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xavadak3davrax · 3 years

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Is Forever Real or Some Fairy Tale Thing? / Fred Weasley

Prince Fred- Part 4

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warning: Smut (18+), Explicit language, Angst, Fluff. Theres female receiving oral, there’s the sex part itself. (anything I might forget warn me please)

Taglist: @manuosorioh @itsbebeyyy

Summary: Things have to get complicated before they can get better. Will they both be up for such changes?

a/n: This is the last part of Prince Fred and I just wanna say thank you so so much to everyone who has been here with me! It makes me so happy so many people have enjoyed this. After this I think might write lawyer!George because that idea has been eating me up since I started Prince Fred. So if for some reason you would like to read that keep an eye out 😊 Also sorry for any mistakes!

This is 8.8k words

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

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y/n has been avoiding Fred. Fred hasn’t been avoiding y/n, he is being avoided by her, which he doesn’t like, not even a little bit. He has been trying to catch her attention, catch her alone but is wasn’t been easy. He’s also been doing this for a week, so his unsuccessful tries have been driving him up the wall. He wants to know why, did he do something wrong? Has he said something he shouldn’t? he’s completely lost.

Every time he’s trying to have a moment with her it seems like she’s always prepared, and never comes alone. She doesn’t come alone to his room anymore when it’s time to prepare his things. She makes herself accompanied by Martha. They’re the same age and for what he had seen for a few weeks now they have started a strong friendship. They both stay and no matter what he says or tries to do Martha never leaves y/n’s side, not even strict orders from Fred. Something about “we have rules to comply from Agatha your highness”, it always comes from Martha in a louder voice than he thinks he’d never heard y/n speak to him (not including the time a week ago where he had fucked her in the tub, but that’s besides the point.)

So all is attempts have left them standing alone in the middle of his room, or where ever he tries to get her attention. It also doesn’t help that he gets married in exactly a month time and every chance his mother, Molly, gets him alone is to prepare for the wedding. Stupid, goddam wedding, it will be dammed. His future eye has left with her mother to come back days before the wedding , and would think that was good, but Fred doesn’t think it is, because this whole thing is stupid and he only wants to have one person and one person only in his life.

y/n. That’s the girl he wants, we desires the most. He has had strong feelings for her for way longer than he thinks possible, and after what they both had that day it only got stronger and Fred wishes with all his might he could have her, cherish her and lover her for the rest of his life.

He could marry some princess from some far away kingdom without knowing, but people would think less of his for marrying someone they considered poor? His subject? All stupidity, utterly and complete stupidity. He was sure his heart was now beating for y/n, for her smile, the way he smile made his heart skip a beat every time she showed it, even if only for a brief second. Or the way he heard her laugh when she was doing her work and talking to her friends they would talk, say something funny and she would laugh graciously making his body tingle. Her touch, soft and gentle like her soul. He knew her better then he was sure he would ever know his wife, the women he was meant to spend the rest of his life with.

“I don’t understand why you get to marry of love, and I have to marry out of it, mother.” Fred wished all this situation wouldn’t put a strain with his parents relationships but it was getting harder to not allow it to happen.

“Well, I don’t where that’s coming from my dear boy. If by now you would’ve settled with a gentle kind girl I would be more than welcome to her. But you decided to keep your love life on hold for way to long, you’re getting crowned in less than a month, you shall have to rule beside a woman who’s proper for it.” Molly said, taking in her hand her tea cup and taking a sip of it. It was just the two of them in the giant room. Arthur was way somewhere else in the castle taking care of important business.

“What if” the words got caught in his throat, was he really about to have this conversation with his mother? This could go either really bad or really good. He didn’t know how the last one would play out but he would like to see it happen. “What if there was someone.. you know- someone I found.” Fred had been avoiding looking at his mother, but now after he spoke this he looked her directly in the eye.

“Oh, well son, depends. Who is the this girl?”

“Does it matter mother, to you? Does it matter if she’s rich or poor?” Fred didn’t meant for his words to come out defensive but that’s how they came out. He didn’t even know where he got all the courage to speak of this, now more than ever, since y/n wasn’t even on speaking terms with him and what if she didn’t feel anything for him, then this conversation would surely go to waste.

“In my eyes it wouldn’t matter, my dear, if you love her then that’s all need.” Those words took Fred aback, so there was still hope? “Love is a very powerful thing, and you should not deny it ever. If you love that girl, then you should go for it.” Fred gave his mom a puzzled look.

“If you haven’t noticed, I am to be married in a month mom.” Fred stated, putting his hands on top of the table and crossing them.

The smile his mother gave him made the hope inside him grow. “Oh my son, have I not, in all these years, taught you not even one thing?” Fred just gave her a look. “If you love her, like you say you do, and for you to keep all this mystery from me, your own mother I can only imagine she’s no princess. Besides how could she be? Unless you had fell in love with your suppose future wife who you spent a total of five minutes with, all the time she was here. But I can make things work with your father. He loves you has much as I do and your happiness comes above all things. You marrying this princess has nothing to do with wealth, or business like we’ve said. We just needed to justify it to everyone else son. This is for image, we do not want you ruling without a woman by your side. You’re going to need her judgment, believe me I can see from your father.” The both laughed at that, and the smile on Fred’s face only grew. “It may make our image fragile for a while, for her kingdom at least, but nothing a good afternoon tea won’t solve. Has to out people they will love know the Prince himself had his eyes on a beautiful girl.

Fred blushed slightly, your face appearing on his mind and maybe his mind started to imagine a future with you. It had him feeling some type of way.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Fred questioned looking at his hand, a little embarrassed and then after a few moments looked at his mother.

“I am. At least you had the decency of telling me a month before the wedding and not on the day of the wedding. That would’ve been way harder to pull of. But now, if you don’t mind me asking, who is this mystery girl?”

“She’s… She is amazing. We met a while a go on one of my trips to the market.” He started, and then he went on for what seemed like an eternity sharing every detail of what he could and knew to be appropriate to share with his mother.

“I will speak to your father, it might take some work but we’ve been married along time and I know he will come around, now you son have a hard job to do. Talk to y/n. go find her and fix your mess.” Molly smiled, she hadn’t even finished talking and Fred was already up, he went around the table, kissed her on her forehead gently and then he was out the door and roaming the castle in search of you.

Since he was not in his chambers and not in need of your presence, he knew you’d be doing some other job Agatha had pointed out. He asked around, people barely looking him in the eye when they didn’t know the answer. But after a few good twenty minutes, or what felt like it, he found you, alone, in the stables. His head started spinning, he was lucky, not only had the conversation with his mother gone wonderfully, he now caught you alone?

You didn’t hear him approaching, since you were busy brushing Apple, his horse.

“y/n.” His voice startled you. You whipped around, eyes big and your hands started trembling.

“Your Grace.” You spoke quietly. You didn’t want to keep eye contact with him for long periods of time so your turned to his horse again and kept on brushing her.

“It’s just us, you don’t have to keep the formalities. I’m lucky finding you here alone, been trying to do that for what seems like an eternity.” He laughed, and hopes she would somehow join in, but was met only with silence. “I don’t know what I did to upset you y/n, but I wanna truly apologize for anything I might’ve said or done to keep you way from me. I- I miss you.” His voice came out gently. She kept silence for a while, she had no words. “Please say something.” He begged. He slowly approached her, trying to somehow not frighten her has if she was something fragile.

She breath in deeply, knowing what was to come would be harsh on her. “Ok, if you want me to say something on the matter I will.” She turned around and looked at Fred. “We can’t do what we did in your chambers. That should’ve never happened. Never. It was a mistake. You are to be married and she was in the castle waiting for you to be present in the meetings and we were fucking in your bathroom.” The vulgar language left her mouth and made her cringe a little. “Also if you haven’t noticed, I am one of your people, someone you are to rule over in a short period time, and I also work for you. We are not equals, we are never to be equals and I am never to be even close to what you are.”

“What I am?” Fred was confused.

“Yes, royalty. Or you think being born like you are is being born like I am? It’s not Fred. What we did was a mistake, a one time mistake.” y/n’s voice came out a little strangled, and she was holding in her tears. Oh how it hurts her to say all of this. To deny him. The man she didn’t know she would love the way she loves. He has her whole heart, right in the palm of his hand, and he knows it. But they can’t do anything about it.

“y/n please, please don’t say that.” Fred finally closed the space between them, his hands came to rest on her arms, very carefully. “I love you, and we can be together, my mom knows about us, she’s working for us to be together, Princess.” He had a sweet smile on his face and caressed her.

y/n felt the scariest feeling inside of her and her first instinct was to get way from him.

“What? What have you done? No, that can’t happen. You cannot go back on your duty as Prince. You can’t just let everything go because you were stupid enough to fall in love with me. That’s not how it works.” The words were harsh coming out of her mouth, and they left Fred very hurt but he wasn’t backing down from this.

“I am not stupid for falling for you, that is not stupid. Loving you, falling for you in such s short amount of time was the best thing that’s happened in my life. I am not ashamed of that, and it can happen. It can if you love me to.” Fred was sure he got her there. They loved each other, for sure what they had was a lot to speak on the matter, They were made for each other. Something Fred had read in some books from his giant library, about what some called soulmates. They were rare to find. He knew his parents were soulmates, and he was lucky to find his.

He was taken by surprise but what y/n spoke next. Some steps started to be heard behind him, whoever came in was not as silent had he had been to sneak up on y/n.

“I do love you my Prince, I love you has my ruler and the man I believe in to lead this country. I have faith you and your wife will take us to many great places.” y/n said, and then she pulled herself from his embrace, and the fixed her hair slightly and tried to compose herself when she saw a bit of black hair coming from behind Fred. Martha.

“y/n I’m sorry it took me so long. Have you finished apple? If yes we can move to the kitchen. Your highness.” She looked at the prince and then at y/n. y/n nodded, looked at Fred one last time and then walked out with Martha.

Fred was left there standing, alone and speechless. Tears coming to wet his red cheeks. He let his mind wonder for the last few minutes he had with her. And then he made up his mind. He wouldn’t let this take him down. He knew she loved him, he could feel it, he could see it. He had time, although ticking, he would give it all, to have her

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Getting y/n’s attention and fighting for her was proved to be harder than he thought. Every where he looked Martha was there and it seemed that since his encounter with y/n in the stables it seemed she now never left her side. So Fred had to resort himself to his mother, and ask her for some favors.

Had her give out some orders that would all of a sudden make Martha needed In other places. Jus so she wouldn’t always be close to y/n. Somehow, he still had some difficulty. Fred was staring to think of some romantic way he could make this work.

y/n had stopped working in his chambers, so it was hard to see her. When he asked for her, she was always to busy to come to him.

y/n on the other hand had taken many other jobs on the castle to feel in for not working for Fred anymore. Not much changed, she just didn’t get to see him everyday like she did before. She would lie if she said he wasn’t the best part of her day. She had also been thinking a lot about their conversation. She had gone home that day crying like crazy, and it was her mother who, even though she was very tired, had talked to y/n, and held her like she did when she was little. She had also made y/n understand that you cannot play with love. It’s not something you can deny they she had done. That’s not how love works, her mother had said.

Every little task she did around the castle never made her forget that dammed conversation. It was always there feeling every thought she had. Along with Fred’s touch, his moans and his face of pure bliss had he rode out his high, how she felt his legs shake underneath her and she felt so good, there, on top of him. Fred was y/n’s every constant thought. She loved him dearly, not has her prince. She loved that man and she wished very much she could’ve said that to him, but she would only ruin an entire kingdom with such words.

So she was doing her life the best she could, the days passing along and her mind trying to work trough this. She couldn’t leave the castle, she was making good money out of this. Leaving just because she was stupid enough to fall for him would be an even stupider decision.

This morning she had been doing laundry, she was putting it out in the bright sun to dry. She was doing this alone since martha was now requested a lot for other small things. She was humming along to the song she had heard the other day, some guard was singing it quite loudly. She didn’t have a smile on her face, but how could she? She had nothing to be happy about, only grateful. But those aren’t equals.

She felt a tap on her shoulder that scared her a little. It was a boy who worked with them, not directly with her, but he was in the kitchen and he was also the one who always left y/n the best left overs of food.

“This is for you.” He stretched a piece of paper to her and as soon as she took it in her hands he left, not giving her time to ask from who it was.

Her royal majesty The Queen, requires your presence for afternoon tea, at four o’clock in the greenhouse.

A paper from her majesty? For her nonetheless? She must be dreaming. She rubbed her eyes and then looked at the paper again. She was not dreaming. Did she even have a outfit that it would be appropriate to wear to tea with the queen? She was not working at that hour today, but would she have time to go home find something and come back?

She didn’t have the answer now but soon would figure it out.

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At exactly four y/n was there. The guards already knowing her well since she was always a bright spirit around and had left her mark there very early because of how nice she was, opened the door and she entered trying to make her presence almost not felt has she found the queen sitting at the top of the table.

“Your majesty.” She gestured towards the queen and when she smiled, retributed saying hello and pointed towards the chair she went to sit.

“I’m very honored about this.” y/n said with a small smile on her face as she looked at the queen, now sitting one her right side.

“Oh, dear, no matter, no matter. I wanted to talk to you. If you feel like I’m allowed.” She said calmly, pointing to the tea and giving y/n permission to serve herself. Knowing where this would lead and without knowing very well what to say she nodded so she could continue. “I know about you and my son.”

“There’s not much to know, your majesty. He is always very kind to me and I’m forever in his debt.”

“Well, if that’s so, then why deny him when he proclaimed his love for you at the stables.” With that y/n was taken by surprise. She knew the queen would know something if after all she was has close t her son had Fred had described to her on one of the many times she was preparing his things and he was his chatty self. When she didn’t answer Molly continued. “In this kingdom we value a lot of things. And as a mother I value my sons happiness above all. Now you may think this a big gesture for a queen to do for someone. Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m doing this because he hasn’t been himself. I’ve seen many moods on my sons face, and many emotions. But this type of sadness was never one. I want him to be a great king like his father. And my dearest y/n do you know what makes a great king?” when she shakes her head ‘no’, the queen continues. “A lot of things, but you have to be above all strong, willing to do anything at your power to protect your people. A king also loves. And a king without a queen is not ever strong. No kingdom is any good if only a male ruler is on the throne. He loves you y/n.” with this last sentence molly takes the girls hand in hers and squeezes it gently.

y/n shyly looks down at her tea who all of a sudden is the most interesting thing in the room.

“So much. He only told me about you a very short while ago. But after that it’s the only thing he talks about. And everyday since the stables he shares with me how sad and mad he is that he not able to love you. He wants to show it to the world, that boy, oh that boy is just a joy.” She had proud in her voice and a dreamy happiness that made y/n feel things in her heart.

“I rejected him because I thought it wouldn’t be ok. Being who I am.”

“Fred has told me you tend to underestimate yourself. You are powerful, you are strong, and you are beautiful. Just because you weren’t born into money doesn’t make you any less. Money doesn’t make a person. The character makes them. I didn’t invite you here to convince you choose Fred, to go to him. I want this talk to make you understand who you are, why you deserve happiness and that also if you choose to come into our family we will take you with open arms. My husband may not be present but he supports you both just as much as I do.”

“But his wi-future wife,” she corrected quickly. “won’t she be mad? That I took her place? That I appeared from somewhere and was worthy of your sons love?”

“Don’t you worry about that. We will take care of that. Now did this conversation made anything clear to you?”

“Yes, it did. Makes me realize that this is so much more than we see outside these walls. There is so much more love and companionship, and I don’t have words to say. Makes me realize that I pushed Fred way out of fear. Fear that I won’t ever live to the expectations so many other princesses can give him. Fear that he will stop loving me one day. I pushed him way because I didn’t believe anyone would ever actually accept us. And look at us the way I would look at us, being that we would be together. But after this I understand I’m welcome, I can come clean to myself and admit my feelings for him.” She was feeling hot all over her body given that she was feeling nervous and a little shaky. So it was true, she did love him, she loved that red headed, tall boy. With his cheerful personality, his bright smile. Oh how she loved that boy.

Why did she try to deny herself that night? Why did she, thinking all the way back to the first time she saw him, think she would ever be able to not love him whole heartedly, even if she were to never see him again. She loves him very much.

“I think he might be in his chambers if you wanna look for him. But first why don’t you finish your tea and we can talk a little more? You seem nervous.” The queen gave her a reassuring smile, took the hand she still had on top of hers and then went to take a sip of her tea.

When finished y/n politely excused herself from the greenhouse. She took the way she knew so well towards his room and then looked at the guards for a moment. They were used to see her in her working clothes, not a dress like the one she had now. “I’m here to see the Prince.” She waited for them to resist her, but she was met with instead with hem opening the door, announcing her arrival and then a figure of a boy with a very messy hair, very tired eyes and his skin very pale appearing in front of her.

