#kpop journal ideas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kwanisms · 6 months

Text

Monsoon Season — y.jeongin

» stray kids masterlist «

➮ kumiho!Jeongin × f!Reader

wc: 17.4k (all of these are gonna be at least 10k so prepare yourselves for that lol)

summary: Jeongin has always been a bit of an outcast in his village being half fox demon (kumiho) until a kind stranger takes him in during a monsoon and gives him more than a place to stay for a few days.

genres/themes/au: angst, smut; supernatural and demonic themes, historic themes, s2l; non idol au, demon au, historical au (kinda)

warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, Jeongin is bullied heavily, physical violence, a building is burned down, Jeongin gets hit over the head with a branch by the reader, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip

Join the taglist! »» Closes 10/30 @ 23:00 CST!

Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.

a/n: I'm a sucker for Jeongin in general so there's that. He needs more content and I'm happy to provide that. Anitta is just a codename used by Jeongin's mother. it'll make more sense later what I'm talking about. it's a surprise, shhhhh! Thank you for reading and if you liked this, please reblog or comment! Also consider supporting my work through my kofi (link is in my pinned post). As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (it’s a period piece and I’m not looking up ancient contraceptive techniques lol just use protection) first time sex, degradation (m receiving), begging, corruption kink, virgin!Jeongin, use of pet names (baby boy, sweetheart, little fox, etc), Jeongin is a subby whiny baby. Take it or leave it. If I missed anything, just let me know!

dialogue prompt: ❛ Have you never been touched like this before? ❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

To a kid, the word orphan is often used as an insult from other kids. Jeongin was lucky that he never had to hear that word until he was much older. He was just shy of fifteen years when his father died from pneumonia. Old enough to be considered a man but Jeongin didn’t feel like a man.

He felt like a lost little boy who just lost his father.

His mother had left not long after Jeongin’s birth. His father had tried his best to explain to Jeongin how his mother didn’t love him any less. She just had a different way of doing things. She had things she had to do, tasks to see to and couldn’t take a newborn with her.

That was the nature of a kumiho. Others called her flighty, said she abandoned him but Jeongin knew better. He had her journals, gifted to him on his fifteenth birthday by his father on instruction from his mother. Jeongin had spent his free time reading those journals, getting to know his mother through her words. It was a surreal experience for him.

His father couldn’t tell Jeongin much about his mother other than that she was incredibly cunning, kind, and compassionate. He also spoke of her beauty. Jeongin had never seen a portrait of his mother and had no idea what she looked like.

“I see her in you,” his father often told him. “You have her eyes and her hair.”

Jeongin took solace in the fact that he resembled his mother. It was comforting in a way.

When Jeongin was finally thrust upon the cruel world at a young age, he had luckily learned enough skills from his father to survive. He knew how to hunt small game and fish. He grew a simple garden that was enough for one when he harvested it. He had spent time foraging with his father and knew his way around the forest’s shrubbery and other plants.

He knew which ones were food, which ones healed, and which ones killed.

Jeongin was able to raise himself, growing into a man of limited means and he kept to himself except when he needed to head to the village to trade his furs for other things he could not provide for himself, like clothing. He’d never learned how to sew as he had no mother to teach him and his father also didn’t know how.

So another morning was spent gathering the furs he’d chosen to sell, setting them aside for the ones he wanted to keep. And he packed some food for his trip to the village. His walk through the woods was always quite so early in the morning. The sounds of the forest waking up, birds calling out to say good morning as the sky lightened from deep indigo to a light periwinkle, the sun creeping over the horizon.

The first rays of sunshine had started to break through the trees as Jeongin reached the village which was also bustling, everyone having gotten up around the same time as he. He ignored the stares as he walked through the village towards the market, readjusting his bag as he trodden on.

He could hear murmurs and whispers as he passed but chose to ignore them. Sure, he perhaps didn’t stick out as much as a full blooded fox folk might, but his blond fox ears, hair, and orange eyes gave him away immediately. Folk around these parts didn’t normally sport such a contrasting hair color.

Jeongin’s father had told him he took after his mother after all.

Upon reaching the market, Jeongin looked around, surveying his surroundings and looking for the lady his father had always purchased clothing from. He spotted her and made a beeline as she was folding garments, setting them down on the wooden stall before her.

“Morning,” Jeongin heard her grumble. Unlike the rest of the villagers, this woman had always been kind to him as he accompanied his father, sneaking him sweets and other homemade candies when his father wasn’t looking. The caramels were his favorites.

“Morning,” Jeongin parroted as he looked over the linen tunics. His was starting to fit a little too snugly and the threads were wearing out. His pants would last him another winter at least. As he was looking over the tunics, he heard a voice as sweet as honey call out.

“Granny, I can’t find the skirts!”

Jeongin looked up in time to see probably the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life appear before him. He stared, awestruck as she walked over to the old woman. She had waist length black hair that fell in soft waves down her back, half of it pulled back and secured with a comb. Her eyes were a chocolate brown, much different than the dark brown or black he’d grown accustomed to.

She was petite, smaller than he was, with a slender frame and a pale complexion. She met his gaze and Jeongin felt as if the world stopped moving. Everything around him seemed to slow, almost as if time was stopping. The sounds around him drowned out as he stared back into those brown eyes.

Her pale, pink lips pulled into a shy smile before she averted her eyes to look at her grandmother. “They’re in the chest, not the sacks, dear,” the old woman replied and waved her hands. “I’ll get them,” she said, brushing past the girl and around the cart.

The girl looked after her grandmother before stepping towards the stall. Jeongin managed to snap himself out of his trance and had looked down to resume inspecting the tunics. “This would look nice on you,” the girl said, brushing her fingers over a black tunic.

Jeongin glanced up, meeting her gaze and quickly looked away as did she. He noticed the blush that crept over her cheeks. “I’ve never seen you before,” she suddenly said, smiling as Jeongin looked up. “Are you new to the village?” Jeongin opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted.

“He lives in the forest,” the grandmother said as she returned, arms loaded with fabric that she dumped onto the stack of boxes next to her. “This is my granddaughter, Haneul,” the old woman said as she started to fold the skirts and place them on the wooden surface of the stall.

Haneul turned to look back at Jeongin. “What’s your name?” she asked. Jeongin was caught off guard and forgot to answer, instead just smiling and nodding at Haneul. She giggled as he realized his error, shaking his head before answering awkwardly. “Uh, I’m Jeongin.”

As the old woman folded the skirts, Haneul reached into a small pouch on her hip, glancing at her grandmother before pulling her hand out and quickly handing something to Jeongin when her grandmother wasn’t watching. Jeongin glanced down at his hand and felt heat spread to his cheeks.

Sitting in his palm were three wrapped caramel candies. The ones the old woman used to give him. He smiled, tucking them away in his bag before clearing his throat. “I need some shirts,” he announced. “Very well,” the old woman said. “What do you have to trade?”

Jeongin ended up trading one of his tanuki furs for three shirts, two light colored linen ones and one black one. He also managed to trade three of his rabbit furs for a new tool set. As he thanked the blacksmith he turned around and bumped into a body.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized profusely, bowing quickly. The woman he’d bumped into patted him on the shoulder and went about her business. Jeongin was about to turn away when he caught Haneul watching him, an amused smile on her face. When their eyes met, Jeongin felt another rush of heat over his cheeks and waved to Haneul who returned the gesture.

Before Jeongin could turn and start making his way home, he felt an arm hook over the back of his neck, draping across his shoulders. “Well, well, well,” said an all-too-familiar voice. “Look what the dog has dragged back to the village!”

The comment was met with a cacophony of laughter as Jeongin held his tongue.

“Hello to you too, Baek-hwa,” he said monotonously. He glanced up at the taller man, noticing he was now surrounded. Baek-hwa’s friends were staring him down and Jeongin felt like this wasn’t going to end well. He felt Baek-hwa’s arm tighten around the back of his neck.

“What are you doing here, thief, I thought I told you to stay away from the village,” Baek-hwa said under his breath so only Jeongin heard him. “I’m not a thief, Baek-hwa,” Jeongin replied softly. “I just came to get some things and I’ll be going back home now. You won’t have to see me again for a long time.”

Baek-hwa clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You really should have stayed away.”

It didn’t take long for Baek-hwa and his friends to drag Jeongin away from the market and behind a hut before they started laying into him. His bag was torn from his grip and tossed aside as they landed blow after blow on him. Jeongin had learned from a young age that if he avoided trouble, he’d be okay but he knew that wasn’t always the case. Regardless if he stayed out of trouble, it always managed to find him.

He leaned against the wall, doubled over in pain as Baek-hwa’s friends goaded him on. “Kick his ass!” one laughed. Jeongin glanced at where his bag sat and then looked up. His assailants were too busy egging their leader on. He had a small window. Mustering his strength and taking a deep breath, Jeongin pushed off the wall, knocking over one of his attackers.

He snatched his bag and took off as they shouted after him. He may not be as strong as they were, but he was definitely faster. He was more agile having spent all his life living in the forest. They had no hope of catching him once he made it into the treeline.

Jeongin didn’t stop as he vaulted over fallen logs and through the underbrush. He made sure to loop around the long way to lose his pursuers if they were even still following him. He didn’t want to take the chance that they would follow him home and come knocking.

It was midday by the time Jeongin finally reached the front door of his father’s cabin, pushing aside the curtain that hung there and stepping over the threshold. He set his bag down and moved to peer out the window. He saw no sign of life and let the curtain fall back in place before he went about his business.

His father had been in charge of keeping up the home but without his help, the cabin was slowly falling apart and Jeongin didn’t know much about building. There were poorly made patches in the roof that barely kept out the rain and more than once, parts of the roof had collapsed. Jeongin did his best to make it work as he had nowhere else to go.

He was sitting by the fire, heating up some stew he’d made the previous night when he heard it.

A distant crash of thunder. Looking up from the fire, he let out a sigh and glanced up at the roof.

“Just hold out for tonight, please,” he begged the thatched hay. “Just one more night.”

The storm blew in quickly after that, dark, thick storm clouds obscuring the sun and bringing with it heavy rains and strong gusts of wind that whipped around the small cabin, making the walls shake and blowing through the cracks Jeongin hadn’t managed to seal properly.

Several times, he was afraid that the roof was going to collapse or a wall was going to cave in and then the entire cabin would crumble around him, trapping him inside.

Rainwater leaked through the shoddy patching, drenching almost everything under it. Jeongin huddled up in the corner as his furniture and almost everything was soaked. The only thing that saved him was the built-in table in the corner.

He had dragged most of his bedding from the bed to the corner, curling up in the only fortified, safe, and dry place in the cabin. It was here that he fell asleep, curled up with his blankets and pillow as well as his bag and the small box his father had left him. The only important possessions in his life.

The storm raged all night and finally blew itself out by dawn, the dark storm clouds retracting as the sun rose, almost as if shooing them away. Jeongin woke as the sun was climbing and crawled out of his cubby, inspecting the damage. His plea to the roof had saved him. The thatching had held up for the most part but it would have to be replaced. Jeongin wasn’t sure who he could even ask.

He headed outside to inspect his garden and was pleased to see that the garden remained safe and untouched as he picked up a few twigs that had blown in and tossed them away. His firewood stores were also surprisingly dry with only the top layer soaked from the rains.

All in all, he’d managed to survive another monsoon storm. As he was cleaning up stray leaves and small branches, Jeongin heard voices and looked up, his stomach dropping as he spotted Baek-hwa and his friends. ‘No,’ he thought. He looked around and darted inside the cabin, starting to grab things, placing them inside his bag as the voices grew louder and louder outside.

“Come on out, thief, we know you’re in there!” came Baek-hwa’s voice. Jeongin swore under his breath, filling his bag with as much as he could but he knew he wouldn’t have time to leave out the front door. He’d be spotted and then they’d follow.

He dropped the bag by the back window before exiting the cabin to face his tormentors. If he was lucky, they’d just beat him up and leave quickly and then he could leave. He didn’t know where he’d go but now that they knew where his home was, they would be back.

“There he is,” Baek-hwa said as he stopped, leaning against the fence Jeongin’s father had built to keep their small homestead separate from the forest around them. “The thief shows his face.”

Jeongin’s fingers curled in against his palms. “I’m not a thief,” he said, a little more forceful than he intended. “Stop calling me that.” The smirk on Baek-hwa’s face dropped instantly. “You raising your voice at me?” he asked, his tone low and dangerously so.

“You think you can just raise your voice and talk back to me and I’ll let it slide?”

Jeongin held his ground. This was his home after all. “We’re outside the village,” Jeongin replied. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore, Baek-hwa.”

The man laughed, looking around at his friends. “This is my world, Jeongin,” he said, actually saying the blond fox folk’s name. “You’re just living in it.”

Jeongin forced a smile. “No it’s not,” he answered, shocking Baek-hwa. Never before has Jeongin acted so defiantly but like Jeongin said, they weren’t in the village. Jeongin wasn’t afraid of them out here. Sure he was dangerously outnumbered but he didn’t have to worry about causing the village trouble out here.

“I’ve had enough of your smart mouth,” Baek-hwa said before nudging the friend standing beside him. “Teach him a lesson, Jae-song.”

The man next to him climbed the fence, landing in the garden and stared Jeongin down before advancing slowly through the small rows of vegetables, making sure to stomp on them as he strode towards Jeongin. “I’m gonna make you wish you’d never been born,” he spat, bringing his fists up.

Jeongin didn’t move, standing stoically as he stared back at Jae-song. “Beat you to pulp and leave you for the scavengers,” he added. Jeongin narrowed his eyes. “Your parents must be so proud,” the smaller man retorted, catching Jae-song off guard before Jeongin tilted his head. “Oh wait…” he said with a scoff. “They’re dead.”

Jae-song gritted his teeth and swung at Jeongin who dodged the blow easily. “Picking on smaller people and beating them up for the fun of it. What would your mother think?”

Jae-song let out an angry yell. “Shut the hell up!” he swung again but Jeongin managed to dodge it again, this time pushing Jae-song forward, using the bully’s momentum to send him running face first into the side of the cabin.

“And stay down,” Jeongin added as Jae-song fell to the ground, holding his nose and writhing in pain. “I’m getting sick of this,” Baek-hwa said loudly. “Grab him.”

Jeongin turned as two more of Baek-hwa’s friends hopped the fence and advanced toward him, also kicking and stomping on the vegetable beds as they went. “Two against one?” Jeongin asked, raising a brow. “How noble of you. Or is it pathetic that you need help to take me on?”

Jeongin ducked as two separate fists swung at him before kicking out, knocking one of the assailants down and rolling out of the way as the other aimed a kick at him. Jeongin was back on his feet as the one who tried to kick him, came lumbering forward. As he was about to take another swing, Jeongin dodged around him, kicking him in the backside and sending him toppling over the fence.

“Enough!” Baek-hwa said, climbing the fence himself. “I grow weary of this,” he continued, advancing in Jeongin, stalking forward like a panther stalking its prey. Jeongin kept his eye not only on Baek-hwa but also on his friends who seemed like they were going to sit this one out.

“You sound like some kind of villain, talking like that,” Jeongin noted with a laugh. “I grow weary of your games,” Jeongin mocked, turning as Baek-hwa circled him slowly. “I’m going to end you,” Baek-hwa growled angrily. Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Again with the villain talk. Come on already,” Jeongin said exasperatedly.

Baek-hwa leaned into his punch as he threw his fist forward. Jeongin managed to block the attack before counter attacking with a blow of his own to Baek-hwa’s side. “You little shit,” Baek-hwa grunted, reaching for Jeongin who dodged again, pushing Baek-hwa’s hands aside.

The taller man tried again, aiming a punch that Jeongin deflected before hitting Baek-hwa in the throat with his palm. Immediately Baek-hwa backed off, choking from the sudden impact. “Go home,” Jeongin said as he watched Baek-hwa stumble backwards. “Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

As the men helped each other up and staggered out of his garden, Jeongin heard Baek-hwa’s strained voice call out. “We’ll be back, thief. Watch your back!”

Jeongin watched as they disappeared in the forest and breathed a sigh of relief. Never before had he stood his ground against his tormentors. He was grateful for the few self defense lessons his father had given him before he passed.

Jeongin looked down at his mangled vegetable beds and sighed. He would have to go foraging and salvage what he could. He needed to pack up everything and leave tonight. He knew Baek-hwa and his friends would be back.

He entered the cabin, grabbing a basket and heading out into the forest. There was a berry patch not far from his cabin but the terrain made it a longer task of traversing to it. Once there, Jeongin started to gather some of the berries. There he also found wild carrots, chives, cabbage, and potatoes. He gathered what he deemed necessary for tonight as well as some for his trip and started to make his way back.

The sun was starting to set when he reached his cabin and he felt his heart sink and his stomach drop. Baek-hwa and his friends had returned but this time he was really outnumbered. He had half a mind to sneak around to the back of the cabin and grab his bag without being seen but just his luck, one of them turned and spotted him.

Before he could turn and run, he was grabbed from behind by two sets of hands, the basket knocked from his grip, and dragged over to where Baek-hwa stood. “Not so tough now,” Baek-hwa sneered. Jeongin looked around at the ten or so men Baek-hwa had brought with him.

“Judging by your entourage, I’d say you aren’t very tough either,” he quipped.

For his comment, Baek-hwa landed a blow, punching Jeongin hard in the stomach and causing him to double over in pain. “That’s for earlier,” he snapped before looking towards one of his friends and nodding. Jeongin looked up in time to see one of the men he’d fought earlier holding a torch. His eyes widened in horror.

“No,” he said, struggling against the two holding him. “Stop!” he shouted as the one with the torch lit the garden on fire before moving towards the cabin. “Stop, please!” Jeongin shouted and continued to struggle. “Everything I own is in there! You can’t do this!”

Baek-hwa smiled smugly as Jeongin’s father’s cabin was set ablaze. “Actually, I can,” Baek-hwa said.

As the cabin caught fire and the flames spread, Baek-hwa stepped back allowing the others to take turns punching and kicking Jeongin. “S-stop,” Jeongin coughed. “Please.”

Baek-hwa laughed cruelly. “That’s what thieves get,” he said as Jeongin collapsed to his knees, only being held up by the two beside him. Jeongin weakly watched as the flames engulfed his home and burned presumably everything inside. Everything was gone. The cabin, the roof, his furniture, his stores… his eyes widened.

His mothers journals.

‘No,’ he thought as he stared at the fire.

He hadn’t finished reading them all.

Jeongin struggled against his captors. They held onto him tightly as Baek-hwa watched the inferno with a smirk. With a strength he’d never experienced before, Jeongin managed to pull free from his captors, delivering a punch to each before tackling Baek-hwa to the ground.

His actions were so sudden that everyone was caught off guard as Jeongin grabbed Baek-hwa’s head and slammed it against the ground, dazing the man before he scrambled off him and pushed through the hands that tried to grab at him. He burst into the flaming inferno, shielding his eyes as he looked around. His bag by the window sat untouched.

Before grabbing it, Jeongin darted under the table, tearing through the blankets until he found the bag with his mothers journals. He grabbed it and got up, eyes landing on the trinket box his father had made sitting on the mantle of the fireplace. Jeongin dashed across the room to grab it, stuffing it into the bag with the journals before he moved to the back window, grabbing the bag and heaving it over his shoulder.

