and-family

Please enjoy! Hearts and repubs are greatly appreciated!

My work is not to be posted elsewhere; I will post it to my AO3 and dA if I so choose.

Word Count: 11,300

“Want me to ride with y’all part of the way? I ain’t got nothing to do the rest of today and nothin in the mornin,” Jessie offers as he helps James into the saddle of his grey-blue Arabian between Fancy and Shamrock. Scarlet climbs into her saddle on Shamrock, glancing over at him.

“Can he, Ma? I’d like to spend some more time with Pa,” James asks, chocolate eyes warm and happy. She feigns an irritated sigh and nods, gesturing to Fancy.

“Might as well since you’re here. I hope you know I can’t take that Arabian with us. I have too many horses as is,” she explains as her son’s father slings himself into the saddle, making Fancy prance to the right to keep from stumbling into the Arabian.

“I think I’m gonna call her...Storm!” James cheers as the filly tosses her head.

“I can’t believe you bought him a new horse. I get that you wanna be in his life more but he won’t be ridin by himself anytime soon, surely you know that? An I can’t keep anymore, be it for him or not. I have full stables,” she angrily whispers to Jessie over James’ head. He shrugs and pets Fancy’s neck.

“Come on. We have a long way back from here,” he answers, brushing off her concern. James hesitantly kicks the Arabian and holds tight to the reins as she starts to walk forward. Fancy, seeing James moving, immediately follows and rides beside him. Scarlet gives Shamrock a kick, her spurs digging in more than her heels could, and rides on the other side of the Arabian so James is blocked in by them.

“Yeah, that’s cause someone wants to live in Saint Denis to be close to his parents,” she snips as she unties her hat from the saddle and puts it on. A red neckerchief, her rodeo gift from Arthur, sits proudly around her neck. Jessie sighs, not knowing exactly what life she’s been living, after reading about her burned down house.

They ride in silence from Saint Denis until they reach Rhodes. As they enter Lemoyne, Scarlet notes the Raiders watching them and talking rapidly to each other in hushed tones. One of them points and she feels her stomach twist.

Jessie is currently teaching James how to train Storm to listen to neck-reining, demonstrating on Fancy. The bay mustang snorts and flattens her ears at him, biting at her bit, but listens if only for James’ sake. James follows the instructions and laughs when Storm listens.

The farther into Lemoyne they go, the tighter the knot in Scarlet’s stomach gets. She slows Shamrock, grabs Storm’s reins and halts her too, much to the Arabian’s dismay. Fancy and Shamrock flick their ears and look around, both side-stepping closer to James and Storm.

“It’s too quiet. There’s not even any birds. No owls, no deer,” Scarlet murmurs as she looks at the setting sun. Rustling to their left startles the Arabian and she bolts with James on her back, yanking the reins from Scarlet’s hand.

“James!” Jessie and Scarlet yell as they kick their horses to follow. Fancy and Shamrock sprint after Storm, crossing the border of Lemoyne and New Hanover.

They run up on a small group of riders in front of James, who is trying to see past the horses of the men blocking him from his Arabian. Scarlet tenses as she notes their coats. There’s at least twelve of them.

“Storm? Storm!” James cries for his horse.

O’Driscolls, she thinks. Dread seeps into her bones as she pulls up on Shamrock until he’s trotting. Fancy follows Scarlet’s orders, despite Jessie urging her to a gallop. They stop when one of the riders, the leader of the group, slips off his horse, pistol in hand. Scarlet’s hand grabs her revolver out of reflex, slowly un-holstering it as he steps close to James.

“What’s the matter, Boy?” The man asks, nodding his head to the men behind him. Two of them break off and head to the left, where Scarlet glances and sees Storm eating grass. The duo lasso the Arabian and start to lead her back.

“My horse, she got spooked and ran then threw me. I need her so I can go back an ride with my parents, Mister,” he meekly replies, stumbling back with each step forward the man takes.

“Oi! Leave my boy alone!” Scarlet yells, making Shamrock walk forward. James turns around and smiles, a happy shout of “Ma!” from him as he sees his parents. The man takes two quick steps and snatches a hold of James, gun pointed to his head.

“Mama!” James cries, eyes wide as both his parents ride closer. The man behind him cocks the hammer and presses the barrel into his temple. He whimpers and keeps his eyes on his mother. “Don’t let them take me, Mama.”

“Well, well, well boys, would ya look at what we got here. Miss O’Hara, didn’t know you had a son, nor a husband,” the O’Driscoll man sneers and starts to drag James back towards his horse. The other men laugh as the two from earlier ride up with Storm, filtering into the back of the group.

“Give me my boy and the horse and maybe I’ll let you snakes go,” she seethes, hammer cocked as she brings it up to aim at the man, straight between his eyes. Jessie stares in horror, eyes about as wide as his son’s, as he watches Scarlet slip off Shamrock’s back and walk forward.

Shots ring loud as Scarlet pops off three shots. Three men fall off their horses, who all spook and run off, dragging their dead riders as their feet are stuck in the stirrups. The man with James aims his gun at her and fires, the sound momentarily deafening James. He brings his hands up to his ears, around the man’s elbow grip on his throat; he stumbles as he’s dragged backwards even more. Scarlet slides behind a boulder off to her right, peeking out and aiming at the two who have Storm.

Storm rears and starts bucking, yanking the two men from their horses as she bolts. They grumble and holler, letting go of the rope, figuring the horse a lost cause. They scramble to their feet and draw their rifles from their horses. Scarlet curses the Arabian’s fear and sends her last three bullets into the closest O’Driscoll.

Fancy keeps her gaze on James, ignoring Jessie’s many attempts to get her moving. She stands firm even when he digs his heel into her side, snorting in warning. Shamrock rears and stomps the ground, neighing and riling up the other horses who weren’t spooked by the gunshots. Fancy snorts and neighs angrily as the man shoves James to one of the men in the back who hogties him and tosses him on the back of the leader’s horse.

“Not a chance. You want him, you can join him or come and get him. I’m sure Colm will be rather pleased to see you. We’ll be at Dead Man’s Keep, out by Hanging Dog Ranch,” the leader jeers and shoots at the rock, barely missing Scarlet as she ducks just in time. She pops her revolver open, dropping the hot and smoking shells, and fumbling to add another six. A string of curses flies from her lips as she clicks it closed and spins it. She drags the hammer back and aims at the leader, shooting him between the eyes. There’s a storm raging behind her eyes and she drags the hammer back again, moving to aim at one of the others.

A loud crack echos through the valley and Scarlet tumbles back. Searing, scorching, burning pain races from her shoulder and down her arm and chest. She cries out and glances down to her right shoulder. Blood’s soaking through her shirt and staining the blue material. She looks up and locks eyes with the man who shot her, he climbs onto the leader’s horse and snaps the reins as he turns the horse.

Scarlet stumbles back to Shamrock, left foot in the stirrup as she starts urging him to go. Fancy tosses her head and starts galloping, leading the stallion. Scarlet swings into the saddle and curses as she struggles to holster her gun. Once she does, she snatches the reins and snaps them, kicking Shamrock at the same time. He whinnies and turns his gallop into a run. Fancy follows on his heels, reins pulled from Jessie’s hands. He’s frozen in the saddle for the most part, his reality shattering as the realization dawns on him that his son’s been kidnapped. He grabs the reins and posts himself to Fancy’s run.

“I’m gonna get him back. I need you to get someone for me. Fancy!” She yells, turning slightly to look at the duo. The mustang flicks her ears towards her owner, patiently waiting for orders. Scarlet purses her lips and lets out reverse wolf whistle. Fancy stretches her stride and breaks off from Shamrock, taking the trail to the left.

“You can’t go alone!” Jessie yells at her as Shamrock slows for a moment.

“I have to. You ain’t got any guns! You’d be useless to me!”

“You just got shot!”

“I’ll be fine. I’m goin to get my son back. Just tell’em that O’Driscoll’s ambushed us got James and I went after them. Tell’em to meet me at Dead Man’s Keep! HYAH!” She squeezes her thighs while simultaneously kicking Shamrock. The mustang-thoroughbred tosses his head and sprints away from Fancy, the mare picking her run back up as they separate.