He had no words.

She was here. Why?

From the face he made y/n assumed he didn’t know what his mother had planned.

“Come in, please.” He pleaded, and the made way. He closed the door and then stood there, like a lost little puppy, his hands in his hair and he looked at her hopeful.

“I just had tea with your mother.” She said, a little laugh in her voice, still dumbfounded by that moment. “She talked me into coming her to express my feeling.” She turned around to face him, since she had been facing his unmade bed.

“Oh” that’s all he could muster up to say.

“Yeah, it takes moms for us to be able to do anything in life no? My mom also gave me a very big talk, similar to you mothers, but it’s not like I can do what my mom says when bigger things are involved.”

“I think you should’ve.”

She laughed, taking a step towards him. “I’m late, but I’m here now, if you still listen to what I have to say.” He didn’t say any words but nodded telling her like that, to continue. “I didn’t mean anything I said to you at the stables. I do love you and I don’t think it was stupid of you to fall in love with me, because then I should be stupid to for falling you. But I was scared. You have to understand where I’m coming from. That my mistakes will not be covered up like yours. My decisions have bigger consequences than yours would have. If I would’ve said yes without knowing anything else besides your love for me, I- I would’ve done it any other time. But I had my life on the line.” She admitted, a little hurt with herself for being to sincere and ending up coming to the realization that she might come out rude.

“I understand completely.” He wanted to move next to her, hug her and comfort her. But he felt at the same time that would be risky. So he waited until the situation presented itself.

“I love you and want you to know that the talk I just had with your mother didn’t make me realize that. I knew that, from the beginning even without knowing you I knew I would love you. You… you’re you. It just made me realize that I have your parents support on this, that I will not be an outcast.”

“I would’ve stayed with you with or without their support.”

“See, Fred,” she got even closer to him, it was her who touched him this time. He felt the tingles in his skin, from her touch, even through the lair of fabric he had. “That’s not how it should work. They’re your family and the most important thing. You also have a duty to a lot of people. I would not allow you to choose between me and your family, it’s not fair. But they chose me to come into your family, your mom gave me full permission to declare, proclaim myself to my love.” She tried to joke. Fred let out one of those nose laughs and took that as his chance to take her in his embrace. He hugged her so tight that she felt for a moment she couldn’t breath.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my prince. For this life, and the next, and for as many lives as you’ll have me.”

Many would think that it was a small window of events that took them to fall in love. That in such a short amount of time it couldn’t have happened. But it did. They fell in love with each other, hey got to know the real people behind the masks. Fred got to realize that settling down was actually possible and that he wouldn’t mind this life after all.

She got to realize that she deserved to be loved, that she can achieve more in life that what faith had initially put out for her. That she had so much love in her and she couldn’t wait to share it with boy she hugged. The boy that made her, his forever.

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Everything has been going well with y/n and Fred. They have been going on so many dates together it’s actually amazing. On the first time after she proclaimed and accepted her love for Fred, he took her to the royal gardens. He had asked for some food to be made and they had a picnic. He waited till she had gotten of work to take her and then they stayed there until very late in the night.

The next time they had a date Fred took her riding. y/n had proclaimed her love for Apple, his horse, and so he saw only fitting to take her on a ride and let her have Apple for an afternoon. Only one, seen as Fred also loved Apple very much. They laughed it off.

Those were the two most special dates. But such thing even existed with Fred? Only two? He made sure every date was memorable. That she would remember every single one.

Behind the scenes his parents were working on negotiations with the Queen and the Princess. When finding out about everything they very fast made they’re opinions known about it. They felt betrayed and demanded the wedding to still happen. If that was a way to make Fred be scared it hadn’t worked. Whether they want to or not, the wedding was not going forward. So his parents had been extremely busy coming up with ways to ease the situation.

Fred wasn’t just going on dates with y/n, he was also helping his parents with everything on top of still preparing for his coronation. But above all he always made sure he had time for his princess.

But the work also kept her way for long periods of time and so in those, that’s when he would be keeping himself busy. Everyone around him had noticed the big change, Fred didn’t stay in his room all day. He would wake up early, go see y/n, since she was already working, and then he would go on about his day until she would be free to be with him.

y/n would spend the majority of her nights with Fred. Her parents were not very happy with it at first but they came around. They understood she was no child, she was also hardworking and they knew she wanted to be with him since he also busy and so they didn’t see each other like other regular couples would do. But then again they were not normal.

“Can you please stop looking at me like that?” y/n had a smile on her face, her hands were behind her back tying a knot on her dress, or at least she trying to. These dresses they gave her to wear were much difficult to put on then her normal working dress.

“I just think it’s funny, you’ve been trying to finish that for ten minutes now, and I offered to help and you said no. If you had let me you’d probably be done by now.” Fred stated, hands behind his head, while he was lying down on his bed, only in his underwear and legs spread.

“I will not accept your help because the chances of ending up naked in bed again is big, and I promised my mom I would go with her and by her a dress for your coronation.”

Fred smiled brightly at that. She would be there, front row seat to watch him. With her parents who he would probably meet on that day since y/n thought any day before that would be too early. He had made sure she had money to by her parents nice clothing and he was making sure she would be the most beautiful woman ever. So he was working closely with the royal tailors to make her the best dress.

“yeah, yeah, miss always right, is right.” He stated, while getting up from bed and draw nearer her to hug her but she stepped back. “Oh come on, I swear I only want to help, you need it.” He tried to hide the smirk on his face but it was almost impossible. His tall figure came up on y/n and he pus his hands on her waist to turn her around. he took her hands out of the strands and put his. His head came down to her neck where he left tiny pecks and kisses, feeling her skin tingle and a little laugh came out of her.

“You said you would help.” She warned, putting her hands behind again but this time to rest on his arms, squeezing them.

He murmured something inaudible before he finished what she was doing and then turned her back around to kiss her fervently, hands on her waist pulling her as close as he could.

“I love you. Tell you mom I said hi.” His arms left her waist to come around her neck and letting her face go straight to his chest, where she inhaled his flowery scent.

“I will. I love you my Prince.” They kissed each other and with one last ‘I love you’ from Fred she was out the door and onto her little adventure.

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The day of the coronation was pure chaos. Fred was needed everywhere since very early. He woke up alone today which didn’t really help his mood. y/n had slept at her parents since a carriage was going to pick them up a few hours before, ad y/n wanted to enter with them. Although Fred insisted she entered with his parents. So he hadn’t seen her in well over twenty four hours, since yesterday she was very busy in her last day of work.

After today she would leave the work and be next to Fred. Not as queen, and not as a married couple (yet) but has his girlfriend. He wanted her to help him in important decisions, and envolve her more in this life. Because, like he had promised, she would one day soon be queen, and they would be married, and so he wanted her with him since the beginning of his reign.

So it was clear the other wedding was taken care of, and they would never be heard from again, not after all the work and problems they tried to bring upon the. But Fred and y/n felt it was early to get married. They loved each other very much, but wanted to keep it like this for a while, also Fred would have so much to do as king that a wedding would be something, they felt he shouldn’t worry about.

“Have they gone and picked them up?” Fred was in a little pedestal, and turned to the mirror while a lot of people worked around him to finish the last touched on his clothing.

“Yes sir, the carriage left a few minutes ago. They should be here any minute.” He knew with the carriage they would be here any second and he wanted to see her before he was taken to the big event. So the people that surrounded him started working a little faster, and when he was ready he came down of the pedestal, and went to another room where he was alone for a some long minutes, until someone knocked on the door.

“Sir, Miss y/n and her parents are here to see you.” The guard announce and then pointed behind him with a gesture of his hand. y/n came almost running down to him. She was breath taking. The dress they had planned just looked amazing on her, contrasts with the color of her skin beautifully and accentuates her features in a staring way.

“Hi, sir soon to be king.” She murmured against his lips, hands in his neck pulling him into her.

“Hi Princess, I missed you. Haven’t seen you in a while.” He could’ve sworn this dress was only making it worse for him to take the sexual frustration he had built in him for the past day.

Her parents cleared their throats slightly, which made them separate and turn to them.

She proceeded to do the presentations, and from the shinny look her mother had on her eyes and the relaxes look her dad had, she knew they already loved him very much. Fred had spoken to her on some of the nights where they would talk and talk with no means to end, that he planned on helping her parents, but also help everyone even more than his parents did. He felt that still so much poverty existed, and he wanted to make sure people got the same opportunities and had better ones.

They couldn’t stay longer there. But just before they were to head out and leave Fred to prepare himself for the final minutes had Prince, y/n stayed behind for a little bit. Fred had his hand on hers and was kneading it a little looking at her with expecting eyes, since he knew the look she had.

The smile she made was mischievous.

“You better behave yourself out there, I have a special present for you for when we’re alone.” She let got of his hand, the promise hanging in the air has she left through the open door and left him standing there, words caught in his throat, hands now sweating and his cock twitching in his trousers. He was sure he was already forming a boner but didn’t want to dwell much on that thought given that of he would, an embarrassment was sure to happen in front of extremely important people, and probably the whole crowd.

Everything went well and by mid day Fred was now king. His parents now ‘retired’ has they liked to call it. By the time he hit his rooms he was tired, but felt so accomplished that the tiredness he felt was over come by a feeling of happiness.

Also how could he be tires when any second now his girl would be entering his room. He couldn’t believe he would be able to have her for as long as he wished. No more work she had to be at, at ungodly hours that would take her from him.

When the door opened and she entered, the beam on her face was huge.

“I am so proud of you, my king.” The words left her mouth with a little tease.

“I feel like, although I hate it when you call me anything major, king does sound very nice coming from that little dirty mouth of yours.” He put his hand behind his back, his posture becoming firm, instead of slumped over he was now tall and showing his dominant side. If y/n thought she could come in here and for once be in charge, she was very much mistaken and wanted to slap herself hard on the head for ever thinking that.

“And what will do if I don’t want to call you that? Or sir? Or if say you have no power over me?” her voice came a little louder than it usually came when they were in this mood. Was she defying him? Oh she was in for a treat.

“Well, I will make sure you are punished. But first I think I still have some type of present you so promised your king, am I wrong?”

Hearing Fred call himself king made her very weak and she had to close her eyes for a few second to come back to herself. She gave her the best smile she could and then turned around so her back was facing him and her hands came to undo her laces. Undoing them was way easier than doing them, that, she was sure of. The dress was soon on the ground and she was left and the most beautiful underwear he had ever seen.

y/n had made sure it was done precisely to her body, and also the color would be Fred’s favorite. A red, but not a bright red, but dark. It was something not every woman had access to. So for her to have such a piece on her, Fred knew she had been working with the tailor who had done her dress.

“So my naughty little Princess decided the best present to give her man would be the dirtiest most naughtiest lingerie ever seen?” She was going to turn around and face him, but he came up on her and pus his hands on her shoulders keeping her in place. “don’t even think of turning around.”

Her breath was uneven, her chest felt like it could burst. Just from his touch, and his voice along with the dirty words leaving his mouth, she felt tingles in her pussy, she felt warm and sticky and she needed his touch immediately. But she knew after what he pulled, that wouldn’t happen.

“Do you also think I will let slip they way you smiled and made eyes at that stupid court boy? Few words and I bet you were hooked. You are just a little whore asking for attention.” His hands came down, from her shoulders to her arms, and then to her chest and belly, stopping just above her pantie line. “I can feel the warmth radiating from you, you don’t even have to speak, your body does that for you, just waiting to be touched.”

She nodded, unable to form any other words. While on of his hands came to touch her breast through the fabric of her bra, the other came inside her panties and he had barely touched her clit before she was restless in his hands and a moan was leaving his mouth.

“You have to be still and quiet, don’t want other people knowing some whore is pleasuring her king, do we know?” he pinched her clit between his thumb and index finger and the hand on her breast, left it, so it could come up to her mouth and shut it. Her hips kept moving, trying to find pleasure in it and get closer to Fred’s touch, since every time she had some it wouldn’t last long, he would take his hand way, leaving her wanting more.

His hand lowered a little to touch her wet slit and his fingers played with it for a little, the moans from her were sinful. He entered a finger, a moan now coming from him. His cock feeling strained in his trousers as the pleasure built in him. “so tight princess, even after all the times you’ve had my cock, you are still this tight. I keep stretching you out. Not complaining, love it when I can feel you stretch around my cock. You love it to don’t you?”

She nodded, and a little whine left her when fred took his hand out and seized any touch he had on her.

“I want you on the bed. On your hands and knees. Naked.” He added the last part when he saw her eagerly going to the bed still dressed. She stopped suddenly and started to get undress. Fred was also taking his clothes that now felt hot and heavy on him. He couldn’t stop looking at the beautiful woman in from of him. Was he a lucky, lucky guy to have her.

“You also have to understand I am in charge you shall not give me orders or provoke me. You knew we had an important day ahead and still decided to be a bad girl and get me hard before my coronation. Bad girl. But somehow I’m feeling extremely generous today and that my gift from you to me, besides this beautiful piece of clothing would be to eat your sweet little precious peach. No?”

y/n, now in the position asked, felt her vision go white for a few seconds, like it would if she just had a mind blowing orgasm, but this time still far way from it. She nodded violently, the need to turn around and look at him there, but she put an end to that thought before he changed his mind.

Fred came up to the bed, on his knees, his cock aliened with her entrance perfectly and he could just slip right in. But he wouldn’t do that just yet. Although that wouldn’t stop him from teasing her, his hand on his cock, sliding it all over her pussy, her juices messy all over her.

“Fred, please.” His hand came down to slap her clit, the friction made her scream, the little pain she felt overcome with pleasure. “My king, please.” She felt like she wasn’t there presently anymore. The pleasure so much, that everything felt unreal.

Fred laughed mockingly and before swiping one more time he got down in a position where he would be comfortable and on eye level with her pussy.

“Such a beautiful cunt my girl has. All mine, forever. That’s better than becoming a king. Having you has my play toy.” His fingers came to brush her clit, he put pressure in it. Is other hand on his cock, his movements a little fast, his breath showed that.

He took his hand out of his cock so he could plunge two fingers into her warm sweet pussy, both moaning deliciously at the contact. His other hand kept qorking on her clit a little faster this time. She was closing in on him, her pussy spasming at each thrust of his fingers. Her hands clenching the bed sheets.

“I fucking love you so much.” She managed to let out, her hips coming to meet his fingers. Fred looked astonished at the sight.

“Yes baby, that’s it, fuck yourself onto me.” She encouraged. The fact that he didn’t say it back didn’t bother her, not when he had to fingers in her, fucking her quickly and efficiently, and a hand on her clit. She continued to fuck herself on his fingers. She started to get very stiff, her body announcing her orgasm.

“Come for me sweet girl, give all you got.” He murmured, his mouth close to her and when her orgasm hit her, he took his fingers out and put his mouth on her mound instead prolonging her orgasm with his mouth and at the same time being able to taste her sweet nectar.

She was breathing heavily, her hands unclenching the sheets, her eyes still closed and the feeling of starts still around her. When she opened her eyes took her a few seconds to adjust and come back to him.

“you always do so good for me. It always amazes me.” He said. He was again on his knees, his hand on his cock, moving up down and gripping the head of his cock making his eyes roll a little. He watched as y/n got from her position and was now looking at him. Her nipples hard and a little red from the friction she had on the bed. She took her hand out to push his away and put hers there. It started slow, making sure to never break contact with him.

“Thank you, my love.” She murmured, coming near him to give a kiss to his lips. Not knowing what to do with his hands they ended up on her breast, he loved them so much, they were just what he always needed to comfort him at night when he couldn’t sleep.

His mouth was hanging open, his eyes now a little close and he felt his high coming to crash down on him. His hand on top of hers abruptly to stop her.

“I wanna come in you.” He stated, opining his eyes to look at her, and when she nodded he pushed her without force to the bed. So she was laying her back on the bed.

He took her legs in his hands and advanced towards her, putting her legs on his shoulders. He knew how much they both loved that position, he had the perfect angle to her sweet spot and it was when she was the tightest to him.

Didn’t waist a second to be inside her.

“Fuck.” Her legs trembled under his hold. He entered at once, without any chance of previous adjustment. She was contraction tremendly around him. Her hands coming to squeeze her breast for added pleasure.

“I keep telling you, you were made for me. You are my other half, we fit perfectly in everything.” He thrusted against her, again, and again and again until he felt her spasming again. “Touch you little clit for me, give it some attention, needs it too baby.” He smirked, watching closely to one of her trembling hands leaving her nipple to come touch her clit.

The pressure of it made them both moan. She felt all the tingles in her body all her nerves hitting with pleasure. Fred felt her close in on him, his cock feeling all the pressure and he didn’t have time to warn her before he came. Hard. He filled her up with his cum, white spurts coating her walls and it seemed like it would never stop.