Tossed both bags out the window before climbing through. Grabbing the bags, he took off into the forest as the fire consumed his home, the roof finally collapsing. Jeongin turned to look back at the raging inferno as he slung the bags over his back. ‘No going back now,’ he told himself as he watched the flames dance before turning away from the sight and heading further into the woods.

He’d never been this deep before. Glancing skyward, he could see clouds were obscuring the stars and he could only assume another storm was brewing. He made his way through the forest, making his way down embankments and crossing streams as he continued deeper than he’d ever ventured before.

As he stopped to catch his breath, he could hear voices in the distance.

“I think he went this way!”

Jeongin’s eyes widened. Baek-hwa and his friends had followed him?! Looking around, he saw a small opening under a tree sitting atop the embankment he was currently at the bottom of. He scrambled up, making his way over and peered inside. He couldn’t see much but hoped for the best as he removed his bags and stuffed them through the opening before pulling himself up using the roots of the tree.

He slid into the opening feet first and wiggled into the space. It seemed to be some sort of den. Most likely abandoned but he didn’t dwell on it, instead kept himself hidden as he peered out into the forest. He heard footsteps overhead and ducked back into the safety of the small cave waiting for the pounding of his heart to subside.

He waited as the sounds of feet and voices continued around him. “Did you see which way he went?”

“No.”

“Maybe he’s hiding nearby.”

“Well we’ll never see him in the dark.”

“Maybe we should come back when it’s light out.”

“Enough,” a voice Jeongin recognized to be Baek-hwa’s snapped. “He couldn’t have gotten far,” he continued. “Spread out and find him.”

“How?” another voice asked. “With what light?” Jeongin guessed this voice to be Jae-song’s. It sounded like him anyway. “Here,” another voice said and Jeongin saw light flicker and dance outside the opening of his hiding place. Glancing back, he could barely see that this was indeed a den. He grabbed his things and scooted back further, hoping to stay out of sight.

He waited, listening patiently as footsteps trudged through the forest, twigs snapping underfoot.

He carefully crawled toward the opening and peered out. He could see two of the men standing nearby as they searched the area. “Find anything?” one of them called. “Nothing yet!” another voice called back. “This is so stupid,” one of the men said softly. “There’s no telling which way he went.”

The one that had spoken up before nodded in agreement. “I know,” he answered just as quietly. “But you know how Baek-hwa is. Ever since he saw Jeongin talking to Haneul, he’s just been set on making Jeongin suffer,” he added as he held his torch up, peering around a tree.

“I mean, it’s not like doing all this is going to impress Haneul,” he continued. “She doesn’t even like Baek-hwa.” The second man nodded as well. “I know! It’s like--”

What it was like, Jeongin didn’t get to hear as he watched a shadow cut across the small illuminated circle, passing both men. The second smaller one let out a grunt of pain and Jeongin watched in horror as blood spilled from his mouth, a look of pain crossing his features as he fell to his knees.

“Wonjae!” the first man said in shock as his friend collapsed, blood gurgling from his mouth. “What happened?” Jeongin watched as the shadow passed again, quick as lightning, passing the first guy who let out a choked cry of pain before falling to his knees as well, blood seeping through his shirt and he fell to the ground. Jeongin froze realizing he’d just watched something kill those two men.

‘What the hell?’

“Where are they?” called a voice, drowning out Jeongin’s thoughts. “Over here! Dabin! Wonjae!”

Jeongin watched as two more men entered his field of vision. “Are they okay?” one of them said as the other knelt down to check the bodies of their friends. “They’re… dead,” he said, his voice shaky. “D-dead?” the other stammered, taking a few steps back.

“What happened?” Baek-hwa’s voice called from somewhere above Jeongin’s hiding place. “They’re dead!” the one kneeling beside Wonjae and Dabin’s bodies called back. “Shit,” Baek-hwa cursed. “Get down there and help them get the bodies,” he instructed someone Jeongin presumed was beside him.

Jeongin watched as two more men appeared and helped pick up the bodies of the two men and carry them away. He listened as the footsteps retreated and pulled back as the area was thrown into darkness once more. He listened as the sounds of the forest came back and he could finally rest.

He tried to get some sleep but his mind wouldn’t stop. ‘What was that shadow? Was that what killed those men?’ He tossed and turned until he finally managed to pass out.

The next morning, he awoke to find light creeping into the cave and he could finally see. It wasn’t a huge den, maybe only big enough for a family of foxes or so. He had enough space to sit up. He could tell it wasn’t dug out by whatever previously lived here. Perhaps it was naturally occurring.

He gathered his things and left the safety of the den, squirming his way out of the opening and could see that it had rained the night before. He pulled a flask from his bag, filling it with water before he placed it back and stood up, slinging both bags over his back again. He started the way he’d been going the night prior, moving deeper into the forest.

He continued as the sun rose, stopping briefly to have something to eat before continuing on. He didn’t see Baek-hwa or his assailants again as he continued on. He noticed how the terrain started to slope up and he knew he must have reached the base of the mountain. If he could reach the otherside, maybe he could find another village where he could set up a new homestead.

He continued on, stopping when he heard a twig snap from behind him. Turning quickly, he expected to see Baek-hwa or his men. He was met with nothing. He couldn’t see anyone or anything other than the trees for that matter. Perhaps he was hearing things?

He turned back and continued forward. He’d only gone a few more steps when he heard another snapping twig. He froze again, turning his head around to see what was following him but again, he saw nothing. He turned back forward, but instead of taking another step, he waited. Waited for something else.

Another twig snapped, this time closer but instead of looking, Jeongin stayed still. He kept calm, listening as soft steps carried toward him. He spun quickly, catching sight of what had been following him. His eyes widened as he made eye contact with it.

‘A fox?’ he thought to himself. Looking back at him was a small fox with black fur and golden eyes. He stared back at it, expecting it to run but instead it stared back at him. He watched in awe as it took a tentative step forward, still keeping its eyes on him. Jeongin slowly knelt down as the fox approached, holding out his hand.

The fox looked at his hand and then up at him before its head turned slightly to look at something behind Jeongin. He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He tried to turn to see what was behind him but he felt a blow to the head and everything went black.

You looked down at the man, the branch in your hand as you breathed heavily. “Oh my god,” you whispered as the realization of what you’d done crept over you. You tossed the branch aside and looked back down at him. Looking at Clover who looked up at you, golden eyes judging you. “I’m sorry!” you said holding your hands out. “Look, I panicked! I thought he was going to grab you!”

The fox rolled its eyes and you looked away, back at the man lying unconscious at your feet. “Should we take him?” You looked back at Clover who stared back at you unblinking. You nodded. “Right. Leaving him here would be bad. Got it,” you said as you brushed your hands together to get the dirt from the bark off. Clover watched as you reached down, sliding your hands under the man’s arms and lifted, starting to drag him along the ground.

You heaved and pulled, panting as you did only to receive more judging looks from Clover. “Look,” you panted. “You could help me, you know.” Clover rolled their eyes again before the vision of the fox spun and morphed into a man. “I don’t know what you’d do without me,” he said as he waved his hand, the man’s body lifting from the ground.

You smiled at the wizard and dusted your hands off again. “Thanks, Clover!” you chirped as he shook his head. You led the way, skipping along the path as the man’s body floated behind you with Clover bringing up the rear.

You skipped faster as the cabin came into view. “Almost there!” you called out to your friend who rolled his eyes as your chipper demeanor. “You know,” he said as you started up the path leading to the door. “For someone who is so violent, you sure don’t act it,” he continued, guiding the man’s body after you.

“I’m not violent!” you called back as you reached the door and unlocked it, pushing it open and holding the door so Clover could guide the man into the room. “Just put him on the bed,” you said softly as Clover guided the man’s body over to the bed where he hovered for a moment before falling haphazardly on the mattress. “Careful!” you chastised, rushing over to sort out the man, moving his head and arms so he wouldn’t be sore when he awoke.

“You hit him over the head with a log and you’re telling me to be careful?” Clover chuckled as he stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest. “What a strange person you are, Y/N,” he added.

You stood up straight and turned towards him. “Well, I must be off,” he said, standing up straight. “Will you be alright, alone here by yourself?” he asked. You shook your head. “Right, just hit him with another log if he gives you trouble,” Clover said with a smirk. Your smile fell. “I. Panicked, okay?”

Clover nodded, waving before exiting the open door. You rushed over to watch as he headed down the path, turning once to look at you waving at him. He raised a hand before turning into a raven and taking flight into the sky. You shut the door and locked it before turning your head to look back at the man on your bed.

“Alright,” you continued, taking a deep breath and walking over, placing your hands on your hips as you took a good look at him. “Now, just who are you?”

Jeongin woke to the sounds of light clattering and the scrape of metal against metal. His head was throbbing. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust. He turned his head, wincing at the pain that followed. He was inside a cabin of sorts.

He could see shelves with books upon books and a desk that was cluttered and covered with papers, writing implements, and an assortment of herbs and rocks. He tried to sit up but his limbs felt heavy. He looked down and noticed a strange purple aura encasing him.

“What the-”

“Oh, you’re awake. Good,” said a voice and Jeongin looked up, seeing a figure by the hearth where a fire was crackling, heating up a large cast iron pot. The smell of meat and vegetables reached his nostrils and he took a deep inhale. Whatever it was in the obvious cauldron smelled amazing.

“Where am I?” he asked as the figure turned their gaze away from him and stirred the contents of the pot.

“You’re in my cabin, what a silly question to ask,” the figure said with a chuckle. Jeongin watched as they set the spoon aside and moved towards the bed. Jeongin looked up as they approached and took a seat beside the bed. “What have you done to me?” he asked as the person, he could now see was a female, looked over him, gently turning his head and prodding the tender spot.

Jeongin winced and the figure grimaced. “Sorry,” she said. “I hit you over the head.”

Jeongin looked up at her. “You what? Why the hell would you do that?!” he yelled.

You moved your hand, your finger moving in a quick circle and Jeongin felt his jaw snap shut.

“Don’t yell,” you said as you grabbed a basket with some medical supplies in it. “It’s rude.”

‘Well, so is hitting someone over the head,’ Jeongin thought since he couldn’t talk.

“My name is Y/N,” you said as you pulled out a small vial. “And I hit you over the head because I thought you were going to hurt my friend.” You looked down at him and Jeongin felt his heart skip a beat. Your eyes. They were a bright golden yellow. Much like that fox from before.

“Do you remember the fox?” you asked and Jeongin nodded as he watched you pull the cork on the vial. “That’s my friend Clover. I thought you were going to grab him and hurt him. Foxes aren’t exactly revered around these parts,” you explained as you turned the vial over, allowing some to spill onto a cloth.

You set the vial aside and leaned forward, holding out the cloth only for Jeongin to shy away. “It’s okay,” you said softly. “I know your head hurts. This will make it not hurt.” Jeongin hesitated, allowing you to gently press the cloth to his head. He winced but soon, the pain as well as the throbbing went away and he looked up at you in shock.

You winked at him, placing the cork back in the vial and returning the little glass to the basket. You waved your hand and freed his mouth. “Who are you?” he asked softly. You looked down at him unblinkingly. “I’m Y/N,” you said plainly. “I already said that.” Jeongin shook his head.

“I meant like… who are you? Are you like… a witch?” he asked to which you laughed. “I’ve been called that before,” you answered with a nod. “But more importantly,” you said, leaning forward. Jeongin was unable to pull too far away due to whatever spell you had his body under.

“Who are you?”

Jeongin cleared his throat. “I’,m uh… I’m Jeongin.”

You sat back up straight. “Jeongin, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head. He nodded, glancing down at his body still shrouded in the purple aura. “What is this?” he asked, nodding towards the aura. “Oh,” you said suddenly, waving your hand and it disappeared.

“I just did that while you were out and I was busy cooking so you didn’t try to sneak up on me,” you explained as you started to stand. Jeongin moved quickly, sitting up and grabbing your arm but you were quicker. You managed to roll, pulling him off the bed and pinning him against the floor, his arms pinned to his sides by your legs as you straddled him, your forearm pressing against his throat.

“I’m not your enemy,” you explained softly. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t hesitate to kill you if you try to hurt me.”

Jeongin tapped the back of your calf, surrendering to your power.

Just as quickly as you were on him, you got up and held out a hand, pulling him up when he took it. “Let’s eat,” you chirped and walked over to the fire. Jeongin stood hesitantly. “Sit,” you instructed and he did as you said, moving to take a seat at the table. You grabbed a bowl and picked up the ladle, scooping stew into the bowl before moving to set it on the table.

“It’s hot, so be careful,” you said as you filled another bowl and took a seat across from him.

Jeongin watched as you picked up your spoon and took a bite. “It can’t be that hot,” he noted, to which you looked up. “Want me to throw it in your face and test that theory?” you asked with a smirk, tilting your head. Jeongin’s eyes widened and he quickly picked up his spoon, shaking his head.

“N-no,” he stammered before digging in.

He could tell there was meat and potatoes, maybe some cabbage and rice but it was delicious. He scooped another spoonful into his mouth. “S’good,” he said as he ate and you smiled, turning your attention back to your own bowl.

Jeongin had forgotten the last time he had a proper meal and ended up eating three bowlfuls of stew. You reached to take his empty bowl but he stopped you. “You cooked,” he said before getting up. “Tell me where to go and I’ll clean them.” You smiled but ignored his comment, taking his bowl.

“You’re still injured,” you explained. “Go lay down, let me deal with this and then I’ll look at your wounds.

Jeongin watched as you headed out the door and instead of laying down, he started to poke around the cabin, inspecting your belongings. He was used to the small huts in the village where he lived. Nothing this extravagant. Wooden doors that locked, windows with decorative frames were things he’d never seen in person, only ever heard of.

The cabin was one room, like his had been but it was much cozier. There were no cracks for the wind to sneak into, the roof was sturdy wood and slanted to allow rain to run off. There were four windows, two on the wall by the door, one on the outside window and one on the back wall over the desk, framed by shelving. The fourth wall wasn’t made of wood. It was made of rock.

‘It must be partially built into the mountain,’ Jeongin noted as he stared. The bedroom area was almost entirely encased in rock. It was unlike anything Jeongin had ever seen. It was an extremely clever idea as well. Using a cave as part of your dwelling. If only he had known to do so.

On the other side of the stone hearth was a large wooden cabinet with doors and shelves stocked full of cheeses, sealed bottles, breads, small bowls with salts and other spices. Hanging from an iron circle suspended from the ceiling were various dried herbs and even some small game. Rabbits and birds mostly. He inspected the mantle and noticed a couple portraits and a small trinket box.

He moved over to the desk, fingers brushing over the papers on the surface as he inspected them. There were a lot of maps. Maps he didn’t recognize, not that he was knowledgeable of maps to begin with. He looked up at the shelving, inspecting the books and their titles. He expected to see this sizable collection in a palace or something, not here in a cabin in the forest, built into the base of a mountain.

Jeongin turned as he heard the door open and you returned with two clean bowls and spoons.

“Having fun snooping?” you asked with a smirk. Jeongin opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water trying to explain but you shook your head. “I saw you through the window,” you explained, pointing to the window opposite the rock wall.

“I’m not mad,” you continued. “But I really do need to inspect your wounds.”

You led him over to the bed and he sat down. “I don’t have any wounds,” he protested but you made him lie down and lifted his shirt. “Your wounds are internal,” you explained as you gently prodded and massaged his side, making him wince. “You’ve got a fair amount of bruising here and here,” you said, also placing your hand over his stomach just over his navel.

“Were you in a fight?” you asked bluntly. Jeongin froze, staring up at the rocky ceiling above. You waited for his answer but when he didn’t answer, you spoke again. “Did you at least get a few punches in?”

Jeongin chuckled, letting out a soft cry when the motion caused his sore muscles to tense him. “You’re asking me about my fight?” he asked. You nodded. “Whoever did this packs a wallop. So I hope you got a few licks in, too.”

Jeongin smiled as you rubbed some kind of ointment and the soreness and tenseness in his muscles dissipated. “You’ll have to apply this until the bruising clears up,” you explained as you rubbed some more on his stomach.

Jeongin held his breath as your hand traveled dangerously close to his waistband. “Two times a day,” you added as you pulled your hand back, wiping it on a cloth and placing the lid back on the small metal tin and handed it to him. Jeongin sat up and took the tin from you. “What is it?” he asked.

“An ointment to help with soreness and bruising,” you explained as you gathered your supplies and set the basket aside. “I made it myself.” Jeongin opened the tin and held it up to his nose, sniffing it. He smelled mint but couldn’t tell what else was in it.

“What’s in it?” he asked, placing the lid back on it and looking up at you.

“Just some herbs,” you replied. “I’ll tell you how I made it tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

You got up and paused when he grabbed your wrist. Looking down at his wrist and then up to meet his gaze, Jeongin managed to blurt out “thank you.” The smile you gave him was one he’d never seen before, not even from the old woman in the village he traded furs for shirts or her granddaughter, Haneul.

“You’re welcome,” you answered and Jeongin let go of your wrist. “What about you?” he asked as you moved over to the desk. “I can sleep on the floor,” you said as Jeongin set the tin of ointment on a small table beside the bed. “What?” he said suddenly. “No,” he continued. “This is your bed. I’ll sleep--”

He didn’t get to finish his words as you turned in your chair and waved your hand at him. “Sleep,” you said sternly and Jeongin passed out, unable to fight the darkness as it passed over him, taking him deep into slumber.

The next morning, Jeongin awoke to find himself in bed but the cabin otherwise empty. He sat up, looking around and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Lifting his shirt, he saw that he indeed had some heavy bruising from Baek-hwa and his friends’ punches.

He dropped his shirt as the door opened and you entered the room, smiling when you saw he was awake. “Morning,” you said as you carried something in your arms. “Or should I say good day,” you continued as you carried the sack over to the table and set it down.

“Let’s have a look at those bruises,” you said as you walked over and took a seat beside him. Jeongin lifted his shirt for you to inspect. “Make sure to apply that ointment,” you said as you gently poked around the edges of the bruising. “It’ll make a huge difference in healing.”

You got back up and headed for the table as Jeongin picked up the tin and opened it. He scooped a small amount and started to rub it into his skin as you opened the sack. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, looking up occasionally as he applied the ointment.

“I went hunting,” you said nonchalantly. Jeongin looked up at the rabbits hanging from the ceiling. “What about those?” he asked, nodding towards the rabbits. “They’re small and we need more meat if you’re going to heal properly. Protein speeds up the healing process,” you explained as you pulled small game from the sack.

Jeongin finished applying the ointment and wiped his hand off on the same cloth you used the night before and got up, walking over to the table. He was surprised to see what you managed to catch. “Hunting and fishing?” he asked as he noticed the fish basket.

“I’ve been gone all morning,” you replied. “Up before the sun, in bed after it sets,” you explained. “Making the most out of every day. That’s what Clover taught me.” Jeongin smiled as you added the rabbits to the iron circle. “The fish has to go outside,” you explained and picked up the basket.