Jessie struggles to keep in the saddle as Fancy only seems to be going faster with each stride. He can hear her panting and tries to slow her a few times, only for her to turn her head and nip his his foot or leg and continue her relentless pace. He throws one arm up as a shield as she runs right into a section of trees. Twigs snap under her feet and brittle branches break on his arm, leaves smacking him in the sides and face. He vaguely hears someone shout out a warning and then he’s on the ground.

Fancy’s bucking and causing a riot. Jessie notices there are other horses that are getting stirred up and joining her in her chaos. He glances around and swallows as he sees all the tents and wagons around, one he recognizes as the one he got Scarlet. He looks back at Fancy.

“What in Sam’s Hill?! Dutch growls as he hears Sean yelling for someone to stop their horse before he shoots. He, Hosea, and Arthur share a look and get up, guns drawn as they head over to the horses. Dutch motions for Abigail to get Jack to the back of camp.

“Hey, that’s Fancy. Where’s Scarlet? And who the hell is that?” Arthur mutters crossly.

“Dunno, but we’ll find out,” Dutch responds and readies both his pistols. Arthur nods and heads over to the horse, knowing Dutch and the others can handle the one man, who he assumes was the one who rode Fancy into their camp.

Jessie feels the gun before he hears the click of the hammer. He slowly stands when instructed and turns to face the assailant. His eyes bulge when he turns and comes face to face with none other than Dutch Van der Linde and his gang. He looks over at Fancy, who’s being called by a man in a tan jacket and black hat, a hat that looks similar to Scarlet’s. He watches for a moment as the man easily grabs Fancy’s reins, pulls her from a rear, and has her calm in a matter of seconds. She snorts and paws at the ground, nudging the man and then pulling towards Jessie.

“Who the hell are you?” Dutch’s voice is thick with malice as he keeps his gun trained on the man.

“Jessie.”

“I don’t care about your damn name, Son. Who the hell are you? Why are you ridin Scarlet’s horse?” He growls in warning, cocking his pistols. Jessie holds his hands up as he backs away from Dutch, into the cold barrel of Sean’s rifle behind him.

“I-I-I, umm, there was this gang! We was riding an one of the horses spooked and we ran from Lemoyne to here but were ambushed. Just outside Emerald Ranch. Please, Mister, you gotta help me get my boy back.”

“That still don’t tell me who you are, Boy. I won’t ask you again,” Dutch warns as he and the others press close in a circle around him. Jessie looks around the group of men, eyes settling on the man who calmed Fancy.

“They said they’d be holding them up at Dead Man’s Keep! I don’t know much about this country. I’m from Saint Denis, honest! Uhh, the name of the gang...she said O’something… O’Malley?” He stutters, trying to remember the name of the gang Scarlet had shouted at him.

“Dead Man’s Keep?” Arthur mutters to himself, trying to figure out why that name sounded familiar.

“Strike one, enamigo,” Javier trains his gun on the trembling man’s chest.

“Umm, O’Desry?” He tries again.

“Strike two.” Sadie states; a few other guns cock as Jessie looks back around the group.

“Fuck! Scarlet said to tell y’all she was goin to get James back! Said them damned O’Driscolls got him!” He snapped and took a step towards Sadie. Dutch lowers his guns, but just barely. Arthur grabs Jessie by the front of his shirt, balling it up and bringing him so they’re face to face.

“So you let her go alone?! What’s wrong with you?! Why didn’t you go after him and send her here?!” He bellows, face red in anger. Jessie blinks and tries to pull himself free of Arthur’s grip.

“I didn’t let her do nothing! She did one of her special fucking whistles and Fancy took off! The damn mare wouldn’t listen to me! I tried to stop her but she almost bit me when I did!” He yells back. He stumbles and falls on his ass when Arthur shoves him away.

“Dutch, please?” Arthur’s hands tremble in anger as he moves to the gang leader. Dutch puts his guns away, everyone else following suit, some reluctantly. “Let me go after her?”

“Go. Take who you need. Get her and that boy back in one piece. And take him with you. I don’t want him left in my camp. Send someone back if you need more people than you’re taking,” Dutch replies, eyes hard and cold as they glare daggers at Jessie.

“John, Sean, Charles, Lenny, Kieran, will you ride with me?” Arthur asks, voice projecting as he stalks towards Smoke. Fancy prances behind him, nickering and nuzzling his back. Arthur turns to pet her, carrot in hand. There’s a chorus of cheers and positive hollers as the five all whistle for their horses and mount up.

“Arthur!” Sadie walks up to him, gun in hand. He raises a brow but waits to see what she’s going to say. “Let me ride with you. I’m a good shot and I can help you. Besides, she’s my friend!” Arthur nods, he knows the duo have grown close.

“Oh alright. Get your horse.” Arthur pets Fancy, stroking her neck. “I need a favor if you can, Girl. Think you can ride with us to get your owner back? Jessie here needs a ride,” he asks the mare. She flattens her ears as she looks at Jessie and perks them up when she looks back at him before bobbing her head in what Arthur takes as a yes. He motions for Jessie to climb back on, who hesitates for a second, and Arthur pulls himself onto Smoke. “Let’s ride. Hyah!”

“Ahah! You really thought we would let you follow us here without se’tin up somethin?” One O’Driscoll laughs at Scarlet. She pulls on the rope that’s cutting into her wrists, throwing her body forward. The man holding her laughs as he easily holds her back. When she stops walking, he shoves her forward, he kicks the back of her knees when she doesn’t budge. Her knees buckle and he lets her hit her knees in the mud.

“Where’s that husband of yours? Some man,” another jeers as she is dragged back to her feet and pushed towards the house. She clenches her jaw as she slowly moves, her whole shoulder throbbing. She takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and lets it out slowly. She hasn’t seen James since she got here and she can feel her heartbeat nearly out of her chest.

“Not my husband…just a friend,” she manages to breathe out before she’s backhanded. She grunts and spits out blood as she steadies herself again and readies herself to go up the stairs of the porch. She’s only partially thankful for the man walking behind her, partially disgusted. He keeps brushing his hand on her lower back, hips, and ass and she’s about ready to punch him when the door opens. Colm walks out, dragging James by the arm.

“Well if it isn’t Scarlet O’Hara! What a wonderful surprise! An isn’t he just another great surprise. Tell me,” Colm drawls as he walks up to her after passing James to one of his lackies. He grips her chin harshly and forces her to look at him. “Was he born before or after the first time I met you an you denied me? Is that what that mutt a yer’s come runnin out from the bedroom to bite me fer? He why you shot my men?”

His breath smells of rotten tobacco, so she tells him as such. He backhands her hard enough she falls to her hands and knees. He snatches her up by her hair and brings her close to his face, grinning as his eyes light up with something she can’t quite place.

“How bout you come spend the night with me? After all you did ride into my camp here,” he drags her inside by her hair, stopping momentarily in the doorway. “Make sure he’s taken care of; food, water, whatever he needs. Keep him somewhere for a while. Me and Scarlet here’s gon’ have some fun.”

“Mama?” James whimpers, the man holding him by the arm pulls him back as he tries to run to her. She looks at him, eyes watering from the constant tugging of her hair, and smiles.

“Easy, my son. We’ll be ok soon. We’ll be safe, I promise you. They’re coming, they’re on their way for us,” she bites her tongue as Colm yanks on her hair, pulling her into the house. She tries to keep as close to him as she can so he isn’t tugging so hard she loses hair. Colm thinks she’s slowly caving, finally. He herds her through the hall and up the stairs to the master bedroom.

Arthur puts his binoculars away and turns Smoke to face the others. Sadie sits up straight on the blood bay that Scarlet gave her. John and Lenny look up from cleaning their guns. Kieran, Charles, and Sean all climb off their horses and join the others, all stocked to the teeth with their guns and ammo; Arthur slips off Smoke.

“Alright, they’re takin James to the barn. I’m not sure what they’re plannin on doin with him. Lenny, John, Kieran, and Jessie take the barn. Sadie, Charles, Sean, you’re with me. Remember, we don’t know what they’re gonna do if they find us here. Keep it quiet, move fast, and let’s get Scarlet and James outta here. Let’s move,” he relays his plan. Jessie furrows his brow as he tries to comprehend what was just ordered. Lenny pushes a pistol into his chest, letting go once Jessie has it.

