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#im hung over and my head's spinning but i was still baffled by that ask
arachnerd-8-legs · 7 months
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actually, what does "growing up" mean, anyway? losing my whimsy and wonder of the world? being afraid of what other people think of the things i do and enjoy? conforming and choking under the very societal norms i despise? why would anyone want to do that? for other people's comfort?
what a shabby reason to give up my heart on my sleeve! i will continue to be happy and do what i want, actually
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imladris-soldier · 5 years
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Lashes (pt 14)
Bill Williamson is a racist asshole. Everyone knows it. They just punch him and go on about their day. When a Lakota woman joins the gang, everyone expects things to go on as normal, slurs and all, and for a time, it does. But her curiosity gets the better of her, and she finds that hatred is something learned - which means it can be unlearned, if given time, care, and patience. And she has plenty of those… the first two, anyway.
Bill Williamson x OC
The caravan rattled out of Clemens Point, leaving the land slightly scarred behind it. It seemed that no matter where the Van Der Linde gang settled they left a mark, good or bad.
Star sat with Bill on the wagon he was driving, keeping an eye on all the horses that weren't being ridden. They mostly filed along, now unfortunately accustomed to this shifting camp ordeal. Once she was satisfied that they were alright, she settled next to her companion and allowed her eyes to drift over the country. The farther they went, the wetter everything became. The air stuck to her skin and felt heavy in her lungs. Her clothes hung in a vaguely damp manner off her body. Things squished and reeked in ways she had never known. Where in the world was Dutch taking them?
“You seem quiet,” Bill murmured, glancing over at her.
There was a hint of concern in his voice that she couldn't ignore, and it struck her that maybe there was some lingering tension from the night of the attack on the Braithwaites. He'd been considerate enough not to ask her directly what had happened, and she had appreciated it. However, she would have to tell him sooner or later.
“If you want to ask something, just ask me.”
He blushed slightly at having been called out so easily, but he shrugged it off. “Just been worried is all. What happened with the Braithwaites... seemed to take a lot outta ya.”
He was still dancing around the question, but it felt like he was protecting her from it. He wanted to know, but he didn't want to cause her the pain of telling him. It equal parts frustrated and warmed her, though she couldn't put a finger on her frustration. So, she let it out in a heavy sigh.
“It did. I was forced to remember things that I had carefully hidden away, and those memories did not resurface kindly.”
Bill nodded a bit, eyes on the road in front of them. “Been there.”
“I... imagine you have.” She had probably caused one or two of those events just by appearing in his life. “It's not a nice story. And... I'll tell it to you sometime. Just... not now.”
“Alright,” he conceded easily, no hint of disappointment in his voice. “I got a story or two you ain't heard neither, so...” He shrugged, glancing over at her. “I guess... well... guess we'll both just take our time. We got plenty of it.”
The frustration melted away as she filled with fondness. “I hope so,” she replied softly.
As the caravan rolled through the South, heading ever farther in the opposite direction of that they had hoped for, the mood felt... mixed. Some of the others seemed to have found hope to hold on to, but Star herself felt very apprehensive, so she picked up more on those who mirrored her sentiments. John, who had returned to guide them to Shady Belle, and Abigail were understandably worried, though they seemed to be avoiding each other. Micah was grumpier than usual, though he professed undying faith in Dutch's decisions. Hosea kept up his smile for the gang, but when he thought no one was looking, his gaze drifted to the countryside and became wistful. Things felt... different.
The twists and turns of the road carried the gang into swampland. New animal noises began to crop up that Star had never heard before in her life, and it put her on edge. This entire land was nothing but threat. She had already learned to dislike the South in general, but this part? It was repulsive.
It took the better part of the day to reach Shady Belle, and Star was appalled to find that the house was of a similar make to the Braithwaite mansion, though it had seen significantly better days. It was surrounded on three sides by swamp, and there were multiple battlements left from the previous occupiers.
While the wagons rolled in, Arthur emerged from the house with a wave. “Welcome home, all of ya, to my humble abode! We got fine livin', if you ignore the corpses and the alligators. A real paradise.”
Dutch jumped down from The Count, spinning with a grin. “I love it! Ms. Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson, would you kindly work your magic?”
The wagons fanned out across the yard to make space for each other as they organized the camp into something livable. Star squeezed Bill's shoulder before jumping down from the still moving wagon to see to the horses. As she made her way to the nervous animals, she saw Dutch and Arthur mounting back up.