He followed you as you headed outside and over to a wooden rack where you had some fish already hanging. “How does fish tonight sound?” you asked, turning to look at him. Jeongin nodded silently before you turned back to the rack and hung up all the fish.

“I also need to go foraging,” you said as you walked back towards him, stopping at the bottom of the steps leading into the cabin. “Want to come with me?” you asked, looking up at him. He nodded. “Sure,” Jeongin said, stepping aside as you entered the cabin.

“Good,” you said and grabbed a sack. “Make yourself useful,” you added as you tossed one to him.

The hike to the spot was a short one and Jeongin was shocked to see the size of it. Not only were there even more berries than at his favorite spot but there were more types as well as all kinds of fungi. He watched as you pulled a small bag from your pocket and moved over to one of the mushrooms.

“These are really good when you fry them,” you explained as you picked them and placed them in the bag. “They’ll need to soak for a few hours but we can have them with our fish.”

Jeongin looked around and moved to one of the bushes. “Are these okay?” he asked, pointing to the berries. You turned to look at him and nodded. “Not too many though,” you instructed. “Maybe a sack,” you added. “There are smaller bags in the large sack I gave you.”

Jeongin dug through the bag and found one before starting to pick berries and fill the bag. Once it was full, he tied it off and picked a few berries to eat. “And those?” he asked, pointing to another bush. You nodded without looking. “All these berries are good to eat,” you replied. “Just a small bag each. I like to make wine with them,” you explained.

Jeongin got to work, collecting berries as you foraged for mushrooms and other plants. When the bags were full, Jeongin insisted on carrying both but you refused, reminding him he was still healing. The walk back, you asked him about his life, where he was from, where he grew up, what his childhood was like.

When you broached the subject of parents, Jeongin shut down as you walked up the path to the cabin. “Touchy subject?” you asked, unlocking the door and letting him in. Jeongin nodded, handing you the bag and watching as you moved to the cabinets. “I lost both my parents,” he finally answered.

“My mother left when I was young and my father died when I was fifteen. I’ve been on my own ever since,” he explained as you started to store the food you both collected together. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “I lost my parents to disease when I was young. I was raised by Clover,” you explained, shutting the cabinet doors.

“The fox?” Jeongin asked, making you chuckle. “He’s a wizard,” you reminded him. “He was in fox form while we hunted that day. He’s awfully quiet in that form,” you explained. Jeongin grimaced as you turned to him, setting the bags of berries on the table.

“So he raised you?” he asked and you nodded. “Taught me everything I know. Built this cabin and left it to me when I came of age.” Jeongin looked around. “Makes sense,” he said softly. “I’ve never seen a cabin like this before,” he explained. “That’s because it was built with magic.”

Jeongin smiled as you set the empty bags away, hanging them on hooks.

“I have some work to do in the garden,” you announced. “Would you like to join me?” Jeongin nodded with a smile.

“I’d love to.”

After a quick lunch of leftover stew, Jeongin helped you in the garden, pulling weeds and pruning the bushes and vines. His garden was small but this garden was twice the size. It had everything from cabbages to potatoes and even pumpkins.

“This is a huge garden,” he noted as he dropped another cabbage in the basket. “Even for two people.” you nodded as you pruned a tomato plant. “I sell whatever I don’t need,” you explained. “Never hurts to have a little extra coin,” you added with a wink.

As the two of you finished up, Jeongin looked at you. “Where do you sell this stuff?” he asked as you gathered one of the baskets. “At a village on the other side of the mountain,” you replied. Jeongin rounded on you, holding the other basket. “On the other side of the mountain?” he asked incredulously. You nodded with a laugh and beckoned him to follow you inside.

Once inside, you stored your harvests away and led Jeongin over to the desk and pulled out a map from under the stacks of paper. “This is a map of this region,” you explained. Jeongin looked over it in awe. He’d never seen more than a map of the village and the forest. Your map had so much more on it.

And it was so detailed.

“Here’s the village you told me about and based on your descriptions, your cabin was around in this area,” you explained, pointing out spaces on the map. “Here’s where we are,” you continued, pointing at a small red x on the map. “The village I sell at is here,” you added, pointing to a black x on the other side of the mountain range.

“How long does it take to get there?” Jeongin asked, looking up at you. “Well, if you go around the mountains, it can take months,” you answered, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “But I use the mountain pass so it only takes a few days,” you added, pointing to two lines drawn over the mountain range connecting the two sides. “Who made this map?” Jeongin asked in amazement.

“Clover,” you answered, standing up straight. Jeongin followed your movements, standing upright as you walked over to the hearth and added a couple logs to the dying flames. “He makes maps of all the regions,” you added. “He’s a traveling wizard and cartographer,” you added as Jeongin stared at you.

“He stopped for a while to raise me here,” you explained as you stood up, brushing your hands off. “But now that I can care for myself, he’s back to traveling again, making amendments to his maps.” Jeongin shook his head as you moved over to the bedroom area, grabbing a small basket from the shelf.

Jeongin looked around the cabin. “So, now what?” he asked as you sat down on the armchair. You looked up at him. “Now we rest,” you replied with a smile. “It’s too soon to have dinner and I have some knitting to get done,” you continued, pulling out a project you must have been working on for a while.

“You can read any of the books if you’d like,” you said, nodding towards the shelves. Jeongin shook his head, instead grabbing one of his bags and opening it. He sifted through it until he found what he was looking for. The journal he’d been reading. He settled down on the bed, propping the pillows up against the wall so he could sit up against them.

Jeongin read as much as he could, absorbing his mothers words. He had reached the part of her journals where she had met his father and it was so enchanting to read about his father through his mother’s eyes. He discovered a new side to his father he’d never known. The romantic side.

Their courtship was long according to her and she initially rebuffed him as he was a human but he eventually gained her trust and she warmed up to him. After which, they got married, something Jeongin had never known. He thought it had been a short affair but the time and effort they put into their marriage told him otherwise.

He also learned that his parents had a hard time conceiving a child and that Jeongin was from their sixth attempt. He was the only one that made it full term.

Jeongin dropped his hands into his lap, the journal falling with it as he stared at the wall. You looked up at him. “You alright?” you asked, noticing he seemed catatonic. When he didn’t respond, you set your knitting aside and got up, moving to sit on the bed. “Jeongin?” you asked, waving your hand in front of him. That seemed to snap him out of it and he looked at you.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. He nodded, clearing his throat and looked down at the leatherbound book in his lap. “Yeah, I just uh…” he trailed off before looking back up but not at you. He seemed to be looking past you but not at anything in particular. More like he was staring off into a place you could not see. “Jeongin?”

“I have siblings…” he finally said softly and your brows rose in shock. “What?” you asked.

He turned his head to look at you. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Random thought.”

You glanced at the book. “What are you reading?” you asked. Jeongin glanced at the book and closed it, keeping his thumb between the pages. “It’s private,” he explained. “Sorry,” he added. You shook your head. “No need to apologize,” you replied. “I meant no disrespect nor was I meaning to pry. Simply curious,” you explained.

Jeongin glanced down at the book again before taking a deep breath. “It’s a journal,” he finally sighed. You waited for him to continue. “It’s my mother’s journal,” he clarified. Your eyes widened. “Oh,” you said softly, uncertain of what else to say. “And you’re just now reading it? I’m not judging by the way,” you said quickly. Jeongin simply chuckled before setting the book aside and scooting off the bed.

You watched as he grabbed one of his bags and walked over, opening it for you to see the contents. Inside were a dozen or so leather bound books, all of them identical. You looked up at Jeongin in bewilderment as he set the bag down and joined you on the bed.

“My mother kept extensive journals all throughout her life. She left them with my dad when she left,” he explained. “Dad kept them for me so I could get to know her if she never came back. I think he knew she wouldn’t come back,” he continued sadly. “I’ve been reading them since my dad taught me to read.”

You looked back at the bag. “How many are there?” you asked, looking back at Jeongin. “Around fifty,” he answered, a hand reaching up to scratch his brow. “I’ve read about twenty of them so far.” Your eyes widened as you looked back at the sack lying unassuming on the floor.

“What’s in this one?” you asked, tapping the cover of the one on the bed before you froze. “I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “That’s none of my business,” you continued. Jeongin shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said, grabbing the book and opening it. “In this one, she met my dad,” he explained.

“She details their courtship and marriage,” he continued, flipping through the pages. “She wrote that it was a huge ceremony and that the reception lasted well into the early hours of the next morning and that they were both so exhausted from the party that they never actually consummated their marriage during the ceremony,” he said with a chuckle.

You smiled fondly, watching him look over the words on the page.

“What was your mother’s name?” you asked, drawing his attention. “Well, dad never told me her real name. He knew her as Eun-soo but while she was in Japan, her name was Yuki. So I’m not entirely sure what she was really called,” he continued.

You looked at him again, studying his features. The fox-like eyes, the orange irises, his blond hair. It suddenly made sense to you. He was like you. He was fox-folk.

“Was your mother a kumiho by any chance?”

Jeongin was caught off guard by the question. He’d never been asked so directly about it before and as he looked up, his eyes met your golden ones and he knew instantly why you were asking. It was like a switch went off in his head and suddenly everything made sense.

Your golden eyes, the magic, being raised by a wizard. Well, maybe the last part wasn’t really all that related but in his mind, it still helped him to put the pieces together. You were like him, too. You were fox-folk.

“A…are you?” he asked softly, holding your gaze. He could tell by the way your eyes widened slightly that he was on the right track. “Or was one of your parents?” he continued, setting the journal aside. You nodded slowly. “Both of my parents were fox-folk,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin leaned forward. “Both?” he asked in amazement. You nodded, shifting to face him. “Yeah,” you replied. “That’s amazing,” he breathed. “So you’re pureblooded?” he asked, to which you nodded. “Wow. I’m only half,” he replied. “Probably why I can’t do any magic,” he added with a chuckle.

You tilted your head at his comment. “All fox-folk can perform magic,” you said, drawing his attention again. “Wait, really?” he asked. You nodded, grabbing the journal from his hands and setting it aside. “Have you ever tried?” you asked. Jeongin shook his head no, watching as you pushed your sleeves up.

“It’s easy,” you explained. Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Oh sure,” he retorted but you pushed him gently. “I promise it is,” you replied. “It’s so simple, really. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Jeongin watched as you scooted onto the bed beside him, crossing your legs and resting your back against the wall. You closed your eyes, adopting a sort of meditation position. Jeongin watched but when you opened one eye to peek at him, you nudged him and he sighed, adopting the same position.

“Deep breath in,” you said. Jeongin followed your lead, breathing in slowly and deeply, filling his lungs. “And out,” you said and the two of you breathed out in unison. “Now, visualize a fire,” you said softly. “A fire? Why a fire?” Jeongin asked. “Ow,” he whined when you lightly slapped his hand.

“Okay, okay. A fire. Got it,” he said. “Wait, what color is it?”

“Whatever color you want it to be.”

Jeongin closed his eyes again, picturing a fire in his mind. Something bright and pink. “Now, imagine how it feels. Is it hot? Is it cold? Does it burn or does it tickle? Does it smell pleasant or is it rancid?” Jeongin imagined the fire was cool to the touch and it felt like the fluttering of wings. It had no smell.

“Okay,” he said. “Now what?” he asked, opening an eye. “Hold your hand out,” you instructed. Jeongin closed his one eye again and raised one of his hands. “Place it in my hand,” you continued and he did as you said, placing his hand in yours, palm up.

“Now imagine your fire and imagine it’s in your hand. Concentrate and picture your fire in your hand.”

Jeongin focused all his energy, holding his breath as he pictured the pink, cool, fire that fluttered. “Don’t forget to breathe evenly,” you reminded him. “Breathing is important.” He resumed breathing as he focused all his mental strength on the fire. He sighed, keeping his eyes closed.

“This is dumb,” he said. “I can’t do magic.”

“Is your fire pink and cool to the touch?” you asked softly and Jeongin hesitated. ‘Wait… is mind reading one of the abilities of a full-blooded kumiho?’ he wondered. “Uh, yeah. But how did you know that?” he asked. “Open your eyes, Jeongin.”

He did as you instructed and was met with your face drenched in the pink glow of a fire in his hand. The pink fire he’d imagined. He looked back up at you and then down to the fire in his hand. It was dancing, fluttering against his hand. “Are you doing that?” he asked and you pulled your hand away, conjuring up a bright blue flame. “I take it that’s a no?”

You laughed and the fires both extinguished as Jeongin lost focus. “I told you that you can do magic!” you said excitedly, slapping his knee and then pushing yourself up and climbing off the bed. Jeongin looked down at his hand, excitement bubbling in his stomach.

“I’ll get dinner started,” you said as you moved towards the door. “Keep practicing,” you said before opening the door and heading outside. Jeongin kept at it, conjuring a pink flame, making it dance and crawl around his hand as you prepared the fish for dinner. While it cooked, you made a side dish with rice and some of the mushrooms you’d picked earlier.

When it was ready, Jeongin joined you at the table and the two of you ate in silence. “Thank you, Jeongin said suddenly, making you look up, eyes wide and bewilderment on your face. “For taking me in after you bashed my head in,” Jeongin continued. “For caring for me and teaching me magic.”

Your expression morphed, a smile spreading across your face. “I couldn’t leave you out there after I hit you with the branch,” you explained. “Clover would have but I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I left you to the elements. And besides,” you continued. “It’s nice having some company that isn’t Clover for once.”

Jeongin looked down at his food, cheeks growing warm.

“You know,” you said, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “If you want to stay longer, you’re more than welcome to,” you added. “I really enjoy your company.” Jeongin’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, trying not to sound too excited. You nodded, smiling at him. “But you might have to get used to sharing a bed,” you said. “There’s not enough room in here for another bed and I refuse to let you sleep on the floor,” you added.

Jeongin’s cheeks grew even warmer at the thought of sharing a bed with you but he played it off.

“Sure,” he said softly. “No problem.”

It was indeed a problem he later discovered. While the bed was big enough for two bodies, it wasn’t big enough for two bodies and a space between them. Jeongin wanted to respect you and give you as much space as possible but with the size of the bed, it put him right on the edge of the mattress and in danger of falling off.

The next day consisted of about the same routine, some foraging but in a different spot. You taught Jeongin all about the herbs and weeds you used to make ointments and medicines, showing him what cured certain ailments. Afterwards, he helped you on the other side of the garden where the bee boxes were and held the jars for the honey while you handled the bees.

The day after that, you took him fishing with you and he was impressed by the spot you had. No one else was around and as you sailed out on the lake in a boat you proudly told him you helped Clover make, the two of you sat in silence, rods propped up while you knitted and Jeongin read more of his mother’s journal.

He’d made it to the part where she was pregnant with him and close to her due date. She wrote how she knew he was a boy and how she knew he was going to take after her in both looks and mentality. Jeongin checked his fishing rod before returning to his reading. He heard you clear your throat and looked up to meet your gaze.

“So what else does she say?” you asked, nodding towards the journal in his hand. “Oh,” he said softly. “She’s pregnant with me in this part,” he explained. “She wrote about how she knew I was a boy and that I would take after her,” he continued. You smiled at him as you tied off and wove the yarn tails into the scarf you were making. “She also says she got a letter from a woman named… Anitta?” he said and looked up at you.

You merely shrugged and set your knitting needles aside, picking up the scarf and throwing it around his neck. “There,” you said with a smile. “It’s done.” Jeongin’s cheeks burned as he looked down at the soft garment. “It’s nice,” he said softly and started to take it off. “It’s yours,” you said, grabbing it and wrapping it back around his neck.

“I was going to give it to Clover but I figured I can always make him another and you need one now so,” you trailed off, smiling at him. Jeongin toyed with the material, cheeks burning as he tried to think of something to say before finally settling on a simple and soft thank you.

Fishing ended with the two of you catching a small basket of fish and Jeongin managing to catch a little crawfish which he promptly dumped back in the water. Once the boat was pulled ashore, the two of you headed back down from the mountain lake to the cottage to hang up the fish and settle in for the night.

You made roasted rabbit and potatoes and after dinner, you settled down with your knitting to start another scarf for Clover while Jeongin got to the end of his mother’s journal. He closed it, wrapping the twine back around it and got up from the bed, moving over to his bags.

He reached in for another, pulling the trinket box out so he could dig for the right one.

“What’s that?” you asked, looking down at the box. “Oh, just a box my dad made,” Jeongin said as he dug through the bag. “May I?” you asked, setting your things aside. “I’m kind of nosey,” you noted with a laugh. Jeongin chuckled and shook his head. “Go ahead,” he replied.

You grabbed the box and set it on your lap, opening and inspecting the contents.

The box was a beautiful dark wood with a soft lining. It was beautifully crafted and you wondered if Jeongin’s dad knew how much he could have made by making and selling these boxes. Inside the box were a few items, some of great value and others you suspected were more sentimental. There was a silver ring, a loose but rather large gem, some gold coins, and a silver locket. You picked up the stone to inspect and deduced it was a sapphire and was definitely worth a lot.

“This could fetch you a lot of gold,” you noted, holding up the stone for Jeongin to see as he looked up. “Dad found that,” he said, reaching up to rub his eye. “Found it while digging around the outside of our cabin to add to the garden when I was a kid,” he continued and held out his hand.

You placed the gem in his palm and he brought it to his face to look at it. “He thought the same thing,” he continued. “Thought we could sell it for some gold in case we ever needed it. I forgot it was in the box,” he added, handing it back to you to place in the box.

Next you picked up the silver ring. There was nothing of note about it. It was a crudely forged ring made of pure silver. “Oh,” Jeongin said, noticing the ring and grimacing. “Dad made that. Was trying his hand at smithing,” he added. “It’s ugly but he was proud of it. He made it himself without any help. He wasn’t much of a blacksmith. He was more of a carpenter,” he explained.

“Which is why the box is so nice,” he added, gesturing to the box in your lap.

You dropped the ring back into the box and Jeongin returned to his bag, digging for a specific journal as you lifted the silver locket. It was engraved with a simple fox head on both sides. You carefully opened it and smiled at the first portrait. It was of a young child with light hair. There was no mistaking this was Jeongin.

You turned the locket to look at the other portrait as Jeongin pulled the correct journal from his bag and his eyes fell on the locket in your hand. The other portrait was of a woman. An all too familiar woman. She had the same blonde hair Jeongin had, the same fox-like eyes. It was his mother.

“Oh, that’s,” Jeongin darted forward, his hand closing around the locket and closing it before he took it from your hand. “That’s my dad’s. Was my dad’s.” he said softly, looking at the silver locket. You shut the trinket box and handed it back to him. “Sorry for prying,” you said softly as he took the box.

“No, it’s okay,” he said as he brushed the silver surface with the pad of his thumb. “I honestly forgot this was even in there,” he added as he looked up and gave you a sad smile. “She’s very pretty,” you said softly, drawing his attention. “Your mother,” you clarified.

You tilted your head, offering him a playful smile. “I guess you’re pretty, too,” you added, noticing the way he averted his eyes and his cheeks turned peach. He opened the box and placed the locket back inside, closing the lid and setting back with his things.

After he read a bit more and you started to yawn, you called it and set your knitting aside. “It’s going to storm tonight,” you said softly as you got up. “I’m going to put the covers down on the windows so it doesn’t rain in.” Jeongin watched as you exited the door and returned to his book as you disappeared.