“You do know how to use that, right?” He asks as he leads John and Jessie down towards the barn. Jessie scowls but nods, gripping the pistol.

“Course I do,” he rolls his eyes. Kieran glances back at him and scoffs at his pompous attitude. John pulls out several throwing knives from his pocket and hands them to Jessie.

“We go in quiet first. Don’t wanna kick any trouble up if we can avoid it,” he tells them as they hide in the uncut wheat, bow drawn.

John leads them around the back of the barn to some wooden scaffolding. He helps Lenny climb up before following, Kieran and Jessie in tow. They slip in through the hayloft door and make their way to the edge of the loft, waiting for the O’Driscolls and James.

It’s not long before the barn doors are pushed open and the man shoves James forward, making the poor boy trip and stumble into the hay. He whimpers and turns to face them, crawling backwards as the few gang members press in on him. “Mama!” He yells, scared. They close the barn doors.

“Now’s our chance! Let’s go,” John whispers, motioning for everyone to get into position. He draws his bow, Lenny his knives, Kieran his hatchet, and Jessie the knives John gave him. “Steady.” He waits for the five men to move into range. “Now.” He releases the arrow, dropping one of the guys, knives and hatchets following and downing three others. The last one whirls around and aims his pistol into the loft, firing four shots into the hay. John and his team all lean against the bales and hold their breath in wait.

“Where are you?! You’ll pay for this! Either with your life! Or the boy’s!” Jessie goes to leap up but John yanks him back down, shirt clenched tight in his hand.

“Listen to me!” John hisses, keeping his voice low to keep their position secret. “He’s trying to draw us out. I understand you want James ba-”

“How could you possibly understand?! You don’t know wh-”

“I have a son!” John snaps, yanking Jessie closer, sneer on his face. “And I know that if Arthur told us to keep quiet it’s for good damn reason! Now sit down, shut up, and let me work on a plan to get your son, my nephew, back!”

Jessie stares wide eyed at John, his words sinking in and striking a nerve. He clenches his jaw but nods as John shoves him back into the hay. He points to Lenny, “go scope out the other side with Jessie here,” he orders and peeks over the bale. He points at Kieran as he drops back down when a bullet flies by. “You’re coming with me. We’re gonna try and flank this sunovabitch,” he urges Kieran to their right as the four split and make their way silently among the hay bales.

“I’ll give ya to the count of three to come out! Then the kid gets lead right between his pretty green eyes,” the O’Driscoll calls as he holds one pistol trained on James and another scanning the loft. He fires another shot as he sees movement between some bales. He quickly reloads his revolver; James is curled up in the stall with Storm, the grey mare nickering and nudging the boy in comfort.

Arthur leads his small group towards the front of the homestead. There’s a cattle pen full to their right and a sheep pen full to their left, Arthur sends Sean and Charles to the right and tells Sadie to follow him through the sheep. They slowly make their way up to the house, silently taking out any O’Driscolls they see.

He has Charles stay behind to guard the door to the house as they move in. Sadie paves their way, checking each room before waving Sean and Arthur through. She halts them as she slowly pushes the kitchen door open, revealing four O’Driscolls at the table, drinking and playing poker. She puts a finger to her lips and draws her knife. Arthur follows her lead and pulls two throwing knives from his pouch.

“Sean, get your knife ready,” Arthur orders as they get into position. Sean nods eagerly and draws his knife as he goes where Sadie tells him. Arthur sinks his blades into the chests of two of the four as Sadie and Sean grab the other two and stab them until they go limp in their arms.

“What the hell?!” The trio whirl around at the yell, an O’Driscoll standing in the doorway. He glances over his shoulder to the stairs and makes a break for it. Sean leaps at him, being the closest one to him, and tackles him. Arthur and Sadie cringe at the loud thud that resounds throughout the house. Sean rams his knife into the man’s neck as he struggles to get free.

“Best ta get goin, Boss. T’at ruckus probably alerted whoever was upstairs, Art’ur,” Sean ushers Arthur passed him and up the stairs.

“Now you know ain’t no one coming for you, why would you say something like that to the boy? Get his hopes up?” Colm coos, though it’s anything but sweet. He runs a hand down her chest, over the dress he’s forced her into. Scarlet scrunches her nose in disgust, looking up at him from her spot on the bed, the rope cutting into her wrists, binding her to the bed frame.

“He needed to know that I would be fine with the likes of you. Needed to be told somethin so he’d stay calm. Don’t want him hurt. Forgive me for tryna keep my son calm,” she snips at him, eyes defiant. Colm turns to her with a glare.

“Don’t you disrespect me!” He snarls and stalks over to the bed. She struggles to pull herself up as he backhands her again, causing her to yelp in pain. He smiles as he leans over her. She leans back as far as she can from him, her back and head pressing against the wall. A loud thud echos upstairs and Colm jerks away from her as the door busts open.

“Colm! You gotta go! Dutch’s Boys are here!” One of Colm’s men shouts. Colm grits his teeth and shoves off the bed, grabbing several bags and his pistols. He turns back to the bed and starts for it, bringing his right hand up. He swings down as his man drops dead in the doorway, intentions set on knocking her out and taking her with him. Arthur, Sadie, and Sean all appear just as Colm looks up, the diversion making his hand move lower than he wanted and cracks Scarlet good in the chest.

She gasps as the air is forced from her lungs and pain spreads like wildfire through her veins. Sean’s the first to get a shot off, missing Colm as the gang leader whistles and climbs out the window. He jumps onto his horse and kicks it, making it rear and run away from them and homestead. Arthur runs over to her, knife making quick work of the ropes as Sadie and Sean cover him, Sadie shooting out the window at Colm’s shrinking figure. She growls as he disappears from sight, several men on his tail.

“How’s the Lass?” Sean asks as he slowly moves towards the bed, hearing Scarlet’s heavy breathing as she tries to get a full breath. She waves the Irish man off and grips Arthur’s jacket tightly as he scoops her up in his arms.

“She’ll be fine. Just cover me,” he barks and makes his way down the steps, cradling Scarlet carefully against him, minding her head and legs as he passes through the doorways. Charles greets them outside and stares in disbelief at Scarlet, earning a glare from her. He chuckles and nods to the rest of the group, all walking from the barn. Jessie has the Arabian mare on a lead and John is talking with James, arm over his shoulder as they bow their heads in conversation.

“James?” Scarlet croaks, pulling Arthur’s attention. He glances at her and nods, gesturing with his chin to their right. She sighs and closes her eyes, breathing still a little ragged.

“Scarlet,” Jessie breathes a sigh of relief.

“Mama?”

“She’ll be alright, but we need to get back to camp. And you need to go back to wherever it is you live,” Arthur growls to Jessie, hold on Scarlet tightening slightly. Jessie glowers at him and gives a stiff nod. James breaks away from John and rushes Sadie, murmuring with her, trying to see what was wrong. Sadie doesn’t tell him, offering comfort by telling him his Ma is just tired. They all follow Arthur to the tethered horses.

Arthur helps Scarlet onto Smoke, the thoroughbred nickering in question to the semi-conscious female. She mumbles something to him, as she slumps down onto his neck, breathing still slightly labored. He follows her quickly, sitting behind her in the saddle, and pulls her so her back is to his chest. She opens her eyes and murmurs something he doesn’t make out.

“Hey, c’mon. Eyes on me,” he tips her head back so he can look at her face. Her green eyes meet his and she smiles, relaxing back against him. “There ya go. You good?”

“I feel like shit. He hit me pretty good,” she rubs at her eye, flinching slightly at the pull in her chest. He takes off his jacket, slipping it over her and takes her hand, leading it to the horn, where he has her hold.

“Yeah well don’t worry bout him. Little shit ran when he saw us comin. Now let’s get you guys back to camp. Dutch was pissed when you sent your….sent James’ father to camp on Fancy.”

“He’ll get over it. I have some information for him anyway. Dumbass O’Driscoll was prattling on bout some money, sounded like a lot,” she murmurs and let’s her eyes close. “I wanna sleep, please?”

“Alright. I’ve got you. It’s a long ride back to camp anyway,” Arthur agrees and takes the reins in his left hand, right arm around Scarlet, hand on hers to help keep her steady. His right hand holding hers on the horn. “Let’s get!” He calls to the rest of the group.