“Dutch?” Molly called, running to catch up.
“Yes?”
“Could I have a word with ye?”
“Not now,” Dutch replied dismissively.
He and Arthur rode off, leaving a dejected Molly in her place. Star stood with her hand on Old Boy's neck, watching as the Irish woman's shoulders slumped and she turned to go back to the house. While it was true that Star had never been particularly fond of Miss O'Shea, she couldn't help but feel for the woman.
“He's just stressed, Molly,” she called.
Molly's red hair bounced as she turned, surprised at having been spoken to. Star expected her not to respond and move on, but she made her way awkwardly between the horses to stand with Star. “I dunno. He hardly speaks a word to me. Been this way for a while now.”
“Well... he's been stressed for a while now. After everything this gang has been through, can you blame him?”
“I just wish he'd talk to me. I... I really love 'im, and I wanna help 'im, but...” She shrugged helplessly. “How do you do it?”
That caught Star off guard. “Do what?”
“Get Bill to talk to ye. I seen you two 'round camp. Yer always talkin' and doin' stuff together. He's got a lot better since 'e met you. Nicer. Quieter.”
Star ran her fingernails through Old Boy's coat, considering the question. She didn't really think she'd done anything to get Bill to talk to her. Except maybe listen. He had a lot to say, but no one ever listened to him. Once she did, and he was convinced that she wasn't making fun of him, he just... talked.
“I don't know, Molly. We just... he trusts me, is all. Knows I'm not going to use his words against him, like everyone else seems to.”
The woman's freckled face twisted into an expression of despair. “Why doesn't Dutch trust me?! I've been by his side through all'a this. He should trust me!”
With that, Molly stormed off, crying. Star stared after the Irishwoman, baffled. She'd tried to help, but it wasn't her fault that Dutch found nothing to trust in his companion, though why he felt the need to keep her around was beyond understanding. They weren't even sharing a bed much anymore, so what was the point? Although, perhaps there was simply no convincing Molly that it was over. She still seemed to feel strongly about Dutch.
With a shrug, Star returned to her work, though she as soon joined by another.
“What was that about?” Hosea asked quietly, taking a brush to Silver Dollar.
Star glanced at the forming camp, making sure that Molly was nowhere in earshot. “Dutch brushed her off again. She wanted to know how I got Bill to talk to me. I told her that he trusted me. She... did not take it well.”
Hosea let out a sigh as a slight, humorless smile touched his lips. “So we saw.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Honesty is never wrong, girl. Except for when it gets you into trouble.” His smile grew genuine. “I knew when she arrived that the outlaw life would sit poorly with Molly O'Shea. It was just a matter of time.”
“Why does Dutch keep her around?”
“I don't think Dutch has spared a thought for Molly in months. She's here because she chooses to be. I don't wish the girl any ill will, but I do wish she'd move on. Dutch will never be the man she hopes him to be.”
Something about that troubled Star. If Hosea saw cracks in what Dutch was building...
“Don't mind me, Star,” he cut across her thoughts. “It's been a long road. Perhaps I'm a bit crankier than usual.”
Star smiled. “We're all tired. And this place... it's...”
“I know. Revolting. Though the stagnant water adds a pleasant aroma, wouldn't you say?”
They laughed together, finishing up with the horses. By that time, camp was more or less assembled. By nightfall, Dutch and Arthur had returned saying that they had found Angelo Bronte. Plans were laid for them and John to pay a visit the next day. Everything seemed to be on track to retrieve Jack and get the hell out of there.
The gang fell to their usual habits, eating dinner, drinking, playing the occasional game of poker. But underneath it all, there was an unrest, and they all could feel it.
Late into the night, Star and Bill sat on the ground outside of their tent. Star was sat between his legs, leaned back against his chest, and his chin rested on her shoulder. They were content in silence for a while until an alligator hiss made Star jump, knocking Bill's teeth together.
“Shit,” she breathed. “Sorry.”
“Ain't never seen you so jumpy,” he remarked, rubbing his jaw. “What's got you so wound up?”
“Everything,” she admitted, taking his hand to play with in her lap. “But especially this place. I don't like being this close to a city. I don't like the sounds those leviathans make. I don't like that I've been bitten by more bugs than I can count since we arrived. I want to go home.”