Outside you undid the hooks holding the covers up and let them down into place, securing them with the wooden rods that slid through two rings on the side of the cabin as well as a ring on the end of the shutter.

Clover had done some interesting things when building this cabin but as odd as they were, they worked. You placed the covers for the other three windows down, locking them in place as the wind picked up.

You also grabbed the cloth Clover had for covering the garden and hooked it in place with the four hooked stakes in the corners of the garden. You repeated the process, covering the bee boxes before gathering all the fish and bringing it inside to hang up by the fire.

As you closed and locked the door, you could hear thunder in the distance and Jeongin looked up from his mother’s journal. “We’re safe here, right?” he asked and you nodded, moving to stoke the fire and then joining him on the bed. “This is probably the most stable building in the region,” you explained as you settled down on the side of the bed you’d claimed and looked up at him.

“You can stay up if you want,” you said, shifting, pulling the covers over you, and getting comfortable. “Just try to keep the noise down,” you added with a wink which made Jeongin crack a smile. “Okay,” he replied. “I’ll try.”

You shut your eyes and tried to focus on sleeping.

But you couldn’t. Your mind was full of the portrait in the locket. You rolled onto your back and sighed, opening your eyes and staring at the cave ceiling. Jeongin didn’t seem to notice but when you sighed again, he looked up. “You alright?” he asked and you took a deep breath before sitting up and turning to him. “I need to tell you something,” you said, taking his journal and setting it aside.

Jeongin looked from the journal to you as you took his hands in yours.

“What I’m about to tell you might sound outrageous but keep in mind I’m much older than I look because as you said before, I’m pureblooded fox-folk.,” you started. Jeongin met your gaze and nodded slowly. You took another deep breath before explaining.

“Your mother’s name was Keiko. She was from a small island off the coast of Japan. The locals there called it Fox Island. She came to this land as a child with her mother to live in the palace of the king centuries ago. Her mother was a highly sought after healer and the king’s wife was incredibly sick.”

Jeongin said nothing as you continued.

“When your mother was nearing maturity, her mother overheard a plan to marry her off to the king’s son but her mother had heard that the first prince was a cruel man who abused those around him. She did not want your mother to suffer at his hands so she ran away, taking your mother with her. They left the palace and ran and ran until they reached the coast, hoping it would be far enough away that the king’s men would never find them.”

You cleared your throat and continued the story.

“Your mother continued to live on the coast, in a small fishing village for many many years and eventually, she grew into a great beauty. Many men tried in vain to marry her but her mother drove them all off. When her mother finally passed from old age, your mother left the village and traveled inward, hoping enough time had passed that the king was no longer looking for her and she was right.”

“The king and his son had both since passed and a new ruler was on the throne. Your mother traveled the land until she found this region and moved here, settling down in a cave in the mountains. Rumors circulated of a great beauty that lived in the mountains but some of those rumors painted her out to be an enchantress that devoured the souls of men. It was here my mother met her,” you explained, watching Jeongin’s eyes widened but he said nothing, allowing you to continue.

“Your mother and my mother became good friends and then… I came along and I can remember how your mother doted on me. She wanted a child of her own but she had no luck in finding a husband. It was when she’d given up hope of ever having a child that she met your father. I was a young child by then but I still remember the day she came to us, announcing she had found someone,” you said with a smile, remembering back to that day.

“My mother and father were so thrilled she’d managed to find someone who loved her. Someone she could start a life with. She wrote to my mother, telling her of the ceremony and the time after. She shared her troubles conceiving with my mother in those letters. And then, she got pregnant. And it lasted,” you said softly, looking up from your hands to find Jeongin’s eyes filled with tears.

“She gave birth to a healthy baby boy and she named him Jeongin. She wrote how she was so in love and she’d never known a love like that before. The love of a mother. She loved you so much,” you said softly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. This pushed him over the edge and a small sob escaped him, the tears finally falling. You pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Why did she leave?” he whispered into your shoulder. “She had to,” you explained, gently stroking his hair. “The people in the village branded her a witch and she feared if she did not leave, they would come for her. So she left you with your father and she went north,” you continued. “I’m sure it was her intention to come back but I don’t know much else,” you added.

You continued to stroke his hair, rocking him gently as he sniffled. “Sorry I got snot on your shirt,” he said softly. You chuckled, patting his head. “It’s okay,” you replied. “I’ve had worse things on my shirt before,” you added as you pushed him back, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I just needed to tell you because if I didn’t, it would eat me alive.”

You pulled him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You deserved to know the truth about her. She was a remarkable kumiho. I really looked up to her,” you added. Jeongin smiled, reaching up to wipe his eyes. “Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “And who knows,” you said suddenly.

“Maybe she left some clues in her journals as to where she went.” Jeongin looked down at the journal and then back up at you.

“Then I better get to reading, I guess.”

After the talk, it must not have taken you long to fall asleep because you were woken by the sound of thunder.

Your eyes opened and you noticed that it was mostly dark, save for the fire in the hearth. You peered over your shoulder to find Jeongin had finished his reading and gone to sleep as well. You lay back down, closing your eyes but another clap of thunder sounded and the rain whipping against the side of the rain made you realize what had actually woken you and it wasn’t the storm.

It was the way Jeongin shook each time the thunder clapped or the shutters rattled against the windows.

He’d told you how his home was battered by storms and he wasn’t able to keep up with repairs as he wasn’t a carpenter like his father. He said he’d grown accustomed to the fear that at any moment, the entire hut would collapse, trapping him inside.

‘He’s probably terrified out of his mind right now,’ you told yourself.

You turned over, eyes finding Jeongin curled up in the dark beside you. Sitting up, you reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” you asked softly over the sound of the rain battering against the roof. Jeongin rolled back to look up at you. “Sorry,” he said just as softly. “It’s just the storm…” he trailed off.

“I have… bad memories.”

Your expression softened as you pulled the covers back and gently grabbed his arm. “Come here,” you whispered, tugging him towards you. Jeongin followed, allowing you to pull him into your space where your arms went around him protectively, his head ducking under your chin and into your chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

You gently stroked his hair, humming softly as you tried to drown out the sounds of the storm. Your humming turned into singing, trying to lull him to sleep. “What is that?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled by the cloth of your night shirt. “It’s a song my mother used to sing to me,” you replied, continuing to stroke his hair. “It sounds familiar,” he continued.

You nodded silently before speaking. “Your mother probably used to sing it to you when you were a babe,” you answered. “Most fox-folk know the song.”

Jeongin fell silent, tightening his hold on you as he nuzzled further into your warm embrace.

“Do you feel better?” you asked softly, smiling when he nodded. “Good,” you whispered, tilting your head to press a kiss to the top of his head. Jeongin pulled back to look up at you. Neither one of you said anything, staring at one another until he finally made the first move, closing the distance and pressing his lips against yours.

Almost as quickly as it happened, he pulled back, stuttering apologies and trying to explain himself. You cut his words off, taking his face in both your hands and pulling back in for another kiss. He relaxed under your touch, lips pressing more firmly against yours as he leaned into the kiss.

“Don’t apologize,” you said when you pulled back. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Jeongin pulled you back in for another kiss, more hurried and rushed this time. You didn’t fight it when he pushed onto your back or when he climbed over you, never breaking the kiss as he settled between your parted thighs.

You sighed against his lips, almost moaning when you felt his tongue slip into your mouth. He moved his hands, sliding them up to your cheeks and pulled back, breaking the kiss. “Thank you,” he said softly, his eyes looking between yours. “For what?” you whispered, placing one of your hands atop his.

“For saving me,” he continued, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “I now know it was you that killed those guys following me.” You stared up at him. “I’ve had time to think about it and it makes sense,” he added.

“So thank you for taking me in and for protecting me.”

You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down into another kiss. “You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured between kisses. “I’m sure you would have done the same in my position,” you added. Jeongin shook his head. “I’m shy and antisocial,” he replied. “I wouldn’t have gotten involved.” You pushed him back slightly so you could see his face.

“You’re not antisocial,” you countered. “You were tormented and abused. There’s a difference.”

Before Jeongin could say anything else, you interrupted with another kiss.

You rolled over, pinning him against the bed as you straddled him, directing his hands to your waist as you continued to kiss him. You felt him tense under you as you rolled your hips, grinding against the growing bulge in his pants. You pulled back to look at him, noticing the look of hesitation on his face.

“Was that too far?” you asked, fearing you may have crossed a line and moved to climb off him but his hold on your waist tightened. “No,” he croaked. “It’s just that…” his voice trailed off as he swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words.

“I’ve never… I’m a…” he was failing to form a complete sentence but you knew what he was saying.

You cupped his cheek tenderly. “You’ve never done this, have you?”

He shook his head and you smiled warmly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Do you want to stop?” you asked and watched as he contemplated it. Just when you thought he was going to say yes, he surprised you by shaking his head. “No,” he finally answered.

“Don’t stop.”

You pressed your lips against his, taking the lead. Your hips rolled slowly, grinding against him, eliciting the sweetest moans you’d ever heard come from a man before. “You sound so sweet,” you whispered, lips brushing against his cheek as you moved to whisper in his ear. “So innocent,” you continued, kissing down the side of his neck.

Jeongin let out a moan as you nipped at his neck, smiling before pulling back to look down at him. “Do you want me to keep going?” you asked, slowing your movements, enjoying the desperate way Jeongin whined and pulled at your hips, urging you to move.

“Y-yes,” he whimpered. “Keep going, please,” he begged. Instead of doing so, you climbed off him, ignoring his protests and pleas as you tore the blankets back. “What are you doing?” Jeongin asked as you nestled beside him. “Just trust me,” you said softly, reaching to turn his head towards you, pulling him into a kiss.

With the distraction of your lips against his and your tongue slipping into his mouth, Jeongin didn’t notice the way your hand moved down his chest, slowly until he felt your palm against the bulge in his pants. Moaning into your mouth, one of his hands moved to grab yours but you pushed it away.

“Are you going to be a good boy or will I have to restrain you?” you asked darkly. Jeongin let out a little whimper and shook his head. “You won’t be good?” you asked, cocking your brow. He shook his head again. “I’ll be good,” he blurted out and you pulled him back in for another kiss, letting your hand wander again.

This time, he didn’t move, only moaning as you started to palm him through his trousers. Considering how hard he already was, it didn’t take you long to get him begging and whining for more, his hips bucking up against your hand.

You made quick work of his pants, untying the string and sliding your hand under the waistband, your palm coming into contact with the hot skin of his dick. Jeongin let out a soft whimper as your fingers wrapped around him. “Have you never been touched like this before?” you asked, watching his face as he shook his head.

“Not even by yourself?” you asked, tilting your head. He hesitated before nodding. “I’ve…” he swallowed thickly. “I’ve touched myself a few times,” he answered. Your smile grew slightly. “Do you want more?” you asked, watching the way his brow furrowed as you stroked him at an even pace.

“P-please,” he murmured, hips bucking into your hand. You removed your hand from his pants, moving and pulling his pants down, throwing them to the floor before climbing over and straddling his hips. Jeongin looked up at you as you leaned over. “Do you want to stop yet?” you whispered, your smirk growing even more when he shook his head.

You toyed with the hem of your night shirt, watching the way his eyes flickered from your face to your hands and back up. Finally, you decided to not tease him any more and lifted the material up over your head, dropping it to the floor and allowing him a moment to adjust to your nakedness.

His eyes were all over your form, taking in every inch of exposed skin. You took his hands and guided him to your waist. “You can touch me, you know,” you said softly, snapping him out of his trance. “O-okay,” he answered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the storm.

“Wait, I can?” he asked as if just registering what you’d said. You nodded instead of replying verbally and waited patiently as his hands moved of their own accord. His eyes followed the movement of his hands up to your chest, hesitating before cupping both your breasts.

His lips parted in awe as he gave a gentle squeeze.

He’d never done anything like this before. He had no idea what was allowed and what wasn’t or what felt good for you. “Is this okay?” he asked, looking up to meet your gaze. You nodded, reaching one hand up to place over his, pushing his palm against your chest more firmly.

Jeongin groaned at the contact, eyes flickering back down to your chest. Without a word, he sat up, his hand under yours moving aside. You pulled your hand back as he leaned in, glancing up at you for permission which you gave in the form of a nod. His eyes fluttered shut as he took your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around the bud.

You let out a sigh, combing your fingers through his hair as his tongue flicked against your skin. You arched your back, pressing your chest into his face as he gently sucked, letting your nipple fall from his mouth before repeating the same process on the other breast, one of his hands moving up to cup your chest. His other hand moved around to your back, hovering just above your ass.

You rolled your hips, brushing your sex against his cock and making him gasp. Your fingers in his hair tugged, tilting his head back to look up at you as you rolled your hips again. “How does that feel, sweetheart?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

“S’good,” he moaned, his hands grabbing your hips, trying to guide your movements but feeling unsure of what he was doing. “You want me to ride you, little fox?” you whispered, leaning in so your lips brushed against his. He gulped loudly. “Y-yes,” he pleaded. “I wanna feel you.”

You took him in a messy kiss, tongue dancing against his. “You wanna feel me? Feel me from the inside?” He nodded quickly, eyes sliding shut as you rocked your hips, grinding against his cock, coating it with your arousal.

“Wanna fill me with your cock?” you purred. Jeongin let out a choked moan as you ground harder against him. “Fuck! Y-yes, please!” he whimpered.

You reached down to grab the bottom of his shirt, tugging it off him and letting it fall to the floor as well before placing your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back against the mattress. You allowed your eyes to scan his body, taking in his lean frame as you lifted your hips.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” you asked as you reached between your bodies, taking his cock in your hand and giving him a couple of strokes, coating all of his cock with your slick. He nodded urgently, biting into his bottom lip. “I need to hear you say it, Innie,” you cooed, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance. He nodded again. “Yes,” he finally managed to croak out.

“I promise I’ll be good.”

Without another word, you sank down on him, his cock gliding easily as your walls welcomed the intrusion. Jeongin let out a long groan as you enveloped him completely with a sigh. You felt him twitch inside you and you leaned over, placing your hands on the mattress on either side of his head.

“You promised you’d be good,” you said, meeting his gaze. He nodded, blinking slowly as his hands moved to your thighs. “I promise,” he whispered. “Then you can’t cum yet,” you replied, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “You have to wait until I say you can cum,” you continued. “Can you do that for me, baby boy?” He nodded again. “Yes, I c-can,” he answered.

You slowly raised your hips before sinking back down on him, his cock burying into your cunt. Jeongin moaned against your lips, fingers digging into your skin. “Feels s’good,” he muttered as you set a slow, steady pace, hips rising and falling, driving his cock repeatedly into your pussy.

“Such a good boy,” you cooed, leaning over to kiss along his jaw, making him tilt his head, giving you more access to his neck. “Letting me fuck you like you deserve.” Jeongin whined in response, his hands moving up to your waist. “Mmore, please,” he begged, gasping when you obliged, your hips bouncing against his. “Shit, shit,” he gasped, fingers tightening around your waist.

“Wait, m’close!” he warned. You immediately stilled, his length buried in your walls. You raised your hand to push his bangs back from his forehead, leaning over to press a kiss against his skin. “You’re doing so well,” you praised as he came down from the edge.

“Filling me so well. Such a good little fox.”

Jeongin whimpered as you rolled your hips. “Do you want me to keep going?” you asked sweetly. He shook his head. “Give me a moment more,” he murmured. You sat up, moving your hands to his chest, sliding them down to his stomach and back up past his shoulders and onto the mattress.

“Do you want me to stay on top of do you wanna take control, little fox?”

His eyes fluttered open, meeting yours. “I can take control?” he asked softly. You nodded. “You want to try that?” He nodded hesitantly, hissing as his cock slipped out of you.

You pulled him on top as you laid back, your thighs wrapping around his waist. He looked down at you, cheeks burning as he took in your fucked out expression. “Go ahead,” you urged.

Jeongin looked down, eyes widening slightly as they landed on your glistening sex. “It’s okay,” you added, drawing his attention. “Take your time.” Jeongin took himself in his hand, guiding the tip to your slit, watching as the head of his cock slipped past your folds, finding your center easily.

He groaned, watching as your walls sucked him in until his hips met yours. His eyes moved up, meeting yours as he tried to control his breathing. “I don’t…” he trailed off. “Just follow your instincts,” you said gently. He nodded, taking a deep breath before pulling his hips back, watching your face as he snapped forward. You let out a moan, eyes rolling back.

Taking that as his cue to keep going, he repeated the action, quickly setting a steady pace. It was different than when you were in control, he was able to drive his cock deeper into your walls, making you moan louder than when you’d been on top.

“F-feels s-s’good,” he stammered, his head falling into your chest as he continued to thrust into you. “Ah~ fuck, that’s it, Innie,” you encouraged him. “Keep going.” Following his instincts, like you’d suggested, he cupped his hand against the back of your thigh and pushed your leg against your stomach, sinking his length further inside you with a groan.

“S’ so deep,” you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. Jeongin kept his eyes open, watching to watch your face as he fucked you. He’d never seen someone so beautiful before. “Faster,” you gasped. Jeongin complied, his thrusts gaining speed. “Oh f-fuck,” he groaned. “M’gonna cum.”

You took him by surprise, rolling him onto his back during his momentary lapse in control. Without giving him a chance to regain the upper hand, you took his hands and pinned them against his head. “Gonna cum already, little fox? I thought you’d last longer,” you said with a scoff. Jeongin whimpered, his cock twitching as his orgasm impending as you rocked your hips with renewed vigor.

He tried to pull his wrists from your hands but your grip was too strong. “Don’t fight me for control,” you said, leaning over to kiss him. “You gonna cum for me? Can’t even wait for me to say you can cum. Pathetic,” you scoffed. Jeongin bucked his hips up to meet yours.

“Please,” he begged. “Let me cum.” You shook your head. “Only good boys get to cum,” you retorted. “You haven’t been good.” Jeongin shook his head. “I have been good!” he argued, moaning at the end of his protest. “I’ve been good,” he repeated.

“Please let me cum, Y/N.”

You chuckled, slowing your movements, holding his wrists tighter when he protested.

“Such a greedy little slut. Wanting to cum first,” you snapped, rolling your hips. “F-fuck Y/N, m’gonna cum. Shit, shit, shit,” Jeongin whined, hips bucking up as his orgasm washed over him. You slowed your hips as his cock twitched, Jeongin releasing inside you with a whine.

You sighed, your hips coming to a stop as you looked down at him. “Couldn’t even wait for me to finish with you,” you said softly. Jeongin opened his eyes. “S-sorry,” he stammered. “I tried to stop but it just felt so good.” Your lips twitched into a smirk. “It’s okay,” you replied, releasing one of his wrists to cup his cheek. “But now you’re gonna have to lie there and let me finish,” you continued.

Jeongin looked up at you, leaning into your touch. “That’s okay,” he replied, letting out a gasp as you rolled your hips, his cock still lodged inside you. “You’re in for a long night, little fox,” you said softly, taking his wrist and pinning it again before sliding your hands to lace your fingers with his as you continued to rock your hips, feeling him slowly start to get hard again.