Sadie helps James onto Fancy, takes her reins, and ties them to Buckeye before climbing into her saddle after tying Scarlet’s bedroll onto Smoke. She just winks at John when he gestures to the bedroll. His eyes widen a bit and he tries to cover his slip of laughter into a cough, smirking as he looks between Arthur and Scarlet.

They ride in silence, everyone worn down from the raid. James and Jessie are the only ones talking, well Jessie tries to but James just asks why he didn’t try to help his Ma when they were shooting at her. He asks why he didn’t come after him in place of her. Arthur’s still alert, his adrenaline still rushing as his mind plays over different outcomes that could have been. He tries to slow his racing heart so he doesn’t wake Scarlet.

Scarlet startles awake, having only been in a very light sleep anyway, and groans as she leans back against the warm chest behind her, closing her eyes again. She reaches her left arm back and rests her hand on his thigh; opening her eyes as she realizes it’s not Jessie she’s riding with. Quickly, she tilts her head and shyly smiles up at Arthur.

“Hey, you,” she blinks.

“You alright? Took a nasty hit with that pistol,” he says softly, glancing down at her.

“Yeah, he hit my sternum. Still feel like shit though,” she manages and rubs his thigh, squeezing when Smoke abruptly sidesteps and whinnies. “Shh, hey boy, you’re good. It’s just a snake,” she soothes, letting go of Arthur’s leg to reach up and pat Smoke’s neck. He tosses his head and turns his head a little to see her, ears forward.

“That’s my boy,” Arthur murmurs to him scratching his back just in front of the saddle so he doesn’t lean on Scarlet. Smoke straightens and resumes his trot. “But you’re alright otherwise?”

“Yeah. I’ll probably be bruised but I think I’ll be fine. Bout as bad as bein trampled,” she shakes her head as she leans back into Arthur, grateful for his warmth. “I did get shot in the shoulder though, that hurts like a right bitch.”

“I’ll bet,” Arthur shifts behind her slightly, pulling her closer to him in the saddle. “If you want, we can stop and I can take a look at your shoulder, see how bad it is. You need to get alcohol on it so it don’t get infected.”

“Mm, nah. Let’s get back to camp. Don’t wanna be out here with them still milling about,” she attempts to scoot closer to him, shivering when she feels him, half hard against her rear. Her heartbeat flutters and she lets out something between a whimper and a moan. “Why, your jeans are rather tight Mr. Morgan. Are you alright?” She lets her hand fall back onto his leg, mindlessly drawing random, invisible patterns. Her head slides to his left shoulder, tilting back so she can look up at him. She smiles when she hears him curse under his breath and slows Smoke to a walk. He’s made his decision.

“Hey, Charles! Make sure everyone gets back safely? And make sure he doesn’t follow. You heard Dutch, he don’t want him back at camp. We’re gonna stop so I can tend to her shoulder; she got shot,” he explains as Charles moves up in the formation. Charles nods and takes Arthur’s position.

“Stay safe and stay warm,” Sadie hollers as she passes them, winking at the duo. James waves to them as Fancy follows Buckeye, nickering at her owner. Shamrock’s following easily behind Fancy, nickering and nudging his mother every so often.

Jessie stops the Arabian by them, eyes angry at Arthur before softening when he turns his gaze to Scarlet. John and Lenny bring up the rear, passing by Jessie as they catch up with the group, calling out to be safe and hurry back.

“I’m sorry you were shot. Do you want me to stay and help?” He offers sincerely, prepping to dismount.

“No. No thank you. Why don’t you just go back to Saint Denis? I’ll, uhh, I’ll write you when James wants to see you again. Arthur’s got me covered,” Scarlet answers for him. She squeezes his leg again as he rocks into her back slightly, looking as though he were shifting in his seat.

“Oh, umm, yes. Alright. Okay, I’ll do that then. I’m sorry, Scarlet. This isn’t how this should have gone,” he apologizes before clicking his tongue and kicking the mare.

Once he’s out of sight she rocks back against Arthur, hand rubbing down his thigh to his knee and back. She repeats this as Arthur moves Smoke into the clearing on their right.

“Can I get the tent and our bedrolls set up at least?” He groans, the uneven ground causing them to grind against each other, she whimpers.

“Sure. Maybe that will give me enough time to wash in the creek. I feel dirty, feeling his hands on me,” she retches, sticking her tongue out as she fake gags.

Arthur nods and stops Smoke, slipping from the saddle. He picks Scarlet up and sets her on her feet, handing her one of the shirts he has stored on his horse. She smiles and thanks him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before wandering down to the creek.

The water is just high enough that she can sit comfortably and rinse off the dirt, grime, and blood from her chest and shoulder. She takes her time as there’s still a pull when she reaches too far with her left arm. When she’s done, she shakes the water off the best she can, using parts of the dress she cuts to press against her shoulder as a makeshift bandage.

Arthur sets up the bedrolls and pitches the tent. Once he’s done, Scarlet walks over in just his long sleeve shirt he handed her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It’s big on her but his heart still jumps a little at the sight.

“C’mere,” Arthur says, hand held out in invitation as he holds open the tent flap with his other hand. She takes it and follows him into the tent, minding the small fire he has going just out front of it. Arthur shuts the flaps and pulls her to him, catching her lips in a searing kiss. It stuns her for a moment before she’s pressing herself against him, hands roaming his chest above his shirt.

He pulls back and sits down with his back to the back of the tent, a tree just on the other side stabilizing him. He gently pulls her down into his lap and cups her face, kissing her again. She pulls back from him, hands resting on his shoulders as she pulls her knees to either side of his legs, lowering herself to sit back.

“Thought you was gon’ help me with this wound?” She teases, taking his hat and tossing it onto the bedrolls on the side. He lets his head fall against her chest as she runs her hands through his hair. He grumbles and presses kisses to her left collarbone.

“Fine. Come on then,” he pats her thighs, signaling her to get off his lap so he can grab what he needs. She complies and sits on her bed, waiting as he steps out the tent. She can hear him rummaging through his saddle bags, muttering to himself. She laughs as she makes out ‘damn woman’ and ‘why she gotta tease’. He pushes the flaps aside as he maneuvers back inside. He pats his lap when he gets settled, his pouch sitting open beside him. She moves back to him, straddling him.

“Whatcha got there?” She wonders aloud, watching as he takes out an unopened bottle of whisky. He passes it to her and pulls out some cloth and wrap.

“Drink up, I’m gonna need to use some of that to pour in that wound, clean it out,” he explains as she pulls the cork out with her teeth. She stares at him, eyes widening.

“That’s gon’ burn like hell.”

“Unfortunately. Then I’ll cover it and wrap it,” he starts undoing the buttons on his shirt she’s wearing. Scarlet takes a large gulp of the alcohol, coughing slightly at the after-burn in her throat. She passes the bottle to Arthur, who sets it aside for now.

She goes to help him unbutton the shirt, but he lightly smacks her hands away, catching her eye. They stare at each other a moment, the only sound being the rustle of clothes as Arthur continues to pop the buttons. She can see how dark his eyes are, pupils dilated almost completely. He’s staring at her with lust, adoration, and something she isn’t quite sure. She knows he can see lust and adoration in her eyes too, hoping the love and bliss is contained.

Her breath hitches slightly as his hands undo the last few buttons at the top. Arthur murmurs softly to her, keeping her gaze as he slips his hands under the shirt and gingerly slips it off her shoulders and down her arms. She pulls her wrists out and he tosses it by his hat. Arthur tries not to let his eyes wander, but it’s hard when she’s bared to him, in his lap. He gulps and brings his hand up to her right shoulder, resting it on the top as he inspects the bullet hole. She rests her left hand on his shoulder and lets her right hang by her side so he can move it if he needs to.

“It’s a clean shot, went straight through. It’ll scar but you should be fine,” he assesses and reaches for the whiskey. She moves off his lap and leans back, on the opposite side of their beds. She nods when she’s ready and he moves over her, slowly pouring some of the alcohol on and in her wound. She bites her lip as she whimpers at the burn; it’s nowhere near what she felt when the bullet ripped through, but it still hurts. She pants as he dabs at the excess whiskey and puts one of the cloth pieces over the front. “Turn over for me? I need to get the back,” he whispers softly to her, brushing her hair behind her ears.