“Where's home?”
It was a genuine question, but Star realized that she didn't really know what to tell him. It wasn't the reservation that she spoke of, but that direction wasn't a bad one. North and West to the plains. To the buffalo. To the rocky buttes and clear skies. Home.
“Somewhere the wind actually moves and the air doesn't sit on you like wet fabric. Somewhere that horses can run without fear of breaking a leg in the mire.” She paused, then looked over her shoulder. “Somewhere with you.”
He smiled and gently placed his chin back onto her shoulder, arms wrapping around her torso to hold her close. “Sounds good to me.”
They sat together a while longer – long enough for Karen and Pearson to begin singing a little drunkenly from the poker table, accompanied by Javier on his guitar.
“I'm a poor lonesome cowboy/ Poor lonesome cowboy/ Poor lonesome cowboy/ A long way from home/ I ain't got no mother/ I ain't got no mother/ I ain't got no mother/ To mend the clothes I wear/ I'm a poor lonesome cowboy/ Poor lonesome cowboy/ Poor lonesome cowboy/ A long way from home.”
As they sang, Bill began to hum the tune in Star's ear, gently rocking her side to side. She couldn't for a second maintain her worries when his voice sent pleasant shivers down her spine. A smile blossomed on her face as her arms went atop his. To say that she had ever thought to have something like this was a stretch. To say that she had imagined it would be someone like Bill Williamson is an outright lie.
….
In the morning, the camp was abuzz as Dutch, Arthur, and John rode off to Saint Denis to get Jack back. Abigail was a nervous wreck and spent most of her time pacing the camp. No one got in her way, though Sadie tried to offer some comfort.
Star spent the day with a constant watchful eye sweeping her surroundings. She had faith – or at the very least, had hope – that they would bring the boy back with no trouble, but enough had gone wrong up to that point to leave her restless. She also began to pace the camp, though slightly less fevered than Abigail.
At one point, Micah sidled across her path, lips twisted into a smirk. “What's got your britches in a knot?”
“Right now? You,” she replied, walking around him.
He chuckled, following her. “Ain't no reason to be hostile. Just makin' conversation.”
“Find someone else to talk to.”
“But I want to talk to you. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
“Yes, I suppose nearly running me over, then proceeding to hurl offensive remarks might make things somewhat tense.”
“I thought you liked bein' called nasty names. Ain't that what Bill did to get your attention?”
Star spun around so fast that Micah nearly smacked into her. He took a staggering step backwards as her nose came very close to his. “Think you're funny, ugly man? Do you? Do you know the difference between you and Bill? He's capable of learning. He cares enough to try. There's a good man inside him that this gang tried so hard to repress because they needed someone to be the butt of their jokes. And he let them. Because he just wanted someone to want him back. You? You're rotten to the core. No amount of care or friendship would ever change you because you like being the way you are. You're a snake, Micah. Be careful someone doesn't turn you into boots.”
For a screaming, silent moment, Micah just stared at her. His face betrayed the tiniest hint of shock, though most of it hid in his biting blue eyes. And then, he laughed. “Oho, I seem to have struck a nerve. Alright, there, princess. Don't get yourself all worked up. I'll go my merry way.” His smile cracked, and his voice dropped. “But threaten me again, and we'll just see who does the skinning around here.”
He stepped back from her, his smirk back on his face, and then he sauntered off as if nothing had happened. Star made sure he was good and gone before letting out the breath she was holding. She knew it was unwise to rile him. He had always felt dangerous, and he had zero respect for her as a human being. Still, she refused to take his shit lying down.
As she turned to continue on, a voice called, “You alright?”
Charles was leaned up against a tree, easily blending into the bark and the foliage around him. Star nodded and crossed to him. “Fine.”
“He's mostly harmless, but... I don't like the idea of you facing him alone.”
Star's gaze went over her shoulder. “I don't believe for a second that he's harmless. Something about him has always set my teeth on edge. I don't know what it is... but, I don't trust him.”
Charles nodded. “Neither do I. Hunter's instinct maybe.”
“Maybe.” Her eyes returned to him. “What are you doing over here?”
He pointed at an alligator on the opposite shore. “Watching that.”
Star's lip curled up in displeasure. “Why?”
“It's fascinating.”
“It's horrific.”
The beast accentuated her point by snarling and hissing at some bird innocently passing by. She just pointed. Charles chuckled. “I didn't say it was kind.”