“A really long night.”

Jeongin awoke the next morning to the smell of meat and opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep and allowing his eyes to adjust to the sunlight that filtered into the cottage.

He rolled over, peering at you by the fire, cooking breakfast. He stretched his arms, whining at the soreness in his muscles. You chuckled as he pushed himself up, realizing he was shirtless. You, on the other hand, were fully dressed. “What happened last night?” he asked, reaching up to scratch his head.

You glanced over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten,” you said as you plated breakfast and walked over to the bed. Jeongin felt heat rise in his cheeks. “No,” he answered as you sat on the edge of the bed, presenting him with a plate. “I just forgot how many times,” he murmured, adding a thanks at the end.

You chuckled as you dug into your own food. “More than a few,” you answered. Jeongin looked up and then out the window. “How late is it?” he asked. You shook your head. “Not that late, It’s not even noon,” you replied. The two of you ate in silence, Jeongin thanking you again as you took his dirty plate.

��Where are my clothes?” he asked, noticing they were not on the floor where you’d left them the night before. “I washed them first thing this morning,” you answered. “They’re probably dry by now,” you added and headed out the door to retrieve them.

Upon entering, you handed the clean clothes to Jeongin who dressed himself in silence. “What do you plan to do?” you asked softly as you stoked the fire. Jeongin looked up and then down at his hands. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “I’d like to go find my mother,” he added.

You turned to look at him, a warm smile on your face. He got up and walked over to where you stood, his hands resting on your waist and pulling you closer. “But part of me wants to stay here with you.” You smiled, eyes shutting as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Stay here and maybe build a life with you.” Your heart swelled at the thought but it was quickly deflated by another thought.

“I think you should follow your heart,” you finally said, pulling back to press a kiss to his forehead and turn away. Jeongin opened his eyes and sighed. He looked around the cottage and then at his bags on the floor near the table where he could see one of his mother’s journals peeking out at him.

His mind was made up for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, pressing his lips against your shoulder. “It’s okay,” you reassured him. “Do what you have to do,” you added. Jeongin turned you to face him, reaching up to cup your cheek. “I will come back,” he said softly, eyes flickering between yours. “I promise.”

With his rucksack packed full of supplies you could spare and a map in hand, you pointed him in the right direction. Jeongin pulled you in for one last kiss, resting his forehead against yours for a few moments after. “I mean it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “I will come back. Regardless if I find her or not.” You nodded, smiling and keeping the sad feeling lingering in your stomach at bay.

“Be careful,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. Jeongin pulled away and started through the forest in the direction you’d pointed him. The last place you’d heard his mother had been spotted. North towards Mongol territory. As he reached the edge of your property, he turned to look back at you.

He raised his hand, waving which you returned and watched as he turned back and slowly disappeared from sight. With a sigh, you continued to stare after him. “You better come back,” you whispered to yourself, moving your hand to rest against your stomach.

Smiling to yourself you turned away and headed back into the cottage to tend to your chores, hoping Jeongin found what he was looking for sooner rather than later.

He only had nine months after all.

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #jeongin scenarios #jeongin imagines #jeongin fanfic #jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #kwanisms kinktober 2023

409 notes · View notes

cowboydisaster · 1 year

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes

part VII: horshoe overlook iii

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 15.2k

summary: You and Arthur take Lenny to drown his anxieties at the saloon, and it ends up bring more trouble than you would have imagined. The gang finally deals with that O'driscoll, and Arthur opens up more about his past when Abigail asks you both to take Jack out. You meet a couple of threatening strangers.

a/n: highly recommended playing 'a quiet time soundtrack' when you get to the bar scene. This chapter was so fun to write omg. Lots of set up in this chapter, along with plenty of fluff, angst and more talking about our feelings. You're still in denial, Arthur is opening up, its a whole thing. P.S. if you aren't sure who Nils is, just google him on yt. Please please check the warnings before you read! beta read by @margowritesthings <3

warnings: Violence, gore, blood, attempted/implied mention of SA, its very brief and we kill him hehe, wanted to add the tag just in case)

hotlinks: TFIYE on AO3 & official series playlist

SERIES MASTERPOST

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop

“Okay, pick a color. We have pink, red, orange or white.” Marybeth asks, excitedly weaving her fingers through your hair, neatly braiding it. You smile, glancing over to her basket of wildflowers.

“How about white?” You suggest, looking at the assortment of flowers in her basket, eyes honing in on the pale white jasmines and baby’s breath.

It's a warm evening, with golden light peeking over the mountains as the sun begins to set. You had ventured down the hill towards the Dakota River with Marybeth earlier, and she had picked from a patch of wildflowers, bringing home only the most beautiful specimen. Tilly and Karen sit around on the ground next to you, and you chuckle as the three girls giggle and gossip.

“Marybeth, you oughta do me next. I can’t be goin’ out on the town with hair like this.” Karen jokes, and Marybeth lights up, excited to share the time with you girls.

You bite into an apple, crunching and savoring the sweet flavor as Marybeth braids your hair down your back. You glance into the mirror, the one Marybeth stole from Arthur’s shaving station, noticing how much your hair has grown since you’ve joined the Van der Lindes. She ties the bottom of the braid with a little white knot, smiling as she plucks some white flowers from her basket.

“You’re gonna love it.” Marybeth sighs, eyes sparkling as she begins to tuck the stems into the creases of your braid, leaving little white flowers embedded in your hair. She’s missed a few tiny pieces around your face, and they fall down, framing your cheekbones. From across camp, sitting outside his tent like an overseer, Dutch keeps his eyes on you. You ignore it, purposefully refusing to meet his glance.

You glance around, people watching as Marybeth finishes up her work. On the other side of camp, Uncle is wasted, Strauss is scribbling away in a journal, and Abigail is having a hushed argument with John. It's all so normal.

"I heard Abigail and John yellin' again this morning." Tilly tsks, shaking her head with a sigh, glancing to their tent.

"What about?" You ask, eyebrows pulled together. Marybeth releases your braid for a moment, allowing you to turn towards the girls.

"The usual." Karen bites, irritated by their bickering, and Tilly elaborates.

"Well John ain't exactly been… a great father to Jack."

"John's an ass. Jack only wants his daddy, but he knows his daddy wants nothin' to do with him." Karen explains, scowling in the scar-faced outlaw across camp.

"Poor Jack…" You frown, familiar with the feeling of being unwanted.

"How does Abigail do it all?" Marybeth asks, pulling and perfecting your braid and the flowers lined in it.

"No idea." Tilly mumbles. It grows quiet for a while as you all get lost in thought. You think about what Arthur had said, just a few weeks ago, about his son, and you sigh.

"Done!" Marybeth chimes and you smile at her as she holds Arthur's mirror up, letting you see. She's done a beautiful job, leaving the braid tight enough so it won't fall out, but loose enough for it to be beautifully messy and comfortable. The little white flowers are an intricate touch, just enough of them to add dimension to your hair without overpowering it.

"Marybeth, it's beautiful!" You say, smiling sweetly at her before reaching into your satchel.

"For your troubles." You whisper, winking as you slide her a candy bar. Marybeth's eyebrows pop up in surprise as she takes the little sweet, tucking it into her skirt.

"Thank you, Marybeth." You say, standing up and stretching your knees. You address the other girls then, nodding to them.

"I'll return this to Mr. Morgan, thank you for your good company." You say, taking his stand mirror from the ground and walking away from their wagon. Arthur's tent isn't far, and within a few moments you stand outside his covered wagon, placing his mirror back down on his designated shaving barrel with a hum.

A throat clears behind you, startling you as you whip around to find the source.

"Stole my mirror, huh?" Arthur jokes. He's standing in front of his wardrobe, wearing only a pair of jeans as he digs through the clothes in search of a shirt. He's looking down in the chest, and you swallow thickly, watching the muscles flex as you blush.

"Yeah uh, well Marybeth took it to do my hair. I'm just bringin' it back." You mumble, running your finger along the barrel lid to distract yourself.

At the mention of your hair, Arthur looks over at you. His eyes wrinkle with crows feet as he smiles, a little warm grin. The white flowers frame your face, and you look up at him with those eyes. He's sure you've fallen from heaven, looking as innocent as a lamb. How deceiving, because your temper is anything but.

He comes toward you, still shirtless, though he holds a deep blue patterned shirt in his hand.

"You uh," Arthur nods to the white flowers that crown your hair like a halo. "Your hair looks real pretty." Arthur says, pulling the shirt over his arms before buttoning it up.

You huff, pulling one of the flowers out and dropping it to the ground.

"Marybeth." You explain, just as hooves sound out like war drums from the outskirts of camp. Without a second thought, your hand rests on your holster, prepared for the worst. You jog towards the camp entrance with Arthur just as Lenny gallops through the trees on Maggie, both out of breath. Lenny practically throws himself out of the saddle in a panic, and Maggie rears up.

“They-! They got Micah!” Lenny hollers, running towards the two of you.

“Arthur! Star, Dutch! They got Micah, they got him in Strawberry. They nearly lynched me!” Lenny yells, hands resting on his knees.

You rest your hand on his shoulder, making sure he's okay, as you all try to catch up.

“What is going on?” Dutch asks, striding out of his tent and straight up to the three of you. Your braid flips over your shoulder as you make sure Lenny is steady before letting him go. He takes a breath, calming down before continuing as Dutch joins.

“It’s okay, son, breathe.” Dutch pats the younger man on the back.

“They got Micah at the sheriff’s in Strawberry, and there’s talk of hangin’ him.” Lenny explains, and you raise an eyebrow, unsure of what the problem is then. Arthur seems to be sharing a similar train of thought as he mumbles under his breath.

“Here’s hoping.” Arthur bites, and Dutch looks at him with a comically shocked face.

“Arthur.” He scolds, as if disciplining a dog, and you snort.

“Micah deserves to sit in that jail for a while. Let him get nervous, let him rot a little more, it’ll do him good.” You point out, leaning down to strike a match of the bottom of your boot.

“She’s right. You know my feelings’ bout him Dutch.” Arthur warns, voice low and you nod, lighting a cigarette.

“He is a fine man. But she’s right. He’s brought this on himself. Go get him in a few weeks, Me and the lady’s faces are plastered all over Blackwater, it’ll have to be you, Arthur.” Dutch explains, and Arthur groans with a sigh. They continue their bickering, and you leave them to it, walking over to where Lenny sits at the wooden table.

“You okay?” You ask, sitting on the table, placing your boots onto the seat of the chair next to Lenny.

“Yeah, just shaken up. I hate ridin’ with Micah, it’s like he loses his mind.” Lenny whispers, eyes far away as he shakes his head.

“Yeah… I seen it too.” You mumble, scowling. Arthur and Dutch wrap up their conversation, and then Dutch walks over to the two of you.

“C’mon kid. We’re gettin’ a drink, Dutch’s orders.” Arthur chuckles, and you slide down from the table, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m comin’ too.” You chime, following the two boys to the hitching posts.

“Maybe just one or two will calm my nerves.” Lenny sighs, climbing back up into Maggie’s saddle.

You pet Athena, giving her a mint as a peace offering for taking her from the hay before mounting up.

“We even allowed to go in the saloon after all that ruckus you caused?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at Arthur. Lenny turns in his saddle to look at you for a moment before spurring Maggie further into the evening.

“What trouble have you boys been causing now?” Lenny directs at Arthur, hollering over the sound of cantering hooves.

“Nothin’ much just some good n fair bar fightin.” Arthur says, downplaying the situation.

“Ha! Yeah, Arthur, just some friendly punches. How much you wanna bet that the windows’ still broken from your ass flyin through it?” You holler, and Arthur laughs, crossing over the railroad tracks into town.

“It’s all done with now, and at least nobody died.” Arthur points out to which you nod. Good point.

You trot up the main road, pulling your horses in front of the new Blacksmith building. Typically you would just hitch in front of the saloon, but the bar must be packed tonight because horses line the street in front of Smithfields. You jump down from Athena, petting her neck while looking at the new building in front of you. There's some light inside, a candle or two, and an ‘open’ sign on the front door. Outside two men talk, one wasted.

“Y-You open mis-” he hiccups, “Mister?” The one man asks, a plain looking feller. But the man he is talking to, presumably the shop owner, is a small man with small features and a big white beard. He wears a red beanie hat on his head, and his face is bright red.

“Okay…” The peculiar man says with a strong accent. Your eyebrows draw together, and you chuckle. Maybe he doesn’t speak english.

“I need a hammer… you see I'm building’ a house, buildin’ a house down the road..” The drunk man slurs, barely able to keep steady as the smaller, foreign man grabs the drunkard's arm, pushing him inside the shop.

“Okay!” The small man says, and you laugh at his oddity. You remember Hosea telling you about this shop owner, and the strange little things he sells in his shop.

“Star? You comin’?” Arthur asks, and you turn around, realizing you’d been eavesdropping on the strangers. You turn back to the shop for a moment, eyeing its peculiarity before sheepishly turning back to Arthur.

“I'm gonna go check this place out for a minute. I’ll be over shortly.” You smile, looking towards the shop excitedly, remembering that you have a little cash from your box on you. Lenny rests against a beam under the porch of the general store, out of earshot from you and Arthur’s conversation. He only knows that you’re both doing a whole lot of talking and not a lot of drinking.

“You two comin, or what?” Lenny hollers, and Arthur gestures towards you.

“We’ll catch up, just give us a minute.” Arthur yells back, following after you towards the shop entrance.

“I’ll start a tab.” Lenny chuckles, walking up the sidewalk towards the bar.

“You need somethin’ from the blacksmith?” Arthur asks, holding the door open for you as you step inside.

“No, just wanted to look is all. Hosea said there was some more stuff in here than tools, the man likes to work metal into all kinds of things.” You say at a volume so that only Arthur can hear you. He nods, and you take in the shop. The little building is split into two sections. On the right, the bigger section, all sorts of home made tools hang from nails in the wall, for sale. There's hammers, screwdrivers, bits, and all sorts of other things that you don’t care about. You glance to the left side of the shop, and your eyes light up. Shelves line the wall, and the little foreign shop owner sits on the checkout counter beside them, swinging his legs. The shelves are lined with hand crafted metal cups, decorations and jewelry, anything one can think of. He has little metal spoons, crafted and twisted beautifully. There are necklaces, belt buckles and rings, none of them resembling another, all unique. Your eyes light up, and Arthur watches you with a sweet smile as you run your hand down the expanse of one of the shelves, taking everything in. A few other people mill around, looking as well.

“Arthur, look at all this.” You gasp, bewildered by the handcrafted, intricate things that this odd man has made. Arthur walks with you, falling into pace as his spurs click against the floor. He’s mesmerized, alright. But the trinkets on the shelf have little to do with it. The flowers in your hair, the excitement on your face from such a small pleasure, the stars in your eyes that shine brighter than any night he’s ever seen.

Arthur steps away, walking towards the other side of the shop as you come up to the accessory section. Particularly what catches your attention is the hat accessories, and you pick a few up, wondering what they might look like on your own hat, back at camp. Then it catches your eye. A smaller hat accessory rests closer to the back of the shelf, and with your eyebrows pulled together in concentration, you pick it up. It's a piece to be added on the side of a hat, a small bundle of feathers, bound with twine and wrapped in beautiful, coiled metal. But what catches your eye is the teal agate, embedded into the metal that wraps around the bundle. It’s a color you've seen time and again. A throat clears behind you, and you turn, meeting eyes of the same teal.

“Ready?” Arthur asks, not noticing the little gift that you’re hiding behind your back. You nod, glancing at the older shop owner for a moment.

“Yeah I’ll be right over, but first could you… could you give me a minute?” You ask, and Arthur nods, looking a little confused or worried.

“Sure. Everythin’ alright?” Arthur asks, and you nod. He steps back, tipping his hat to you lightly before walking out of the shop. With a breath, you pull the accessory back in front of you.

The agate is the same color as Arthur’s eyes, and you look over the gift with great fondness. No because of the accessory itself per se, but because of the man you’re going to gift it to. Holding the feathered accessory up to the light, you gasp, seeing almost unnoticeable stars stamped into the fine metal. You want to give Arthur something new for his hat, something that he can use to make it his own. Damn his father, and the fear that Arthur feels every day, wondering if he’s turning into the bastard. You want Arthur’s hat to be his, something he can pass down to his children or whomever one day with good memories, not bad ones.

With your mind made, you walk up to the shopkeeper.

“How much for this?” You ask, placing it on the counter where the man sits. He hops down, not saying a word as he walks around the other side of the counter. He takes a piece of paper from under the register, writing some things down in a language you can't understand. Then, he opens the cash register and looks up to you.

“Ja, Okay.” He says, holding his hand out for you to place cash into and you chuckle, sighing.

“You?- Alright mister.” You chuckle, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a five dollar bill. A man, leaning against the wall laughs, filling you in.

“Yeah, that there is Nils. He don’t really talk much, he understands though. A Norwegian fella, not even sure he speaks English, but he’s a damn good smith.” The man says, picking up a belt buckle and looking it over.

“That he is.” You hum as Nils hands you back a few odd cents.

“Names’ David Geddes.” The informant smiles, reaching to shake your hand. “I work with Nils here. He’s helpin’ me to build a ranch up in West Elizabeth.” Mr. Geddes says, releasing your hand. You smile, hearing that northern West Elizbeth is beautiful territory.

“If you’re ever in the market for tools or land, you know where to find us.” Mr. Geddes smiles, and you nod, knowing that you’re never going to need either of those things. You keep it in mind, though.

“Thank you Mr. Geddes, pleasure to meet you. You as well, Mr. Nils!” You smile at both men, giggling as Nils says ‘okay!’ when you walk out the door. Proudly, you place the little gift in your satchel. You want to wait until the perfect time to give it to him. Smiling, you walk past the few shops towards the saloon. You can hear the music from outside, a pianist enjoying himself on the keys, probably drunk as a skunk. You were right earlier, the window is still smashed out from Arthur being thrown out of it.

You push the saloon doors open, walking in just as a man was walking out. Your shoulders hit off each other, and you scowl deeply at him before moving towards the bar. A loud game of poker is being played at the table, with drunk, laughing players. Working women linger about, draped over chairs and men, waiting to be taken upstairs for the night. You squeeze past the people, slipping onto the bar beside Arthur and Lenny, with Arthur in the middle.

“Boys.” You greet, waving down the bartender. The saloon is loud, and you have to yell over the music to hear each other, even with the close proximity.

“Now just one or two. Right, Arthur?” Lenny asks as he clinks his bottle against Arthur’s.

“Course, just a drink.” Arthur responds, tapping his glass against the counter before taking a long swig.

“Hey!” You yell to the bartender, irritated. He doesn’t pay you any mind, and you huff.

Jumping up onto the bar so that your stomach is on the counter, you grab a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter. It’s nearly empty, and you groan. Arthur shakes his head as you slide back down to the ground.

“I don’t plan on staying too long.” Lenny reiterates, and you nod, tapping your fingers against the bottle to the rhythm of the funk music.

“Me neither.” You say, swallowing the little bit of drink left over before tossing it over the counter.

Another man slides onto the open space of the bar beside you. He’s already been done in by the drink, eyes glazed over with red cheeks. Arthur keeps an eye on him, not too comfortable with the way this man is looking at you.