His orgasm encouraged hers and her pressure on her little increased, so strong clear liquid came out of her, covering her thighs, Fred’s stomach and his thick thighs. His eyes widen, his hands clasping her thighs with force to help himself from coming again if that was even possible. He called her name, when he looked at her eyes were all dilated, she was rolling her them a little, concern hit him.

“Baby please, come back to me.” He let her legs fall, and still inside her came to rest his hand on her face giving gentle taps. The movement of his hips made her moan, she tried to push him way. “I’m sorry princess, so sorry, just need to know you are ok.” He said gently, and when a small smile came to her face, her eyes coming back to life he sight in relief.

“I-I’m good Fred, I’m good. You just- Just gave me the best orgasm of my life.” She stated, hands coming to rest on top of hers. “I think after all you came you might knock me up or something.” She laughed a little, followed by him.

“Wouldn’t mind that at all.” He kissed her lovingly on the lips and then proceeded to came out of her. His cum leaving her too since her pussy was still spasming a little.

He laid down next to her, pulling her carfuly to his chest and wrapping his arms around her. Managed to pull the silk sheets to cover them and kissed her forehead gently.

“Thank you. “ She started, her voice still a little moony from the event that happened minutes ago. “This was amazing,” she was speaking in little breaths. “but today itself was brilliant, you shall be a great king and I’m lucky you chose me to be by your side every step of the way. I love you” She looked up at him, his eyes a little teary because the words she spoke hit every right spot (soft for that matter).

“I love you so much it hurts, knowing that I can have you, that I can have both things makes me the happiest man on earth. I shall give you everything good this life has to offer, I love you, tremendously.”

That is how their forever started. Well, it started a few weeks back, but this was official, everyone outside the castle now knew about them. The knew the girl who stole his heart. They would be happy for as long has they both shall want, the starts up above would made sure of that.

#smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley smut #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #golden

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smallblip · 3 years

Text

I see rivers

Levihan | this one’s pretty PG

They say time is a flowing river, but past the flood and the white waters, Levi knows her as Hanji first. And she hears it in the way he says her name- the words that remain unspoken-

I am yours, I am yours, I am yours.

It’s on Ao3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724813

Levi knows her as Hanji first. And he hears the things they say about her. She has talent and an intellect that will save mankind. But before she’s promoted to squad leader, she’s Hanji when she first introduces herself to him, eyes bright, grinning like a madman.

She’s in the bath when she notices his apprehension. Levi favours stability, but the survey corps runs like a flowing river. The only constant is movement.

“You don’t have to call me squad leader...” she says, fingers breaking the surface of the water and watching ripples form by her wriggling toes. “I’m still your Hanji.” She says, so quiet Levi mistakes it for running water. He combs his fingers through her wet hair, untangling the knots. He tries not to dwell on the semantics.

“Rinse.”

And like clockwork, she closes her eyes and slides down the tub. The water laps around her face, tickling her cheeks, she giggles.

There’s someone at the door for her. Something needs attending to. But she’s Hanji first, and the sound of water drowns out the knocking.

≋

Hanji knows him as Levi first, he introduces himself with the mononym and she’s in awe when she watches him fight. It has taken her years of training to get where she is, but Levi is fueled by pure instinct. Even so, she gets to know him, sometimes she knows him better than she knows herself.

Hanji soothes over the sharp edges of his words and presents them how he intends. She wants the world to see him as she does. Wants them to know the depths of his heart. But when he’s alone with her, he smiles easier, laughs at the silly things she says. And Hanji's happy keeping those moments of sublimity to herself. She’s happy knowing his soul comes alive at her touch- a spectacle for her alone to witness.

Hanji knows he’s tired. She sees how the others rely on him to make the kill. Fear does things to people, and many choose to take refuge where Levi casts a shadow. Levi's face gives nothing away when Erwin promotes him to Captain.

Hanji only uses the name once in jest, when he’s making a face at the fawning. But later in her room, he’s just Levi. He’s Levi as he leans his head against her shoulder and falls into a deep slumber for the first time in a long while.

≋

And the river rages on, coursing with a vengeance. It takes Nanaba with it, then Mike, then the entirety of Levi’s squad.

Those who survive sink to the bottom of the river bed like rocks, they wash against each other in an abrasive dance.

But when Hanji finds him in the forest relief washes over her. Later she bandages his leg and tells him stories of Nanaba and Mike when they were recruits. And she tells him how much Petra adores him, how much Oluo looks up to him, how she overhears Gunther telling the younger recruits stories about him, how Eld had defended his name against the Military Police that one drunken night in the bar. With her fingers carding through his hair, she absolves him of his guilt.

“I’m happy you’re alive Levi...” she says, with enough force to silence a river.

≋

Humanity’s strongest bears a weight on his shoulders. And he’s been living up to expectations with mechanical precision. But even then, Captain Levi bleeds red.

“I’m sorry...”

“I’m not.” Hanji says, resolute. There’s a smile on her face that tells him she knows, and that he doesn't need to say anything else. “You gave your best Levi.”

“I couldn’t...”

Couldn’t protect your squad. Couldn’t stop them from getting killed.

He’s not made of metal and forged in fire. He’s Levi now, so vulnerable it makes her ache. Hanji tells him his name over and over and wills him into being. She tells him his body is made of dying stars, an intentional weave of chemicals and stardust.

And that she is happy he is alive.

That a star gave its life so he can be here; so they can be here. Safe in each other’s arms. And if even the stars are acquainted with temporality, maybe it is that which makes life so beautiful.

She doesn’t tell him that she dreams of Nifa, of Keiji, of the others. Because he’s there rubbing circles into her back when she jolts awake at night.

She’s here with Levi now, and her fear fades into the shadows. Her fingers extend like vines, pulling him close, the sheets feel like the earth beneath her skin. And she feels, in her arms, the warmth of the sun, a star, the brightest of them all.

≋

Levi finds her in the eye of the storm that has manifested around her. Upturned tables, broken chairs, and Hanji in the middle of it, fists clenched, breathing ragged.

"Goddam mess." He says as he sets the tables upright and piles up the broken chairs to be used as firewood. She helps when she realises he’s in the room.

He holds her hand and guides her away when they’re done and he draws a bath. She undresses with the compliance of a wounded animal cornered into submission. But she’s surprised when Levi joins her. It displaces some water and it splashes onto the floor. She sits, back against him, and pulls her knees to her chest. He works wordlessly on her hair, fingers massaging into her scalp, the bath water licking at the blood against their skin in an attempt at purification. It’s not their blood. Not a titan’s either. It makes Hanji feel filthy in a way she’s never felt before.

“Rinse.”

She closes her eyes and lowers herself against him. He makes way. Before she opens her eyes again, she feels the warm press of lips against her forehead. But when she opens her eyes, Levi is already reaching for the soap. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and she’s turning to face him, hands reaching to run soap in his hair.

“Your turn.”

≋

They learn to smile and laugh again. These are the little moments that remind them that they are breathing. The new recruits are grown now, hurried along by a world turned on its head. It seems ridiculous to deny them some alcohol. So they drink, to anything they can think of drinking to.

To the dead, to the living, To vengeance, to love, and loving.

Hanji is laughing at something Connie said from across the room, and Levi doesn’t ever want to see her otherwise. But they are soldiers on the frontline of a world gone to shits, so he commits her laughter to memory instead. For now, they’re tucked in the corner of the mess, holding hands under the table out of habit, where no one can see.

She only lets go of his hand when she spots Jean and Eren fighting.

“It’s your turn with the kids, Levi!”

≋

Between stolen touches when everyone is sleeping, the brush of fingertips when they are back to back in the battlefield , and the little glances when they pass in the hallways, between death upon death upon decay, Hanji becomes the new commander.

Later in the night Hanji lets him tend to her eye. She catches the look on his face.

“It’s gross huh...” she knows, from how much it’s hurting. A reminder of what she has lost to get where she is. The people she’s lost to get where she is.

“No more than you usually are.” He says and she’s chuckling.

“I guess you can’t call me four eyes anymore...”

“Didn’t think it would be appropriate now that you’re Commander.” He says, and there’s hurt on her face. He remembers that this is his doing. He thinks about Erwin in his last moments and wonders if someone will make the same decision for them- to let the river take them. If that had been the right decision to make in the first place.

“Please...” she says like a whisper, “not you...”

Levi murmurs an apology. He pulls the sheets over them, her head on his chest, wet hair splayed on fevered skin.

“I’m still your Hanji.” She says, more for herself than anyone, and it breaks the silence like a storm. Terrible things have always happened in bad weather. But even when it’s thundering outside and the windows are far too worn to keep the wind out, Levi can’t deny that he has always loved the rain.

He remembers hearing the explosion, and him asking for her. He remembers Erwin telling him to focus on the mission. But the thing about living on the margins of heaven and hell- how easily the mind conjures up images of death. He remembers then, the relief washing over him when he sees her on the roof. He says her name like an affliction.

He kisses her forehead as she’s falling asleep to thunder rolling in the distance.

“I’m happy you’re alive Hanji...”

≋

Another year has passed. Hanji tells him the names of the flowers in Spring and they ride out to see the sea for the first time.

Levi tells her to be careful. He grabs her cloak in case she falls, and later he laces their fingers together. In case she falls, he tells himself.

They settle to the bottom of the riverbed- smooth and polished from the years that have gone, anticipating when the current will take them again.

By the candlelight, Levi looks younger, spared the fatigue of fighting. And Hanji is getting better at catching the moments when the guilt seeps back into his system. She holds him closer then.

And in the moments when Hanji lets responsibility take on a form that’s almost metaphorical- the meaning itself to a life that’s cruel and brutish- Levi holds her closer. He traces over the keloids on her skin. He removes the patch on her eye and brushes his thumb over the scar, a white line of taut skin, like a silk cocoon.

Levi knows this is stolen time, that they’re ever at the mercy of the river. But nights like these he wants to search for calmer waters, to set foot on land again and watch the water from the banks. He thinks of Hanji with him, body moulded perfectly against his like they are now. They watch the glimmer of the river flowing out to sea.

“When the time comes... Promise me you’ll let me go.” She says. Their foreheads are pressed together and Levi breathes her in, he takes in every word, how acrid they taste. He thinks about all the moments he nearly lost her. The world has taken everything from him. He begs an unnamed god every time they ride beyond the walls-

Not Hanji, not Hanji please.

It makes his stomach sink. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest because he knows, even though together they are whole, she’s Hanji first.

“You gotta dedicate your heart Levi...” she teases, placing a fist on his chest. She knows the whole Commander shtick doesn’t suit her. But she’s laughing and suddenly she’s young again, airy and playful. And Levi thinks there’s beauty even when they’re so far from the safety of shore. There’s beauty in the white rush of water and the capriciousness of the weather.

"Tch... Four Eyes..." Levi rolls his eyes and Hanji doesn’t point out that he’s smiling.

He presses a kiss on Hanji’s lips, no different from their other less urgent kisses- soft and gentle and the accompanying warmth blossoming in the sanctuary of ribs.

But despite words unspoken, Levi knows he has already dedicated his heart.

He is Levi first. A boy who only has a name to call his own. He is Levi who swears an oath and keeps it till his dying breath.

But there moments of being that are infinitely more beautiful. Moments that beckon to him with the defiance of home in a world with all the permanence of a flowing river. The moments that have his heart.

He is Levi when she calls his name in the thick of battle, and in the forgiving lull of the night. And he is Levi when she presses her palms over his chest and smiles when she feels the steady pulse of blood through his veins.

It beats with a defiance against the rapids, a steady thrum that calls out to her. Hanji's eyes flutter open at the touch of his hand against her cheek, the beginnings of a smile on her face. And everything left unsaid settles like dust around them. But she hears it when his hands snake around her in the bath, the water warm and inviting. In the way he presses kisses along her spine. She hears it loudest when he says her name-

I am yours, I am yours, I am yours.

"Rinse."

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levihan fanfic #levihansofthours #shingeki no kyoujin levi #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi #levi ackerman #hanji zoe #hanji zoë #hange zoe #hange zöe #levihan fanfiction #mine #finish your other fics blip!#NO!#my fic

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momtemplative · 4 years

Text

Saturday Afternoon, MACRO and MICRO

Definition of Macro: large-scale; overall. ie., THE FOREST.

Definition of Micro: extremely small. ie., THE TREES. Definition of Macro, here: The wild world at large.

Definition of Micro, here: The tiny home we inhabit, where we “shelter in place.”

MICRO—I sit here in our tiny RV that is parked in the driveway. It’s where I “go to write”, a creative parlor with wheels and a view of our magnificent choke cherry out the window that is just starting to think about blooming. (I don’t blame it for being hesitant.)

Months back, Opal and her friend pretended this RV was a rescue vehicle for dogs—all dogs but mostly pit bulls, a breed Opal feels is highly misrepresented. From where I sit, in the passenger seat swiveled to face the rear, there are four black-and-white photocopies of gorgeous dog portraits staring at me. One pit bull in particular looks straight through me.

I’ve purposefully resisted straight-up news, aside from my nightly installment of “Good News Network” and NPR’s weekly “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” radio quiz show. But living without allowing for the outside to seep in feels unhealthy in its own right. Selectively permeable would be the proper thing to practice now.

So I crack open my computer and dip my toes in the NY Times live coverage of the Coronavirus.

I can hear Jesse’s future voice in my head: How was writing?

Me: Good, but I’m feeling a tad suicidal now.

Him: Why?

Me: I read the news.

Him: Now why would you go and do that??

MACRO—“With President Trump having undercut the new guidance of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention by immediately declaring that he would not wear a mask himself, it was far from clear how many Americans would ultimately embrace the recommendation.”

MICRO— I return from the RV to find a house party of three people in my living room. Thankfully, my family did not get the memo that in this moment, life on the outside is complex and backwards. Ruth is on Jesse’s shoulders, no pants, shit-eating grin and fresh-cut bangs in her eyes. She shakes like a puppy with over-large ears and Opal twirls in her No ProbLLama nightgown to the Imagine Dragons song, Zero. Inside our little bubble, things are bumping! The sun floods the living room and even the anti-social cat seems obliged to hang out—from an appropriate distance.

MACRO—Governor Andrew Cuomo warns that, as infections passed 113,700 and deaths 3,500, New York State would reach the worst point of the coronavirus crisis within a week or so. He also said the state was using the machines for coronavirus patients at a rate that would exhaust its stockpile in just six days.

MICRO—Three boxes are stacked one atop the other in front of our door like a cairn. One box is for Jesse’s birthday next weekend, the others are for Ruth.

It’s looking like COVID-19 will spit us out the other end proficient in at least one new talent—Opal’s is roller skating. She insisted on using my skates, which she found while foraging for activities in the garage like a squirrel for food. After a few days of wearing those up and down the down-stairs hallway, and back and forth on the sidewalk out front, I was certain the future for her ankles was bleak and we ordered her a pair on Amazon that were her size.

Ruth observed all this unfolding and with no intention of leaving empty-handed. Unfortunately, toddler-sized skates are much harder to come by. So, many weeks into the future, Ruthy finally got her own skates that go over her shoes and are, frankly, awesome. She also picked out the tackiest Olaf helmet—with a carrot-nose that actually protrudes—after instructing me to “search on Amazon for Olaf now please.”

Each of those treasured items are contained in the boxes on our porch. I jump into our current porch-sanitizing routine (bleach wipes and spray lined up on the porch without apology)—wipe box, open, wipe down package inside, wash hands thoroughly.

You can practically hear Ruth buzzing as suits up for a jolly, though quick to be exhausting, skate around the block. Her uniform killed, and would have worked as well for Halloween, Burning Man, a rave and a roller derby—mixed patterns for shirt and pants, knee pads and skates from Trolls, Olaf helmet. When she velcroes her final skate, I hear a faint, prayer-like utterance from Jesse: dear god. She is an eye-full that could save a life.

MACRO—Trump is getting help with the November election. His campaign just rolled out a new ad, titled “Hope,” featuring appreciative quotes from Gov. Cuomo and Gov. Newsom of California. With the lives of their constituents at stake, they’ve given him the made-for-TV sound bites he was never able to extract from Ukraine’s president, Volodymyr Zelensky.

MICRO— Thank god for these kids. If I were being force-fed the news then led to an empty house with, maybe, a roommate-peer who is also stressed and bloated with sad information, or if perhaps I were old and alone, I’d be struggling in an entirely different way. Sure, I have my moments of fantasizing about what it would have been like if COVID and shelter-in-place came at a time before or children, during a time when I could have relished cleaning and reading and making a weeks-long retreat out of an unsavory situation. But the fact is, these kids keep the scales level.