She nods and takes a second before rolling herself onto her stomach, holding herself up from the ground. She feels his scruff on her back before the burn, his lips trailing soft kisses along her left shoulder and neck as he cleans the exit side of the wound. She lets out a shaky breath when he presses another piece of cloth to the back, dabbing at the excess liquor and blood, helping her back into his lap.

“Shh,” he soothes, running his hand down her back as the other holds the cloth in place on her shoulder. He removes the cloths and grabs a small, metal file from his bag. He lets her rest on the bedrolls as he steps back out the tent, coming in a few moments later, the file red and hot. Her eyes widen a bit. “I need you to trust me, okay? Come here, this is gon’ hurt,” he soothes as best he can, rubbing her side when she crawls back into his lap.

She rests her left arm around his neck, bringing her shoulder and body close as she waits for him. He presses a few kisses to her face before holding her tight with his left arm about her waist. He works the file into her shoulder, making sure there’s nothing left in the wound. She whimpers and cries out against his shoulder, her muscles tightening as she clenches her stomach and legs, letting out a baited breath.

Arthur sets the file aside and pulls a bullet from his satchel, prying it open. Scarlet lets her head rest against the crook of his neck, her heart racing. She can feel the blood pumping through her veins, feel the rush as it pounds through her head. Arthur shifts her to his side to leave the tent. He returns with a small branch on fire. When she looks at him, puzzled, he gestures to the opened bullet and then to the burning stick. Her face pales a bit and she swallows, her throat feeling dry all of a sudden.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come on, I’ve got you,” he soothes as he pulls her back to his lap, letting her sit with her back to his chest. He dumps a little of the gunpowder in her shoulder, bringing the flame to it. There’s a soft popping sound and Scarlet slumps against Arthur, chest heaving. He soothes her by pressing kisses to her temple, cheeks, and neck, whispering praises and telling her how good she was doing for him.

He turns her so she’s facing him again and repeats his previous steps, cradling her as she loses consciousness for a moment from the shock. He takes the moment to toss the burning stick back out into the fire, readjusting Scarlet against his chest and packing his tools. He leaves the cloth and whisky out.

It’s a few moments before she’s back with him, her body aching, coming off the adrenaline rush. She groans and opens her eyes, looking up at him. She can feel his growing excitement under her legs, as he has her sitting sideways across his lap.

“You ready for me to wrap it?” He asks, voice quiet as he nuzzles his face into her neck, nipping and leaving sloppy, teasing kisses. She shivers in his arms and nods her head once.

“Arthur,” she whimpers, turning so she’s straddling his hips again. “Wrap my shoulder later. Please? I just- I can’t- I need-” she struggles to find the right choice of words. Luckily he seems to understand as he lets his right hand hold her left hip, rolling his hips up into her as he gently pulls her down for another kiss. She whines against his lips, her hands making their way under his vest. He helps her get his vest off, his bandolier going with it, leaving him in his shirt and jeans.

Her hands are on him again immediately, popping the buttons on his shirt. She pulls the bottom from his jeans to undo the last few, trailing kisses down his neck. He lets his hands fall naturally, one on her hip and the other tangled in her hair at the back of her head, cradling her to him as she grinds down against him. He grunts and pulls her head back, bringing her back to him to kiss. She slows her hands, taking her time in unbuckling his gun belt, minding the pull in her chest when she pulls the belt from the buckle.

Arthur licks her bottom lip, silently asking for permission. She groans against his lips, parting hers for him. He curls his tongue around hers, coaxing her to a fight for dominance. She responds, hand moving to tangle in his hair while the other works on getting his suspenders undone. Arthur pulls back and rests his forehead against Scarlet’s, both breathing heavily.

“We can stop if you want, if your shoulder,” he starts. She shakes her head, removing his suspenders and pushing his shirt back and over his shoulders.

“Don’t wanna stop, wanna feel you,” she breathes, eyes locking with his. His breath catches in his throat, seeing her green eyes blown with lust makes him moan. He nods and toes off his boots, shrugging out of his shirt.

“Okay, okay,” he replies, nodding as he gently pushes her from his lap, “we’ll keep going.” He strips out of his pants and underwear as she moves to their beds, sitting up on her knees.

“Are you okay, Arthur?” Her tone is teasing and she looks as though she’s about to jump him. He nods and moves his shirt to join the rest of his pile of clothes, leaving his hat on the bedrolls.

“Better once you get over here again,” he mumbles, motioning for her to lay with him in the middle of the beds. She shakes her head and lets him lay down first, straddling him again.

“This won’t pull so much,” she shyly admits, eyes bright with something Arthur’s not familiar with.

“You sure you don’t wanna lie down? You’ve been through a lot in the past few hours,” Arthur murmurs against her ear, licking the shell of it. She shivers and he smirks; he knows it’s not from the cool breeze seeping into the tent. He trails his hand down her stomach, but she smacks his hand away lightly, shaking her head.

“No teasin, don’t wanna wait, been too long,” she grumbles, hand slipping between them to stroke him a few times. He groans at the contact, letting his head fall back against the pillow. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, watching her as she pushes to stand on her knees, lining him up with her entrance. He swears as she sinks down onto him, moan slipping from her lips as her hands fall to his chest where she digs her fingernails in.

“Christ,” Arthur breathes as he moves one hand to rest on her hip, holding himself up with the other. “How long is too long?” He slowly rolls his hips up when she grinds down on him. Green eyes meet his for a split second before she’s looking at the bed to the side of him.

“Shortly after James was born,” she quietly admits, raising herself before sinking back down. “Now hush that mouth before I do it for you.” She leans forward to recapture his lips, tugging on his hair when he sucks on her bottom lip. She feels the vibrations of his chuckle through his chest and against her own at her keen moans he’s swallowing.

She keeps her pace in rhythm with their kisses, slow and drawn out. Arthur seems content with it as well, bucking and rolling his hips every other time she lowers herself back onto him. He groans when she shifts her weight and bounces on him, moving one of her hands from his hair to brace against his forearm.

He has one hand on her hips, the other gently stroking up from her navel to her breasts. He runs his thumb over one bud, watching as it hardens when he takes the warmth of his hand away. Scarlet whines when he tweaks it, rolling the hardened bud between his fingers. When she’s mewling and arching her back into his hand, he switches to give her other breast the same treatment.

“Arthur,” she moans, widening her legs to pick up her pace. He lets go of her hip, slowly letting his hands rove from her side up to her shoulder, down to her stomach, finally cupping her breasts, squeezing them gently. She curses under her breath as she looks down at him, nails digging into his arm, surely leaving crescent shape indents.

She grips at his hair, tugging gently to pull his gaze from where they’re joined to her face. He smiles up at her, face and chest flushed with heat. She smiles back at him and leans down, meeting him halfway for a kiss. He gives her boobs a final squeeze before reaching over and grabbing something with his left hand. He holds her gaze until he drops his hat on her head, smirking up at her mischievously.

“Show me how well you really ride, Cowgirl,” he orders, grabbing her braid and tugging. A strangled moan leaves her lips as she stutters above him.

“Fockin’ ‘ell,” she swears, adjusting his hat so it won’t fall off before she shifts her stance to ride him faster. He tugs her braid again, rolling his hips up into her as she moves down. She gasps and tilts her head down at him as he repeats the action, hand tight on her hip. He rocks up into her in time with her movements, one hand cupping her jaw and forcing her to look as she lowers herself down. She lets out a groan at the sight, one hand pressing on his stomach as her back arches. “Fock, Arthur! There,” she whimpers, scratching down his chest. He moans at the feel, watching as her nails leave white streaks on his flushed skin.

“Darlin’, you keep ridin like that an I ain’t gonna last much longer,” he bites out, panting as he meets her eyes. She nods and slams down on him, throwing him off her pattern. He easily picks it back up, yanking on her braid. He slides his hand to the start of her braid and buries his hand, tangling it in her copper strands.

She only hums in response and tightens her stomach muscles as she slips off him, making him yank her hips back down as he slams up into her. She smirks down at him until he clenches the hand in her hair into a first and tugs her head back and to the side. He leans up, pulling her close as he holds her head back, nipping at her throat, teeth dragging across, leaving angry, red marks.