“Hey- Hey miss?” He asks, and you turn to him. Arthur watches it unfold as you bat your eyelashes, and at first he’s confused as you look up to the sleazebag with doe-like eyes.

“Yes, mister?” You ask, twirling your finger around your hair.

“Can I buy you a beer?” He asks, smiling like an idiot. You smile, resting your hand on the man’s chest. Ah, a pocket watch,right in his vest pocket. You feel the outline of the fine metal through his shirt, and you smirk.

“She likes whiskey.” Arthur bites, not seeing your scheme playing out. You elbow him lightly, and his eyebrows pull together.

“Hey, Hey a beer for this fine woman!” The drunk man calls out, and as he leans over the bar to pay the tender, you sneak your fingers between him and the bar, gently pulling the chain until the pocket watch emerges from his pocket. Very content, you slide it into your pocket, smirking up at Arthur. He looks bewildered, amazed, as he laughs, elbowing Lenny and filling him in.

“For you, m- m’lady.” The drunkard says, handing you a beer. You take it, no trace of a smile on your lips as you slide it down the bar to Lenny. The drunk man scowls angrily, slamming his fist down on the counter.

“What the hell?” He asks, face turning red with anger. You smile, leaning against the bar, acting as if he doesn't exist.

“This what a feller gets for bein’ nice?” He huffs, and you bite your tongue, slipping your eyes closed to quell your rage. Arthur orders a whiskey, and places the glass in front of you.

“Tried to tell you partner, this lady likes her liquor.” Arthur chuckles, toasting another glass with Lenny. You swirl the glass in your hand, sipping from it while putting all your attention into not killing this man.

“You owe me!” He yells, spittle flying. Even Arthur tenses at your side, pointing a threatening finger to the drunk.

“Shut your mouth, buddy.” Arthur warns, and the music grows louder, more intense, as does your grip on your drink.

“Or what?” The man laughs maniacally, sizing you up and down and concluding that you wouldn't hurt a fly.

“Leave this idiot alone, he ain’t worth it.” Lenny interjects, always the voice of reason. The man laughs at that, turning to you three like he's an old friend.

“Leave me alone? Well people been leavin me alone for nearly ten years! I say that's their loss, I’m a great guy, bought this bitch a drink-” The man rambles on, and your shoulders set, eyes glazing over as a rage fills you. You slam your drink against the counter, spilling most of it before grabbing that damn idiot by the back of his collar. You slam his head down onto the bar in one swift motion, and it cracks. Sparing him no time to recuperate, you tear him away from the bar, dragging him towards the door where you literally kick him through the saloon doors.

Lenny whistles under his breath as you come back, wiping your hands on your jeans before picking your glass back up.

“Where were we, boys?” You ask, turning to the men.

— AN HOUR (OR TWO?) LATER —

‘Clink, clink, clink’ is all you hear as bottles and glasses continuously toast against each other. You’ve lost count of the amount of drinks you've been handed, or stolen off the bar. Arthur laughs loudly over the music, a contagious sound that has you and Lenny giggling like fools. You feel good and warm, a buzz running through your veins and filling your head with a fuzzy cloud.

“You want another one, Arthur? Star?” Lenny asks, laughter dying down as he waves to the bartender.

“Sure, we’re already here!” Arthur hollers, words slurred as you nod your head.

“Yeah but first, I- I gotta go play that piano!” You holler, picking up your glass and dancing your way down to the pianist.

— A WHILE LAETR—

You sit up on top of the bar, laughing so hard that you can barely breath. You don’t remember what was so funny, but it sure was. You slap your knee, cackling at something with Arthur. Lenny’s laughing too, leaning down against the bar to stop from falling over.

“You! You are a hilarious feller, Arthur Morgan!” You snort, taking a big long swig from your bottle. You think it's whiskey, but you're not sure. It doesn’t even burn anymore, just going straight down.

“Arthur!” You call, grabbing his biceps to shake his attention. He jumps, startled, and then laughs. Being on the bar has you sitting a little taller than him, and he looks up at you with a dumb expression.

“You ever-” You hiccup, “-had a dog?” You ask. It's a very serious inquiry, and you need to know. Arthur’s brows pull together as he thinks, and it looks kind of painful.

“One time… bout a million years ago.” Arthur squints, dead serious, staring at the wall behind you. You erupt into a fit of laughter, smacking the outlaw on the shoulder.

“What the hell is a million years?” You ask in between chuckles. The music is loud, the mood is good. The sun has set, and more patrons have joined the saloon.

“I don’t know, but I bet it's at least a thousand.”

You nod, concluding that he’s probably correct on that account. You turn to your right, right where Lenny was sitting, to ask him his opinions on the matter.

“What about you Lenny? You ever-” You stop, dumbfounded when you realize he’s not there. Surely he was just a second ago.

“Lenny?” You ask, turning your head around to find him.

“Oh no.” Arthur mumbles, looking around as well.

“Arthur, he's disappeared!” You yell, panicked, but Arthur grabs your waist, pulling you down to the ground. Once you're down from the bar, Arthur keeps grip on your hips for just a moment longer.

“We’ll find him, don't you worry. If anybody can come back from disappearin’ it's Lenny.” Arthur explains, and you nod. That makes sense.

“Should we split up?” You ask as Arthur leads you to the center of the saloon. Arthur nods, stumbling lightly as he pulls you through the crowd.

“Yeah, youse smart. We can cover-” Arthur burps, chuckling deeply for a moment, “We can cover more ground if we split up. I’ll go upstairs.” Arthur explains, and you nod, pushing past people.

“Smart thinkin. I’ll go upstairs too.” You say, following him up.

“Good plan.” Arthur approves, stumbling up the staircase while pulling you behind him.

“LENNY!!?” Arthur yells, looking around for your lost friend. You see lots of people, but you don’t see Lenny, least you don't think you do.

“Lenny!?” You mimic Arthur, chuckling as he pulls you around the fenced in overhand that overlooks the bar downstairs.

“There you is!” Arthur calls, and you look around until you see him. Lenny is leaning on the little fence, trying to balance a glass on his nose.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask, both confused and amazed. Lenny laughs, swaying so as to not drop it from his nose.

“I- I don’t know!”

The glass falls, and Lenny tries to catch it but his delayed reflexes do him in and the glass falls down the overlook, shattering onto the saloon floor downstairs. You all laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world, doubling over as you try to breathe from cackling.

Then somehow you all have more drinks in your hand, and you’re toasting them together, cheering loudly. You don’t even know what you’re drinking, but it sure goes down nice. Lenny hooks his arm under yours, and you do-si-do, tripping and stumbling and laughing like you’ve never laughed before. Arthur switches spots with Lenny then, hooking his arm under yours and dancing around. But Arthur lacks Lenny’s grace, or maybe he’s just more drunk, and halfway around the circle he accidentally trips you, sending you straight to the floor. Your drink smashes against the ground, and you lay on the floor for a while, arms and legs spread out as you chuckle.

Arthur pulls you up, nearly falling over himself, and then you all lean against the railing with more drinks.

“Arthur why ain’t you never married?” Lenny asks, and Arthur’s mouth hangs open as he thinks.

“No one would have me.” Arthur sighs, a pathetic, sad little noise. You slap him on the back, trying to encourage him.

“Whaddya mean no one would have you, Arthur everyone wants you! Hell I’m sure you had ladies lined up round the block back in the day.” You say, and he nods, thinking it over.

“Well maybe, but I did not see them!” He responds, toasting his drink to yours.

— LAETR?—

Arthur jumps up and down, stomping against the floor with his arms flailing.

“I’m doin’ it!” He screams, earning multiple annoyed glances from other patrons.

“You sure are! I- I don’t know what you’re doin’ but it’s somethin!” You yell back, laughing.

Then suddenly you’re sitting on the poker table, legs swinging over the side. You’re not even sure how you’ve gotten here, but your head is so fuzzy and relaxed you don’t care. Arthur stands on the ground, in between your knees looking up at you.

“Why ain’t you never sweet on no one?” You ask, fingers tracing stars on his right shoulder. Arthur’s hand rests on your thigh, and he looks up at you, confused.

“Huh?”

“Karen said you- you didn't like girls. I mean- Karen said you didn't like any of the girls in camp. They're all beautiful, young n kind, why haven't you gone sweet on em?" You ask, drunkenness loosening your lips and releasing some of the questions you've been holding back for ages.

"Well I am sweet on someone, dumbass." He says, laughing and you slap his shoulder lightly.

"Who?!" You holler, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. He's not sweet on anyone that you can think of, but you can't really think right now. Arthur's hand gently squeezes your leg before he backs away, downing the last of his beer.

"You're funny, y'know. Askin all kinds of questions, but I can't even think right now." Arthur's lips form a little confused pout, "least I don't think I can…"

"Yeah, you're right that's a lot of thinkin'." You say, nodding your head. Arthur comes back forward, placing his hands on the table on either side of your legs.

"It's easy thinkin' bout you though. That's somethin' that don't make my head hurt." Arthur whispers, fuzzy eyes transfixed on the pout of your lips before they trail up to your sparkling eyes. A blush creeps over your cheeks, and you slide down from the table, sneaking under his arm towards the bar.

"Buy me another drink Mr. Morgan!"

— LNENY?—

You cackle, leaning over the bar sometime later. The sun has long since set, but you have no idea what time it is. Arthur's on one side of you, and you look over to where Lenny-

You look over to where Lenny used to be.

"Wait, where'd Lenny go?!" You slur your words as the room spins, flashing all sorts of different colors.

"DAMMIT LENNY WHERE YOU AT BOYYY-" Arthur yells, slamming his drink down on the counter.

"We gotta find him, he's probably lost." You conclude, looking around the room.

"Yeah or maybe he's stuck someplace."

You wander around, losing Arthur as you yell for Lenny at the top of your lungs. You can hear Arthur yelling too, and you giggle. Lennt must have vanished, like those magic shows in the city.

"Leave the kid alone, you goddamn animals." Arthur growls, and you turn to see him walking down the stairs. Lenny is standing up on the bar, yelling at a group of men in front of the bar. The man in front of the bar, who Arthur was yelling at, turns towards Arthur.

"And who might you be?" The man hisses, growing irritated with you all. Arthur looks mighty confused for a moment, and you stumble towards the scene playing out.

"They call me Arthur, n' people who don't call me Arthur? Well I guess they do not know my name." Arthur whispers, chuckling.

"What-?" The other man asks, and you stride right up to him, punching him straight in the nose.

—SUME TYME LTAER—

You line kick, arms intertwined with Arthur's and Lenny's, hoisting your legs up in the air with a bunch of other people, you laugh carelessly, dancing away.

Then you're not dancing- you're laying on the staircase next to Lenny and Arthur, drinks in hand.

"I gotta piss." Arthur says, tapping your knee before standing up.

"You should probably do that. You can't drink more if you ain't peed." You explain, and Arthur frowns, thinking.

"Really?" He asks, and you nod.

"It's true Arthur! I read that once. I- I think I did anyhow." Lenny chimes in, and Arthur runs outside.

You sit with lenny for a while, feeling light as ever, drinking your fill and then some.

— ??? —

"I got a quesstionn…" You say, pressed up against the wall by Arthur's hands.

"Hmm?" Arthur asks, eyes heavy as he tries not to fall over, arms bracing themselves on either side of your head against the saloon wall. You're outside, and the walls buzz from music and banter.

"I probably don't know an answer but… but I'll try." Arthur says.

"Back in Colter, in Horseshoe durin' that storm, up in the hills in your tent… why’d you do all that?" You ask, a sense of clarity overcoming you even though you're drunk beyond help. Arthurs' trying to think back, but his head hurts.

"Huh?"

"You- you laid with me, held my hand till I fell asleep. Why'd you do that?" You ask as Arthur's hands slide away from the wall, down to his belt. It hits Arthur then, all the things he'd done, things he knows he shouldn't have done, but couldn't stop himself from doing.

"I- I don't know. Guess… you was sad. I wanted to make you feel better." Arthur mumbles, eyes downcast. You smile, buzzing.

"Did it work? Do I make you feel better?" Arthur whispers. His voice is low and deep, that familiar, gravelly tone. You smile up at him as one of his hands comes back up to the wall beside your head, trapping you in.

"You make me feel great, Arthur. Real great." You breathe out, veins pumping with adrenaline as Arthur leans closer in towards your face. His eyes are dark, pupils blown and you can smell the whiskey on his breath with the proximity.

"I bet I could make you feel even better, Star. I could make you feel lots a' things." He growls, eyes trailing from each of your eyes to your lips. You laugh, pushing him away from you lightly.

"Well maybe! But you can’t beat me at poker for shit!" You laugh, pushing the saloon doors open and walking back inside. Arthur follows behind you, laughing all the same.

"You seen Lenny?" He asks, looking around.

"Dammit!" You curse, pushing through the patrons of the saloon towards the steps. You grab onto Arthur's hand, dragging him along with you.

You see a few doors there, and thinking Lenny might be hiding in a room, you push one open. You gasp, laughing loudly as you open the door on a man and a woman having intimate relations. You laugh, apologizing as you swing the door shut, but Arthur screams.

You turn to him, chuckling and confused.

"You n-never saw a naked woman before, Arthur?" You ask. He looks like he's just seen something traumatic as he points a finger towards the door, rubbing his eyes with his other hand.

"That weren't a woman." Arthur bites, the image of Lenny riding Lenny burned into his mind forever. But you're clueless as to what he's just seen.

— …..?—

You laugh uncontrollably as Arthur pushes that man from earlier into the pig's water trough. He dunks the man's head under one more time before tossing him to the ground. You leave the pig pen, oinking and wheezing with laughter.

"I'm a- a police!" Arthur laughs, slipping in the mud as he jogs after you, down the main street.

"I'm gonnaa get'cha!" He yells as you run down the road, sliding and laughing.

"YOU CAN'T! You can't get me, HA-" You scream, running towards the stables, jumping over a fence, tripping and falling into the mud.

"Fuck!" You yell, unusually colorful language for you as the sheriff and a deputy approach you from the road.

"Hey! You two, come here!" Sheriff Malloy hollers, jogging after you. Arthur picks you up from the mud and slings you over his shoulder.

"Arthur! They're- they're gonna get us, we gotta run!" You yell from his shoulder as he bolts, slipping and sliding.

"WE'RE AMERICANS! YOU'LL NEVER CATCH US ALIVE!" Arthur screams into the night, approaching a mighty high fence.

"Yeah, we got RIGHTS!" You yell.

Arthur tries to jump the fence, but he's so drunk, and with you on his shoulder he doesn't even come close to clearing it. The fence breaks as Arthur lands down on it awkwardly, and you both land in the mud.

�� — — —

The light hurts your eyes as they flutter open, and you squint, head throbbing. Everything hurts, your head feels like it's been filled with lead and if you move too quickly you know you'll throw up. You finally come to, and realize you're laying on a wooden bench. Arthur is laying on the floor next to the bench, awake but not moving. Then you realize where you are.

You spot the unmistakable metal bars, and you groan.

"Arthur, what did we do?" You ask, not remembering an ounce of the previous night. From outside of your shared cell, Sheriff Malloy stands up, grabbing a cup of coffee from a percolator.

"Well the typical stuff for folks such as yourselves: harassin people, causin trouble, bein loud and breaking shit. But you also waterboarded a fella within an inch of his life, and stole a pig, this man here carried it around half the town oinkin and causing a ruckus. Although it sure was something to see, I don't appreciate being pulled outta bed with the wife at five in the damn morning." He says, taking a sip from his coffee before sitting down in his seat, propping his feet up on his desk. You look around, wincing from the movement.

"Well where's Lenny?" You ask as Arthur groans loudly, holding his stomach as he sits up on the bench beside you.

"Only brought in the pair of ya." The sheriff shakes his head.

“However you two managed to drink that much without passin’ out or dyin’ is beyond me.” Sheriff Malloy whistles, shaking his head.

Arthur stands up, slowly walking over towards the front of the cell. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a bill fold before handing it through the bars.

“Should be enough to cover our bounties, and some extra for your troubles.”

Sheriff Malloy takes the cash and stuffs it into his pocket, silently grabbing the keys off of his desk.

“Go on. Get. And how about layin’ off the hooch for a while?” The sheriff asks, and you nod. He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You and Arthur walk out of the jail scot free. As soon as you’re out of the building, you lean against the wooden support beam, heaving.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Arthur winces, pulling your now very messy braid behind your shoulder as you throw up. You cough, wishing you were dead as the sunlight burns your eyes, killing your already throbbing head.

“Here.” Arthur hands a rag from his satchel down to you, leaning on your knees as you clean yourself up.

“Just one or two, huh? Jesus-” You take slow, deep breaths, trying not to puke again.

“You even remember what the hell we did last night?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Nothin. I remember nothin.” You admit, standing up from the beam. Arthur hums, he remembers it all.

“Come on, let's get you home, you need a lie down.” Arthur groans, feeling like shit as he whistles. Luckily somehow, the horses stuck around and they trot up the main street.

The ride back to camp is very quiet, and very slow. Neither of you push your horses past a walk, not wanting to sicken yourselves even more. The silence is comfortable, a mutual understanding that opening your mouth to speak right now would be too much, and you just need to lie down and feel sorry for yourselves. Upon arriving at camp, you find Lenny is there, passed out in the grass next to his bedroll. You dismount Athena, groaning as your feet touch the ground.

“Here, take this. It’ll make you feel better. I’ll go make sure Grimshaw doesn’t give you any trouble.” Arthur mumbles, handing you a glass bottle of tonic.

You take it, quietly thanking him before dragging your heels to your tent. You’ve never been this hungover in your life, you’ve never had reason to drink so much. After closing the tent flap to prevent any extra light from coming in, you drink the whole tonic and flop down in your bed, groaning.

— — — —

You wake up, about twelve hours later, to the sounds of maniacal laughing and screaming. You groan, sighing and covering your ear with your pillow to drown out the noise. It proves futile as the screaming and crying continue, and you figure you should probably go check it out. You get up from bed, mood sour as ever, but you’re feeling a little better. Pushing the flaps open to your tent, you’re met with the pros and cons of living with twenty people.

“Mornin” Arthur chuckles, eyebrows raised at the state of your hair. Your braid is half fallen out, and the few flowers that have managed to stay in your hair are wilted. You groan, rolling your eyes before pulling the band out from the bottom of your braid and finger brushing the flowers out.

“What's got you so sour?” Arthur asks, looking fresh and cleaned up. He's washed up, taken a bath and trimmed his beard. He looks good, and you look like you just barely escaped a natural disaster.

"How the hell are you even awake right now, let alone bathed and cleaned up? I'm pretty sure I still got puke on my shirt." You sigh, re-braiding your hair neatly, but loosely. Arthur takes a sip of his coffee.

"I can actually handle my whiskey." Arthur jokes, "Go back to Valentine, buy a bath."

"Firstly, I don't think you can, considerin' what happened last night. And on account of the bath, I can't. I don't have enough cash." You sigh.

"A bath is only a dollar, thought you had some cash on you?" Arthur raises an eyebrow as you roll back on your heels.