Not to mention the fact that affection is built-in. Even though Ruth is less interested in snuggling than she is in building block-towers or submerging every toy she owns in water, we seem to be touching constantly, in this or that way. Hugs from Opal and Jesse, snuggling on the couch for a show, holding hands on our walks around the block—it’s all-inclusive. The fact that this is not the case for everyone is something I am well aware of.

MACRO—Jared Kushner has embedded his own people in the Federal Emergency Management Agency; a senior official described them to The Times as “a ‘frat party’ that descended from a U.F.O. and invaded the federal government.” As The Washington Post reported, Kushner’s team added “another layer of confusion and conflicting signals within the White House’s disjointed response to the crisis.”

Kushner, you can’t shatter us. Young girls in roller skates win every goddam time.

MICRO— Our block continues to be paradise. Any interest we had six months ago in selling this house has been waylaid and, thus, we are appreciating our home base in a truly different way.

As we make our way down the block with two girls on their respective wheels, we holler at our beloved across-the-street neighbors, friends of 14 years. They sit, mysteriously, at a card table in their front yard, as if they are having an invisible garage sale. We exchange a boisterous, level-12-volume conversation from across the street, talking over each other and at the same time, expressing everything we possibly can in the tiny window we have while the girls scoot away on their skates.

The corner that turns on to the bike path and is covered with ancient ponderosa pines smells musty and earthy and perfect. Like every camping trip ever taken. Every hike through the woods. A momentary dose of equilibrium.

When we circle back, our neighbors are still outside.

One of them asks, “Hey, have you guys been wearing masks outside?”

“No, Governor Polis just suggests it for any public place—grocery, whatever.”

“We saw a few people driving by with them on.”

“Yea, so did we, we saw a few people out walking with them on, just outside.”

I guess the point is, if it’s not gonna hurt, you might as well do it. Hell, if we are in this far—as is shelter-in-place—then we might as well take it all the way. To pick up the slack for people who aren’t doing what they should be doing. (We are actually yelling all this in conversation across the street.) The idea that some people would still not be doing what they are supposed to be doing is ludicrous. I’ve vented my rage at the college students of America over St. Patty’s Day, but they are all home by now, are they not? So who are we talking about here?

Fact is, as I just learned today, there are still five states that are not mandatory shelter-in-place. (I’m sorry, what??)

MACRO—“I can’t lock the state down,” said Gov. Kim Reynolds of Iowa, which has recorded more than 600 confirmed cases and at least 11 deaths. “People also have to be responsible for themselves.”

MICRO— Opal has been loving her evening ritual of putting Ruth to bed. She says it’s one of her most ‘special times of the day,’ though it happens only a few times a week. She takes her little sister down by the hand, gets her jammies on and teeth brushed, reads to her, the whole precious nine yards. She does that tonight, leaving Jesse and I to the quiet of ourselves and our space-sans-kids in the family room.

Jesse promptly dozes off in the rocking chair. I lie on the floor with eyes closed in star-pose, taking up some glorious space. These days are taking a toll. But it’s also true that I laughed so hard on four different occasions this afternoon that I buckled over twice, slapped a knee and wet myself.

So much is going well in our tiny Microcosm that sometimes it’s easy to forget the Big Picture Macro. Ignorance is indeed not far from a certain cheap kind of bliss. It makes sense why people do it, why people feel the need to avoid discomfort. But, ultimately, the mind knows when it is missing something. The soul knows when it is being cut-off. Our beings can feel when humanity is suffering, whether or not we choose to admit it to ourselves in so many words.

“Mom!” Opal whisper-yells from down the hall. “Ready!” Meaning, she’s ready for me to come and finish Ruth’s bedtime with a song. But by the time I get to Ruth’s snug and utterly safe kid-room, she is fast asleep.

4/4/20

(all quotes in italics come from the NY Times live coverage of the coronavirus from the previous week.)

#momtemplative #HeatMamaWords #mindfulparenting #micromacro

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galadrieljones · 5 years

Text

The Lily Farm - Chapter 35

AO3 | Masterpost

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey to the north, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life, like the wilderness, is full of uncertainty and complications, and as they embark on their desperate search for meaning together, they endure many trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to one another, and to their future.

Chapter 35: Get the hell out of Lemoyne.

“So what’s the story?” said Mary Beth. She set down her basket and her book. She glanced around as if she thought someone might be listening. “You doing the poker game or what?”

“No,” said Arthur. His manner was stoic as usual. He picked up his hat, checked the lining. It probably needed to be replaced. He set the hat on his head. “Let’s get on with the day Mary Beth.”

She walked up to him. She took off his hat. She examined the lining. “I can mend this for you.”

“If you want.”

Then she took a deep breath. She looked up at him and how he seemed angry at something. “So you ain’t gonna tell me?” she said.

“Tell you what.”

“What you and Hosea was talking about.”

“It ain’t nothing you need to worry about, Mary Beth.”

“Then why was I in the conversation?”

“Because,” said Arthur. He removed his hat from her hands. He placed it back on his head and went back over to the window. “Hosea wants us play-acting again, as the Kilgores. And I’m saying no.”

Mary Beth felt surprised. She stood up taller, clasped her hands in front of her real proper. “Why?”

“I ain’t taking you on no river boat,” he said. “We ain’t doing these cons no more.”

“What do you mean no more?” she said.

“You know what I mean.”

“You mean because we’re married now. And because I’m having your baby.”

Arthur closed his eyes, caught in a loop of his own destruction. She had employed a certain tone of dissatisfaction in her voice, and he knew it. “Mary Beth.”

“Don’t Mary Beth me,” she said. Outside, somewhere real close, a bird was chirping. It sounded in distress, but it could have just been excited. “I know you got a lot of chivalry inside you, baby, and this is always coming from that good place that I love, but ain't we even gonna talk about it?”

“This is Hosea’s plan, not mine. There ain’t nothing to talk about.”

“Hosea wouldn’t just drop us into the lion’s den unprotected, Arthur. You know that.”

“It is still a risk I’m not inclined to take.”

“What risk would you be inclined to take?” she said. “Bringing me on a hunting trip, up to the Roanoke Valley? Where we almost died a hundred times?”

“Please.”

“Or maybe you could hide me in a cave again, saving my soul from the unpleasance of murder, and then I could get almost-killed by some other of Dutch’s mortal enemies.”

“What are you getting at, Mary Beth?"

She rolled her eyes. “If danger is gonna find me, it’s gonna find me, Arthur. I ain’t your damsel in distress.”

“I know that.”

“Yeah, but you wanna treat me like one.” She shoved him a little, in the chest, like she was trying to prove a point, trying to keep from saying something she’d regret. He took a step back. “This is just a con, Arthur. A simple con, and we have done it before.”

“A simple con?” he said. “We are cheatin cards on a river boat full of armed guards, Mary Beth. And drunken fools with more money than they can count on the line. Ain’t nothing simple about this con.”

“You are cheatin cards. I’m just hanging around, pretending I’m somebody’s daughter.”

“Bronte invited me only on the condition that you come along. That don’t seem suspicious at all? That don’t freak you out?”

“Not really," she said. "Is it so weird? He’s rich. It’s his entire dumbass goal in life to surround himself with pretty nonsense. You cheat the cards, and apparently that’s all I gotta be.”

“You ain’t no rich bastard’s pretty nonsense, Mary Beth. You’re my wife.”

“Oh, so that’s it now? Because if I’d’ve known you was just gonna turn me into your wife, maybe I would not have married you at all.”

This set off a bad feeling in the room. He changed his posture and scratched at the scruff on his chin, squeezed his eyes shut. It pissed him off. “That is a goddam ridiculous sentiment, Mary Beth. And you know it. You know I don't feel that way.”

"Yeah, I know it,” she said. “That’s the whole reason why I said it. So you can hear what you sound like, all that pride you got going on.”

Arthur became stern. “You wanna talk about pride? This ain't about nothing but you wanting to prove yourself when you know you ain't never had to. Let me protect you when the occasion calls.”

“I do,” she said, getting shrill against her own better judgment. “All the damn time.”

“Then what is the matter this time?”

“Because you won’t even bring me into the conversation!” she said. “Because you’re acting like what I want don’t matter. You’re making the decision without me. You never done that before.”

The bird outside had gone quiet. The room was warm. She could see him starting to get frustrated. “I understand that. But you are pregnant, Mary Beth.”

“So what? So I can’t reason?”

“No,” he said. “No. That ain’t what I mean.”

“It don’t change anything, Arthur. It’s just making you anxious, so you can’t see straight.”

“What, exactly, ain’t I seeing straight?”

“Tell me why I can’t go on the goddam riverboat with you, Arthur. Tell me. What’s gonna happen?”

He took a breath, getting flustered. “It’s on a riverboat,” he said. “In a river. We get in a pinch, you gonna swim to shore?”

“I’m a fine swimmer, I’ll have you know, Arthur Morgan. And being pregnant don’t make me a invalid.”

“I never said that it did. Even still.”

“I ain’t even that pregnant,” she said, huffing. “Can’t nobody tell unless you’re you or me. When my momma was way more pregnant than this, she was working calves and tilling the fields.”

“Sure. But I bet she wasn’t conning rich psychotic men on river boats, making them look one direction, while your daddy, a wanted man with a $5,000 bounty on his head, played them dirty in the other. I wanted to get you out of here. I wanted to put things right. Don't that mean anything?”

“It does, but we didn’t choose this life,” said Mary Beth. “And things ain’t proving so easy. We got a long way to go if we’re gonna get out of here, live honest. Helping the gang is helping the gang, Arthur. It ain’t me skulking around, simply mending your hats, sitting pretty in a window while you make all the decisions, on your own, just because you’re scared of what might happen if god forbid I am let in on the action."

"You are the one who offered to mend my hat, Mary Beth. I've never once taken that sort of work from you unless it's been offered to me."

"Quit changing the subject."

He almost started laughing. "Jesus Christ."

"This is a con, not a murder spree," she said. "And I know the difference between when I need to be protected and when I don't. And anyway, try to remember that my parents, they lived honestly by the law their whole lives, and they still both died in terrible circumstances. Living honest didn’t save them none.”

Arthur shut right up then, and he looked away. He wasn’t softening any, but she could tell he was conceding this one. “I’m sorry. I know what happened to them weren’t fair.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “Just admit you’re scared.”

He looked up. He looked right at her. “I got no problem with that,” he said, almost eagerly. “I am goddam mighty scared of losing you.”

“So you wanna just keep me in a locked room forever?”

“No,” he said. “No. I don’t. That is not—just listen to me.”

“I’m listening.”

“You’re my wife, Mary Beth,” he said. “My wife. I love you. I married you. In front of god and—and a whole bunch of other people I care about. Of course that changes things. Of course it changes my willingness to take you into the lion’s den, and yes, it is compounded by the fact you’re pregnant. You shouldn't have to do these things."

"But I do."

He shook his head. "I’m sorry if I have at all overreacted in this room with you today, but I ain’t sorry for saying no to Hosea. We ain’t doing the riverboat job, and that is the end of this conversation.”

“No it ain’t.”

“Yes, it is.”

Outside, you could hear the reverie of the late morning kicking in. Pearson put the lunch on. Abigail was yapping at Jack, for he had done something regrettable. Mary Beth was staring at Arthur in a quiet rage. She had not forgotten that she loved him so, but she needed to say or do something because otherwise she was gonna go fuckin crazy. So she screamed in his face, and then she left, storming off through Shady Belle.

He lit a cigarette. He shook his head. He could hear her boots on the stairs, and then down on the first floor, and then he could hear the front door flying open and slamming shut. He smoked. He heard Sadie ask what was wrong, and he could hear Mary Beth brush her off as politely as she knew how in the moment. He felt tilted, and like the blood was still hot in his head but he couldn’t defend himself anymore, so he went out to the balcony and shouted her name. “Mary Beth. Where you going?”

But she said nothing in return. Javier and Lenny had to get out the way fast when she got over to the horses. They were eating their lunch out of heavy bowls and looked up at Arthur in confusion when she would not respond to their hellos. Mary Beth was not the silent, skulking type. That was Arthur. Anyway, she got on her pretty spotted Apaloosa, and with no further warning or concern, she giddy-upped and rode away.

“Shit,” said Arthur. He tossed the cigarette. He went downstairs and walked through the yard, shouting after her some more, but she was already out of his view.

“Arthur, what the hell is going on?” said Abigail. She had been feeding a pig ear to the dog by the chickens.

“Nothing,” he said, mounting Sarah, patting the old girl behind the ears. “I’ll be back.”

“You better not be fucking this up with Mary Beth!”

“You worry about you,” he said. “You let me worry about her.”

“Fine.” She tossed the pig ear into the swamp reeds and Cain went after it fiercely. She called after Arthur as he went, “But I mean it!”

He rode out through the trees and the bubbly mud and followed her trail onto the road. She was in the distance. He could see her, gaining speed, heading north.

He shouted to her, but there was no way she could hear him. So he picked up the reins. Sarah was a good deal faster than Watson, and Mary Beth wasn’t bad but he was by far the better rider. With a little ingenuity per his navigation of the terrain, he caught up to her in a second.

“Mary Beth, stop,” he said, galloping up beside her.

“Stop following me, Arthur. I don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

“Fine, but you can’t just ride off like that. It ain’t safe.”

She gave him quite a mean look after that, and she kicked up some speed and made a long sound of exasperation. “Arthur Morgan, if you come back at me one more time with that line about it ain’t being safe, I swear to god.”

“Stop the goddam horse.”

“No.”

They rode on a little further, the mud getting red as clay beneath the hooves of their steeds as the rounded toward Rhodes. “Where the hell you going anyway?” he said.

“None of your business.”

Arthur sighed. “I ain’t turning back without you.”

She said nothing.

But then, all of a sudden, there were voices on all sides of the road—gunshots flying out, all around and out of nowhere. Arthur ducked on instinct and watched Mary Beth do the same. It was Lemoyne Raiders, and they were like cockroaches, always showing up, and they always seemed to recognize him in these parts as he had done them dirty one too many times.

“Goddammit.”

“What the hell?” said Mary Beth.

But he just swore again and shouted for her to ride. “Ride,” he said.

“What?”

“Don’t stop. Not till you hit the town. And when you do, stay there.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Take care of this.”

Immediately though, he could see the switch behind her eyes as they descended. “Arthur, no. I ain't leaving you.”

“I got it, Mary Beth," he said. "Ride and don’t you goddam look back.”

She nodded, finally, looking scared. She pulled ahead, and he yanked back on the reins and stopped his horse on a dime, rearing in chaos, drawing their fire.

Almost immediately, Sarah was shot out from underneath him. They both went down in slow motion. Arthur drew his repeater from the saddle and took cover behind a huge rock outcropping off the side of the grassy road. His ears were ringing. He lit a stick of dynamite, pitched it into a cluster of the enemy at the top of a low hill. The sound shook the whole goddam afternoon. A couple of the stragglers ran in, holding their injured extremities but still shooting, and after a modest exchange of gunfire and swear words, they were put down as well, and then Arthur was breathing hard, unscathed but exhausted, with his back pressed to the rock, trying to catch his breath with his eyes closed.

The first thing he did when he gained his bearings was get up and make sure he did not see Mary Beth. She had not been that far out ahead of him when the shooting got bad, but he was pretty sure she’d got out of there. Then he went to Sarah. She was done for. He knew it, and his heart was sinking as he saw her and her pretty champagne coat, the life slipping out of her so painfully. Shook, but without delay, Arthur put her to rest with the sharp end of his hunting knife. He half-wept as he did it, then pulled himself together enough to lean against her heavy body. He swore loudly, pounded his fist to the earth. Then he put his head in his hands for a minute before finally locating his composure and getting to his feet.

He looked around. It was a hot day. The sun blazed down and made him sweat through his shirt, and he had Sarah’s blood on his hands up to his elbows. The dead Raiders smoked up there on the hilltop and the rest of them were lying there with their loose jackets rustling in the low breeze. A man and a woman rode through on their wagon, and they seemed scandalized by the scene, but the moment they saw that it was Raiders, they reassessed and rode on without incident. Arthur began trudging in the direction of the town to find Mary Beth.

But he was surprised then. Two survivors from the onslaught came at him from behind with alarming speed. One of them tackled him into the dirt, giving him a mouthful of mud, hollering, and he began to hammer Arthur in the face continuously with his fists.

“You ain’t welcome here no more,” he said. Again, and again. “You goddam piece of shit. Get the hell out of Lemoyne.”

Arthur got ahold of his wrists somehow and head-butted him into submission. He put him down with his fists, but when he turned around, the other man was standing there with his sawed-off out, pointed at Arthur, right between the eyes.

Arthur stumbled, went backward trying to get away, dizzied and defeated. He saw his whole life flash by in a single instant filled with pain, suffering, redemption, and love, prepared to meet his maker, as he so often was. He closed his eyes, heard a loud shot ring out, and for a moment imagined that he was dead and floating away to find his mother.