“I don’t know what you just did, but you need to not do that if you wanna finish first,” he growls, kissing her hard, their teeth scraping together. She lets out a few whimpers as their tongues fight for dominance; she gasps when he angles his hips, hitting her just right and dragging sweetly as he pulls back. She allows him the win as she breaks the kiss, panting and opening her eyes to look down at him.

“You mean this?” She asks coyly and clenches her stomach so she tightens around him as he’s pulling out. A string of curses leaves him as he thrusts his hips faster, pulling her down with a little more force when she moves.

“Scarlet, I- where-?” He can’t get his words out, but she seems to understand what he’s asking. She clenches around him again and nods her head.

“Wherever you wanna, Cowboy,” she murmurs, earning a yank to her hair. She curses and stutters above him, losing her pace momentarily. She picks it back up easy enough and licks her drying lips, trying to hold in a moan.

Arthur slips his free hand to cup her jaw, thumb brushing over her lips. She darts her tongue out to brush over the pad of his thumb, contentedly humming when he pushes it into her mouth; she sucks on it, running her tongue over it as she stares into his eyes.

“Gonna make you come undone for me,” he grunts as he bucks into her, earning a meek mewl around his finger. “Then I’m gon’ fill you up, so you remember who can touch you,” he growls into her ear as he sits up with her still in his lap. He tips his hat back on her head so he can rest his forehead on hers, their breaths mingling as he rolls his hips forward.

Maybe it’s the feral look in his eyes, or maybe it’s something about the possessive way he says it, but whichever it is has Scarlet gently biting down on his thumb as she slows down on him, her walls clenching tight around him as her orgasm rips through her. She’s aware of his hands on her hips again, feeling as he pounds into her, whispering praises to her.

“Such a good girl for me. Doing so well. Gonna take it all when I fill you up nice?” He coos to her, lips brushing against the joint of her neck and shoulder. She shivers and he bites down, his hips sputtering as he empties into her, her walls clenching and milking him for all he has.

Arthur holds her close to him as they come down from their high, their breathing slowly evening to a more normal rhythm. He kisses the mark he’s left on her neck, untangling his hand from her hair as he tilts her chin up to look at her. She’s smiling, lips parted in a slight daze, as she meets his eyes. She leans in and pecks his lips, sighing in content as he rubs a hand down her back, the other moving behind him for him to lean on.

“You good, Darlin’?” He asks after their breathing returns to normal. She nods and leans against him, her body pressing to his, her left hand gently scratching down his right side and tracing the path back up. She lets her hand repeat the pattern as she feels him soften and slip from her, a whine pulling from her throat as she feels the evidence of their activity dribbling from her core. She sets his hat by the pillows and shifts so she’s lying on one of the bedrolls. Arthur moves down to lay beside her, on his back.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine, we’re fine,” she murmurs against his chest, placing a light kiss to his collarbone. She wraps her right arm around his torso and snuggles against his chest, listening to the sound of his rapidly beating heart. His hand traces small circles on her back and he sighs as she nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, laying almost fully on him.

Arthur wakes to a very warm body curled into him, his right arm wound about Scarlet’s waist where she’s holding his hand tight by her breasts, and a very noticeable friend. He kisses slow along her neck until he feels her push back against him, a small gasp leaving her. She rolls slightly so her right shoulder is almost touching the ground and brings her left hand up to his face, cupping his cheek and thumbing over his scruff.

“Good mornin.”

“Mornin, Darlin’,” he greets and presses a kiss to her wrist.

“Thank you,” her voice is quiet as she averts her gaze, cheeks flushing bright red as she remembers what happened last night. She looks back up at him, eyes alight with mischief. “So about that round two?”

“Christ, Woman. We just woke up,” he laughs and rolls so he’s hovering over her, arms caging her head between them.

“Exactly. So I reckon we better call it round one then?” She teases and bends her legs so they’re on either side of his waist. “Besides, you look like you're rearin to go.” She glances down at him, lying thick and angry against her stomach, before meeting his eyes again. She bites her lip and he loses it, capturing her lips in a tender kiss.

They rinse off in the creek before getting dressed. He wraps her shoulder and hands her his blue shirt she partially wore last night along with a spare pair of jeans he had stored in his saddlebags.

The ride back to camp is a silent one, Scarlet riding just as she was the night before; on the front of the saddle, leaned back against his chest. Smoke keeps his gait even as he gallops, ears forward as he senses the utter contentment of his riders.

They make it to camp by noon, Arthur slowing Smoke so he walks up the path, calling out to Lenny it’s just him and Scarlet. They’re greeted by a few of the members, including Dutch, Hosea, Sadie, and Charles. They all flash knowing smirks at the duo as Scarlet slides up the saddle for Arthur to get off first.

She flushes and tips the brim of her hat down to shade her eyes. Arthur chuckles and helps her down, his hands lingering on her waist, something Dutch notes to ask him about later. He also notices she’s wearing a set of Arthur’s clothes, something he definitely wants to breech later.

“Glad to have you back, Miss O’Hara!” Dutch greets, pulling her into a hug by her bad arm. She yelps and pushes against him. He immediately releases her arm, eyes narrowing. “You’re hurt?” He inquires and ushers her to the medicine wagon, despite her protests. The small welcoming group follows, Arthur, Sadie, and Hosea at the front. Dutch gently pushes her to sit on the back of the wagon.

“I just-it’s just a gun shot. I’ll be fine, it’s cleaned-” she tries to assure Dutch but he won’t have any of it. He snaps and points at her, tapping the belt buckle too big for her.

“Shirt off, now. Let Miss Grimshaw an the others take a look at it,” he commands, tone leaving no room for argument. She huffs but pulls the fabric from her borrowed pants and starts unbuttoning it under his watchful eye.

“Yes, Sir,” she sasses, eyes meeting his in challenge until she flinches when she brings her arm up to remove the sleeve. Arthur moves to her side, holding her arm as he gently pulls the shirt from her right shoulder and arm, leaving it on her left side. The bandage he put on earlier that morning tinged red.

“Get those bandages off her, Arthur. We’ll get it cleaned and dressed. Sit tight,” he orders, pointing a knowing finger at Scarlet. When Dutch turns his back, she sticks her tongue out at him and blows a raspberry.

“I’m fine, really. This ain’t the first time I’ve been shot an pistol whipped” she grumbles, holding still as Arthur unwraps her shoulder, cutting the wrap from around her chest in the process. Dutch returns after a few moments, Susan in tow with the other females. Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen gasp at the dark bruising down her chest and the blotchy, red bruising starting around her shoulder.

“What’s that bruisin on your chest from?” Dutch asks, kneeling in front of her, tilting her head up so he can see how far it goes. He lets her go and turns to the females. “Get that gun shot wound fixed up, we can’t do much about the bruises,” he confirms, nodding for Arthur to follow him.

“I’ll find James, let him know we’re back and that you’re busy and will come see him as soon as you can, alright?” Arthur murmurs into her ear as he leans down, removing her hat. “Round three after you’re done here?”

Scarlet pushes his face away, laughing at his question. She shoos him away from them as the small group of females each look at the entry and exit holes. Scarlet slips her other arm out as they move her from the back of the wagon to Susan’s extra bedroll, leaving her chest exposed.

“I saw that mark, Arthur. Anythin you wanna tell me?” Dutch interrogates, pacing his tent as Arthur sits in the chair he provides. The outlaw looks at his father figure, confused at just what he’s getting at.

“Whatchu mean, Dutch?”

“That bite mark ain’t from no O’Driscoll. You do remember I know how you are after an evening of fun, right?” The gang leader questions, chortling as realization dawns on Arthur. He picks at Scarlet’s hat, pretending it’s a little more interesting than Dutch.

“And?”

“How long have you been together?”

“We’re not. Well, we uhh, we slept together last night but we’re not...we haven’t discussed what we are,” he expresses, finally looking up at Dutch. Said man stops pacing and moves to stand in front of Arthur, kneeling with his hands on Arthur’s legs.

“Son, she could be your second chance,” he muses, eyes bright like they haven’t been in awhile. Arthur still isn’t sure what Dutch is completely on about, but nods slightly.

“I don’t want another Eliza,” he whispers in admittance. Dutch leans back on his heels, nodding as he pushes to his feet. He stays silent, not sure what to say. Arthur gestures with Scarlet’s hat.