"I did. I spent it."

"On what?" Arthur asks, sure that he'd paid for the drinks last night, except for the ones you stole.

"Just a little present, it ain't much." You smile, sighing and gripping his hand to pull him into your tent. You lead him through the tent flap, pulling him along by his hand.

"What're you doin, woman?" Arthur chuckles as you pluck his hat from his head.

"Don't make fun of me. I saw this yesterday, n' it reminded me of you." You whisper, pulling out the hat ornament and attaching it to the rope band on his hat, on the left side.

Arthur watches on fondly as you attach the little accessory. A warm feeling spreads through his chest, knowing that you'd thought of him. After you've finished, you hold his hat back out to him. He takes the hat back with a shocked expression on his face, and you're worried he doesn't like it, so you rush to reassure him.

"If you don't like it, or think it's dumb- maybe this was stupid I just, it reminded me of you, and-" You ramble, stopping to prevent further embarrassing yourself.

"It's perfect." Arthur smiles, looking down to the agate, feathered ornament, dappled with little stars that remind him of you. He means it. The little decoration is perfect. The teal agate matches his eyes, the imprinted metal ensures that you're with him all the time, as if you don't already linger in his mind 24/7. He couldn't have picked out something more perfect if he tried. The accessory is fashionable, a fancy and intricate piece to add to his hat, and he's excited to wear it.

You blush, smiling happily as Arthur fondly runs his finger over the accessory before placing his hat back on his head. You lean up, adjusting it correctly while on your tiptoes.

"You carry a lot of bad memories with this hat," You whisper, thinking of Arthur's father, "Figure it's about time you make it yours, start makin' some good memories with it." You explain.

"It's perfect, Star." Arthur all but whispers, and you sheepishly nod, blushing. You’re proud of the little gift, and Arthur is shocked by the thought you’d put into it.

“Looks real nice. You needed somethin’ to match those eyes.” You nod up to his hat as he leads you out of your tent. He opens his mouth to speak, but much to your growing annoyance, he is cut off by another yelp from across camp.

“Goddamnit, what is happening?” You groan, nodding for Arthur to follow you to the source. You’re ready to beat the hell out of someone, irritated and hungover. You stomp towards the scout fire where the screaming and yelping comes from, with Arthur following behind you.

The scene in front of you is nothing short of insane. That O’Driscoll from Colter is tied up to a tree. His pants have been pulled down to his knees and you make a point to avert your eyes from his… nether region. His bare quads scrape painfully across the treebark as he fights to get away from Dutch. Your eyes boggle when you see Bill come around the corner of Dutch’s tent with a steaming red pair of gelding tongs.

“What are you idiots doin’ to this poor feller?” You gesture to the O’Driscoll, wincing at the way he shoves himself further into the tree to avoid Bill’s eager tongs.

“We’re takin’ his balls!” Bill laughs maniacally, looking all too pleased at the idea. He snaps the tongs a few times for good measure. Your jaw drops a little, and your eyebrows draw together in a mixture of shock and confusion.

“They’re only balls, boy! You probably weren't using them anyway!” Dutch chuckles, slapping Bill on the back.

“You’re- You’re ‘taking his balls’? Really, Bill? What the hell is this, a farm? Get out of my way. Someone please pull his goddamn pants up.” You sigh, ordering the men around. Bill just looks at you for a moment, but you glare at him, and remembering how hard you can hit, he obliges. You sigh, bracing your hand against your nose as Bill drops the tongs and fixes Kieran’s jeans. Then you push past Bill, shoving him out of the way to take his spot in front of Kieran. The O’driscoll is terrified, shaking like a leaf on the tree as if you’re about to torture him. You eye him over curiously before turning on your heels and looking at the men before you.

“What exactly do y'all want outta this feller?” You question, making a plan to get some answers that doesn’t involve castration. Your hands rest on your gun belt, tapping the grip of your revolver in thought. Dutch’s eyes grow dark as he spits something onto the grass.

“We want Colm.”

Turning back to Kieran, you eye the boy up and down.. He’s a weaker looking fella, the kind you would have stolen off of back in Tumbleweed. He’s terrified, and you know he’ll do anything to avoid a beating, including giving up his old pal, Colm. He’s surely hungry and thirsty. They’ve only been giving him enough water to stay alive, and you don’t know if he’s eaten.

“You hungry mister? Thirsty?” You ask, watching as tears fall down the O’driscolls mud-caked face. He frantically nods his head up and down.

“Oh yes! Yes please, please. I'm so hungry, I- I’m so thirsty, miss.” Kieran whimpers, and you nod. Without another word you push past Arthur, Dutch and Bill, straight to Pearson’s wagon. Arthur looks at Dutch, tossing his hands up lightly before following you. He comes up to your side, watching as you dip a metal cup into the barrel of water. Arthur lightly grabs your elbow to get your attention.

“You sure about this? He could be playin’ you.” Arthur warns.

“Yes, I'm sure. You wanna help? Get me your map.” You say, leaning over the table to grab a piece of salted venison from the table. Arthur isn’t sure about this plan, but he trusts you. He nods, taking his map out of his satchel before following you back to the tree.

“You.” You nod to the O’Driscoll, and he nods frantically, terrified of you, but glad that you’re not approaching him with some torture device.

“Y-yes ma'am?” Kieran whimpers, and you hold the deer and water up.

“You want this?”

Kieran nods, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Good. Point me to Colm n’ you can have it.” You give him an ultimatum, knowing that he would rather deal with you than the boys any day. Kieran nods, flinching as you pull your knife from its sheath. You hold it up in front of him for him to see.

“Try anything, and this’ll be lodged in you, okay?” You warn, moving behind him before cutting him free from the tree. Kieran winces, rubbing at his wrists once he’s free. Dutch and Bill look irritated with you, but you pay them no mind as they file away. Arthur has laid his map out on Pearson’s table, just as you’d asked him to, and Kieran rushes towards it. The O’Driscoll eagerly leans over the map, following the roads with the tip of Arthur’s pencil before stopping and circling a small area north of Valentine.

“They’re holed up here. It- It's called Six Point Cabin, and Colm will be there. It should be easy, they’ll all be drunk and asleep if you go now.” Kieran offers, looking past the horizon where the sun is starting to set. You look at the circle on the map, then up to Kieran. He has many reasons to lie, but you dont think he's loyal to Colm. You don’t think he’s dumb enough to lie to you either. But… just for good measure, you grip onto the collar of his shirt, threateningly.

“If this is a lie, or you’re leading me into a trap, I will let this sick bastard take your manhood. You hear me? All. of. It.” You threaten, pointing to Bill behind you. The O’Driscoll frantically nods his head, audibly gulping at your promise. Quickly, you release him from your grip, dusting his shirt off a little from where your iron grip has left wrinkles.Once he’s been thoroughly threatened, you turn to Arthur, trying to ignore the sickness in your stomach as you hear the starved man gulp down all of the water, and tear into the venison..

“Good! Now that that's settled, John, Arthur, you’re with me. The three of us should be able to get this done quickly.” You tell the men, who are standing in a crowd behind you. John is wide eyed, shocked, but of course, Arthur isn’t. With a smirk, you pace through the wet grass towards Athena. Everyone mounts up and rides out pretty quickly, not wanting to waste another ounce of the limited daylight.

“When we get here, we should do it quietly. Arrows, knives. There’s no reason to start shooting if we can take them out quietly, one at a time.” Arthur yells over the pounding of Balius’ hooves. He’s right, doing this quietly will give you the best chance of getting to Colm before he can run.

“I agree. John, you know how to use a bow?” You ask.

“Ha! Little Johnny Marston over here can’t shoot a bow. Not that I should be surprised, he can’t do much of anything. Can’t even swim.” Arthur pokes, chuckling in his saddle at his own stab.

“Oh shut the hell up you big bastard.” John counters, irritated as usual. It's quiet for a bit as the three of you enter Cumberland Forest, moving into a single file line to fit on the narrow trails.

“How’s your leg holdin’ up?” John yells up to you. Instinctually you trace the scar that's hidden under your jeans.

“It’s fine now, healed up nice for the most part.” You chuckle, hollering back, “How’s your face?”

“Ugly as always.” John chuckles.

“Hey, quiet, I think we’re close.” Arthur says back to you both, slowing Balius down to a trot. You all grow quiet, trotting the horses into the woods and hitching them off of the trail a ways. After dismounting, you offer Athena an oatcake for her work. The boys wait as she finishes it, and then you grab your bow from her saddle. Arthur and John crouch behind a fallen log, and you get down, coming between them.

“That bastard weren’t lyin’.” Arthur whispers to himself, shocked.

The camp has one large cabin surrounded by various tents and wagons. Campfires scatter the place alongside a decent number of drunken idiots. Most of the O’Driscolls have retired for the night, snuffed out their lanterns and hit the hay. Some of them voluntarily went to bed, others passed out, completely wasted. A few O’driscolls with greasy hair and green bandanas sit around a campfire, not far from where you’re all perched.

“Arthur?” You ask, waiting for some instruction. You and John both look to him as he formulates a plan, getting a headcount of the O’Driscolls and peeking around for other vantage points.

“Okay we take out the ones at the fire from here. I count four. I'm good with knives, so I'll take two and you each take one.” Arthur grumbles, pulling out two throwing knives from his satchel. You’re curious if he has the skill to take down two so in such quick succession. If he’s just a split second late, the O’Driscoll will alert others. Glad that your job is easy, you grab your bow from your shoulder, steadying it in your hand as you squint to aim for one of the awake O’Driscolls. You exhale, releasing your hand just before the arrow lodges into the man’s chest. Within two seconds the other three men fall, thanks to John and Arthur.

“Good job with the bow.” Arthur whispers, and your breath hitches in your throat when his hand squeezes your elbow with a small, proud smile. He doesn’t miss the hitch of your breath, and unbeknownst to you, he blushes, removing his hand from you and shaking his head. John looks over to Arthur with a raised eyebrow and a chuckle. Oh, he's gonna chastise Arthur for that later. Rolling your eyes, you glare back at the boys.

“Stop foolin’ around,” You hiss, “We sneak in and look for Colm. I'll take the cabin. John, go see what's worth stealin’ from their tents, but don’t wake anyone up. Arthur, cover me if I need it, please.”

With that you stay crouched, jogging off in the direction of the cabin. You have to step over the sleeping men, and be extra careful not to wake them as you go. Colm better be here. If he’s not, you'll hand that O’Driscoll straight over to Bill tied with a ribbon. You gave him a second chance, and by god, he’d be a fool not to take it.

Approaching the cabin, you take a quick glance through the windows. The glass is very dirty, and even squinting through the dirty glass, you can't see much. There's no light emitting from the cabin, so you assume its empty or everyone is asleep.

You quietly step around to the front porch, hoping that this isn’t one big waste of time. Your spurs click ever so quietly with every step as you approach the front door. You lean down a little, readying your bow in case someone jumps out. Just as you reach out for the door handle, you hear a sharp, quiet whistle, one that you’d recognize anywhere. Your head snaps around and you spot Arthur down a ways in the middle of the camp. He leans his head down a little, warning you to be safe before he gestures to your bow and then to his knife. Despite the fact that hes signaling you without speaking, you know exactly what he’s saying.

He's telling you to put your bow away and pull out your knife instead, you curse yourself, realizing that you’d neglected to use your head. You need two hands to pull the bow, and opening the door leaves you vulnerable. The knife is a better option. You nod to Arthur in thanks, and swing your bow back over your shoulder before grabbing your hunting knife. You pull it out of its sheath, readying it as you grip the door handle. You hear a loud grunt from the camp, and as you snap your head over you see that one of the O’Driscolls had woken up, and Arthur knocked him out. You need to hurry.

With one hand gripping your blade, the other turns the door knob. You push it open quickly, holding up your knife in defense. It's pitch dark inside the cabin, and it takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust as you step inside. The cabin is pretty standard, across from you is a fireplace, a large table and some bedrolls laid out. You step further into the cabin and find two half-empty bowls on the table. They’re filled with some sort of mushy, brown looking stew, and they’re still steaming…

You connect the dots too late. By the time you whip around, the men who were hiding in the shadows of the cabin slam the door shut so you can’t escape. Your eyes grow dark, and you back up as they step towards you until your back hits the far wooden wall. The two O’Driscolls are tall. They could be twins, black hair hidden away by bowler’s hats, green scarves around their thick necks. They repulse you.

“Get back you bastards, ‘less you wanna end up like your sorry friends.” You threaten, holding your knife up in warning. The bigger one chuckles while the smaller one slides a chair under the handle of the door.

“Oh, Gabe, she’s a fiery little thing.” He says with a sickening, greedy grin on his lips. You hear Arthur try the door knob, cursing that it’s locked.

“Anyone touches a hair on her goddamn head I’ll kill the whole lot of ya!” Arthur yells from behind the door. You can hear him dropping his weapons, and you know he’s going to try to kick the door down, but he won't be able to with the chair. You’re on your own.

“She’s a little one. She’ll be easy to handle,” The other man says before directing his attention to you, bringing up his knife and running it along the jut of your cheekbone. Your knife is in your hand, hidden behind your back as you come up with a plan to take them both down. You know his threat isn’t empty. You know what the O’driscolls have done to women, proudly, with no shame. You’ll be damned if you go down without a fight.

“Hey, sweet thing, is that your man out there? Cause I want him to hear what we're gonna do to y-” You take a deep breath before plunging your knife into the man’s throat with a roar. Blood shoots out from his jugular, spraying all over you. Just as quickly as you had inserted it, you tear it out, and he falls to the floor, clinging to his neck. The sound of flesh tearing sounds through the room as you aim for the second man. Just as you bring the knife down towards his chest he catches your hands. You can hear the loud, angry thumps and screams of Arthur trying to beat the door down, along with his string of threats and curses towards the O’Driscolls. Shots ring out from around you, presumably you’ve woken up the entire O’Driscoll camp and now John is dealing with them. You struggle against the man for a while, as you try to push the knife down into him, and he tries to turn it around. Arthur gives up on the door, instead running around the side of the building to smash in one of the windows. He doesn’t know what's happening, he can't see who’s winning this fight, or what's happening to you, all he knows is that you’re struggling and yelling. As the glass shatters, you hesitate, letting your guard down. A painful sting slices along your abdomen, and you glance down to see that the man has cut your stomach through your shirt. It’s not very deep, but it could have been.

“You goddamn bastard!” You hiss as the O’Driscoll backs away. He smirks, watching you struggle. Arthur wastes no time jumping through the shattered window before running and tackling the O’Driscoll to the ground. Arthur starts beating the O’Driscoll, knocking chairs and items down, and after he gets a few punches in, Arthur smashes the mans head against the wall, killing or knocking him out.

“Colm aint even here!” You seethe, holding a hand against your stomach to ease the sting. Arthur looks up, seeing you covered in a spatter of blood. Immediately, he rushes over to you.

“How much of this blood is yours?” He asks, running his eyes down your shirt until he sees the tear in it.

“Not much of it, I’m fine Arthur, just a scratch.” You sigh, looking down at your destroyed shirt, “Shit.”

It was a good shirt, and now it’ll be joining the burn pile when you get back to camp. You groan, realizing you’ll have to ride back to camp like this.

“Is John okay? And where the hell is Colm?” You ask, pulling up your shirt a bit to look over the cut. It’s just over the lip of your jeans, not deep, but a few inches wide. You won’t need stitches, thankfully.

“Johns fine, lootin the camp now, and who knows where the hell Colm is.” Arthur says, eyes fixated on the bleeding patch of skin in between your jeans and shirt.

“You think that boy Kieran set us up?” Arthur asks, making a mental note to buy you some poultice, considering how much you use it.

“No. He’s not that stupid, or that brave. Don’t think he wants to lose his balls just yet.” Arthur chuckles. He motions for you to follow him out, but you raise your finger up signaling him to wait.

“All this, and we ain’t gonna rob the place?” You ask, and Arthur watches as you climb over the scattered items and corpses. As if you knew exactly where it was going to be, you walk up to the chimney, reach into it and pull out a wad of cash. Quickly, you run your fingers through the folds, counting six hundred dollars. Arthur huffs, forever amused by you, especially as you walk towards him and then stop. You turn on your heels, looking up to the double barrelled shotgun resting on the mantle, and with a satisfied hum, you strut right over and pluck it from the wall.

“Okay now we can go.” You say, walking past Arthur with a smile, soaked in blood.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Arthur mumbles, whispering the last part before you glare at him .

— — — —

You’d stopped in Valentine on the way back, breaking off from Arthur and John to take a bath at the hotel. You’d taken your time, using almost every bath soap and oil just to try them out. Each one smelled so good, it was well into the night before you’d finished. It was a refresher that you needed, and deserved. With a new hundred dollar bill in your pocket from the job, you’d rented a room for the rest of the night, and then bought yourself some new clothes in the morning. You picked out a nicer outfit than usual, a dark burgundy shirt, over the shoulder styled with ruffles on your arms. It’s beautiful, and fancy, something you’re not used to. You tucked the shirt into a new pair of black jeans, and smiled contentedly in the mirror before braiding your hair down your back and heading back to camp.

Much to your surprise, Arthur convinced the boys to let Kieran live, and to keep his manhood. Now as you peel potatoes next to Sadie at Pearson’s table, you watch him talk to and pet Athena with a small smile. Sadie follows your gaze, scoffing.

“You should have just killed him. Can’t trust any of those damn O’Driscolls.” She hisses, garing daggers at the man, causing him to tremble lightly as he feeds Athena a mint.

“He ain’t hurtin’ nothing. Sides, same thing could be said about us.” You point out, and Sadie doesn’t argue back, but she shakes her head in disapproval. You haven’t seen much of her since meeting in Colter. She’s kept to herself, hid amongst the shadows and cried herself to sleep most nights. You can see her bottling up, hardening. She’s turning into you

“Star?”

You look up, drawn out of your thoughts to see Abigail smiling down at you. There is a subtle redness to her eyes that indicates she’s been crying, and your eyebrows draw together in worry.

“Everything okay?” You ask, standing from your seat and dropping your knife to the table.

“Could we talk for a minute?” She asks, a hand sheepishly toying with a piece of her hair.

“Course… What’s goin’ on?” You ask, smiling back to Sadie in an apology before following Abigail towards her tent.

“Well, it's the boy.” Abigail says, biting on her nails as she leads you into her A-frame. Before the flap falls closed, you glance out of the tent to see Jack playing with a toy horse. He seems fine, just playing as children his age do. You look at her, confused, as she sits down on the corner of his tent.

“He’s real sad, Star.” Abigail exhales, tears forming in her eyes that she pushes back, “John don’t- John don’t really care about him like a father should.” Abigail sighs, and you move to sit on the open space beside her.

“Arthur’s always been there for Jack, even when John left…” Abigail says, and you make a note to ask Arthur about it, you don’t recall hearing of John leaving.

“I'm sorry to ask, and I know it’s unfair to, but could you or Arthur take him somewhere, or do somethin’ with him? He looks up to you both so much.” Abigail explains, and you place your hand over hers, nodding. You can’t imagine how she does it all. This life is an unkind one, and raising a child amidst it? You’re sure it's tough. Your heart aches for Jack, and you understand the pain of wanting to be loved by a father that chooses his life over his kids.

