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manicpixiefelix · 1 month

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 20.

Summary: The evening of the Arts Collective dinner somehow gets even worse for you as Farleigh gives you some unfortunate news about Oliver and Venetia and their moonlight exploits. The worst part is having to figure out a way to break the news to Felix.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood/ongoing parental neglect.

A/N: 3729 words. I finally cracked it!! Figured out the ending!! Sorry for the delay I was busy writing 20k about Jacob Elordi being hot and mean which I will never publish (Euphoria, a show I STILL have not watched beyond like 20 minutes of clips on YouTube lol). Anyways I've missed you and these characters and hopefully 21 won't be too far away xx (also I started my new job so that's been exciting but also Ooft ouch my bones hurt)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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For a day that was already pretty damn shit, Oliver's cruelty was like salt in the wound. Hand still on the doorknob after you close it, you listen to him retreating over the ringing in your ears. If you let go, you'll see your hands shake, so you're frozen, heart in your throat, the house growing quiet around you. It's familiar, but unwelcome in this moment.

Tears well in your eyes as you sit back at the desk, computer humming pleasantly, bathing you in a cool glow. Part of you was desperate to run after him, to oblige him, to reveal every inch of your past and soul to him, hoping he was true to his word. That he could actually care about you in a way that very few have ever bothered to. That he could love you the way Felix did.

I don't know you.

An even stronger part of you wanted to run right across the hall, to bury yourself beneath the covers of your bed, safe and waiting for Felix. Surely he'd be back soon, if Oliver's return indicated anything. You hadn't heard him return, but it wouldn't be long. But how were you meant to look at him, lie next to him, even touch him, after all of that. It had been easy to bite your tongue on your disappointment so far, knowing that like so many others, Oliver's love for you thus far had been merely as a proxy for Felix himself. You knew Felix was vaguely aware that that was how others sometimes viewed you, but you'd always been eager to assure him that as long as he genuinely cared about you, and the others were good to you, you'd be more than happy.

And that used to be true. But none of the others were Oliver. Felix knew you loved the boy just as genuinely as he was coming to, you could never tell him that your affections were not as genuinely returned.

Your pride held you hostage in this room on both accounts.

When you finally raise your head from your hands, scrubbing unspilled tears from your eyes, you try and focus yourself once more on rereading the email that had already put you in a foul mood before Oliver had made it worse. It had taken all afternoon to detach yourself from it's contents, especially knowing your mother was waltzing about the grounds, spoiling your sanctuary.

The details of an official nondisclosure agreement, sent from your parents' team of lawyers. The paperwork was to arrive in the next few days, but you were being warned ahead of time. Before Oliver had interrupted, you were finally getting to the point of finding it all funny, that they were that insistent on cutting social ties with you that they'd go to almost any lengths that remained discrete, and out of the general public's reach. Now it just... ached.

Felix's heavy footsteps echo through the long gallery outside your study door, but he heads straight into bed. You wonder if it's even worth it to head to bed that night, you can't see yourself getting much sleep.

Now mostly, tragically, sober after you'd spent the afternoon trying to get out of your mind to cope with the day, you wonder if a drink would help put you to sleep, put an end to this abysmal day you'd endured. Which is how Farleigh finds you in the Blue Room, frowning at the bottle of liquor you'd left in the broken piano.

"You're up late," you mused flatly, still trying to decide if it was worth it to drink until you pass out in your study, "how was the -"

"We need to talk," Farleigh's tone is even more irate than you'd expected. Neither he nor the Catton siblings were ever in a particularly bright mood after being forced into any kind of proximity with your mother, and you were always touched by their loyalty, but this was something else.

You lower the piano lid, leaving the liquor for the time being. Turning to look at Farleigh, it's almost shocking to see how dark the look in his eyes was.

"What... happened?" You asked slowly. Farleigh's gaze flicks to the door behind you, to the long gallery and to the entrance to both yours and Oliver's bedrooms. Prying eyes, listening ears, though you were almost certain you'd heard Oliver leave not too long ago. A muscle in Farleigh's jaw twitches, and you instead offer your study for some privacy.

"You're not going to like it," is the first thing Farleigh tells you once the study door is closed. He sounds furious. Turning off your computer monitor, you choose to sit yourself on the sofa by the window, looking at him expectantly.

"This day's been a fucking nightmare already, I'm sure I can handle it," you rolled your eyes. Farleigh, however, chooses to sit at your desk, sideways on the chair, rather than joining you.

"You told Oliver not to fuck around with Venetia, didn't you?" It's unsettling to see Farleigh so serious. Still, his words have something twisting in your gut, even as you tried to play it off.

"Of course I did."

"Then tell me why I saw them practically eating each other on the front fucking lawn."

It's like you can feel the moment your blood turns to ice in your veins.

"This isn't funny," your lip curls, but Farleigh's severity remains, "this is a sick fucking joke, Farleigh, and a shitty thing to try and pull today of all goddamn days," your voice is rising, but he lets your fury build, uninterrupted.

"It would be an awful joke," he agreed, "if I was joking." All of the hopelessness that had plagued you since Oliver had left began to crystalise, calcifying into rage as his words settled in, "I don't care about Oliver," Farleigh's gaze shifted for a moment, still tense and furious, but there was something very nearly apologetic in his next words, "but unfortunately for me and for you right now, I care about you and Felix."

"Felix." Oh God. This couldn't be happening again. You'd told Oliver; you'd warned him. The fucking nerve!

"Yeah," Farleigh mutters quietly, "and you're going to be the one to tell him." When you try and protest, you're met with a sharp glare, and a stern reminder of how this exact situation had been reversed only twelve months ago over Eddie, "I'm not doing that again," Farleigh warned, "you owe me."

"Fine," you spit, "fuck, I'll tell him," hands shaking, you light up a cigarette. Farleigh stands, but hovers by your desk for a moment.

"He really knows how to pick them," He muses flatly.

"Shocking taste in men," scowling our of the window, your agreement is nonetheless irate, "fucking unbelievable," you hissed under your breath, "and he thinks there's something wrong with me?"

"There is," Farleigh's words surprise you, stinging a little, all things considered, "you fell for that stupid, little boy too," he reminds with a particularly vicious look.

"So it's my fault I have to break Felix's heart?"

"I'm saying that you've given me a lot of attitude for not liking him, but Oliver wouldn't even be here without both of you."

"Get the fuck out of my study, Farleigh," you order, pointing at the door, cigarette in hand and fury in your eyes.

The anger bubbling in your gut is beginning to burn. A thousand things are racing through your mind; top of the list is wondering just how quickly you make sure he's never welcomed back at Oxford. All you'd need was your computer and an hour to ruin Oliver Quick's entire life; you'd done it before. But if you turned that monitor on, if you had to once again look at that fucking email from your family - not even your family, their lawyers! - you think you might throw up. Tomorrow, with a clear head, you'd make your move.

And you'd tell Felix. No need to wake him now, give him a few hours to still live in the fantasy where the boy he was falling in love with wasn't once again going after his sister. Fuck- Venetia.

The more you thought about it all the more frenzied your outrage became. She wasn't innocent in this either, she never was. Venetia Catton was more than adept at finding both yours and her brother's exact pressure points and pressing with vehemence. So desperate to be loved yet so unable to come across as anything but insatiable, she'd always taken what she could get. You were good, but clearly you weren't enough to distract her from new, shiny Oliver.

The taste of smoke sticks to your teeth, as does your sour contemplation on how little the people you tried to love respected you. Or Felix. Christ, how were you meant to tell Felix?

Except you can't even really begin to contemplate how you'll break the news when you hear footsteps across the gallery.

Felix doesn't even knock - not that he ever has - before he lets himself in. You thought you'd have more time; the anger still burns white-hot inside of you, but despair and guilt flickers at the edges. He looks about as rough as you feel, concern and ebbing irritation in his expression. Of course, he'd spent the evening in the presence of your mother; none of the others ever felt nearly as much ire in her presence as he did.