“Well, I hate it. I hate this place and all its animals.”
“Fair enough. Come on. Have you had lunch?”
The pair made their way back to the camp interior and tracked down some food. Bill was on watch duty, so the pair ate alone, swapping stories from their childhoods. Though the day had started out on shaky ground, it improved the longer they sat together. They only hoped it would last.
As the day dragged on, nerves around camp grew more frayed. The longer Dutch and the others were gone, the more worried everyone got. Had it been anything other than Jack, the stakes would not feel so high. He was just a boy, and everyone was fond of him. Except maybe Micah, who was annoyingly calm.
When darkness had fallen and they still hadn't returned, Abigail was nearly inconsolable. No one else could focus on much either. But, when the sounds of hooves reached them, every head popped up hopefully. Bill's voice called out, “Hey! They're back! I think I see Jack!”
“Abigail!!” Dutch called. “We got you your son!”
“We got him!” John practically whooped. “He's ok!”
Jack's little voice piped up, “Momma! I'm fine, Momma!”
The dam broke. Everyone came running, smiles all around.
“My son!” Abigail cried. “You got him! You got my son back!”
She whipped her little boy into her arms, spinning around with a laugh. Jack looked none the worse for wear and said, “They fed me good! Italian food. Have you ever had that?”
“Good luck living up to that, Pearson,” Star murmured to the cook. He just grinned and waved her off.
Abigail brought Jack to the crowd of people waiting to greet him, though he soon lost interest in it all and asked to play. Abigail let him, but never let her eyes leave him. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and John shared a quiet word together, but then Dutch broke away, speaking louder. “Boys, we got work to do. Interesting work. But first, let's have a drink. We got Jack back! It's time to celebrate!”
The gang let out cries of joy and almost immediately managed to become merry. Alcohol was opened and passed around. Songs were sung, the most rousing of which was Javier's “Cielito Lindo”. Star didn't know the words, so she simply stood with the gang, watching, smiling, and laughing.
The echoes of Sean's party came back to her, leaving a weight of sadness atop her joy, but it was not so heavy that she couldn't enjoy this new celebration. She laughed with the girls, drank with the boys, played with Jack. It was wonderful.
At one point, Bill approached her, bottle in hand, though he immediately offered it to her when he reached her. She took it and drank a large swig. He was obviously feeling the effects of the alcohol, but she had certainly seen him far worse off. He took her hand in his, letting it dangle between them. “R-remember the party at Horseshoe?” he asked, swinging her hand slightly.
“Course I do.”
“Well... me too, but... I don't... I don't remember the part I wanna remember. So, let's do it over.”
She smiled, grateful that the fire would hide her blush. “I mean... we've done so before...”
“But not like this,” he answered, waving around at everything. “It's a party! We got Jack back. Everything's gonna be alright. I just... I wanna spend it with you is all. Proper like this time.”
She took another drink, smiling around the bottle. “Alright, fine. I'll slip away, then you follow me in a bit.” Handing the bottle back, Star reclaimed her hand and slowly made her way to their tent, stopping to talk to a few people along the way.
One of those people was Kieran. He lingered on the outside of the festivities, though his demeanor was more relaxed than usual. He even smiled when she approached. “Hi, Star!”
“Hey!” The alcohol had loosened her tongue slightly, making her a bit louder than normal, so she jumped at her own voice. “Oh, geez. Sorry. That was noisy.” Kieran giggled and took another sip from his bottle. “Anyway, I came over here to tell you something. I don't want you to think it was your fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jack getting taken. You said you'd seen some men being suspicious and the like before he was kidnapped. It wasn't your fault. If you'd tried to stop them, they might've killed you, and that wouldn't have been better. We got him back ok. Everything worked out. So... it's not your fault.”
He swirled his drink around and shrugged. “I dunno 'bout all that, but... thanks, Star.”
“You don't need to know, 'cause I know,” she replied, poking him in the chest. “Now enjoy yourself, Kieran Duffy.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, smiling.
With that, she found her way to her tent, dropping the flap closed behind her. She didn't imagine Bill would take long following her, so she rather quickly disposed of her clothes, then sat on her bedroll to brush through her hair. The humidity had caused it to become a frizzy, sticky mess, and she was fed up with it.