“I best find James, let him know we’re back and his momma’s alright,” he excuses himself with an approving nod from Dutch. He finds James with Jack by the horses, Kieran showing them how to properly brush a horse. He approaches and tells James the news, calming the excited child with promise to have her come get him when she’s done.

The ladies have Scarlet lay on her stomach but she shakes her head and tries to get away from them, struggling in their hold. She breaks free of everyone but Sadie, attempting to crawl under the wagon.

“What is goin on here?” Arthur’s voice makes her freeze in place. She looks over her shoulder at him, eyes pleading as she scrambles towards the wagon when she sees movement in her peripheral.

“I’ve already had whiskey dumped on this wound and now they’re trying to use moonshine!” She whines, hoping her crying will get him to help her. She sighs in relief when he picks her up and pulls her to his chest. She startles when he lays her back down on the spare bedding, chest up with his hand on her sternum -minding the bruising- and on her hip to hold her. “Traitor,” she says.

“Would ya just let’em help ya?” He asks as he holds her gaze, distracting her as Sadie pours moonshine on her shoulder. A sharp yell leaves her lips as she turns to glare at Sadie, curses flowing freely.

Once Susan and Sadie give the okay, Arthur helps her back into his shirt and he picks her up, carrying her over to his wagon, sitting her on his cot. She rubs her sternum and winces a bit, shaking her head.

“Where’s James?”

“He was with Kieran and Jack by the horses when I left him. Want me to go get him?” Arthur asks, kneeling in front of her, removing her hand from her bruised chest. She nods and lets out a deep breath, closing her eyes.

“He hits like a kid, the gun hurt worse,” she manages as he helps her rest back against his wagon. He hums and pushes to his feet, heading for the horses. James is brushing Fancy down, the mare bouncing her head and pawing the ground.

“Hey, James!” He calls, waving the boy over. James pauses in his brushing, even Fancy looking up at him. “Your Ma wants to see you. She’s over at my wagon, if you wanna go see her,” he offers, patting Fancy.

“Sure! Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” the boy squeals in delight and passes him the brush as he rushes across camp.

“Slow down!” Arthur hollers after James, chuckling in amusement at his enthusiasm to see his mother. He picks up where the boy left off, getting the last of the dirt off Fancy’s back, seeing as how James couldn’t reach. Fancy nuzzles him after he puts the brush away in her saddle bag. “Good girl,” he coos to her before heading back to Scarlet and James.

“You good?” He asks, hands up and holding on the awning railing. James scrambles off the bed and wraps his arms around Arthur.

“Thank you, Arthur. Thank you for coming to rescue my momma, and for sending Uncle John, Bubba Lenny, and Bubba Kieran to get me with my Pa. I was scared,” he whimpers into Arthur’s stomach, hands clenching tight onto the back of the cowboy’s shirt. Arthur looks at Scarlet, whose eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and his arms automatically wrap James up tight, letting the child cry against him.

“Of course, Son, y’all are family now. We’ll always come for you,” he reassures the distraught James. He locks eyes with Scarlet, nodding to her. “Come on, let’s let your Momma rest, alright? How’s bout you an me go play dominoes?”

“S-s-sure. Can I, Momma?” He pulls away from Arthur, drying his eyes with his sleeves. Scarlet holds out her hand, a silent order to come here, and pulls him close when he takes her hand. She presses a kiss to his forehead, then cheeks, then his nose, causing him to laugh.

“Of course. You behave for Arthur, ya hear me? And if you see anyone who was there, send them my way please?” Her request is for Arthur, who nods his agreement. James smiles and thanks her before walking over to the table and setting up the dominoes.

“Here,” Arthur offers, stepping close to her and helping her lie down and cover up with his blanket, “just rest. I’ll come wake you later when dinner is ready.” She grabs his arm when he goes to get up, preventing him from doing so. He turns back to her with a questioning look before she sits up slightly and pulls him down to press her lips to his in a quick kiss.

“Thank you, Arthur. Fer everythin you’ve done the last few days,” she smirks up at him as she lies back down, hand trailing down his arm. He smiles and pats her leg, as he gets up.

“You’re welcome, Cowgirl. Now rest. I’ll be by later, and I’ll watch James. Don’t worry,” he soothes as he goes to join aforementioned child for dominoes.

Swanson stops by to see her, Dutch having informed him of Scarlet’s condition. The reverend sits with her for a while before offering her morphine for the obvious pain she is in. He gets his things set up and has her stretch her arm out for him. He pats her head as she thanks him, arm curling on her chest, pulling Arthur’s blanket close to her as she finally drifts off into a content sleep.

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handmadecp · 3 years

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‘Explorer’ Bag.

Hi Guys, I finally managed to find the time to build the ‘Explorer’ Bag. It may have been my hands that put this together but all Credit for the Original Idea and the Pattern goes to ‘Tony See’ at Dieselpunkro. He makes some amazing patterns and sells them at very affordable prices. Ok, lets go. First I bought the pattern from Dieselpunkro, downloaded it, stuck all the pieces together as required and then cut out and stuck to the 6-7oz leather I chose to use ready to transfer from paper to leather. You don’t want a thin leather for this that will just fall/collapse it’s shape, but you also don’t want it so thick that it’s difficult to bend cut and stitch. I also chose a Veg Tan and dyed it myself, more on that later, but you can buy a factory ready dyed piece if you so choose.

Pic 1 : Stick all the pattern pieces together as required to create the ‘full’ patterns, I use Decorators white / Cream paper tape, it doesn’t mark the leather to any great degree when you take it off.

Pic 2 : The patterns come in several pieces, this main boddy section pattern was in about three pieces but just stick them together as shown on the instructional video on YT.

Pic 3 : Here is the main body section after the pattern is removed, the holes are punched through the patterns before removal.

Pic 4 : Here you have one of the side psections with Pattern stuck to the leather with decorators tape and I used a 1.5mm hole punch for the stitch holes and a larger one ( what ever you feel necessary for your rivets to fit ) where necessary.

Pic 5 : All the patterns are treated the same and eventually you will end up with a big pile of cut out and punched pieces as seen here, there were 64 pieces here, the most I’ve ever done.

Pic 6 : Here are the same pieces all dyed ready to start the build. I decided on a Nice walnut color by Fiebings, I achieved this particular look by rubbing harder in certain areas as it was drying and then it was down to a bit of luck. At this point I could not know what the final look would be, but from past experiences I had a ‘hopeful’ idea. Once dyed I coated in ‘Tan Kote’ and wiped it off before buffing to a shine, this also added darker areas here and there.

Pic 7 : I started by putting together a side pouch so seperated the pieces of the two. I used a waxed thread and a saddle stitch, which was the stitch I used on all of this bag.

Pic 8 : Somehow I forgot to take pics of the first stitching, which was adding the side to the front piece of a pouch, you can see it through the back piece I’m about to start stitching here. this pic shows me placing the front and side section ‘through’ the hole to stitch the inner edge of the side piece ‘inside, there will also be another piece of leather going over the hole at the back, that makes three layers of leather to stitch through, hence why your hole punching should be done carefully and slowly, if all in their correct place they will match up and make for a reatively ‘easy’ (ish) time of it.

Pic 9 : seen from the back, the stitching joing the three pieces, the front and side pieces now being attached to the side panel and attaching the ‘back’ panel to fully create the pouch, lots of stitching on this Project and you might find your fingers getting very sore, I have a little ‘thing’ I now do which cuts down the number of times I have to pull the thread tight thereby reducing the strain on my fingers considerably. I now stitch forwards four holes pulling them in..but loose after the fourth is in I then pull all four tight, I find It saves my fingers ...oh also, don’t pull so tight like you are trying to strangle it...with all those stitches....’it ‘will’ hold, believe me.

Pic 10 : The pouch is now attached to the actuall ‘side’ section, well...’one’ of them, remember you have to make two of them. You can see the ‘flap’ sitting on top waiting to be attached, if you zoom in you can see the holes in a line where it will attach to.

Pic 11 : Holding in position to test fit.

Pic 12 : Here you can see the process, it always seems, no matter how deep I sink the 1.5mm punch for the stitch holes I still have to push an ‘awl’ through each one to open enough to pass the two needles more easily.