Without a word, he strides across the room, all but pouting, and throws himself onto the sofa beside you. Drawing his legs up onto the sofa, he makes himself as small as possible - quite a task considering his size compared to the small, squashy sofa - and leans against you, head on your shoulder.

"Hate that woman," he hisses under his breath. You know he means your mother, but your mind is on his deceitful sister. All you can think about is Venetia and Oliver, but you can't very well tell Felix now. You don't have the words to not make everything so much worse if you tried. Already you'd decided to tell him in the morning, but right now you had to keep him from figuring out what was bothering you. Or that you were bothered at all.

So you decide to take a leaf out of Felix's own book, keep him happy and distracted in the way you knew best.

"Bad night?" Your voice is low as you move your arm back, fingers carding through his hair. The way Felix hums is still dark, but he shifts closer to you. After another moment of quiet, he huffs an irate breath out through his nose and begins to pluck at the hem of your shorts.

"Can I maim your mum the next time I see her?"

"She's not worth going to jail over," you tell him, leg shifting into his touch. Felix's hand stops fussing with your shorts to grip your thigh.

"You are," he huffs resolutely, and even despite your own anger you smile.

"My knight in shining armour," you laugh softly, lips against his forehead, "but do you really want to be so far away?" Leaning back against him, your hand moves from his hair to graze your nails down his bare arm, hoping he takes the hint. Thankfully, he does. The warm grip on your thigh tightens, and when he turns to look at you, there's something hungry in his eyes, "she's not worth your time, Fi," it comes out almost as a snarl, a truth you believe even in the depths of your own, otherwise mostly unrelated anger, but you turn your tone teasing, smirking at him, "I just choose to think about how I was apparently on your mind all night."

"I'm always thinking about you," he almost sounds a little breathless as he says it, managing to sit up more properly without moving away. You let your gaze flick to his lips before going back to look him in the eyes. Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you tilt your head very slightly, beginning to smile.

"And what are you think about me now?"

You'd always quietly loved whenever Felix was feeling possessive, and now moreso than ever. It made distracting him easy and fun, and Felix himself, his hands as he pulled you over to straddle his lap, to hold you close, to cradle your face as he kissed you so furiously, it was almost enough to distract you too. In all honesty, it was the only good thing to have happened all day, though even this was coloured by guilt, knowing what you still had to tell him when you found the right words.

However suddenly, Felix pulls back wearing a frown. For a few moments you find yourself catching your breath, confused, arms still around his neck.

"Something's wrong," it's not a question.

"Nothing's wrong," you lie, and hope it's more convincing them his usually are, "nothing at all," you hum, and move back in to press kisses to his jaw, hoping it's enough of a distraction to trail those kisses down his neck.

"You're angry about something," damn it. Of course Felix knows you too well.

"Am I?" You want to keep the ruse up for as long as you can manage, "and what would that be?" You murmured before you're sucking a beautiful, bruising hickey against his neck.

"I don't -" but his breath catches, grip on you tightening. It almost works; he swears faintly under his breath, losing himself in the moment and leaning into you, but then he actually seems to shake himself out of it, "come off it," he sighs, and you sit up, trying your best to appear both confused, and still in the mood, "if I'm not allowed to do this, neither are you." He says pointedly. Even though you're fighting a losing battle, you still lean in, still try and distract him with your mouth on his.

"Do what?" You murmur, nose to nose as you peck him quickly, desperately trying to keep your tone light and teasing. But you can see it in his eyes before he even says it; he knows exactly what you're doing.

"Distracting me because you know how fucking hot I think you are."

"And if I was," you murmured, pressing yourself against him, "why would that be such a bad thing?"

"Because you're being evasive," Felix pushed you back, held you at arm's length as your expression began to drop, fury beginning to creep back in as you remembered what exactly it is you didn't want to tell him, "you're not evasive with me;" he insists, "everyone else, sure, but this - whatever this is - is.. it's- it feels weird. This isn't you!"

"What am I then, Felix?"

"Mine!" He answered far too quickly, frustration sling out of him, but appears to catch himself, correcting to, "my best mate, alright? You don't not tell me things."

"So if there is something I'm not telling you, can you not trust that I might have a reason?" Finally your anger bursts from you, furious in the evening light. Felix has gone quiet, shocked; it's been a long time since you'd yelled at him like this. He looks wounded, apologetic, something you're not used to. Climbing off of him, you stand, you have to give yourself some distance from him, "there's a lot I don't tell you, Fi," you sighed, expression pinching as you tried to force yourself to calm down.

"You can tell me anything," Felix's voice has softened, leaning forward on the sofa. It aches to look at him, to see him so beautiful and vulnerable in these moments, "you know that."

"I know," you agreed, "it's not that I can't tell you, it's that I don't want to," you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, groaning; you can't look him in the eyes, can't even look at him right now, "and I will, that's the thing; I'm going to tell you, you're right, I always do, I just -" in a moment of weakness, your voice comes out almost sounding pitiful, defeated and frustrated, "I thought I had more time."

"What's wrong?" Felix asks softly. When you laugh, there's no humour in it. The more the reality of your situation sinks in, the more the fight leaves you.

"It's going to make you angry, or upset, or probably both," you sound rather helpless when you say it, but it seems like you no longer have a choice in when you get to tell him.

"Is it your mum?"

"I wish it was my mum," you shook your head, finally moving your hands to shake them out as you stepped back, leaning back against your desk with defeat. With every moment that passes you can feel Felix's gaze upon you, burning into you. When you are upset, he will never relent until he finds the source; usually it would be a gift, make you feel wanted and special and like you actually mattered for once. But this knowledge feels like a curse.

"We could run away," it's a last resort, barely more than a mutter as you look at your hands.

"What?"

"Just us," you continue, fidgeting, unable to look at Felix and the concern you knew you'd see in his eyes, "I could get us a little apartment in some artsy, London suburb," it's not going to work, not going to distract him, to keep him from prying the information from you that you know will hurt him, but it's all you have left, "you know nan would help us out, she'd kill for me. We could do whatever we wanted, never have to work a day in our lives. We could be whoever we wanted, wouldn't have to live in a house where they'd rather we die of heat stroke than ruin the wood panelling with an air conditioner," all you can think about is how you fell for a boy who didn't love you the way you hoped he would, and turned out couldn't even really respect you, "never have to go back to Oxford."

"What happened?" Standing, Felix crosses the short distance to your desk. There's so much sweetness in his voice as he sits in the desk chair beside you, looking up at you with his damn perfect brown eyes.

"I can't let this happen again, Fi," you hadn't even realised you were close to tears until it becomes harder to speak, "I tried, I fucking tried, I told him -"

"Who?"

"Ollie," you sniffled, face growing hot as you couldn't stop your tears from beginning to fall, "I warned him not to go near Venetia- I just- I can't believe she'd do this again, that Ollie couldn't respect when I ask him this one thing -"

"Ollie and Venetia?" There's an unsettling, blank quality to Felix's voice. The look in his eyes is far away and ice cold.

"Apparently hooking up on the front lawn," you clarified, voice weak, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes, derision edging it's way back into your voice as some of the anger returns, "for God, and Farleigh to bare witness," you took in a deep, shaking breath, attempting to pull yourself together, "I tried, Fi -"

"Fucking unbelievable," Felix snarls furiously, getting to his feet, "both of them- fuck, was Farleigh sure? He wasn't making some sick joke?"