But it wasn’t lead in his skull, and he wasn’t dead. He opened his eyes, alive and unsure, as he did not know what he would find there. The man who’d had the gun out was dead, shot in the face, and Mary Beth was standing over him with a shotgun she must have picked up off the road somewhere. She looked feral and like she had just been possessed by the wrath of god.

Arthur had his hands up, was lying on his back still. “Mary Beth,” he said, real quiet. “Baby.”

She blinked rapidly, and then when she realized he was talking to her, she tossed the gun far away from her body like it was red hot. She looked down at her hands, and then she looked at Arthur. “Oh my god,” she said.

He got up right away. He grabbed her and held her tightly to his chest. “It’s over,” he said. “It’s all right.”

“Shit,” she said, looking down at the dead man she had put there in the dirt. “Arthur, he was gonna kill you.”

“You saved my life,” he said, jacked up on adrenaline and a lot of sudden pain in his face from that beating. “You truly did this time. You did nothing wrong.”

“I ain’t never killed no one before.”

“Are you okay?” he said. They both looked down, and he had his hand placed across her abdomen. “Mary Beth, are you okay?"

She paused, took a deep breath, as they calmed and remembered what was important. Then she nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

He took her into his embrace. They exhaled. Then, sweating in the hot sun, amidst so much randomness and destruction, they just stood there for a while.

That night, while in their bed, Arthur and Mary Beth did not talk anymore about the river boat. They were gonna wait until the morning when the air was clear, and to get the whole plan from Hosea first, as was presently decided. Mary Beth sat in her nightgown with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring out the window at the moon as she was supposed to be reading. Arthur had begun to sketch Sarah, in remembrance, but he had become distracted by Mary Beth’s anxiety and preoccupation.

“What’s going on?” he said, closing his journal. He set it aside, put his hand on her knee. “You need to talk more?”

“No,” she said. She took a deep breath. “No. Or, not about…that. I just can’t stop thinking about Sarah. It’s my fault, Arthur.”

He sighed. “No, no it isn’t.”

“If I hadn’t run off, you wouldn’t’ve gone after me, and Sarah wouldn’t’ve got shot.”

“You only ran off because I chased you off. This is nobody’s fault. It was a bad break for a good girl. I’m sad, but I reckon her life is better now, in horse heaven, or wherever the best ones go.”

Mary Beth smiled to herself, in a small way, at his little funny, romantic sentiment. She looked at him. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too.”

She settled back beside him, and she took her book off the nightstand. He opened his journal and steadied his pencil to the page. “What are you reading tonight,” he said.

“Mary Shelley,” she said. “Frankenstein.”

He chuckled. “Yikes.”

“Pretty much,” she said, book open, leaning on him.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #mary beth gaskill #rdr2 fanfic #arthur x mary beth #arthur morgan x mary beth gaskill #abigail roberts #the lily farm

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whimsically-ominously-auspice · 4 years

Text

"Uruguay already landed and took off with no problems"

Matt and Abu start to tear up... And they will make me cry like a hyena laughs

"Suck it up buttercups, i don't need you two that won't even go see your wives (soulmates/half and halves) crying in my face! You got better things to do!"

....

Some have phones, but have limitations...

Abu had told them to call the consulates or embassies if they ever got a chance to escape.

Because he would bring some kidnapped ones, the badder ones here or there and tell them "escape" and i was arguing with one and told her "don't be stupid call the American Embassy, they will protect you!"

Anyways she was stupid and went back to Iraq pregnant.

Because I'm worthless and no good and a liar. So mom says as it was mom. Not that i believed that but now i know she was. And i still tried to help her.

And so Abu was all "explain me everything you know about this"

So i did and how an embassy or consulate is actually a little section of land in a country that belongs to another country

So a diplomat from Liberia, in America, would go to an embassy for the Librerians and it is considered to be Liberia land although its actually our land we allow them to use. They are protected by their laws from us there. As are their people and so on. So we can't go with an American search warrant for their home. We have to call Liberia and say, "look you sent us a fucktard and im about to kill him so you need to help us help you keep him alive"

And so Abu told everyone he could and even wrote the phone numbers on strips of papers.

So, for Uruguay, two people called their consulate and asked for help when they received emails of their release.

Apparently one said "come get me! They said she said we can be released! I don't know where i am! Help please!"

So with the phone call they were able to pinpoint their coordinates although the GPS is disabled in their phone -- no hack can break the GPS and if one ever does someone goes and repairs it.

Uruguay knew about the farms and their people but because the Queen owns them There's nothing anyone would do about it. But the Queen knows i have no trouble beating her ass because last time I saw her i did because she got undressed while Abu and Matt were screaming for help. So i beat her ass and yankyy her facey --- i did sit down and therapy talk her and asked her like she was 5, nice, to get dressed and ber and i would go have lunch in public and be normal. But she refused and got belligerent like we been getting drunk and high for 9 days without sleep or food. So. We came to an understanding about this situation so no one has to get beat up. Plus i terrorized her husband a few weeks ago and he had to move out the next day... Cause she kicked him out and she said she wanted me to kill him and his Goddam light turning on and off pissed me off.

**pet the chin of a dog of someone you hate then yell "you know what poison is?? Its too cold for your dog to be outside!" When they go to the door to see what you're doing at their gate.

He moved but left his dog after crying all night and i see him running all over the neighborhood now. Supposedly he's trained to kill but hes super sweet and doesn't even act mean.. Runs around smiling all sweet and listens and doesn't bark... He barks locked in the yard tho. Pit bull. Male.

Anyways. It could speed up the process if someone calls and says how many they have and etc.

Uruguay had 15 people at 2 farms so one of the smaller farms took two trucks to each farm and picked them up.

Then they waited at the small farm for the pick up from the military. So about 24 hours it took for that but about 2 days to hear whar to do from Uruguay.

Mexico has 90% so they're doing as much planning as possible and preparing the transition site.

At the transition site, they will get stories of the people. Everything they can remember and use newspapers and other information like police records and anything they can find to help the families be found for the victims.

As soon as possible they will be provided a phone to contact their families with a counselor present and they will have constant communication with their families until they are home

Because there are so many people, about 2,000 it will take weeks to cover everyone.

So we have field trips planned for those in the safe haven.

They will go out and see local sights, eat in restaurants and be tourists and be given ("free") spending money for their own souvenirs and goods.

They will be heavily guarded and protected. And it's voluntary. We split them into small groups and they can choose to go to which trip when.

Its their first taste of decision making and freedom to live as they have had the right to all this time.

So we are excited for this for them as well as Uruguay being able to take theirs home for the holidays. Uruguay will have a similar program for them as well.

At larger facilities: Our program has days with a group staying at the temporary home to be interviewed and use computers and to rest if it is not time for them to interview, catch up on laundry and things like that. This way they dont miss out on trips but have time "off" to rest and reflect.