Pic 13 : Ready for the next step, attaching the pices that will hold the D’rings for shoulder strap attachement and attaching the fasten strap and Buckle. Here I’m rubbing hard to darken at the ends, just my touch, if you are making one..it’s your project you go with your own ideas.

Pic 14 : Both side panels with pouches now ready to stitch the small inner flaps that will prevent things from falling out of the main bag.

Pic 15 : I attached the small inner flaps to each side pouch section using a Saddle stitch.

Pic 16 : I next stitched ( Yup...I said there was a lot . )...the ..errrm, not sure what this bit is called so just for the purpose of moving forward i’ll call it the ‘skirt’ piece...So, I stitched the ‘skirt’ piece to the outside of both side pouch sections as shown here.

Pic 17 : Ta daaa..looking great. Very impressed with how the color looks, I love the ‘aged’ look on leather.

Pic 18 : An extra pic to show it going all the way around and to prove it was my sore hands that did it..hahaha.

Pic 19 : Next I cut the zipper to the required length, glued it into place trying to keep the zip central and then punched stitch holes all around it. I have found, that after marking the hole for the zipper that once cut it leaves very little of the edge of the zipper to attache to the leather...it’s very close to the edge, so I now try to cut the zipper hole less wide than what the pattern says, I find it easier to attach it and punch the holes with more material under and around it. But you will find your own way with it as I have done, if my tip helps you then that’s great.

Pic 20 : As well as the contact cement I used to stick it in position I’m also using a saddle stitch and stitching around the zipper for extra strength.

Pic 21 : Done, the zipper works fine.

Pic 22 : Now I’m attaching two of the ‘four’ Handle strap holders with D-rings., you can see the positions for the other two on the left.

Pic 23 : After adding my ‘Sharman’ mark to the inner back piece I stitched it in place to finish the creation of the zipper pocket.

Pic 24 : Whilst stitching the back to the zipper pocket I had the other side flapping around everywhere so had to get creative and here’s how I resolved the problem, I tied string around the other flap and threw it over a beam in the work shop...worked a treat.

Pic 25 : All four bag handle connectors are now in position as seen here, stitched and rivetted. I’ve chosen to use the Antique rivets, buckles and D-rings for this project and it seems to suit it very well.

Pic 26 : Next I fitted the inner bottom strengthener piece.

Pic 27 : I used Elmers rubber solution glue to stick the bottom strengthener into position so that I could adjust it if I needed to whilst stitching, as it turned out the holes had lined up really well and the job went smoothly.

Pic 28 : All stitched in,ready to move forward. Incase I didn’t mention it already I also dyed the flesh side of the leather, the walnut gives it a nice look I think.

Pic 29 : I added rivets too, there’s no chance of this coming off, it’s glued, stitched and rivetted with x4 antique rivets.

Pic 30 : Now I had to put together the outside pouch which will be on the front below the main flap, I did it the same as the side pouches, attached the side to one edge then attached the buckle systems as shown here, after that I stitched the other edge ‘through’ the hole and stitched it underneath to the inside edge at the same time attaching the back section which will finish the creation of the pouch.

Pic 31 : Attaching the pouch to the front of the main body section. The following pics from 32 to 39 are extras to show the stitching a bit closer.

Pic 32 : the reason to stitch the edge on the inside is to give a much smoother look along the edge when completed.

Pic 33 : having to use a stitch awl to widen each hole slightly, I stabbed muself more than a few times, so many that I had to wash my hands and coat in antiseptic cream each night. All that ontop of arthritis and carpul tunnel issues, sometimes it can be a little hard to manipulate the needles, but...if at first you don’t succeed ehy.

Pic 34 : you can see the three layers here the outer, the gusset tucked under and the flesh side of the ‘backing’ piece.

Pic 35 : showing the spike (Awl) that keeps stabbing me.

Pic 36 : Needles come through fine now.

Pic 37 : Another view of the whole thing. It’s starting to make me believe I can actually do this if I just keep going.

Pic 38 : Pouch attached.

Pic 39 : View of the bottom section now strengthened. I decided later to add some metal ‘Bag feet’..not part of the plan..but Didn’t want to do all this work just to have the bottom get scratched up without at least trying to prevent it. I’ll show that at the end.

Pic 40 : I then realised, I wasn’t quite done with that as the inside backing piece had an ‘outer’ line of stitches as well, as seen here, but if you are someone that gets frustrated easily I would find another hobby, by this point I had been making this for two weeks because real life kept getting in the way and stopping me, very frustrating but hey..what can ya do except suck it up and keep moving forward.

Pic 41 : People wonder why they have the holes so big..well the good thing is they allow two needles to pass through smoothly, if you are doing hundreds of stitches you really don’t want them getting snagged all the time, but anyway not to worry because once done I either lay it on an anvil if it will fit or put a small anvil under it inside on my hand..and tap with a carpenters hammer gently flattening all the thread and closing the holes a bit more. I always tell people, there will always be a point where you will think something bad about the job you are doing...don’t give up, keep going forward and you will be surprised at just how good it ‘ will’ look when ‘Everything’..all the polishing and treatments etc are completed. remember, until it’s fully completed it’s just a W.I.P. ..a work in progress so don’t judge it until it’s done.

Pic 42 : The front pouch fully attached.

Pic 43 : Here I have sat the side section in place whilst I begin to stitch it to the main body.

Pic 44 : Same thing ..another angle.

Pic 45 : attaching side panel..Other angle.

Pic 46 : First side panel attached fully to main body.

Pic 47 : Other side section ready to fit. The colors are not really as different as the lighting makes them look check out pic 48 for what it really looks like.

Pic 48 : halfway there.

Pic 49 : Clips come in very handy at times like this, the section itself is wanting to fall all the time, ..problem solved.

Pic 50 : Using the Awl to widen the hole, not fun when it catches you...but all part of the game.

Pic 51 : Done, both side sections now firmly attached and the whole thing is starting to come together.

Pic 52 : Now it needs the main flap, but that needs some work first.

Pic 53 : Different angle.

Pic 54 : View of the back and the zipper pocket.

Pic 55 : First I had to attach the closure straps using rivets (Double Cap, you can use single cap but I prefer double.) I also stamped the ‘Shaman’ Mark on the Leather label then riveted that to a back piece and stitched that to the front edge of the main flap as seen here, now..we’re ready.

Pic 56 : Again I used a saddle stitch for extra strength, once at the other end ..just because I wanted to...I came all the way back again, no real reason to do that, it’s perfectly fine without the extra, but I ‘m keeping this bag and I wanted it, so I did.

Pic 57 : main flap...Attached.

Pic 58 : Main flap rear view.

Pic 59 : Angle shot shows how well all the colors have matched.

Pic 60 : Now I have to make x2 bag handles.

Pic 61 : Using the saddle stitch. All you need to do here is stitch all the holes together pulling the two sides together as shown and make two of these.

Pic 62 : Connect the bag handles to the D-rings as seen here. I used rivets to fasten them on.

Pic 63 : I attached the clip end sections using rivits and stitching to the main shoulder strap at either end, then the clips were attached, again using rivets.

Pic 64 : Attach the shoulder strap to the side rings.

Pic 66 : As I said earlier, I attached ‘Metal bag feet’ to try to avoid damage to the base from dragging, might not stop everything but should help and looks good I think.

Pic 66 : And we are done. This took me four weeks in the end, but we’ve had a lot of ‘Life’ getting in the way. If I had nothing else to do but this I reckon I could do it in about a week to ten days. I wouldn’t recommend this particular project to a beginner mainly because of the expense, I wouldn’t practice on this one. But there are many more projects out there online and if it suits you to do so you could visit my Blog ‘A Journey into Leather Craft’ and check out my archive, you’ll see the things I’ve made from the very first knife sheath to this amazing bag. I can’t believe I made this, Just shows you never really know what you can do until you try. I look forward to the next project, hope you will come back and check out the next one. To all those who have followed my projects for a long time thank you, hope you enjoy them and hope I have inspired some of you to give it a go yourself. If you are new, thanks for stopping by for a look, hope you liked what you found and hope you will also come back for the next one, maybe tell your friends about my blog, I’d appreciate that. Until then, as always, stay safe and to all the makers out there, Stay Crafty.

#leather #leather craft #leather bags #hand made #hand made goods #posh bags #expensive bags #expensive goods #hell yeah

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