"Even Farleigh wouldn't fuck with us like that," you muttered darkly, before adding, quiet, sounding actually pained with frustration, "I've been nothing but good to them, Fi, I thought -"

"You are never touching my sister again," Felix cuts you off firmly, voice forcibly calm. Surprised both by his tone and his words, you look up; he's so much closer than you'd realised The look in your best friend's eyes almost overwhelms you; protective, possessive, "I'm not watching her treat you like that anymore," he braces himself against the desk either side of you, crowding you against it.

"Fi," your barely manage a whisper, heartbeat racing in your chest, "I..." for just a moment he looks almost pained, and he hangs his head, faint, humourless laugh escaping him.

"I have to watch you fuck around with people who would barely give you the time of day; you're so fucking good it kills me sometimes," he bites out; you can't tell him that you know they're just using you, that so many people simply entertain the idea of you as a way to stay in Felix's life. Even if he'd never admit it, Felix knows. There's very little in his life that he's ever felt the need to reflect on, and even less that he feels any particular guilt about. You used to think he was fine with this arrangement, that he knew you could find the fun in these one-sided dynamics, "they're fucking using you," he grits out, but you're surprised by the way his fury almost sounds like despair, "I watch them and they're fucking using you like you're not even a person, Y/N."

Felix looks up; the looks in his eyes is more serious than you think you've ever seen from him. Deliberately, firmly, he takes your face in his hands.

"You're not my shadow, you know that, right?"

For a very long moment, you think you feel your heartbeat stop in your chest. On the surface it's a completely ridiculous question, except...

Feeling your face grow hot, you know he can see you tearing up; Felix has always known you better than anyone, always known exactly what you seem to need to hear. Nodding weakly, caught, pinned by his intense gaze, his focus on you, your lip trembles. Already fraught with emotions from the day, and the evening that had just passed, you have no fucking idea what to say. Felix has never spoken this out loud, never let himself properly wrestle with the subtext that coloured so much of your dynamic; it flickers across his face, the surprise and guilt and realisation as it hits him what he'd just said.

You are so much more to him than anyone else will ever give you credit for.

You are not his shadow, but you are unequivocally his.

So you kiss him.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #felix catton smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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nights-flying-fox · 5 days

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TMNT STORY AU COMP COMPETITORS MASTERLIST (@tmntstorycomp )

☆ Danny Phantom ROTTMNT Crossover by @chasingrabbits-art

☆ Love me, Love my Dog. by @tothefiniteyou

☆ We're not babysitters by @theawesomeninja-xd

☆ (Too Many Leos) Put One Back by @beeceit

☆ Mitosis = duplication and separation by @varianlikescheese

☆ The Loyal Remain by @daboyau

☆ Monster Inside the Man by @keepsdrifting

☆ A Tear in my Eye by @cartoonhostage

☆ ERICA by @13runningsomething

☆ Captainx2 by @veearrifarrariboom

☆ Black and brown fur AU by @haro0o

☆ Set a Course for Home by @los-ninos-tortugas

☆ Catch You AU by @mudlarkspur

☆ Same Story Different Font by @tmnt-obsessed-ace

☆ Saviors of the Yokai by @mostlyvoid-partiallyturtles

☆ Everything Stays by @oddpocalypse

☆ Twin-Sync (More Than You Think) by @little-banjo-frog

☆ Dimension Hopper Leo AU by @nights-flying-fox

☆ Inverted Confrontation by @boots-with-the-fur-club

☆ Cardinal Rules by @m0ths-wanderings / @dluebirb

☆ Manhatten: TMNT FARGO AU by @jxstacey [au masterpost]

☆ Universal Mayhem by @trixanimations

☆ Reminiscing that Old Time by @misshowdoyoudo

☆ Old Soul au by @delicatechildwitch

☆ Prime Leo AU by @darth-sonny

☆ TMNT: Broken Trifecta by @genderfluid-envy / @ask-broken-trifecta-turtles

☆ Body Horror Baby by @bambiraptorx

☆ Tiny Lil Fruit Turtles by @mochi-myles

☆ Through Your Hollow Bones au by @idiot-mushroom

☆ One Turtle Short of a Lair by @bucketofbugz

☆ Kitty's TMNT-Verse by @kittynumyum

☆ Shattered Pieces Of The Same Mirror by @xcometstarx

☆ Soulmates (Evil) AU by @error-core-animations

☆ Oh Hades, Let Me Have This by @faggotdonnie

☆ Empathy is Learned by @alicat54c

☆ Teenage Mutant Beetle Turtles by @beetleviolet

☆ Wouldn't it be Easier by @14muffinz

☆ Teenage Turtle Ninja Mutants (ttnm) by @idiot-mushroom

☆ The Birds & the Bees

☆ Two Nardos one dream Sequence by @tinytinyturttlesoup

☆ Sub-Zero AU by @noxvee6

☆ An OC, Echo! by @smol-bean-boi13 & @percy-eats-souls

☆ It's a Complicated Equation by @leilanising-vault-of-knowledge

☆ Good Genes by @lordshroom

☆ A Ghost of the Ninja I Used to Be by @robin-with-a-pen

☆ Sanctuary by @aquietwritingcorner

#tmnt story competition #tmnt competition #idk how to tag this #nighty made a litsty #lol #ok if there is any mistakes of sort please tell me!!#or anything you want me to change

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mynewhyperfixation · 3 months

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T.I.P. - Pt.2

A meta girl ran away from a government run orphanage and Young Justice had never found her. For one of their earliest missions it was an awkward start. It was likely that she had fallen into meta trafficking. It stayed on their minds.

Tim had stayed in contact with the orphanage and continued looking for her. He didn’t want any more kids falling through the cracks. He wanted them to be able to rely on the team to help. He got a notification. One Miss H. had been caught in the background of some tourist’s photo outside of Harbor City. The orphan girl who had ghosted them.

It was hard to tell what she might be doing there, who she was with, or if she looked to be faring well with how pixilated it was. You can’t really recover data that was never there. It might have been a bit weird how crummy the photo was with how impressive phone cameras could be, but that wasn’t Tim’s concern of the moment. She was near their turf and it was another chance to get her to safety. To make sure she wasn’t getting into or causing trouble either. He called the team.

Masterpost

AN: I made up Harbor City based on happy harbor, the location of the Secret Sanctuary. I'm doing 2 parts today because I'm inpatient, but the goal is to put up one a day until I run out to get more feedback on each bit and maintain motivation. When it's completed I'll put it all on AO3.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #tclwrites #The Infamous Phantom

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odyssean-flower · 8 months

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The Chief Justice and the Worst Painter in Fontaine Chapter 3 Bonus Scenes

Summary: It was supposed to be your time to relax and get in touch with your (extremely) buried creative side...but then your boss showed up. A/N: Here are the promised bonus scenes~~ They are really not very long but i just wanted to write them for fun i wish i could pull for freminet but i have to save everything for neuvi 😭 i hope i somehow get him when i pull on neuvi's banner Now that I think about it I should make a masterpost for this fic

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 (Bonus Scenes) || Chapter 4

Unexpected Run-In

After spending some time underwater, you could now confidently say that this was now your second-favorite place in the world, after your apartment, of course. Everything felt so peaceful and dream-like down here. Time seemed to progress at the pace of molasses.

I could stay down here forever, you thought. Perhaps you could take diving classes or hire a diver to escort you down here, though the idea of being separated from the water by a bulky suit didn't appeal to you very much. If only you had a Vision...

You much preferred this--swimming in the water as lightly and nimbly as a fish, with Neuvillette's strong, reassuring grip on your arm. The idea of asking him to take you on underwater trips was dismissed as quickly as you considered it. It just wouldn't be possible.

Neuvillette seemed to be enjoying himself as well, though he didn't look like it at first glance. He must have liked looking at the sea creatures as much as you did, since his eyes softened whenever you would pull him over to look at a Blubberbeast or an otter.