Trips aren't everyday, tho. Because we don't want to overwhelm them with the outside world and make them feel they can't choose to be free.

~~~~~~~💞

Mexico and i worked last night for a celebration in the summer. So the victims can all see each other again. And celebrate their freedom together. Again heavily guarded and protected. There we will have a festival explaining many different religions, including Islam and Iraq customs, in hopes to further develop peace and tranquility. We prepared some fun challenges to recognize emotional PTSD and how to overcome the sudden overwhelming feelings with pride and happiness and most of all personal strength. For example: a fun water park with water slides and such... Realizing many may not be able to swim, the victims may feel intense fear and panic. However there will be life guards in the towers and in the water and swim instructors and life vests and everything to make it perfectly safe and enjoyable. So to overcome that intense fear is a self empowerment movement for the victims. We hope they have so much fun they dont even realize how much progress they made until they are safe and warm in their beds and they drift happily to sleep and God holds their hands and tells them how proud he is.

So Mexico has said they will provide program material with the detailed information of the challanges to expect, this way they can recognize their feelings that they have been taught to suppress. Initially and also how to expect to overcome the problomatic issues.

So we hope all the victims and their chosen family members from home choose to go and see us. And choose to educate themselves and heal and to see their friends they made in captivity.

While it is normal and expected to hate those who captured and enslaved the victims, the victims themselves always made the best of a bad situation and they made friends and families of their co-workers. We don't want to tear apart yet another family for these people. So we plan to have bi-yearly free events for them to see one another. Just as the military and its affiliates would for war veterans here in America.

Being a military brat, I've had my chosen family torn apart all the time. Being a victim of the two main kidnappers and the owner of the farms, i have had my blood family torn apart as well as many friends kidnapped and murdered. Thus I have complete understanding how not having the opportunity to see my family and friends again is harmful to the heart. And soul and mind. So i cannot allow that to happen to these unfortunate souls that have suffered as long as i Have. I see them no different than myself, in the way I want them to be cared for. As i have not been cared for, it will be extravagant, as the days go wearily by, I realize how much more i deserve that i do not receive. So i can only imagine how they could feel without freedom so i hope to maximize as best as possible without interfering with their daily life So they can live as normal as they wish -- with the financial benefits they will receive. They have lived in horrid conditions and received no pay but food and housing and worked daily. Thus they will be taken care of financially and their only job is to be happy, wise and free. And spend time with their families, sharing memories and making more. Live, laugh, love. That is their jobs. And they will be paid nicely for that. The governments are working together to sort all that out. And it seems that it will be a conglomeration of tax payer dollars not from any one country. Mainly the drug manufacturing countries, that benefited financially.

We have elected to have the first one big celebration to televised on worldwide television, including Netflix. So those not invited have no need to crash our party. As There are many surprises scheduled that should delight the nations.

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nancywheelxr · 5 years

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(our friends set us up on a blind date as a prank because we don’t like each other but neither of us wants to let them win so ) | Part 7:

( part 1 ) ( part 2 ) ( part 3 ) ( part 4 ) ( part 5 ) ( part 6 )

Weeks pass surprisingly uneventfully, but even amidst the dull boredom, something stays with Winn, nagging at him to pay attention. Alex hadn’t meant anything by her comment, not really, not this time, but it makes clear they have to step up their game if they want to keep this up for much longer. Soon, people will begin to wonder why they never seem to go on “dates”. And god knows the DEO loves a good gossip.

So when Kara asks if they want to go get drinks after work, Winn makes a big show out of telling her no, he can’t, actually, because you see, it’s date night.

The choice of words is important, too. He’s very proud of that. Date night, implying a routine, implying they did this before, implying they go out regularly.

And he thinks Brainy notices it, too, because he smiles from across the table, knowing and private, eyes shining under the lights, before going back to his conversation with Alex.

Kara grins, watching them. “Right, are you guys planning anything big for Valentine’s Day?”

“Sure,” he replies easily, “I’ve got reservations at that fancy french place downtown.”

She coos, shaking his shoulder excitedly, “oh my god, that’s so romantic! You’re taking him back to the place of your first date!”

“Yeah, well, not to brag, but I’m a damn good boyfriend.”

“You are constantly bragging,” Brainy comments, suddenly appearing at his side, “although you’re not incorrect. This time.”

Winn snorts, “thanks, babe.” A foot steps on his, and he has to bite back his snickers, “anyway. We were talking about how awesome I am, right? We should go back to that.”

“No, but seriously, how did you get that reservation? And at Valentine’s Day?” Kara says, gaping, “I heard there’s a month-long wait list.”

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “two months long. But I actually made them back in December? I mean, I was already there anyway, so I asked just to see– who knows, right? And there was a table left, so I took it. Seemed smart at the time.”

“Not at all,” Brainy frowns, apparently not grasping the logic of that, “two months are too far ahead, what if we had broken up?”

“Nah,” Winn grins, swinging an arm around his shoulder, “I thought it was worth the gamble. ‘Sides, I have faith in us, man.”

The frown clears from his face, but Brainy keeps looking at him with surprise– no, that’s not right. Something surprised and disbelieving in his eyes that Winn wishes he had more time to figure out properly–

Someone makes gagging noises nearby, drawing their attention away from each other. It’s Alex, faking a disgusted grimace, “yeah, yeah, we get it,” she rolls her eyes, waving them off, “you guys are disgustingly in love.”

If she wasn’t grinning just like her sister, Winn maybe would be inclined to believe the annoyance on her words, but as it is, Alex isn’t fooling anyone. She’s just as happy for them. And maybe if he hadn’t meant it what he had said earlier– he did have faith in them at the time. Half-drunk and excited with their new plan, he had been absolutely goddam sure they would be able to pull this off– then maybe he would feel a little bad for tricking them.

“It’s a love story for the ages,” he says. His smile slips briefly, but it goes unnoticed.

“Absolutely revolting,” she shakes her head.

Kara elbows her sister, snickering along. “Let them live, Alex,” she keeps a straight face for about a second before adding, “they have a date tonight.”

“You know, I met thirteen-years-old more mature than you two,” Winn tells them matter-of-factly, then turns to Brainy, “are you ready to go? Or do I need to entertain the peanut gallery for much longer?”

“There are no peanuts here,” Brainy gives him a perplexed look, “do you want peanuts?”

Right, he should’ve seen that coming, this one’s on him. “No, it’s just an expression, it means they’re children and their comments are stupid.”

“Oh. It’s a very misleading expression,” he shrugs, “but in that case, yes, we can go now.”

“Great,” Winn claps, whirling around, “shall we?”

“Have a good date,” Kara calls.

“And bring him back before midnight!” Alex adds.

“Will do,” he laughs.

“I have a very important question,” Winn says with a serious expression. He’s just finished locking the door, and Brainy is still hovering nearby. “Have you ever played Mario Kart?”

He throws his keys in the vague direction of the dish by the door, and Brainy follows him into the living room, sitting down on the couch. “I have not. The only games I know of are the ones Kara has brought at Game Nights.”

“Yeah, right, right, she told me you were there a few times,” Winn says, hooking up his game system on the TV. “She also mentioned it was a bit of a learning curve?”

“There were no explosions and no kittens,” he complains, huffing forlornly, “everything is so misleading in this century.”

“Even Scrabble? I thought you would be good at that one.”

“We haven’t had the opportunity to play it,” Brainy says diplomatically and takes the controller passed to him, turning it around curiously.

“Seriously? Kara hasn’t lifted the ban yet?” Winn scrunches up his face, “but then again, we’re still strongly against Mario Kart during Game Night, so. That’s fair, I guess?”

Only sort of, though. Adding the letter s to every completed word on the board just to see Alex slowly go through all five stages of grief does not compare to breaking one’s favorite controller during Mario Kart. The thing was crushed. To smithereens. But he supposes some games are just not meant to be played by a group of very, very competitive people.

They haven’t banned Monopoly yet, though, for some reason.

“Nevermind that,” he shakes his head, focusing on the task ahead, “so. I figured since we gotta stick together for a couple hours, we could just stay here and chill? I’ve got Mario Kart, Netflix, and the pizza place on speed dial.”

“Not Massimo’s?”

“God no, that place is stricken from the records. Giorgino’s two blocks down– and before you ask, yes, I’ve checked and they’re willing to make your weird apples and olives pizza.”

Brainy smiles. “It is the only acceptable flavor of pizza.”

“And people think pineapples were the real crime,” Winn laments.

The familiar song kicks in as the menu pops up, and Winn does his best to explain the game. It’s fairly simple, after all, and it’s not as if they were going straight for the rainbow road. Brainy picks up on it quickly, choosing Luigi as his avatar. Winn, of course, chooses Yoshi because some traditions are meant to be followed. And, weirdly enough, it’s not so bad. Throwing shells at him is very entertaining, watching his confusion as to why he’s suddenly spiraling off the road turn into suspicion turn into really? And that turns into spite pretty quickly.

Because the thing about Mario Kart is that it’s so much more fun when you’re overly competitive– and not gonna lie, both of them are guilty as charged on that one.

“Fuck off,” Winn says, too busy to physically flip him off, “that’s cheating!”

“No, I am merely using the resources available in the game,” Brainy replies calmly.

“I don’t know how yet, but I know you are and I will figure it out,” he threatens, leaning to the right as he makes a curve, “in the meantime–”

“I’ve told you I’m not– wait. What happened? Why have I shrunk?” Brainy glares at him, “and I’m the one cheating?”

Winn laughs.

He had been so prepared for tonight to suck, it’s almost upsetting how well it goes. They don’t argue properly, no more than the usual bickering, which by now it’s mostly fun. Brainy accepts the beer he tips in his direction, humming pleased and somehow not swerving on the road while holding the controller one-handed.

That’s so cheating.

“So, you want that pizza now?” Winn asks, pausing the game.

“I could eat,” Brainy decides after a moment of indecision. He might have been aiming for a nonchalant, cool reply, but his stomach betrays him, growling earnestly, and he sighs, halfway amused, “I meant, yes, I would like that pizza now.”

Hiding his snickers, Winn digs around for his phone, lost somewhere in the mess they made of the coffee table. The pizza place is on speed dial and the teenager on the other end of the line apparently isn’t paid enough to judge his weird ass order.

“Appalling,” he says later, when the two pizzas are laid side by side and the olives stare back at his soul amidst the apples. “God really has left us.”

“Try it,” Brainy tells him, eyebrows raising in clear challenge. He picks up a slice for himself and nudges the box towards Winn.

And well. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that Winslow Schott, Junior cannot back down from a dare, so he sets down his own pepperoni slice and carefully takes the olive and apples, gingerly raising it as if it were a nuclear bomb about to go off in a crowded mall. A deep breath. He takes a small bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Eh, it’s not so bad. I thought it would be worse, to be honest.”

Brainy gives him a victorious smirk, “would this be a good time to say I told you so?”

“It’s never a good time to say that,” he scowls, washing down the taste with beer, “and it’s still weird.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” They eat in relative silence for a while, and Winn isn’t surprised to see him slowly working his way through the entire pizza. The game is soon switched for some very unrealistic action movie neither of them recognizes, but the explosions do look cool with the electronic soundtrack.

“It’s a shame there are no pizza places in the future,” Brainy comments idly.

“Oh my god, I know, right? I searched everywhere for one, it didn’t even have to be good, the bar was at existing.” Winn says, gesturing broadly with a slice, “and how come there are no bananas, either? And no one even knew what I was talking about, it was like they didn’t even exist! Like, I didn’t look it up because, you know, spoilers, but what happened? Did we all as a species develop a sudden aggressive allergy to bananas and had to destroy all records of the fruit? Is there gonna be another banana apocalypse in the next centuries– what?”

He stops, self-consciously wiping his mouth with a napkin, because Brainy is staring at him strangely. To be fair, everything about all of this is strange. But he caught him doing that before; sometimes at work, Winn will turn to say something, only to find Brainy already looking back. It’s odd and offputting, and honestly? A lot easier to just chalk it up to another one of his quirks and call it a day. That’s probably the explanation anyway. Now, though, Brainy shrugs, “nothing. Do you always feel this passionate about fruits?” A pause. “Did you say another banana apocalypse?”

“Dude,” Winn breathes, sitting up properly because it’s not every day you get to school Brainy about something. “It’s so much less exciting than it sounds, but here’s the thing– “

It’s a little after ten o’clock when he walks Brainy to the door, awkwardly stopping in the doorway. He scratches the back of his neck, “so. I guess it wasn’t all that bad, after all.”

“I suppose it was not unpleasant,” Brainy allows, his lips twitching, “although, I do have a request– next time, may I bring the movie?”

“Sure,” Winn says easily, then stops. He narrows his eyes, “am I going to regret agreeing to this?”

Now, Brainy grins openly, startlingly amused, “well, you’ll just have to wait and see. Good night, Winn. And thank you.”

It’s something in the way he says it that Winn wonders what exactly he’s being thanked for, too warm, too grateful to pass as simply politeness. Still, unwilling to overthink it, he shrugs awkwardly, “no problem, man. See you tomorrow.”

Brainy nods, slipping out the door.

Winn stays there, staring at the end of the hall for another long moment before going back inside.

#brainy #querl dox #brainiac 5 #winn schott #winndox #supergirl fic #when in rome #fake dating au #god i cant believe i rewrote the whole chapter #clearly i hate myself #still feel kinda meh about this one #but oh well #now i shall go back to the asks

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superjedders · 7 years

Text

Back in the saddle again

Howdy! I’m new to this whole Tumblr lark but figured this would be the best place to share my ramblings and creative stories. I’ve been working on a long running fan fiction entitled Dawn of Absolution which I may share on here (it’s dotted around the internet at the moment) but for now I will treat you to a random chapter looking at our favourite gunslinger and his Recall to Overwatch. If you like this, maybe I’ll continue it on...who knows!

Early morning sunlight gleamed through the moth-eaten curtains of the dingy motel room Jesse McCree had called home for the past two weeks. The place looked like it was stuck in a 80’s time warp, the ugly floral pattern on the walls littered with patches of mould, the paper peeling from the ceiling and the furniture so old that sitting down on it too heavily would cause a cloud of dust to erupt from it. The place had been cheap, out of the way and despite the gross stickiness of the carpet beneath his boots the bounty hunter had decided it would be better than sleeping rough in some abandoned warehouse or under the stars again.

A gentle snoring rumbled from the bed as Jesse lay on his front, tangled in the off-white sheets, his robotic limb hanging over the edge of the bed and a pool of drool having formed under his face. He smacked his lips together as the sun cast across his face, grumbling in annoyance and rolling over away from the harsh light, the bed creaking and groaning beneath his body weight. His snoring increased with the shifted position, the gunslinger content to doze off. He didn’t stir the first time there was a knock at his door, simply mumbled in his sleep after the fourth attempt. The door to his motel room being kicked at certainly woke him however.

He jolted awake as the door was kicked open with a bang. His right hand flew towards the bedside table, grasping for his peacekeeper as he tried to get off the bed only proceeding to have his legs tangle further in the bedsheets and send him to the floor with a thud, the gun weakly raising towards the door as he heard the chuckling from an all too familiar female voice.

“Fuckin’ hell you tryin’ to give me a dam heart attack?” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep as he slapped his gun against the floor and rolled onto his back, untangling his legs from the bedsheets, his fingers fumbling with the fabric before he grabbed onto the bed and pushed himself up from the dirty carpet beneath him only to sit heavily on the edge of the bed, dragging a hand over his face as a yawn captivated him, his brown hair splayed out in all directions and a look of bewilderment on his face.

The female laughed again, shifting her weight to her right foot and raised an eyebrow at him. “Well if you bothered to answer the door I wouldn’t have to bust in on you” she replied curtly, gently taking the chance to adjust her plaid top that had risen just above her mid-section, revealing a sapphire belly button piercing and an intricate flower tattoo on her hip. Her long hair was tied in a plait, the vibrant red colour unnatural but suiting the woman’s rebellious personality and attire.

Jesse rubbed at his left shoulder, rotating some stiffness from the join before looking to her “Well if you didn’t guess, I was sleepin’” he said before scratching at his beard before leaning back and yawning loudly. “So, whatcha’ need that was so dam important you had to bust open my door at the ass crack of dawn?” rubbed at his eyes with his right hand, taking a second to pick some grit that had accumulated in the corner of his eyes, casually flicking it away from his fingers.

“Such the gentleman, you think I wanted to bust in and see you in nothing but your Y fronts?” she teased, watching the cowboy glance down to his boxers briefly before his lips parted in retaliation

“Now hold on jus’ a sec-“

“-You owe me cowboy.” She slotted her hands into the back pockets of her jeans casually “Now I know you said you were going to come into some money soon, but after that barfight you caused last week I need the money for a new bust. So, cough up” she demanded.

Jesse frowned at her, remembering the god awful looking bust of a previous motel owner that had been perched precariously on the end of the bar. He vaguely remembered using it to defend himself from a barstool that had been swung in his direction. He exhaled, reaching for his pack of cigarillos and popping one from the pack, quickly slotting it between his teeth and looking for his lighter. “Way I see it, I done you a favour darlin’ that thing was a goddam eyesore that was scarin’ away good customers” he flicked his lighter, lighting the cigarillo between his teeth and drawing a breath before exhaling the smoke and flicking his lighter shut.

“That eyesore was my great grandfather! ” The woman retorted, having plucked a cigarette into view and gesturing towards the gunslinger, Jesse lighting it for her with raised eyebrow.

“Then I’m sorry but y’all need to hire a different artist, that thing looked like dam rabid raccoon that lost a fight with a truck” he chuckled at the fury on her face before getting to his feet, tossing the lighter on the side and drawing another breath from his cigarillo, the smoke escaping his lips. “Besides, if memory serves I didn’t start that fight so you can’t hold that over me.” He had his cigarillo balance between his teeth again as he sauntered towards the kitchenette, filling the old kettle and letting it boil, leaning against the counter and folding his arms with a cocky smirk. He watched the female fume and smoke her own cigarette while she failed to think of a suitable response to his words. Chuckling to himself, he grabbed a cup from the cupboard and sneering at the stains within its china interior, taking a moment to rinse it under the tap before hunting for the half empty pack of coffee granules he had.

As he messily spooned sugar and coffee into his cup delicate hands ran up his exposed back, resting on his shoulders, fingers kneading his tense muscles before a chin rested on his shoulder, hands roaming around to the front of his torso. Jesse set down the spoon with a gentle smirk, turning around and tilting his head gently at the woman, her hands roaming over his chest, tracing across old scars occasionally, her gaze hidden somewhat behind her bangs. “I thought we had a good thing going here? Or am I wrong Joel?” she rested her arms on his shoulders, her hand interlinked behind his head as she met his gaze, biting on her lip, cigarette balanced between her fingers. The gunslinger had told her a false name, the female none the wiser to the real identity of the man before her.

Jessed placed his hands on her hips, feeling the female press closer to his exposed torso “That we do darlin’ but this ain’t related to that is it?” he murmured raising a hand and gently cupping his finger under her chin with a gentle smile. She rolled her eyes at him, pulling away with an exasperated sigh, allowing Jesse to resume making himself a coffee.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She said, leaning against the island counter “I take mine black, no sugar” she shot the cowboy a grin when he glanced over his shoulder at her before he mechanically grabbed another cup from the cupboard, stubbing out his cigarillo in an alrady full ashtray on the side.

Soon the pair were stood opposite each other with a warm cup of coffee between their hands, both had stubbed out their smokes and were staring each other down, Jesse breaking the silence first. “Look Melissa, I can’t give you what I don’t have. Last bounty ain’t paid up jus’ yet but when it does-“