“Of course, Abigail, I’d be happy to. I miss Jack, haven’t gotten to chat with him in a while.” You explain, and Abigail smiles bittersweet.

“Thank you so much, I’ll owe you.”

“Nonsense, you don't owe me nothin, this’ll be fun. Let me find Arthur, we still have some time before dark.” You respond, pushing the tent flaps open before walking out. The sun is just beginning to set over the mountains, and you reckon that you have a few hours yet. You manage to find Arthur carrying a bale of hay across the camp, and he drops it to the ground in front of the horses.

“Ride with me?” You call to him, and he looks over at you, pausing for a moment to take in your new shirt, and the neat braid running down your back.

“Course, always.”Arthur says, entranced by the way you look in the dark red blouse. He debates telling you that you look beautiful, but decides that it would sound odd, so he coughs awkwardly and follows you.

“Where we goin’?” He asks, dusting some hay splinters off of his hands.

“That's up to you, mister. We’re takin’ Jack out.” You say excitedly, leading him towards the boulder where the boy sits. Arthur watches as you sort of skip along, smiling to himself.

“How about fishin’?” Arthur asks, and you stop dead in your tracks, turning around to squint at him.

“You gotta take a lady and a child out for fun and you wanna fish?” You ask, lost on his decision. But Arthur looks pretty excited, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well sure, fishin’ is fun.” Arthur defends, covering his heart in mock pain.

“Yeah and so is dysentery, are you serious?” You huff, chuckling with a shocked expression. Arthur looks at you like he can’t fathom why anybody would think fishing to be boring.

“Fine, we’ll go fishing, but you gotta do something that's actually fun with me later.” You chuckle, approaching Jack. He’s playing with a wooden horse, a sad little frown on his face.

“Hey buddy, do you like fishin’?” You ask him immediately, kneeling down to his level. He looks up to you almost offended.

“Aunt Star, fish are smelly! I hate fishing!” He says, looking up to you with drawn together eyebrows.

“Well we’re goin’ fishin, so go get your pole off of Uncle Hosea.” Arthur says, and Jack sighs, stomping off towards Hosea’s tent.

“Arthur Morgan.” You chastise, looking at him with an open jaw.

“What? It’ll be good for him, he’s practically the man of the house now, considerin’ John’s contributions-” Arthur starts, sarcastically and you swat his chest to shut him up.

“Go get on your horse with your damn pole, I’ll meet you over there.” You sigh, waiting for Jack to come back with his little pole. You smile sweetly at him as he jogs back towards you, a grumpy little frown on his face.

“I don’t even know how to fish that good, but at least I get to stay up past my bedtime!” Jack says, handing his pole out to you, “Can I ride with you? Uncle Arthur’s horse looks scary…” Jack mumbles, looking at the huge black stallion with trepidation. You chuckle, thinking that Athena is definitely more of a force to be reckoned with, but you trust her.

“Sure buddy, c’mon.” You nudge him towards the horses with your hand. Arthur has the horses all tacked up, and is tightening the last cinch on Athena’s saddle when you approach him. You climb up into the saddle first, sliding back as far as you can against the seat, and then Arthur lifts Jack up with a groan, placing him down right in front of you.

“You got a spot picked out?” You ask, turning Athena towards the trail out of camp while Arthur mounts up.

“Yeah, head down to the Dakota, there's a nice spot down by the bank.”

Per Jack’s request, you lope down the slope towards the river. You make sure to keep Athena at a very slow, steady pace so that Jack doesn’t lose his balance. Athena seems to be aware of the fragile life on her back, and takes extra soft steps. Jack giggles the whole time, a belly aching laughter as he hangs on to the horn in front of you for dear life. He’s upset when you have to slow down, but grateful for the fun that it was.

“Here should do.” Arthur says, pulling Balius off the road. He’s chosen a spot in the river with a deep pool off the bank, a nice spot. The grass comes down almost to the water, and wildflowers and big rocks scatter around the area, creating a perfectly peaceful resting spot. It’s a perfect place to read or chat, but of course you’re here to catch fish. Arthur dismounts, coming over and lifting Jack down from the saddle onto the grass. You follow, and both of the horses step aside to munch on the sweet grass.

“Either of you know how to fish?” Arthur asks, hands resting on his gun belt. You and Jack both shake your heads and Arthur nods, moving firstly to Jack. You stay quiet, watching on as Arthur adds a worm to Jack’s hook. He shows Jack how to do it, and then gets him cast out into the water. Despite his predisposition to fishing, Jack seems rather proud of himself

“Real good, Jack!” Arthur smiles, patting Jack on the shoulder. You conclude that he must have been an incredible father, it all comes so naturally to him. Jack looks up to Arthur, so proud of himself, and your heart aches for the whole situation.

“Now, when you got a bite, let me know. We can reel it in together.” Arthur says, nodding to Jack before coming towards you.

“I think I’m gonna sit this one out, Arthur” You chuckle, and Arthur nods.

“Fair enough.”

Jack waits for a long while next to Arthur, and both have their backs faced to you as you sit in the grass behind them. You pluck some pieces of grass from the dirt, and then bored, you grab your little journal. Arthur and Jack talk about nothing and everything at the same time, waiting for something to bite. Eventually, Arthur gets a catch, and he shows Jack how to gut and store it, and then they’re back to waiting. The whole process is a bit mind numbing for you, and your attention is focused solely on the pages of your journal as you update it.

New horses, new blacksmith, and a newfound sobriety after the other night. Lots of things are changing, and yet lots remain the same. It's a confusing thing, and I find myself so caught up in between what I should do and what I want that I fear it’s breaking me in two. Honestly, its getting harder to tell the two apart any-

Your pen stills, as you look up to where Arthur and Jack stand. You’re sure you heard what he’s just said, but still you find yourself analyszing it.

“Y’know I taught another boy to fish once.” Arthur says quietly, head turning towards Jack. Jack looks up at Arthur with his eyebrows drawn together, mirroring exactly your expression.

“Lenny?” The boy asks, and Arthur chuckles, recasting his line.

“No, not Lenny. This was long before I even met Lenny. Hell, before you was born too.” Arthur sighs, recounting just how many years it's been. Sometimes he’s grateful that his life doesn’t require the modern calendar. The passing of time would be far too painful if he was more aware of it. Jack’s confusion turns to excitement, as he once again misinterprets Arthur’s words.

“Oh! What is his name? Could I meet him? I’d like to have a friend…” Jack says, not quite old enough to understand the passing of time, and the growth of children to adults. He’s never been around other children before, and you can’t blame him for his naivete. Arthur’s head dips down, and a bittersweet smile tugs at his lips. You watch on, connecting the dots with an ache in your heart.

“Nah, don’t think you’ll be able to meet him, buddy. He woulda liked you though, was only a few years older than you.” Arthur whispers, swallowing thickly as a fish tugs on his line. He doesn’t even bother to reel it, staring blankly across the river, lost in thought.

“Oh. What happened to him, Uncle Arthur?” Jack asks innocently, pulling on his rod too quickly while trying to attract a fish.

“He passed away.” Arthur mumbles, and the night grows silent save for the buzzing of frogs and the quiet splashes of water. Arthur gives Jack a few more pointers, but after a bit, Jack is tired of fishing, and he sets his pole down, yawning as he walks over towards you.

“I’m bored now.” Jack states, sitting beside you while plucking a few wildflowers from the grass, “Maybe I’ll make a flower necklace for momma.”

Smiling at the kid, soothed by the sounds of Arthur’s pole splashing in the river, you lean back against a boulder, looking up at the night sky. It’s still early, and streaks of orange and red paint the sky alongside dark blue. It’s a beautiful night, and even though its early, you can still point out a few weak constellations.

“What are you looking at, Aunt Star?” Jack asks, curiously tiptoeing towards you with a bundle of flowers in his hand. He plops down right beside you, sitting against your waist as he starts to weave the flower stems together. Now Arthur is the one eavesdropping, pole dipping into the water as he listens to you and Jack’s conversation.

“Oh, the stars, I guess.” You chuckle, thinking that you find yourself answering that question with the same answer frequently. But you just can’t help but eye them, they’re so beautiful, so free. Jack yawns, leaning his head against you as his fingers slow down on his little project.

“You like looking at stars, don't you?” Jack asks, eyes never leaving his flower necklace. Arthur chuckles, asking you the same question in his head. They seem to follow you like a trail, leaving star-shaped kisses on your heart.

“Yeah, I do. I think they’re fun to watch. Aren’t they just beautiful?” You ask, watching as the whole sky twinkles and flickers. Jack nods, yawning again.

“They sure are.”

You watch them for a while, occasionally glancing ahead to watch the slopes of Arthur’s back as he packs up his fishing pole, retiring for the night. After everything is all packed, he starts to make his way towards the two of you. Jack snores lightly against you, and surprised, you look down to find him asleep. Arthur smiles at this before sitting down against the rock at your side with a groan. He rests against your side opposite of Jack, and as he takes his hat off, dropping it to the ground, your hand reaches out to rest over his knee.

“Y’okay?” You ask, turning your head to gauge his eyes. Arthur’s eyebrows draw together, and he nods.

“Sure, why?”

“That must have been hard to talk about.” You nod towards the bank, recalling Arthur’s memory to the conversation about Isaac. Arthur sighs deeply, removing the weight of the world off his shoulders as his hand covers your own on his knee.

“It’s gettin’ easier.” He admits, but his eyes are far away, lost somewhere decades ago.

“Tell me about him.” You invite, leaving the decision up to him. You won’t be upset if he chooses not to talk about it, you understand isolation better than most. But if he chooses to open up, you’ll be there. A supporter, a friend, an ear, whatever he needs.

“There’s a lot to tell…” Arthur huffs, squeezing your hand lightly.

“We got time, if you’re comfortable.” You whisper, hand instinctively running up and down Jack’s sleeping back. Arthur nods, tongue darting out over his lips for a moment. He’s never told anyone the full story before, but as he looks into your warm, familiar eyes, he knows he can trust you.

“About fifteen years ago we was stayin’ in this town, we were there for a while,” Arthur toys with your hands, avoiding your eyes, “Got to know this waitress, god- she was just a kid, only eighteen at the time… Eliza was her name. We had- well it was nothin’ special, just someone to spend the night with. First time it happened we were both drunk, both hurtin’. Then everytime I was in town I’d stop by her place.” Arthur shakes his head, disappointed in his actions, “It was wrong, but we were young and stupid and lookin’ to feel somethin’ other than hurt I guess.” Arthur whispers, a crease in his forehead from the way his eyebrows are drawing together in pain. You squeeze his hand gently, letting him know you’re still present and listening before he continues.

“One day, after we’ve been doin’ this a while, I rode up and I just knew somethin’ was wrong… Said she was pregnant, said it was mine.” Arthur brings his knee up, resting his arm on it as he recalls memories that he has spent years shoving down, “I knew it was. I didn’t know what to do, I was so lost, Star. I knew I wanted to do right by her, so I made sure she had enough money so she wouldn’t have to work no more…”

You lean your head against Arthur’s shoulder as he runs his thumb over your knuckles. You’re terrified of the end of this story, and you wish there were something you could do to ease his pain.

“I wasn’t ready to be a dad- not in the least. I had no role model worth a damn, and I was so afraid of turnin’ into my daddy…” He whispers, and your eyes glance to his hat on the ground, and the new accessory adorning it.

“But then he was born.” Arthur chuckles, a little huff at some good memory in his head, “He looked just like me, and he was growin’ so fast.” Arthur has a joyful smile on his lips, but it dies out the longer he stays silent, thinking about the next chapter to Isaac’s life.

“I stopped by when I could, always brought him somethin’ from my travels… He’d get so excited when I rode up, Eliza was always hollerin’ after him for runnin’ out the house.” Arthur whispers, an ache in his red eyes.

“I taught him how to write, how to draw, even how to fish and ride. My lord, did that kid love horses.” Arthur huffs a chuckle, “Boadicea especially, she was just under saddle then, a handful of years… He named her- named her after a queen from one of the books I read him. He liked history too. He was such a good kid, Isaac. Smart like his momma and stubborn as all hell like his daddy.”

The smile from fond memories fade away, and are replaced by an old pain. One so deep that you know you could never attempt to reach the bottom. His hand shakes lightly, encased over your own, and he swallows thickly, looking down at his lap.

“One day I was goin’ back like always, but this time I had a real big surprise for him. Saved up for a long while n’ got him his first pony, a chestnut like Bo, his favorite… I rode up the trail, it had been about a month, soon as I got up the path I saw two crosses out front and I just knew.”

Tears trail down your cheeks, and you squeeze Arthur’s hand. It’s all you can do to let him know you're here, feeling this with him. He knows. You’re here, and that's more than enough. Jack is still blissfully asleep in your arms as Arthur finds the strength to continue, unshed tears in his eyes that he won’t allow to fall.

“Found her daddy, he said some gang had come through. Robbed n’ killed them for ten goddamn dollars,” Arthur inhales deeply, and that tear finally falls as he whispers, “And Star- his grave plot was so small. He was there and then he wasn’t, and poor Eliza. She deserved so much better than that, than what I provided, they both did…” Arthur regains his composure, hiding his face from you as he sniffs and wipes the tear away.

“I fell hard into the bottle after that, didn’t come back up for a long while.”

Arthur looks over at you then, and at the sleeping boy in the crook of your arm. You’re shocked, speechless, and hurting for a loss that you never had to grieve. The trauma that Arthur’s gone through, the loss, and he still gives so much, he has such a big heart and yours aches for his.

“Arthur I- I’m so sorry.” You breathe out, tear tracks running down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry you’ve had to carry that alone.”

Sitting in silence for a few moments, offering eachother little glances and touches of support, a question pops into your head.

“You a religious man, Arthur?” You ask, looking up to him from against his shoulder. His eyebrows pull together, not expecting this question as he shakes his head.

“I don’t know, not really.” He explains, having heard a lot about church and god, but never having actually listened, “Why, you believe in all that?” he asks.

“I believe that some way or another, we all get what we deserve in the end, whether that be redemption or mercy or suffering. And kids? They gotta be granted somethin’ good.” You mumble, thinking about it all. Arthur purses his lips, placing his hat back on his head as he looks down at you.

“N’ what about folks like us? What do we deserve?” Arthur asks, looking at your intertwined hands. You could have pulled away by now, but you haven’t. You sigh, contemplating his loaded question before coming up empty handed.

“I don’t know.”

Arthur nods, holding your hand up to exaggerate the fact that you’re holding his hand, pressed into his side.

“What are we doin’ here, Star?” Arthur finally asks, a question that has been on his lips for a while. You bite your lip nervously, looking at your intertwined hands before pulling yours back, and placing it over Jack’s sleeping form.

“It’s nothing, Arthur.” You say plainly, anxiety panging in your chest at his directness, and he sighs.

“Is it?”

“Arthur, stop.” You warn, wanting the conversation to be over. You don’t want to talk about this, not now, not here.

“Why do you keep closin’ up on me?” Arthur begs, having just poured his heart out to you, and you can’t manage to speak to him about anything. You don't speak, eyes purposely avoiding Arthur as your cheeks burn red. You want to cry, to scream, to tell him everything, but you can’t. You can’t because people you love get hurt, and people you love hurt you. Arthur sighs, watching as tears pool in your eyes. He’ll wait.

You’re about to wake up Jack, to take him back home. Just as you start to move, a pair of horses trots down the road, pulling off the bank where you sit. Arthur is up in a second, confronting the people riding up in the night. It happens so shockingly quickly that you don’t even have time to ask questions. Jack stirs awake, confused and sleepy as you shove him behind you.

“Good evening! I’m Agent Milton, this is Agent Ross.” A man calls out, climbing down from his branded chestnut morgan. His uniform is identical to his partner’s, stamped with a damning Pinkerton Detective Agency seal, and you gasp.

“Mr. Morgan, and you,” The bald man, Milton, looks to you then, scowling, “I hear they call you Star now, right? Though it’s not the name on the bounty poster, is it?” He chuckles, humorless. Then, he gestures to Jack hiding behind your legs.

“I’d ask if he’s the both of yours, but you ain’t been riding with these degenerates long enough.” The agent nods to you, as you fume.

“Tell me, Mr. Morgan. Did you coax this poor woman into joining you? Did you tell her all about your philosophy? Your code? Or was that all old Dutch?”

“What do you want?” You hiss, ready to kill these men. Your hand has flickered to your holster more than once, but you hesitate, not wanting Jack to see.

“We want Dutch. You give us him and we'll clear your names. You know what they say about a king-less monarchy, hmm?” Ross says. Arthur steps forward then, feigning innocence.

“We ain’t seen Dutch, not in a long while.” Arthur explains, but Milton chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah that’s what Mac Callander said too, before I shot him, it was really more of a mercy kill.” Milton hisses, and your jaw falls. Arthur is filled with rage, hands clenched tightly as he holds back for Jack’s sake.

“He didn’t talk though, don’t worry.” Ross chuckles, walking back towards his horse.

“You best think over our offer, you’re running out of time.” Ross hisses, climbing back onto his horse.

“Have a good night, kid. You don’t got many more of them.” Milton addresses Jack, and you shove the boy behind you as they gallop off.

“Arthur-” You exhale, shocked and terrified. The Pinkertons have caught up, and if they’ve chased you this far, you doubt they’ll ever stop.

“This ain’t good. We better get the boy home, talk with Dutch. He ain’t gonna be happy about this.” Arthur says, low with a dark edge. Nervously, you watch them ride off.

“You think we’re gonna have to move again? We just got here.” You exhale, emotional at the thought of leaving. This is one of the first places you’ve felt at home in a long time.

“I don’t know. C’mon, we’ll get Jack back and see.”

— — — —

Dutch isn’t worried about the Pinkertons. No, he's furious. He sees it as some personal stab at his ego. Your eyes roll, sitting beside Arthur outside of Dutch’s tent.

“I don’t think you understand, Dutch, they know where we are. They killed Mac.” Arthur growls, trying to get Dutch to see reason. But Dutch’s mind is clouded by delusions of grandeur. He believes he can win the fight against the agency, and you think he’s a fool.

“They’re testing us, son. They’re pushing us. They think they can herd us? Me? They’re wrong. We are NOT abiding by the rules to their twisted games. We are staying here!” Dutch yells, and Arthur sighs, begging Dutch to cut his loses, but the man is insistent. Arthur tries to speak, but Dutch cuts him off, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Son, in the morning I need you to go get Sean. We are not losing anyone else.” Dutch orders, then he moves towards the fire where John is. You and Arthur share a worried glance before following him.

“John! Gather what you need, we are HITTING THAT TRAIN!” Dutch calls out, smiling brightly as if his master plan is falling together, “Watch them try to control this crew. We’ll hit their bounty hunters, hit their train in the same goddamn day. This is going to be beautiful.”

Your stomach turns as you recall Dutch’s orders about needing your level head on the robbery. You have a bad feeling about this train, a real bad one. But as John and Arthur start packing to head in separate directions tomorrow, you realize that there’s no way out of it. You’re a van der Linde now, and you follow his orders.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan angst #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic

258 notes · View notes