The same couldn't be said when the two of you ran into schools of those mechanical fish. He didn't seem to care for them very much, and although you thought they looked kind of cool, you couldn't say you didn't understand why Neuvillette felt the way he did. They stuck out like a sore thumb against the gentle blues and greens of the water.

Speaking of sore thumbs...

"Monsieur Neuvillette, what are those?" You pointed at two purple rays a short distance ahead of you. They were a different color from the other rays you'd seen. Was it just your imagination, or did they give off a menacing aura?

"Ah, those two are the Fairy Knight Twins, Angelica and Medoro. They're just as lively as the last time I saw them. How wonderful," Neuvillette said.

"Oh, they have names?" Pretty fancy titles for a couple of fish, you thought.

As if they read your mind, the two rays swam towards you two. You looked up at Neuvillette, but he didn't seem to have any intention of moving away. In fact, he was looking at the two rays, which were now opening their glowing blue mouths, like he was looking at long-missed pets.

You screamed and hid behind Neuvillette as two sharp arcs of light sliced towards you. Neuvillette simply dodged them with ease, not a hair out of place. To your horror, he was swimming closer to those things.

After much pleading and tugging on your part, he agreed to take you somewhere else.

You later decided that you weren't quite ready to go back underwater any time soon.

What Freminet Saw

As usual, Freminet was in his blue sanctuary, spending time with his silent friends, the Tidalga and the Romaritime Flowers. He knew this area like the back of his hand. The observatory here had long been unused. There was no need to worry about running into anyone else here.

That was what he thought...until he saw two figures.

Even the normally expressionless Freminet widened his eyes as he recognized one of the figures.

Is that...the Chief Justice?

His distinctive appearance was unmistakable. He was holding another person by their arm. Freminet didn't recognize them. They were diving without a suit on, but they didn't appear to be a Vision holder. It was probably thanks to the Chief Justice's powers.

Freminet watched as the other person excitedly pulled the Chief Justice along as they gazed at the underwater creatures and plants. Freminet remembered his first time diving and seeing this quiet, serene world. It made him somewhat nostalgic.

But putting that aside, this was a strange sight. The Chief Justice was known to not associate with humans very much, and yet here he was.

Freminet had only seen the Chief Justice a few times. Not in the opera house, but standing silently on the beach. Freminet had found him unreadable during those times, but now...even from here, he could sense a certain warmth and possibly...affection exuding from him in the way he looked at and held the other person.

Hmm...

Freminet wasn't good at reading people, and his only experience with romance was the stories in his fairytale books. But he could tell that this person, whoever they were, was important to the Chief Justice.

He watched as that person cooed in delight at a group of otters, then they seemed to tense up a bit before pulling themselves out of the Chief Justice's grip.

"Ah..." a soft cry slipped out of Freminet's mouth as he watched them fall towards the seabed. But it was the look on the Chief Justice's face that really shocked him. A look of pure panic. It looked so out of place there.

The Chief Justice quickly caught their companion. Freminet could hear them both apologizing to each other.

He decided to swim somewhere else. For some reason, he felt like he was intruding on a couple's private time together.

#genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #painter series

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year

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ST Fics Masterpost Updated 3/23/24

Walking in On Your Parents ONESHOT

Turkey Day ONESHOT

Supernatural Steddie Part 1 AO3 alt (has more parts)

Steve Disappears in the Upside Down: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 COMPLETED

Wingman Nancy: Original Post Pilot post Part 1 Official Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 COMPLETED

Steve being jealous of a guitar spicy extra COMPLETED

Older kids and walkie-talkies ONESHOT

Welcome to Hawkins: Primer Main Body (AO3)

Newly Wed Game: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 COMPLETED

Dustin’s Nature Doc Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (COMPLETED)

Soul Eater ficlet ONESHOT

Steve plays Dnd in secret ONESHOT

Incubus!Steve x Vampire!Eddie ONESHOT

Argyle Babysits ONESHOT

Eddie and his Puppybats Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (COMPLETED)

Ronance Working together Part 1 ONESHOT

Demon!Steve smut ONESHOT Extra

Steve thinks their son takes after Eddie ONESHOT

Steddie vampires ONESHOT

Vampire!Eddie wants Steve ONESHOT

Rock and Rule AU Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Eddie being jealous of himself ONESHOT

Steve being the grim reaper of sex ONESHOT

Tommy watches Part 1 Part 2 COMPLETED

Eddie being alive ONESHOT

Steve seducing Kas!Eddie ONESHOT

Night at the Museum AU ONESHOT

Thumbelina AU Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 COMPLETED

Eddie and Kas body sharing Part 1 Part 2 Part 3A Fluffy Part 3B Smutty Part 4 Part 5 COMPLETED

Wayne shows the baby photos ONESHOT

X-men au scene

King Eddie and Prince Steve Part A Part B Part C Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Reverse Little Mermaid Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Cindereddie Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Steve falling for Eddie's goofiness ONESHOT

Steddathan Fake Dating (Steve/Eddie/Jonathan) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 COMPLETED

Eddie drinking Steve’s blood ONESHOT

Steddie goes to Action Park ONESHOT

Short abo scene

5 times Eddie singled out Steve at a concert ONESHOT

The Bright Side (sitcom au) E01 E02 E03 E04 E05 E06 AO3 alt E07 E08

Steddie singing when they part ways ONESHOT

Mafia short scenes Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Steve and Eddie break out into song while giving Lucas advice

Steve seduces Eddie to catch some zzzs

Time loop scene

2 Eddies, 1 Steve ONESHOT

Noir detective Eddie on the case of who cut Steve’s hair ONESHOT

Stobin working as burger joint carhops ONESHOT

Steve being an offering to the village god ONESHOT Extra

Steve sacrificed in a cult Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 COMPLETED

Eddie’s search for the treasure between Steve’s legs ONESHOT

Steddie dimension hopping Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Dialogue Prompts Prompt 1 Prompt 2 Prompt 3 Prompt 4 Prompt 5A Prompt 5B Prompt 6

Eddie’s guitar turns into a human Version A ONESHOT

Eddie’s guitar turns into a human Version B Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 COMPLETED

Eddie steals a diamond for Steve ONESHOT

Infinity Train AU Ep 1 Ep 2 Ep 3

Barbarella!Steve Part 1 AO3 Steddie chapter

Steve’s Doppelgangers Part 1 AO3

Eddie gets his tonsils removed ONESHOT

Steve’s parents play matchmaker Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 COMPLETED

Wrong Number au Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 COMPLETED

Random word blurb

Fruity Four Sense8 ficlet

Ask Meme Prompts Prompt 1 Pining co-workers ficlet Tattoo shop ficlet Artist!Steve Eddie gives some milk Mermaid/Pirate Baby Ollie Loneliness Steve sets up a scavenger hunt Fantasy outcast sanctuary Grimm/ST crossover Steve had a puppy Bad barista Wayne makes the vest Frat Boy Steve Kiss Prompt

Passenger princess Steve ficlet

Stargyle ficlet

Pregnancy fluff a/b/o

Every Baby Needs a Daddy (sugar baby au) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Pre S4 Rivals (Gift Fic) ONESHOT

Steddie parents think their kid might be fighting monsters ONESHOT

Forest Guardian WIP

Steddie Bingo 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 -

Hot for Teacher(s) AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Trans Eddie smut

Steve goes on a trip and Eddie misses him

#personal #apo writes #fanfiction #stranger things #steddie

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aftercamlann · 7 months

Text

ACBB 2023 MASTERPOST

Thank you to all our wonderful writers, artists, beta readers and hype readers who participated in this years After Camlann Big Bang! We hope you will consider participating again this year!