“-You said that last time.” She exhaled in annoyance pinching the bridge of her nose before continuing “Look, I like having you here. It’s nice having someone stay that isn’t a complete dickhead, but I can’t let rooms go for free” she sipped from the coffee wincing at the taste and setting the cup down “Urgh, you make god awful coffee. How you manage that with instant coffee is beyond me” she said.

Jesse nodded in gentle understanding, finishing his own drink “Shucks I’m blushin’. Besides, the coffee tastes alright to me” he mused, remembering the diner he had spent much of his Deadlock gang days in. The middle-aged woman that had worked there, Doris. She had been a lovely soul to all that had entered the diner but the slightest hint of trouble brewing and she would rain down on the poor souls like a battle-axe. Made a mean roadkill burger but the coffee had always tasted boiled dirt. He smiled at the memory for a moment before setting his cup down and meeting the females gaze. “Lemme make myself presentable, then we can see about makin’ some sort of agreement a’ight?” the female nodded. “Make yerself comfortable” he said before grabbing his clothes from around the room and vanishing into the tiny bathroom to shower.

Melissa wandered about the motel room, picking up various items out of pure curiosity. The handful of flashbangs tucked in the corner of the room by a gold BAMF buckle made her wonder what type of man this Joel was. A gentle bleeping grabbed her attention, causing her to spin on her feet listening carefully over the noise of the shower. Again, a melodic bleed rang out, muffled under something in the room. She glanced towards the bathroom, the sound of the cowboy warbling something to himself that was somewhat reminiscent of a song told her she had plenty of time to investigate.

She’d overturned the sofa, the bed and even searched the kitchen, setting everything back afterwards before she finally turned her attention to the tattered cowboy hat that rested on a neatly folded red serape by the door. Lifting the hat, she rummaged through the layers of the folded serape, her hand clasping around a metal device and tugging it free. The circular device had some sort of ear piece wrapped around it, the female unwinding the cable and setting the ear piece aside before examining the chrome finish. It was unlike any phone she had ever seen, resembled something along the lines of a compass. As she tapped the front a few times the screen illuminated, the Overwatch logo in the background immediately grabbing her attention alongside the message dialogue box on screen;

“To: J. McCree From: Gibraltar

Subject: Attn; Overwatch Recall Initiated”

McCree? Her eyes widened taking the opportunity to pull a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and quietly unravelling it, staring at the faded wanted poster, a glint in her eyes. 60-million-dollar bounty on the outlaw Jesse McCree. Dead or alive.

The click of the bathroom door unlocking grabbed the female’s attention causing her to whirl around and hiding the poster and device behind her back just as Jesse stepped into the room. The gunslinger was buttoning up his shirt with a melodic whistle before he paused and glanced up to her, frowning at her almost suspiciously. “Y’alright? You look more nervous than a hooker in church.” he said folding his arms and glancing around the room. Melissa tensed, biting the inside of her lip and almost expecting the cowboy to identify that she had been snooping from a speck of dust being out of place. Instead Jesse chuckled and wandered around his bed to fetch his belt and holster, ruffling a hand through his damp hair and continuing his gentle whistling.

Melissa seized the opportunity to crush the poster back into her jean pocket along with the device, folding her arms and relaxing for a while. “So I’ve been thinking about our little agreement” she spoke up softly, plucking her phone from her top pocket and constructing a short text message before continuing “I think I can wait a little longer for that payment after all”

Jesse glanced back over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow “Really now? That’s mighty kind of ye’ darlin’” he said turning back and continuing to rummage through his bedside table again “So why the change o’ heart?” he asked.

Melissa glanced towards the door of the motel room, biting on her lip before answering him “Well I remembered an investment that I can cash in on, so that’ll pay for the damage to the bar.” Her hand snaked towards the base of her spine, fastening around the grip of a pistol she always had tucked into the waist of her jeans. The motel she ran wasn’t the most legit of places and the cliental she dealt with meant she always ensured to have a gun on her. Dead or alive the poster had said.

The device she had taken from the cowboy bleeped loudly in her back pocket again, drawing a curse from her mentally. She had intended to wait for a better opportunity but thought against it as Jesse ceased his searching. Quickly drawing the gun, she aimed it towards the cowboy, removing the safety and was startled when Jesse rounded on her at the same time with his peacekeeper in his right hand and a stern look etched on his brows.

Silence. The pair were as still as statues, muzzles of the guns pointing directly at each other. Jesse broke the silence first “I don’t like shootin’ a lady, so I’d appreciate it if you’d put the gun down” his gaze didn’t waver, Melissa scowling at him in return and shaking her head.

“Fat chance, there’s a nice bounty on you. Jesse McCree.” She enunciated his real name, every syllable like poison. Rich, bountiful poison “More than enough for me to retire somewhere nice. Why don’t you toss the gun aside and I won’t have to worry about the mess shooting you will make” her finger twitched on the trigger, threatening the cowboy.

McCree frowned in response, lips parting to retort when the infernal beeping of his Overwatch comms device caused him to roll his eyes “Ya mind darlin’? I’m assumin’ you took the liberty of snatchin’ it from me while I was in the shower” he asked holding out his left hand for it, the metallic limb glinting briefly as the sun reflected off it. Melissa’s free hand moved towards her back pocket defensively the cowboy rolling his eyes at her “Pretty certain we’re at a stale mate here pumpkin, jus’ hand it over” he prompted watching as the female reluctantly fished the device from her pocket and tossed it towards him. “Thank ye’ kindly” he murmured, having just about caught it with his left hand. Keeping the gun trained on her he tapped at the screen, barely averting his gaze, a look of thought crossing his features. A recall? Now?

“So, you were part of Overwatch” Melissa stated, mentally reminding herself to keep her gun trained on the man before her as he slotted the device into his shirt pocket.

“Not quite, I rolled with a much different crowd” he shifted his focus to her fully, a strange look in his brown hues. He had heard the voices down the hall, and knew Melissa didn’t intended on taking him down alone.

“Forgive me sweetheart” he said, before his gun jerked towards her leg and barked loudly. The bullet tore through flesh and muscle, downing the woman with a scream of shock and agony her own pistol clattering to the floor as she grabbed at the wound.

“You bastard! You fucking bastard! You shot me!” she yelled, about to grab at her gun when Jesse darted over, kicking it away with his foot before reaching behind her, taking a second to throw his serape over his head. He paid little attention to the woman at his feet who was still grasping at the bleeding wound in her leg. “You fucker!” she spat painfully.

“Ye’ I get that a lot, not like you weren’t gun’ shoot me. All’s fair in love an’ war sweetheart’” he muttered, slapping his hat on his head, checking his gun and glancing to the door of his room as rapid footsteps thundered up the stairs. Frantic voices signalling more company. His hand clamped over Melissa’s mouth when she went to yell more obscenities him, her words muffled into the palm of his hand. “Keep grumblin’ and you’ll have more than a flesh wound to worry about” Jesse hissed, crouching close to her, the scent of cigarillos, dust and shower gel wafting from him. Jesse took a slow breath, gun drawn at his side ready.

When the men burst into the motel room with guns, Melissa let out a muffled scream to draw their attention. Despite all three men spinning towards the noise, Jesse was already on his feet and fired first. The initial shot connected with the forehead of the male on the far right, blood spraying from the wound and the body staggering backwards. As it hit the floor with a sickening thud the peacekeeper was already trained on the middle target and barking loudly and drawing a yell from the assailant as the bullet collided with their knee, bone splintering on impact and sending him to the ground. By the time, McCree had his peacekeeper trained on the third he was staring down the barrel of the automatic rifle.

Diving behind the couch as the gunman open fired, Jesse kept his back pressed firmly against the musty fabric, wary of the bullets shredding the edges and tearing up the wall in in front of him, pieces of fabric, foam and plaster raining down on him. He bided his time, checking the rounds in his peacekeeper briefly and placing his left hand against the floor, poised for the inevitable click of an empty magazine which would signal his chance to retaliate.

Clunk!

McCree drew a breath and reacted, popping up from behind the like a jack rabbit, his peacekeeper barking twice in succession and silencing the last two men. He stood confidently, watching thick crimson blood pool by the kitchenette before breathing out and letting his gun arm drop to his side. He never enjoyed taking lives, no matter what the circumstance. With Blackwatch it was taking out the trash, doing a little bad for a whole lot of good and for Deadlock it was simple survival instincts. As a bounty hunter, he had cultivated the best of both, dispensing justice where he saw fit, allowing some to live and just fighting for his survival where needed. Reyes had always told him that the life of the criminals they took down were not worth a fleeting thought. Ana Amari, however, carried the weight of her kills heavily, striking a notch in her gun sparing a thought for those with a family, friends.

‘Better to spare a thought for those who lives we are forced to take. It makes us human, stops us becoming the monsters we fight’ her words had stuck with him for years, Gabe’s too. Sometimes having conflicting advice made it harder to know how to react.

“McCree”

He had let his guard down. Not for long but for a snake in the grass it was long enough to strike. The call of his name caused him to turn towards the noise, finding Melissa stood awkwardly across the room from him, lopsided in pain with her pistol gripped tightly in her right hand, the left clutching a blood-soaked cloth to the bullet wound he had inflicted. The crazed look in her eyes, messy hair and tear stained face matched the pure menace of her words.

“Fuck you!”

The first shot collided with his chest, a burst of pain and a hot wave of panic washing over him as he stumbled backwards and felt his back meet the wall waiting for the sticky sensation of blood to soak his chest, waiting for the pain. Nothing? His right hand moved to the spot, feeling the hole in his shirt and no blood just the sensation of shattered glass jostling in his pocket. A breath caught in his throat as realisation began to wash over him before the second shot struck him in the left shoulder, driving a cry of agony past his lips and sending a white-hot pain searing through the nerves. Dark crimson blossomed from the wound immediately, the cowboy sliding down the wall to sit on the floor grasping at the wound with a grimace, slow breaths helping drive the pain towards the back of his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, waiting for another shot to collide with his body and cursing himself for letting his guard down. Instead he heard the thump of a body hit the floor, opening his eyes to take in the scene before him.

Melissa was slumped in the corner, blood pooling from a chest wound and a stillness falling over her that only death could create. He hadn’t heard his gun fire, didn’t recall pulling the trigger but he knew the damage his peacekeeper dealt. He had fired out of pure instinct. Survival instinct.

Leaning his head back against the wall he exhaled slowly allowing his right hand to release his left shoulder, sucking a pained breath past his teeth as blood flowed freely again from the wound. Slowly he eased his blood-stained fingers into his shirt pocket, fumbling to pull the shell of his Overwatch Communication device free. The metallic back was dented, the pistol bullet having driven into the case and shattering the screen. A few taps of his thumb and the screen spluttered briefly, the recall message displayed as a kaleidoscope of unidentifiable shapes and colours before the device died in his hand. A worthy sacrifice. He let the device drop from his grip, moving his hand back to the wound in his shoulder and grunting painfully. A recall after all this time? Whether it was legit or not, would even entertaining the idea be a wise choice?

Slowly pushing himself to his feet, concern was etched on his face as the fingers on his left hand juddered and twitched involuntarily. “Shit” he muttered, grabbing a towel from the side and pressing it against the bullet wound with a hiss of pain. The bullet had torn into some of the complex wirings and nerve endings that allowed his robotic limb to react to his thoughts. He had spent the last few years maintaining the limb himself, but this was something beyond his level of ‘expertise’

As he cast his eyes around the room he found his gaze shifting back to the broken comms device on the floor as the glass crunched beneath his boots, a tired smirk crossing his features. “Still got my back after all this time” he mused thoughtfully before exhaling softly and adjusting his hat “Maybe it’s time to get back into the mix.”

#overwatch #recall #jesse mccree #mccree #cowboy #writing #overwatch recall #never trust anyone #fic #fanfic

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galadrieljones · 5 years

Text

A Funeral: Chapter 19 (Arthur Morgan x Mary Beth Gaskill)

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 | Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth | Rating: Mature

Content: Existential Angst, Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nature, Touch-Starved, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Marriage, Epiphanies, Backstory, Banter, Deep Emotions, Sharing a Bed, Swimming, Arthur to the Rescue, Forests, Abduction, Angst, Heavy Angst, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Sexual Content, Sexual Themes, Adult Content, Canon Divergence, Found Families, Brotherhood, Fatherhood

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their journey, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. They’ve been friends for a while now, but life is full of uncertainty and complications, and in their desperate search for meaning together, they endure a number of trials, some small, some big—all of which bring them closer to the insidious dangers of the natural world, as well as to one another, and to their future.

Credit to @bearly-tolerable for the banner!! Art is my own.

***For the rest of this story, you can visit the masterpost or AO3, both linked in the replies to this post and also at my blog.***

Chapter 19: Poison Arrow

“What exactly is going on, Hosea?” said Dutch.

Hosea sighed. He ashed his cigarette, smoked, put it out in the ash tray. Somewhere nearby, you could hear the newspaper boy, calling out the headlines for the day. Dogs were barking. There were several other patrons out on the balcony with them that morning, having their coffee and their breakfast in the sun. “Arthur is leaning toward walking away, Dutch,” said Hosea. “With Mary Beth. Leaving the gang.”

Dutch did not look up. His brow became very firm and unyielding, like it got when he was thinking hard. “And.”

“And I have encouraged him to do so,” said Hosea.

“You have encouraged him,” repeated Dutch.

“Yes,” said Hosea. “I’ve been encouraging him for years. You know this. It’s just that finally, he’s listening. And I think it’s about time.”

“I wish—” Dutch looked up at the sky, squinting into the clouds. “Why hasn’t he come to me himself?”

“He would have,” said Hosea. “But I wanted to…feel things out first. Talk to you about it, just us.”

“I see.”

“We need to support him on this Dutch,” said Hosea. “Both of us. He’s been through…hell. With Mary and her degenerate father, and with Eliza before that. You remember Eliza, and Isaac, the brutality of how that ended. How it destroyed him for years.”

“Of course I remember, Hosea. Isaac was Arthur’s son.”

A flock of geese went by over the top of the city, squawking and flapping in a long, elegant V. “How do you feel about it, Dutch?” said Hosea. “How will you react to Arthur when he tells you he’s leaving the gang to make a better life?”

“Better?” said Dutch, confused, looking up at Hosea. “Better how?”

“All of us have lost people we love, Dutch. To this life. All of us. You, me, and Arthur. We thought, both selfishly and erroneously, that we could live the lives we live and keep our women safe. We dragged them down to the underworld. They stuck by us, because they were loyal, good girls, and they paid for it in the end. Eliza, Annabelle…Bessie.” Hosea looked down at his hands, flexed them open and closed. “It isn’t right. Arthur has a chance now, to do better.”

Dutch’s focus was dark, not sinister, but fearsome. The mention of Annabelle had spurned him. Hosea knew that it would. “We can’t…lose him,” he said.

“Why not?” said Hosea. “We’ve got a lot of good guns left, and I’ll stand by your side, Dutch, till the end. You have my word.”

“We need him. I…need him.”

“Is that your love for the boy speaking, Dutch?”

“What else would it be?”

“Your fear of losing his loyalties,” said Hosea. “Your fear of losing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Because that’s what this is,” said Hosea. “He would be choosing her, and in some essence, himself, over his loyalty to you. Do you understand that?”

Dutch began to fuss with his rings.

“You look afraid, Dutch,” said Hosea. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“He’s like a son to me,” said Dutch. “He’s more than that. That’s what’s on my mind.”

“Then you should be happy for him. If he chooses to leave, you should support him.”

Dutch looked up then, desperately curious. “Is he—does she make him happy, Hosea? Mary Beth Gaskill? You’ve seen it?”

“That’s how it seems, yes.”

“How it seems?” said Dutch. “Or how it is?”

Hosea gave him a long, careful look, reading his agenda. “Arthur would not be with her if she didn’t make him happy. He’s not exactly the settling sort. He doesn’t give himself to women with any sort of freedom at all, not in the past five years at least. And we know Mary Beth. She’s been in the gang for several years now. She’s a good girl. Her and Arthur have always been friends, shared interests. It’s not like she’s come out of the blue or anything like that. I think it’s safe to say she makes him happy.”

“What if she hurts him?” said Dutch.

“He’s a grown man,” said Hosea. “He’ll survive.”

“Arthur has a habit of getting hurt. Badly. If he runs off with her, and she leaves him, we’ll be right back where we started.”

“She won’t leave him,” said Hosea.

Dutch sighed, his jaw set firm. He folded his hands together on the table. “I want to talk to him myself,” he said.

“As you should,” said Hosea. “With this all coming from me, certainly you’re not getting the whole story. How will you handle it?”

“I’ll listen. I’ll deliberate.”

“And then what.”

“And then…we shall see.”

Hosea sighed, smoked. “Forgive me, Dutch, for saying what I’m about to say. But I must warn you—don’t attempt to poison him. Against her, against the idea. He’ll see through you. It won’t end well.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’ve done it before. With Eliza.”

The accusation took a moment to sink in, but once it did, Dutch became venomous. He slapped his palm to the table, very fast, so hard that it made a big noise, alarming a couple of nearby patrons.

“Dutch—”

He pointed his finger, in Hosea’s face, but he did not look at Hosea. “That was not my doing,” he said, angry. “Do not blame me for what happened to Eliza and Isaac.”

“I’m not, Dutch.”

“Eliza and Isaac were murdered,” he said. He ceased pointing. He ran a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, like looking back—it burst into him, regrowing some old pain he had not confronted in years. “They were murdered, by goddam barbarians in their own goddam home.” He opened his eyes, confronted Hosea with disquieting focus. “I searched for their killers for months, if you’ll so kindly recall, while Arthur, ruined soul that he became, succumbed to the power of his grief and nearly drank himself to death. Had I found them, I would have ripped their hearts out through their goddam throats with my own bare goddam hands, and you know this.”

“I would never blame you for what happened to Eliza and Isaac,” said Hosea. “That’s not what this is. Don’t be a fool.”

“Then what is this?”

“You weren’t crazy about it—the prospect of Arthur going back there to see them, as often as he did, and you let him know.”

“Of course I let him know,” said Dutch. “I also told him to corral her and the boy and to bring them with us. I never once told him to leave her behind.”

“As far as we know, he tried to get her to come with us, on multiple occasions. She just wouldn’t budge.”

“And had she simply acquiesced, perhaps the two of them would still be alive. But she didn’t, and they’re not, and Arthur—my blessed Arthur—suffered,” said Dutch. He lowered his voice now, as if what he was saying next was somehow a secret. “Forgive me for not wanting that to happen again.”

“He could’ve stayed with her. He could’ve made a life with her. That’s part of my point. But you encouraged him against it.”

Dutch lowered his voice then, displeased. He leaned forward on his elbows, looming as far over the table as possible. “He was twenty-five years old when she had that baby, Hosea.”

“I know.”

“He wasn’t gonna choose to settle down. Not with her, a teenage bar girl who he knocked up on a one night stand in a hotel room over the George Washington Tavern in Butte, Montana. What was he gonna do? Marry her? Sell his lungs to the local silver mine to keep her in rags while she raised his child in a tin shack, becoming an impoverished mining widow at the ripe old age of twenty-one?”

“Maybe,” said Hosea. “At least it would’ve been his choice.”

“Sure. His choice. His choice to die miserably, in a hole in the earth, a slave to some foreman with a loaded rifle in his hands. Well, god bless his soul, he didn’t make that choice, did he, Hosea? And it was not me forcing him.”

“You’re right,” said Hosea. “You’re right, Dutch.”

“You’re goddam right I’m right.” He relaxed, slouched back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other and looked out past the clean air of the balcony.

“But this is precisely why now is so important,” said Hosea.

“Whatever do you mean?” said Dutch.

“Because he’s moving on from all that. Talking with him, yesterday, he yielded as much. He's healing. All that business with Mary and her asshole father, and all that grief leftover from Eliza and Isaac. He’s making a choice now, to heal, and it might not be a choice that pleases you.”

“Then so be it,” said Dutch. “He’s not a prisoner. He is free to leave at any time. Why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because he loves you, and he looks up to you, and he’s gonna want your approval. That’s why.”