As predicted, Bill appeared only a few minutes later, hurrying himself into the tent and tying it shut. When he turned back around, he almost balked. Star looked up innocently. “What?”
“Didn't expect ya to... well...” He gestured at her naked form vaguely.
“You've seen it before.”
“I know that!” he replied, unbuttoning his shirt. “Just weren't expectin' it is all.”
A sly smile slid up her face, and she leaned back on her elbows, stretching out and exposing her body. “You mean to say that I still have an affect on you? Even just... innocently sitting here. Minding my own business?”
He gave her a disparaging glance that turned into a longing grimace. “Why are you like this?”
She chuckled. “Like what?”
“Like you enjoy tormentin' me!”
“Maybe I do.”
He yanked his usual plaid shirt off, then ripped off his undershirt as well. “I guess we'll just see about that.”
He joined her on the ground, crawling over top of her as she just ginned. “You're sober enough to remember this one, right?”
“Yes!”
“Alright! Just making sure. How did it start last time? Something like this?” She lifted up to claim his lips, running her fingers through his beard and into his hair. He practically melted.
“Somethin' like that,” he agreed softly when she pulled away.
She laid down, pulling him with her. The kisses he placed on her lips, soon moved to her neck, her collarbone, and her breasts. His beard tickled, causing her to squirm and giggle every once in a while which just made him smile against her skin.
To be fair, Star did not believe for a second that their drunken hook-up so many months ago had been anything like this. It had probably been a horrible, awkward, mess of a time and wasn't worth remembering anyway. So it was nice to be able to put a more pleasant memory in its place instead.
Bill's lips eventually reached her hips, and he paused to graze his teeth over her hip bone, eliciting a shiver. “Now who's tormentin' who?” he rumbled against her stomach, dragging his nose along the sensitive skin just below her belly button.
“I don't know that I'm tormented just yet,” she replied.
He looked up to catch her gaze and shake his head. “Incorrigible, you are.”
She shrugged. “Now, are you gonna talk all night, or are you...” His index finger slid between her legs, taking the words right out of her mouth. She cleared her throat and nodded. “Better.”
When his tongue replaced his finger, Star lost the ability to tease him in any way. He'd never done that before, and it was an entirely new sensation that sent radiating heat up her torso. She never wanted him to stop. So, when he pulled away to free himself from his boots and pants, she whined softly. He just smirked.
He was slow pushing into her the first time, causing her to throw her head back happily. More than anything, she enjoyed sex as a bonding activity, and prolonged contact of that sort felt far more personal. Every touch of their skin seemed to have an emotion behind it, despite their physical desire for one another.
After some time on the ground, they shifted around a bit. Bill sat on the bedroll, and Star straddled him, taking control of things. It all started out as fun and games, but the emotions seemed to come back into it ten-fold with them so close to one another. Their eyes seemed locked into one another, and the heat between them was like fire.
Outside, thunder began to rumble, but even that wasn't enough to break the two apart. Star's arms were around his shoulders, and one of her hands was buried in his messy hair. He had one hand on her lower back while the other helped hold him up. He alternated between squeezing her ass and her hip as she moved on him. The hand that wasn't in his hair slipped between her thighs to heighten her pleasure which made her whimper softly. Of course, at this point, she knew well that her noises were one of his favorite things, so it surprised her none when his grip on her tightened and he began to buck up into her some.
She leaned her forehead against his, eyes slipping shut and mouth falling slightly open as she focused on the feeling of him inside her. “I fucking love you,” she breathed. “God help me, but I do.”
He responded by practically throwing her back onto the ground and pounding into her until she was moaning with every thrust. Her back arched wildly when she came. He fucked her through her orgasm, and just as she began to shy away from the stimulation, he pulled free and came as well – spilling his seed on the ground and grunting a small laugh.
Star stared at the tent top for a moment to catch her breath, but soon rolled upwards to her knees to throw her arms around him again. He caught her, giggling. “Good enough for the memory books?” she asked, kissing his nose.
He got slightly bashful and murmured, “Any time you say you love me is good 'nough for that.”
She stared into his eyes for a moment, wanting so much for him to know just how much she meant it. There didn't seem to be a way to fully express the extent of the emotion in her chest, so she settled on a kiss. A long, careful, emotional kiss. “I do love you,” she whispered, leaning her head against his. “And don't you forget it. Not even when you're drunk out of your mind.”
He nuzzled her jaw gently. “Never.”
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