Below is the final masterlist for After Camlann 2023:

*** Title: This Remarkable Season Author: s0mmerspr0ssen Artist: PapySanzo89 Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, side: Leon/Morgana, Gwen/Lancelot, Gwaine/Percival, (temporary) Cenred/Merlin, surprise/minor pairings Rating: Explicit Word count: 79,313 Summary: Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot, must marry. King Uther expects him to choose a high-ranking noble, preferably a lady, from amongst the Camelot ton. But as fate would have it, the Prince finds himself drawn to Mr Merlin Emrys, an obscure gentleman from the countryside. Merlin, impoverished and desperate to save his family from complete ruin, must marry, too. Feelings are secondary, for the match must be an advantageous one. Soon, both Arthur and Merlin are caught between the pressure of expectations and what their hearts truly desire…

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: The Chough's Call Author: Aro_Tarot Artist: Winnett Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Mordred/Daegal Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 85,861 Summary: When Arthur went back to his hometown to find his missing sister, he wasn’t sure what he would find. He simply hoped that there would be some clue that would lead him to her. A clue, he did find, but instead of pointing him in a direction, it led to him being knocked out and waking up in a different world, one with magic.

Taken, rescued, and now staying in a refugee sanctuary, Arthur was now not just searching for his sister but also the figure known in history and legend as the Once and Future King. As he works as an assistant to a sorcerer named Merlin, befriends a group of knights, and is accompanied with his childhood figurine turned living chough, Arthur starts to question if he would want to go home after all of this is over. Of course, that is only if the others and him can survive the prophecy, the return of the ancient evil known as the Ivory, and if Emrys can fulfill his part by finding the Once and Future King.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: I hear that deserts heal your history Author: Celaenos Artist: gramnel Pairings/Characters: Morgana & Arthur, Merlin/Morgana, Arthur/Merlin Rating: Mature Word count: 68,355 Summary: Morgana pushes herself up slowly, looking around. She is in the backseat of a car, in what looks like a vast and empty desert, pulled off against the side of a highway. No cars, no people anywhere that she can see. A blonde woman is sleeping in the front passenger seat. Morgana stares at her, confusion overwhelming, even as the dawning horror builds the longer that Morgana studies her features. The sharp edges are there: the tilt of her chin, the shape of her nose, the way that her mouth opens just slightly—it’s all there plain as day, and Morgana feels faint. Furious. Terrified. Why now, after all this time?

She crawls over, flinging open the backseat and vomits down into the dirt.

In the front seat of the Cadillac, the reincarnation of her brother wakes with a start.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Flicker Of A Candlelight, Heat Of An Inferno Author: lavender_spice Artist: MerlinLikeTheBird Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Gwen/Morgana Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 93,168 Summary: When Merlin gets injured on a hunting trip, Arthur is forced to face his true feelings for his stubbornly loyal manservant. Merlin is everything he should not want, and yet Arthur struggles to keep his feelings at bay.

On top of all this, after learning of his father's lies and hypocrisy, Arthur hatches a plan to put an end to his people's suffering once and for all, finding unlikely allies along the way.

Can the two boys intertwined by destiny navigate their relationship amongst betrayal, secrecy, and a near-impossible mission?

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Charlatans and Ruffians Author: thenerdyindividual Artist: kairennart Pairings/Characters: Arthur/Gwaine/Merlin Rating: Mature Word count: 84,980 Summary: Merlin and Gwaine spend their days bopping around kingdoms, performing for the masses in exchange for petty coin. Sometimes they perform for room and board. When they perform at a tavern, the tavern owner gives Merlin a ring for payment, everything changes. Turns out the ring was haunted by the ghost of Queen Ygraine Pendragon. Now Ygraine is threatening to haunt Merlin for the rest of his life if he doesn't travel to Camelot to protect her son Arthur.

He goes to Camelot, and it turns out that Arthur is a huge pain in the ass. But he's also kind and does his best for his people, and that has Merlin and Gwaine falling for him.

If only Merlin didn't have to contend with a genocidal king and political plot involving the Kingdom of Magic.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: till our souls catch us up Author: EachPeachPearPlum Artist: griffonskies Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin (Merlin), Morgana (Merlin), Gwaine (Merlin), Lancelot (Merlin), Percival (Merlin), Leon (Merlin), Elyan (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin), Mordred (Merlin), Freya (Merlin), Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Morgause (Merlin), Nimueh (Merlin) Rating: Mature Word count: 47,641 Summary: "Everyone but Uther Pendragon will be allowed to live," the voice says, echoing through Arthur's bones, the raw power of it terrifying beyond anything he’s ever felt, and he knows that even if the owner of the voice can be trusted to spare his citizens, the offer of sanctuary does not extend to him.

Or: When Camelot falls to an army of sorcerers, Arthur expects to follow his father to the pyre. Instead, he’s surprised when the new king spares his life, although he’s not entirely sure death wouldn’t have been better than spending the rest of his days locked in his room, waiting for Emrys to get bored of having him around.

What follows is a tale of murder attempts, evil schemes, and a mysterious prophecy.

And destiny, of course.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: In A Land Of Snarky Dragons Author & Artist: BGN846 (bgn_846) Pairings/Characters: Merlin & Arthur Rating: Teen and Up Word count: Word Count: 48,369 Summary: Merlin is living the best life, learning how to raise dragons from his dragonlord father, Balinor, on their farm. This teenager has not a care in the world (magic is legal) until the local druids pay a visit. Merlin is not happy to discover he has a destiny featuring another person he’s never met. Once and future king his arse, not on his farm. Ignoring the prophecy with the mystery no named future king, Merlin tries to pretend everything is fine.

However, one giant, scaled, slightly bored troublemaker named, Kilgharrah, decides that this prophecy of destiny and kings is the perfect adventure to get his blood pumping. So the great dragon does what he does best, and proceeds to stir the proverbial pot.

Cue, kidnappings, rescues, attempted coups, and a fair amount of dragons all to keep destiny on track.

Story and Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: it’s a fated thing Author: fabledfrog Artist: a_star_is_here Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon - Arthur Pendragon, Merlin, Gwen, Morgana Pendragon, the Knights of the Roundtable, OCs Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 34,848 Summary: Merlin has a good life. He sleeps in the royal bed, sits on the king's right, uses magic out in the open, free and never again hidden.

He likes the first bit, is tired of the second, and is still awed by the last.

When he first told Arthur, he hadn't expected them to work together to destroy the destinies that had been written since the dawn of time; he hadn't thought that they would be able to change their path so drastically that everything would be different.

He hadn't even realised it, when all had been said and done. He'd only learned the truth of what they had done when he had gone to the Crystal Caves and they had shown him what his life could have been.

He'd thought they were safe from it; the cruel fate that had awaited them was averted.

Only, not everyone was happy with that.

In which Merlin's magic is used to create problems for the future. Or the past. All time in general.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: We Are Made for Flying Author: remaymber Artist: CaughtInTheRa1n Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, side: Morgana/Leon, Gwen/Lance, Percival/Gwaine, Freya, Hunith, Uther Rating: Mature Word count: 62,114 Summary: When Arthur sees Merlin for the first time at Camelot circus, he knows he is doomed. What makes his fate even worse is that Merlin seems dead set on hating him. But as destiny wants it, they find they need each other to solve the mystery that is Uther Pendragon to protect Camelot. As time passes and slowly the questions asked turn into answers with grave consequences, the final question remains: Do opposites attract, or will their differences be insurmountable after all?

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Separate Ways (Worlds Apart) Author: salamandair Artist: Stelle Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Rating: Mature Word count: 30,490 Summary: Seven years ago, Merlin and Arthur were engaged to be married. They were happy, in love and had plans to create a better future

Seven years ago, Arthur’s world was turned upside down and the lovers broke off their engagement.

Seven years later, Arthur Pendragon is now Albion’s youngest Prime Minister in history and hates anything to do with magic.

Seven Years later, Merlin Wyvern is now the leader of a rights group fighting for equal rights for magic users.