Dutch looked right at him and blinked.

“He’s not twenty-five anymore,” said Hosea. “That’s a decade past. He’s grown. But he still counts on you, on both of us. And I know you’re worried about him. That much I can ascertain. But Mary Beth is not a bar girl from the sticks in Montana. They didn’t make with a one night stand on the pretense of physical attraction alone. She’s capable, and she’s intelligent, and she’s been around for a long time now, and she loves him.”

“And as I said before,” said Dutch, “I believe you, Hosea. I do. I'd just like to him. Myself.”

Hosea sighed. He nodded once, very stern. “Then I’m trusting you,” he said, “to not attempt to destroy this for him. His loyalty these past twenty years is worth more than that, Dutch. Do not poison his mind, even in subtle ways. Do not force him to leave on uncertain or angry terms.”

“I would never. Do that,” said Dutch.

“Good,” said Hosea, looking out over the edge of the balcony. A sparrow came and landed on the railing, chirped, looked around, flew away. “That’s all I needed you to say. Now I’m gonna head back to Shady Belle,” he went on. “You and young Lenny come on when you’re ready.”

“What?”

“I said I’m gonna head back to Shady Belle.”

“Wait,” said Dutch, though he wouldn’t look him in the eye. He seemed flustered.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don’t need to be…riding alone in these parts. It’s not safe. Just wait.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Hosea.

“Just—” Dutch took a long, deep breath, staring down at his hands, planted hard on the table. He was fucking pissed off, but trying hard to collect his composure. “—wait,” he said. “I don’t want you riding alone.”

Hosea was looking right at him, waiting to see if Dutch would look up, soften, or retract, but he didn’t. Hosea took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go tell the boy we’re leaving then.”

“You do that,” said Dutch.

Meanwhile, back at camp, Mary Beth was in the shade, touching up her blush, looking in a hand mirror. Everywhere was wet from the storm, but it made the swamps feel cleaner somehow, and it was invigorating, and after they’d woken up and gone off to do some chores round the yard that morning, she and Arthur had found each other and wandered into the surrounding tree cover alone. Once they’d left the purview of the camp, he picked her up and put her hard against the back of a tall cypress, and he made good of her with a kind of hidden speed reserved only for sex in the wild. She was still frazzled from it, and now he was over there, fixing a busted wagon wheel, with John and Charles, his sleeves rolled up, sweating and wearing his hat. She was caught looking by Karen, who came by holding a shotgun on her rounds from the perimeter. Karen stood, admiring with her for a moment, then she nudged Mary Beth with her elbow and said, kind of cheeky, “He sure is a snack, Mary Beth, but is he as good as looks?”

Mary Beth blushed and acted surprised by Karen being there. “Excuse me?”

Karen started to laugh. “Oh don’t be so shocked. I know. Everybody knows. It ain’t every day Arthur Morgan gets broken by a woman. That’s big news.”

“I didn’t break him,” said Mary Beth. “He ain't no horse. That’s not what it’s like.”

“Then what is it like? He ain’t been sweet on a girl since that Mary. I’d say good work, but I ain’t surprised by the two of you being together, to be honest. It’s nice.”

“Why’s that?”

“The way you’re always nerding around here, with your big ideas and your journals. Sean told me, too, before he, you know, got his brains blown out, that going robbing with you two, it was like being stuck in the third wheel. Arthur’s been hard on you for a while, it seems. Sweet, sensitive Arthur. You're lucky.”

Mary Beth sighed. The mention of Sean made her sad. “We never really talked about Sean,” said Mary Beth.

“Why would we?” said Karen.

“Because you two…kind of…didn’t you?”

“Didn’t we what?” said Karen. “Have a few go-rounds between the sheets while under the influence of whiskey?”

“A few go-rounds is more than one,” said Mary Beth. “Even on whiskey. If you kept going round, that’s a choice. At some point. Maybe it was more, maybe not. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I mean, it ain’t pretty. What happened. I’m real sorry.”

Karen got kind of quiet then. She was stone cold sober, which was a rare sight in those days, but it wasn’t unheard of. She lowered the gun down a little and looked away. She looked at the muddy ground. Then she looked at the sweaty sight of the boys fixing the wagon wheel. “Nobody ever asked me if I was okay with it,” said Karen. “Well, I mean, except Arthur. He’s always asking me if I’m okay.”

“Arthur is a good man,” said Mary Beth, smiling. “And are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Karen, looking down at her hands, holding that gun. “Thanks, Mary Beth.”

“I’m here for you,” said Mary Beth. “If you ever wanna talk. Or you just want someone to drink with. I ain’t great at holding my liquor, but I’m better than some.”

Karen smiled at this, very knowing. “Well, I’ll take you up on that. That is, if you ain’t too busy sneaking off with Arthur, carving out a slice together in the swamps.”

Mary Beth was scandalized. She nudged Karen with her elbow. “Karen!” she said. “You watched us?”

Karen was laughing now. “No. I didn’t watch. Not exactly. I just…saw. By accident. Don’t worry. It was only me, and I ain’t telling no one.”

Mary Beth’s face felt very warm. She tried to remember what it had been like, tried to remember what it was Karen might have seen…exactly.

“He’s a hair-puller, ain’t he?” said Karen, her voice low.

“Sweet Christmas,” said Mary Beth, exhaling. “Get back on your rounds before Miss Grimshaw comes over here and yells at us both.”

Karen laughed. “Whatever you say.” Then she was on her way back out into the trees.

A little while later, Arthur was leaning in the shade over by the scout fire, drinking some water from a canteen. He was talking to John, who smoked and looked serious. Mary Beth had just mended a busted tent belonging to Charles and given it back to him at the campfire. He sat with her now, and he was showing her how to mix together a kind of poison for weapons in return. He was a very good teacher, and a kind listener. He didn’t ask her about Arthur, though she knew he knew. His stoicism and restraint made her feel comfortable. He said she could use the poison on knives, arrows, or even buckshot if she wanted to get creative. In the background, Javier played his guitar, the music pretty and drifting in the waning hours of the early afternoon. Karen and Tilly sat beside him, over by the wagons, eating apples and swaying side to side. Sadie could be seen not far away, her turn on the perimeter, holding her gun, looking fierce but also somehow bored with the horses.

“It never hurts to be prepared,” said Charles, as he showed her how to tip an arrow in the poison. “Make sure you wash your hands real good after making this stuff.”

“I will,” said Mary Beth.

He smiled. He didn’t say everything that was on his mind. He was a quiet and careful sort of soul, like Arthur. She thought it was no wonder they were friends.

“Charles?” she said after a little while.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you kind of a personal question?”

“Sure,” he said.

She took a deep breath. She was curious. She thought he'd give her an honest answer, no matter what. “Do you ever…think about leaving this place?” she said. "Leaving the gang?"

He sighed, shrugged. “Sometimes,” he said, cleaning his sawed off in his lap. “But I’ve got nowhere else to go. And I still believe in Dutch. Even if he does seem…lost. For the time being at least.”

“You know,” she said, feeling wistful, admiring the poison arrow in her hands, “when I first got into the gang, I never wanted to leave. I’ve always trusted these boys. You boys. I still do.”

“If you and Arthur want to leave,” said Charles, looking up at her, right at her, reading her mind, “you should leave. Don’t look back. Find a better life, Mary Beth. I know I would if I could.”

She felt him gazing into her, so even in his temperament. His control. Then he blinked, and he broke his own focus, looked back down at his gun to continue his polishing. The arrow she held was beautifully fletched with beautiful feathers from a golden finch. She sighed, listening to the clanking sounds of the day—Pearson carving out a hefty deer for their dinner, Micah sharpening his knife at one of the tables nearby, Abigail feeding the chickens, Javier’s guitar.

Dutch, Hosea, and Lenny returned to Shady Belle around five o’clock. They had been in St. Denis, but it turns out they had stopped to fish along the way and came bearing a great bounty for Pearson. Arthur and Mary Beth had canoed out into the river a little ways and were emptying traps full of crawdads out in the surrounding swamps, a favor for Pearson. Arthur had his pants rolled up to his knees, and Mary Beth had her skirt near hiked over her shoulders. They were both barefoot in the mud. At one point, Mary Beth spotted a nasty Copperhead in the weeds, which Arthur flipped over with a stick and shot point blank with his pistol. It floated away, real dead, into the murky river. When they got back to the pier of Shady Belle, the light from the day was waning, and they rinsed off in a bucket of clean water, and Arthur put his boots back on. They were walking back to the house with a huge basket of the crawdads carried between them, and that is when they were greeted by Dutch, who was waiting by the gazebo, a surprise, reading a book and smoking a cigar.

“Arthur and Mary Beth,” he said, smiling in welcome. He closed his book and tossed it to the earth, took one last puff off the cigar and tossed that as well. “It’s good to have you two home.”

“Hey, Dutch,” said Arthur, as they came up with the basket. He and Mary Beth were carrying it together. “How goes it?”

“Just fine,” said Dutch. He then tipped his hat to Mary Beth. “Miss Gaskill.”

“Evening,” she said, graciously. “How long have y’all been back?”

“Oh, not long,” said Dutch. He took a deep breath. “I heard the two of you had quite the trip.”

“That, we did,” said Arthur. He gestured to Mary Beth to put down the basket. Then he dusted off his hands and approached Dutch head-on. She followed. “How was St. Denis.”

“Fine,” said Dutch. “We can talk more about that later.”

“Sounds good,” said Arthur.

There was a pause then, not awkward, but filled with some sort of tension. In the background, you could hear the fish swimming around in the river and also the Reverend somewhere, talking to Herr Strauss about the weather.

“Miss Gaskill,” said Dutch then, out of the blue.

“Yes?”

He removed his hat altogether now, held it in front of him by the brim. A gentleman. “Would it be all right if I…borrowed dear Arthur for just a moment?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling.

“Thank you,” said Dutch. Then he replaced his had atop his head. He looked at Arthur. “Arthur? Will you walk with me?”

Arthur nodded, real certain, chewing a piece of tall grass. “Always,” he said. He looked down at Mary Beth, put a little hair behind her ear, kissed her forehead, smiled.

Then he looked back at Dutch. “Come on.”

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #mary beth gaskill #mary-beth gaskill #arthur morgan x mary beth gaskill #arthur x mary beth #john marston #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #karen jones #charles smith #a funeral

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galadrieljones · 5 years

Text

A Funeral: Chapter 2

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 | Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth | Rating: Mature

Content: Existential Angst, Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nature, Touch-Starved, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Violence

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their little journey together, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. In their desperate search for meaning, they endure a number of small trials, which bring them closer to one another as well as to the unchecked plights of the natural world.

Masterpost | AO3

Thanks @bearlytolerablethethird for the banner!! ^_^

Chapter 2: Inside

About a week later, while asleep in the hotel above the saloon in St. Denis, Arthur had a dream. He dreamed that he had killed and skinned a polar bear, and he had stepped inside of its skin whole. It was wet and chilled inside. He lived there for ten whole years while in the dream, aging and growing soft for his lack of movement and oxygen. Just as he was about to die from starvation, he realized he had grown a beard, and he stepped out of the polar bear skin and back into the world which had all burned while he was away. The cities and the railroads were all ashes, and the trees were black sticks going straight up into the sky. It was a hellscape. Everyone he had ever known was dead.

When he awoke, he was out of sorts. He looked around at the empty room and he fell into a kind of panic. He was thinking about Mary. He had forgotten what year it was and what day it was and he realized that when he was looking around, he was looking for Mary. Where was Mary? He was looking for Mary, and he was thinking about her, and about her skin for some reason, and of all the things about her, he thought of her skin and the ways he once knew its shapes and colors. Why was he thinking of her skin. And then he realized that, along with her skin and the way she felt and the way he felt when he was inside of her—all that had faded now, in his memory like an old pair of boots. He could not remember. It all happened so fast. It was a complete shock.

It had been such a long time since he’d been with any woman in any meaningful way. He never thought much of it, but now, he asked himself why. Why, Arthur. Why. He should have married Mary. He should have just married her, he thought. Fuck her father, fuck Dutch. That was his anxious brain now at the age of thirty-six. He should have married Mary Linton and put a child in her, and they should have lived somewhere in the warm woods far away where it snowed in winter and it was his only job to chop firewood and perhaps be some sort of warden in the local town. He should have been a fisherman. He should have been a trapper. He should have gone to college. He should have been a father. Where was Mary. His heart was beating like a fucking drum in his chest. He held himself until the panic went away and then he curled back into a ball beneath the smooth covers and he tried to close his eyes and return to sleeping, but that was all he could do. His body and his mind. His whole soul was awake. He felt ruined.

Downstairs in the saloon the next morning he had a bowl of soup and the bartender was a nice man who tried to make conversation. He wanted to talk about Arthur’s hat and thought the red feather in its strap was neat. Arthur tried making good with the bartender. He did not wish to seem surly as he knew he looked surly. He smiled and tried to explain the origin of the hat, but the bartender was shining a glass and seemed confused.

“You skinned an elk for that?” he said casually.

Arthur didn’t know how this could possibly be so unbelievable. He had skinned much worse than elk for must less than hats. He finished his soup and tipped his feathered hat, and he went outside to feed and water Sarah. Then he was on his way.

This city is getting in my blood, he thought. It’s getting in my dreams. He rode out into the swamps to fish. But Sarah drew constantly skittish due to the gators. He was sick of killing them, as they were a waste of bullets, but they always seemed to be getting in his way. He caught a fourteen pound catfish and then another. He killed and pruned a white heron for its decorative feathers. He cooked its tough meat over a spit and ate it while surrounded by wet bugs and trees. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard a woman screaming. He stood up with his ears wide open and his shot gun in his hand for five whole minutes trying to hear it again.

“My fucking imagination,” he said, tucking away the shotgun and sucking on a sugar cube. He was out of smokes. He bit his nails a little and drank some water, and after heading back to the butcher to sell off his catch, he bought a pack of cigarettes and a new neckerchief and then he rode back to Shady Belle.

I have been actually choked, he wrote in his journal, still saddled on Sarah just outside the perimeter of their camp. He smoked. I have been actually choked by a man’s bare hands and yet it is nothing so suffocating as this swamp. If I have to kill one more gator to save my horse from heart failure, I may just lose my composure. I have thought of beating men senseless and I have done it on occasion. This place has sucked a great deal of life from my bones. I need to get the fuck out of here, if only for seven days.

That night, he ate a little stew and drank whiskey to calm his nerves. Javier wrangled him into a game of poker, which he won handily, and then he decided to cash in and go to bed. Javier took to playing his guitar, and some of the boys continued to drink. Dutch was somewhere else in the camp, limited in his interactions and stewing in his obsessions. Arthur did not wish to speak to him that night. He was still tainted by that dream and did not wish to speak to most anyone about anything beyond the most surface level conversations.

Inside, he ran into Mary Beth again. In the dining room, she was having a conversation with Karen. The two of them seemed overcome with their private laughter. Seeing them like this, these women for whom, in some wide, chivalrous sense, he felt an overwhelming responsibility, it was a reassurance. There they were, existing. He thought the two of them were more like opposites—Mary Beth and Karen, but watching now, he supposed that opposites can attract. Karen was crass and immediate while Mary Beth approached all of her airs with distance. She was too sharp. They were sitting at the dining room table drinking bottles of beer by lamplight, and when they saw him, they invited him to come sit and to have a drink with them. At first, he thought to decline, but then Mary Beth held out a bottle like a right welcome, and with this small interaction, he gave in. Inside, it was softer. They taught him a card game he had never played before, one he would forget by morning, but it was exciting. Lots of slapping the table, and there was this entire mechanic where you had to hide a wooden spoon near your person and if somebody stole it from you, the hand ended, and you lost. They played several hands. Arthur won two out of three. When Karen left to get a refill on their bottles, he put his elbows on the table and breathed steadily. He felt something small release inside his heart, just sitting there, but he wasn't sure why.

He felt Mary Beth's hand on his then, a fast touch, then gone. "You all right, Arthur?"

He looked up and half-smiled. "Why do you ask, Mary Beth?"

She shrugged. "You seem tense. Then again that's not all that unusual."

"It was a long day," he said, shifting in his chair. He felt big at that table.

“What happened?" she said.

"Nothing much to make it seem long. It just felt long."

"I get that."

"What happened around here? I heard Hosea killed a damn gator."

"He did!" said Mary Beth. She was laughing. "You ought to have seen it. I think he emptied a full chamber on that bastard and it was still waddling away. Anyway, it's dead now. I think Pierson put it in the stew."

"Yuck," said Arthur. "I thought that stew tasted a bit green."

"You should check on Hosea and his heart health," said Mary, sliding the deck of cards across the table to him. "He's too old for that sort of activity, Arthur."

Arthur laughed. “Old Hosea will be fine," he said. "But I'll be sure to check on him anyway."

He lit a cigarette. She asked if she could have one, too. He lit it for her off the end of his, and they sat there, smoking, ashing right on to the table. There was a fly inside, bouncing off the lantern like some sort of idiot. Arthur swatted at it once, and it went away.

"So," said Mary Beth.

"So."

"What are you gonna do tomorrow, Arthur? You heading back to St. Denis?”

He studied the lit end of his cigarette. He remembered that goddam polar bear. He shook out his head. "No, no. I was thinking of leaving the swamps," he said. He looked at her. "I tell you this place is full of ghosts. Old things and people, ideas I can’t contend with no more."

"Where will you go, Arthur?”

"North."

“North for what?”

“Moose,” he said, giving her a look. “I’ve got it all marked on my map. Big moose there's supposed to be, up in the Roanoke Valley. I was thinking of heading up there to hunt a little."

She smiled like a lightbulb. She caught his meaning. She reached across the table and put her hands on his shoulders. “Moose hunting?”

“Yes, ma’am."

"Can I come with?"

"It’s a long ride," he said, dipping his cigarette into the table top. "Will you be all right?”

"You know it."

“That’s what I thought.”

“We're leaving in the morning?" she said, excited. "What time?"

"Sometime after first light," he said. "If you could get some provisions together, for us and the horses, that would be useful. About a week's worth and we can hunt the rest."

"I can do that," she said, sitting up real tall. "And warm clothes?"

Arthur nodded. "Warm clothes," he said. "And I mean it, too. Don't be dainty. You got a bed roll with wool or something?"

"I do."

“I’ll take care of the artillery,” said Arthur. “Make sure you’ve got a sturdy saddle on your filly. I can lend you one, if you need it."

“I’m good,” she said proudly. “I sold a couple a pocket watches last week, and just the other day I purchased a brand new saddle at the stables in St. Denis. I had them beat it with hammers to make the leather real soft.”

“That must have run you extra,” said Arthur, smiling. He shuffled the deck of cards. “Good thinking though.”

“I am always thinking, Arthur,” said Mary Beth, resting her chin in her hands, dreamy. She watched him shuffle those cards like it was no tomorrow. “Just like you.”

“I don’t know about that, Miss Mary Beth,” he said. “But I thank you anyway.”

"This is gonna be fun, Arthur," she said, smiling. "I know it. In my bones."

I sure hope so, he thought.

She sighed long and loud. That is when Karen came back with the beers, and she began to tease them. “You two talking about philosopbies of the weather or something?” she said. “You look about hundred miles in love.” And she laughed.

Arthur was a little confused by this, in a literal sense. He tried to figure out what the hell she meant by philosophies of the weather. “You know I met, uh—an archaeologist a few months back,” he said, dealing them each a hand of cards. “I don’t know nothing about the weather, but she showed me a gotdamn dinosaur’s rib cage. She was digging it right out of the ground.”

“A dinosaur?” said Karen. She flew up with laughter. "You got to be kidding me."

“Oh my god,” said Mary Beth. “Do you remember where it was?”

“Not really,” said Arthur, smiling at her. Of course he did, but he didn’t feel like remembering. He just took a drink from his beer. What had happened to him? Was he awake? “Now," he said, "am I dealing, ladies, or are we gonna talk nonsense all night?”

“Deal, Mr. Morgan,” said Karen. She had big rosy cheeks. It felt like a party, but it was any other day. “And do not expect any easy favors from us, not this time.”

“Oh I would not dare, Miss Karen,” said Arthur. In his ears, his voice sounded like gravel. But there was a fire in the hearth. It was almost enough to make him feel safe again.

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