Now, their separate worlds collide as a decades-long fight finally comes to a head to change Albion forever.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Nerdboy and the Incredible Prat Author: bad_peppermint Artist: paintedpigeon Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 34,828 Summary: The guy Merlin keeps running into at Comic-Con, wearing matching cosplay, just might be his soulmate. Too bad he’s kind of an asshole.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: The Reluctant Prince Author: Cookie Artist: Schweet_heart Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Rating: Mature Word count: 33,900 Summary: Arthur has never really wanted to be a prince, and the thought of being king in the future fills him with dread. But that is his destiny and not even falling in love with a stage magician called Merlin can change that.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Out of the Dark (Into the Light) Author: MyKingdomComeUndone Artist: Profiad Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Morgana, Gaius, Gwen, Lancelot, Mordred, Will, Sophia, Edwin, Valiant, Anhora Rating: Explicit Word count: 40,894 Summary: Instead of participating in a deadly drinking game by the sea to save Camelot from unicorn-related famine, Arthur finds himself in a cave, along with a bunch of total strangers. The catch? The only thing each of them remembers is their own name. Before panic can truly set in, an old man with a staff appears out of thin air to tell them it’s all part of a test: only the first of them to reach the exit will be permitted to leave. The others won’t be so lucky…

The quest sounds straightforward enough, but on the way, Arthur and his fellow amnesiacs are faced with wicked traps, dangerous creatures, and some threats that may even come from within their group. And as if that’s not enough trouble to face without his memories to guide him, Arthur also has to deal with his increasingly distracting feelings for a certain dark-haired sorcerer among their group, going by the name of ‘Merlin’…

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: A Smooth Sea Never Made A Skilled Pirate Author: Pearl09 Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Merlin, Arthur, Leon, Gwaine, Lancelot, Uther Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 41,752 Summary: Arthur grew up in Camelot, next to the sea. However, he was never allowed out on the water. As the one thing out of his reach, it was the one place he yearned to be—even just to briefly experience the open ocean. When he finally decides to take his life in his own hands and hears rumors of a pirate ship nearby that might let him on board and out of the city, he has no idea what is really in store for him.

Story is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Chase the Sun Author: MerlinLikeTheBird Artist: wortvermis Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Morgana, Gwen, Gwaine, Leon, Freya Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 27,572 Summary: “We lived together before and we both survived, didn’t we?” Arthur doesn’t take the bait.

“Barely,” Merlin answers, picturing their uni days. The first taste of living with anyone other than his mother or sleepovers with Will. It all made for strange, dreamlike memories, for all that it has only been a few years past.

He feels like a very old twenty five most times. He shouldn’t be this age and so tired.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Take Me Up (cast me away) Author: sacredraisincakes Artist: Athena Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Rating: Explicit Word count: 58,975 Summary: In an effort to ease tensions between the kingdoms of Albion, Arthur plans a summit to bring together each of the monarchs to create a treaty between them. But schemes from within his own kingdom force him to change his plans ever so slightly.

"No one will believe us."

"They will... We'll start now, and over the next few weeks make it more and more obvious, until the moment we announce our engagement... Then once our visitors are gone, we simply end the betrothal. Everything goes back to the way it was."Edits for the main houses of sparringett's epic Merlin/GoT crossover fic (to be posted later, hopefully).

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: I Don't Know How to Start Author: thetreeofwillow Artist: Shadow_Hole Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur. Other characters: Gwen, Gaius, Morgana Rating: Mature Word count: 38,605 Summary: When Merlin collapses in a long forgotten hallway, Arthur has to fight for his life.

With Camelot still sitting on the edge of destruction following the dragon’s attack, Arthur should be preoccupied with reconstruction and resource management. Instead, Merlin has taken ill, and for some reason, Arthur can’t keep his mind off him.

What is Arthur to do with his kingdom in tatters, his whole world view shifting and his closest relationships rocking closely held beliefs? How is he to handle this while being drawn ever closer to Merlin? Merlin, whose condition is worsening by the day.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Sacrificing All Within Me, To Save Us Author: LadyDanielle Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon Rating: Explicit Word count: 55,286 Summary: In his second year as King of Camelot, Arthur has legalized magic and prospered the kingdom with Merlin's guidance. But rumors spread that Arthur is just a puppet under Merlin's control. Arthur begins to doubt himself - maybe he’s depending too much on Merlin's ideas instead of his own judgment. How can he push past expectations to rule as he chooses, including taking Merlin as his consort openly if he can’t rely on his own decisions.

To prove himself, Arthur makes a risky choice that could be the fall of Camelot. He decides to find out the hard way.

Story is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Fate has made you so Author: slantedknitting Artist: LFB72 Pairings/Characters: Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Elena Rating: Explicit Word count: 29,351 Summary: It’s 1953, and Arthur is a young, up-and-coming architect working on rebuilding London. All he wants is to be successful and live his life in peace and quiet. All his boss wants is to find a good match for his daughter Elena, and he thinks he’s found that match in Arthur. Arthur agrees to go out with her to get ahead at the firm, but the person he’s really interested in is her friend Merlin, and it turns out Elena has her own purposes for being with Arthur.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Contact High Author: Leandra Artist: Papysanzo Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Rating: Explicit Word count: 84,292 Summary: After a toxic relationship, Arthur is afraid of getting hurt again, but then he meets Gwen, a scriptwriter he collaborates with in one of his film classes. To win her heart, he plans to cook her the best vegan food she has ever had. The idea would be brilliant, but Arthur is neither vegan, nor can he cook. In a desperate move, he enlists the help of Merlin, the obnoxious barista who works at his favourite coffee shop by day, and is a vegan food vlogger by night.

With his past as a young offender, and a history of addiction, Merlin can’t find a job as a chef, and his dream of opening his own restaurant someday seems unreachable. He pours all his passion into his food videos, but while his recipes and personality have what it takes, his video making skills are subpar at best.

Arthur and Merlin put their animosity aside and strike a deal: Merlin will cook for Gwen, and Arthur will claim he made the food, while in exchange, Arthur will help Merlin make better food videos. It seems the perfect way to meet everyone's needs …

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Where Gods Go Artist: mirayladraws Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Rating: Mature Word count: N/A - Art Summary: When Arthur Pendragon gets read in on the Animus project, the last thing he expects is to fall in love and get pulled into a war between Assassins and Templars.

Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Dave Author: Camelittle Artist: LFB72 Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, side Gwen/Lancelot, side Morgana/Gwaine/Leon, early Merlin/Will, Various UK Panel Show Hosts, OCs, Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 60,342 Summary: Merlin - lover of crunchy fried snacks and secret admirer of his straight flat mate, Arthur - never expected to have a career in comedy. But after trying stand-up on a successful open mic night at university, he finds himself hooked. He and Arthur run a successful late night talk radio for a show for a while, but Arthur’s father intervenes. After a misunderstanding forces them into conflict, Merlin vows never to see Arthur again, to protect his own soft, pathetic, pining heart. Which would be fine, if the UK comedy circuit weren’t so small. But for some reason, they keep bumping into one another - at comedy festivals, and on radio and TV panel shows - and despite everything, the chemistry that made their radio show so popular in the distant past grows stronger than ever.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Reluctantly in Love Author: chaosgenes Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, minor Lancelot/Guinevere Rating: Explicit Word count: 29,923 Summary: Arthur has waited for Naming Day all his life, but could not be more disappointed when he finds out who the Soul Stone names for him. It isn’t the prisoner he meets in the dungeons, but his heart aches for him anyway.

Merlin has never thought about soulmates until they come knocking at his door in Ealdor. Convinced that there’s something wrong with the Soul Stone, he travels to magic-banned Camelot to end its influence. He never thought that he would be enraptured by the crown prince who comes to interrogate him.

Story and Art are here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: Of Oaths Made and Broken Author: Zorbo_Jorks Artist: aueth Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Gwaine/Mithian, Elena/Vivian, ft. The Knights, Gwen, Uther, and Morgause Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 48,323 Summary: Kilgwan just smiled— a gleeful presentation of far too many jagged teeth. He leaned forward on his throne and sang, “When the five of you I last did see, five promises you made to me! Three promises are broken now— one yet to test and one still sound.”

Arthur growled, and Morgana made a similar noise beside him.

“Are you serious?” she asked, “That was years ago!”

“A word given is a word to keep,” the creature sang back, ignoring the table’s shouts of dismay, “You sow lost words— dark gifts you reap.”

--------------

As children, Arthur, Morgana, Gwen, Elyan, and Leon made vows to a creature named Kilgwan in the catacombs of Camelot.

Years later, on the even of Arthur's prospective betrothal, they are whisked away to make ammends for breaking them. Merlin and Gwaine must make up for the prince's sudden absence by disguising the latter as Arthur to court Princesses Mithian, Vivian, and Elena in his place, all while Merlin tries to find Arthur and his friends before any ill befalls them.

Amid this, Morgause schemes to kill the Pendragons and Merlin pines for his prince, convinced his love cannot be.

It takes very little for the delicate web of problems to fall into chaos.

Story and Art are here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: All Winding Paths Lead Back Author: Imagined Artist: feuxx Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Rating: Teen and Up Word count: 76,250 Summary: “You’ll give me magical training?” Merlin asks.

Arthur smiles. “Yes, and training in courtly etiquette. I imagine Ealdor doesn’t have nobles?”

“We don’t have nobles, but we do have pigs. And chickens,” Merlin says. When Arthur raises his eyebrows at him, Merlin flushes heavily with embarrassment. “Oh, shut up. My lord.”

“Don’t talk to your king like that,” Arthur says, but he doesn’t actually seem very upset about it, even though Merlin sort of wants to hit himself in the face. “Welcome to Camelot, sorcerer-apprentice Merlin of Ealdor.”

Or: Merlin is sixteen when he comes to Camelot, vying for the new position of court sorcerer that has opened under King Arthur—a noble king, golden and lionhearted, who is trying to legalise magic in all of Albion. Of course, Merlin doesn't expect to be chosen.

But he is.

Story is here | Art is here | Reblog on Tumblr here *** Title: And All the Bells Were Ringing (ARTWORK) Artist: SerpentineWizard12 Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur Rating: Explicit Word count: N/A - Art Summary: “When he grew tired of swimming, Arthur waded out onto the bank and flung himself down without self-consciousness, lying back on his elbows between the roots of the nearest tree. Merlin lingered in the water for some minutes longer, watching the prince’s movements out of the corner of his eye, the way the water collected in the dips and hollows of his body and threatened to run all the way down. There was something unguarded about Arthur when he was like this; Merlin could think of only a handful of moments in which he had seen the prince without his veneer of distance and authority, and each one stood out in his memory like keys to a puzzle box, unravelling the complexity of Arthur’s personality one layer at a time.

Story is here | Reblog on Tumblr here

#after camlann big bang #acbb #acbb 2023 #bbc merlin #merlin fanfic #merlin fanart

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marshal-huntress · 2 months

Text

▶ Date : March 29 - 31 2024 ▶ Hosted by : The Kotaloy Sanctuary (@marshal-huntress)

Here comes the sunnier days for our blorbos! 🌸

The first Kotaloy Days event: Spring in my Heart 2024 will run from from 29th to 31st of March with those Prompts:

- DAY 1 - ▷ Flower crown ▷ Alternative Prompt : “What are you staring at?”

- DAY 2 - ▷ Lingering glances ▷ Alternative Prompt : “I just want to lay here all day”

- DAY 3 - ▷ Waterfall ▷ Alternative Prompt : “I really missed this”

Anyone is welcome to join, whether you’re part of The Sanctuary or not! You can do both prompts, mix both, do either for each day or even all of them in one mix, in any medium!

We’ll be using the tag #Kotaloy Spring Event for every post related to this prompt. On AO3, you can put your fics in ‘The Kotaloy Sanctuary events’ collection.

▶ Guidelines :

🔸Please, use the tag #Kotaloy Spring Event, in the first five tags, so we can have a higher chance to find your post and reblog. You can also use #theKotaloySanctuary, #MarshalHuntress or you can ping us @marshal-huntress.

🔹You can interpret the prompts as any way you wish! As long it’s Kotallo and Aloy.

🔸Any medium is very welcomed! Fanfics, fanarts, videos, VP edits, gifsets, playlists, headcanons, and more!

🔹NSFW works is acceptable but be careful with tumblr’s rules about those if you’re planning to post them here.

🔸There are no submission deadlines! Even if you’re late, we will reblog your entry.

We will do a Masterpost for each event, so no worries if you ever missed the awesome entries.

If you have any questions concerning the event, feel free to send an ask! We’re looking forward to everyone’s creation!

Enjoy! 🌸

#kotaloy #Kotaloy Spring Event #aloy x kotallo #kotallo x aloy #kotallo #aloy #prompt event #marshalhuntress #thekotaloysanctuary #hfw #horizon forbidden west #horizon gifs #mod posts #kotaloy events

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pigeonwhumps · 2 years

Text

Masterlist

Key:

Immortal Cannon Fodder

Out of the Frying Pan

Sam and Lucan

Out of the Water

Sanctuary

BBC Merlin

Other

* = links to ao3

✓ = drafted/posted (for my own organisation – I'll remove this once Whumptober's over)

Auction part 1 (1: unconventional restraints | "this wasn't supposed to happen") ✓

Crucifixion part 1 (3: hair's breadth from death | impaled) ✓

Finding Family chapter 1 (4: dead on your feet | can't pass out & 28: it's just the tip of the iceberg | headache) * ✓

Too Hot (5: hyperthermia) * ✓

Kara and Edith #1 (7: shaking hands & alt 14: emergency blanket) ✓

Lost and Found (8: back from the dead) * ✓

Caught in a storm (9: caught in a storm) ✓

Finding Family chapter 2 (6: proof of life | "I've got a pulse" & 11: makeshift splint & alt 15: tears) *

Identity (2: confrontation & 13: can't make an omelette without breaking a few legs | fracture) * ✓

Escape attempt part 1 (14: failed escape) ✓

Caroline's Instagram: At the café (15: lies) ✓

Auction part 2 (16: no way out | paralytic drugs | "no-one's coming") ✓

Auction part 3 (17: stress positions) ✓

Past and Future (20: it's been a long day & alt 7: protective) ✓

Wulfric returns (21: famous last words | "you're safe now") ✓

Escape attempt part 2 (22: toxic | allergic reaction & 29: defiance) ✓

Finding Family chapter 3 (10: whipping & 23: at the end of their rope | forced to kneel | "hold them down") *

Bloody betrayal (24: blood-covered hands | "I don't want to do this anymore" & alt 12: carried to safety) ✓

Surgery (25: silence is golden | lost voice) ✓

Finding Family chapter 4 (26: no-one left behind | separated) *

Finding Family chapter 5 (27: pushed to the limit | stumbling | magical exhaustion & 31: comfort) *

The video (Alt 8: made to watch) ✓

Registration (Alt 5: ambushed) ✓

Auction part 4 (30: note to self: don't get kidnapped | manhandled | "please don't touch me") ✓

#whump #whump writing #whumptober #bbc merlin #sam and lucan #sanctuary #immortal cannon fodder #out of the water #out of the frying pan #whump art #whumptober2022 #masterpost #look its all colourful and pretty #a sneak peak of what im planning to post this month #and some unplanned apparently lol #that should not surprise me and yet it still does #every time

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thesherrinfordfacility · 8 months

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theory, speculation & meta masterpost:

#crowley meta

#aziraphale meta

#s1 meta

#s2 meta

#feral domestic/final fifteen meta

#flashback meta (like, all of them) except - #1941 spec

#holy water meta

#costume meta

#props meta

#pre-fall aziraphale spec

#AWCW spec (Angel Who Crowley Was)

#metatron spec

#saraqael spec

#we need to talk about maggie theory

#shax spec

#s3 narrative spec

#the fall/the great war spec

#second coming/last judgement theory

#book of life theory

#scapegoat theory

#omelas theory

#memory wipe theory

#halo theory

#god is dead theory

#sanctuary/bentley theory

#ineffable plan spec

#heaven theory

#25 lazarii theory

#angel hierarchy spec

#raphael spec

#mary/pieta spec

#derringer spec

#batshit time travel spec (aka sideburn theory)

#time-stop theory

#apology dance spec

the crown jewel of this post: masterpost of LWA✨ asks

come scream at me about things✨

#this is mainly for the mobile girlies (inc me)#desktop blog has a dedicated hyperlink now i'm foncé foncé

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wayfaringpaws · 9 months

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✦ Welcome to the Haven ✦

After the Cataclysm destroyed the world of Felinan, the gods came together to give their followers one last chance at survival. They created the Haven, a sanctuary for all, and a place where three colonies would soon form... Only time will tell if the peace will last, and the deities themselves may lead to the final destruction of the followers they hold so dear. Join the Scorchtails, Frostbites, or Lilypaws, and venture into a world of big cats, magic, and wonder.

Applications are open from August 2nd to August 16th!

Wayfaring Paws is a 16+ Discord Warriors-inspired roleplay that offers a unique but simple world for you to explore.

We're looking for you, not your character, so characters will be created after the application process is done and you've been invited to the server!

Link Masterpost - Anything you need to know, you can find here. If there's anything you're curious about, feel free to send an ask!

APPLY HERE!

#wcrp #warrior cats roleplay #discord rp #discord roleplay #warrior cats rp #mod post #wayfaring paws

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

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The Fire In Your Eyes

part IV: colter

originally posted on 8 march 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 14k

summary: you and the others ascend into the mountains with the law hot on your tails. A nasty storm picks up, making matters worse for everyone. You're bed ridden and ill, trying to heal both your physical ailments and your mental ones.

a/n: this chapter is huge, and important! Firstly you all voted and decided that reader should have a nickname given by Arthur that all the gang members call her, and that comes up in this chapter. Plus we get some really good fluff between reader and Arthur. Thank you to margowritesthings for always rising up to the massive chapters I've been throwing at her.

warning: wounds, gore, mentions of past trauma and post traumatic stress

SERIES MASTERPOST

The wind whips through the air, chilling everyone to the point of numbness as you all ascend the mountains in hope of some form of sanctuary. John and Micah are still out scouting ahead, and Arthur’s now been sent out too, in search of a place to hole up. Everyone is hungry, frozen and afraid. Who knows how close the rest of the Pinkertons are, or if they were bold enough to follow you up into this hellstorm. You have no idea how many days you’ve been traveling, two or three? To be fair, it's been hard to keep track in your state.

Your back is resting against the wooden slats of the wagon, curled up to fend from the whipping blizzard. The canvas on the conestoga-style wagon provides little defense from the storm. With everything going on, the girls are huddled around you, keeping you covered in blankets while fighting your protests. Your skin is icy to the touch, but youre so hot. Cold sweat runs down your forehead, covering you in a sheen. Your eyes are red and sunken in as you shiver and groan. The sewn up shot in your thigh is swollen, red and oozing. It's infected, and if Grimshaw doesn’t get you some help soon… Well, you’ll be on the pile with Jenny and Davey.

You peel a blanket off of yourself, groaning, mind foggy from your body fighting to stop the infection. You’re so hot, it's torturous. Immediately, Tilly covers you back up with the blanket.

“Please- I'm so hot.” You moan, whimpering at the throbbing pain that is shooting down your entire left leg.

“I know, I do, but if you take this off you’ll freeze to death.” Tilly argues, and you know she’s right.

The wind is loud, but even through it you can hear Dutch yelling. He’s driving the wagon with Hosea, and both are praying for some shelter.

“Arthur! Any luck?” Dutch hollers over the wind, and you perk up at the familiar name. All the girls, wrapped in blankets and coats, huddling around Jack and you, glance in the direction of Dutch.

“I found a place where we can get some shelter. An old mining town, abandoned. It ain’t far. c’mon!” Arthur yells back before spurring Taima in the direction of your sanctuary. Everyone in the caravan lets out a breath, relieved at any kind of hope.

The wagon continues on while you fade in and out of consciousness, the fever too much for your body to handle at times. The closer you all creep towards the mining town, the more Grimshaw’s anxiety grows. She doesn’t know if you’re gonna make it much further, but by god she won’t let anything happen to you. They’ve lost too much. The wagon comes to a stop, and you blink your eyes open, watching as everyone files out of the wagon.

“Miss?”

It’s Dutch, he’s come around to the back of the wagon, extending a hand out to help the women and Jack get into a building. Despite your best efforts, you can’t bring yourself to move. Your muscles strain, but the pile of blankets is too heavy and you’re too weak.

“I can’t-” You whisper, pissed off that you’re incapable of handling your own at the minute. Asking for help isn’t exactly your specialty, but the cold sweat running down your forehead combined with your heavy, flushed and swollen eyelids prove enough that you’re unwell.

Dutch places his hand on the floor of the wagon, pushing himself up into the back. He peels the blankets away from you to find your once white shirt from however many days ago drenched in sweat and dried blood. You’re practically gasping for breath, panting in the frozen air, it doesn’t appear that you’re winning the battle against your body.

“Oh, miss… Here, let’s get you down.” Dutch whispers before taking your arms and helping you to climb down. It hurts like hell, climbing out of the wagon. Every muscle in your body twitches and aches, and the wound in your thigh throbs and oozes, it’s awful. Eventually, with Dutch’s help, you manage to stand in the calf-deep snow. He supports all of your weight, which you’re begrudgingly thankful for. Truthfully, he’s the last person you want help from right now, but without it, you’d be dead in the snow already. Slowly, you both shuffle through the damp, icy snow, trying to ignore the way it soaks your pants and freezes onto your eyelashes. You can see, foggily, the lantern lights of other gang members that are filing into a large, abandoned wooden building. You whimper at the idea of shelter, shuddering and tripping as the frozen air wars with your fever.

“Almost there..” Dutch whispers to you before yelling towards the building, “Miss Grimshaw, Mister Pearson! We need help!”

Dutch’s arm is tight around your waist, and the other holds a lantern in the air as he guides you through the door of the building. You’re struggling to stay awake, vision blurring as Dutch guides you to an old, makeshift cot off the main room. The warmth is immediate. There's no fire in the keeper yet, but the protection from the wind alone is noticeable. You’re not sure if you should be thankful for the shelter, or upset that the warmth worsens your fever. A few people rush over, standing around you as he lays you down.

“I am not losing anyone else! You get her patched up. I don't care what it takes!” Dutch hollers, pointing to you for emphasis as he glances at the miserable, frozen faces around the room.

You hear the slip of a knife, the shred of denim as Susan cuts away the patch of denim from your thigh to get a better view. She makes a noise of distaste, one that worries you. The skin around your stitches is red, and hot to the touch, with pus leaking from the suture holes. You arch your back against the wooden cot, gritting your teeth and groaning as she prods at your leg.

“We’re gonna have to redo these, I'm afraid, and you need dressings for this once I'm done. Abigail! Bandages!” Grimshaw orders around. You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“Am I- You think I’m gonna be alright, or…?” Your voice is barely audible, like a breath on the wind. You’re not ready to die, not before you’ve even lived.

“You’re gonna be just fine.” Grimshaw says with a tight lipped smile, grabbing Strauss’ medical kit once again. She’s lying, both for her sake and your own. She has no idea if you’ll pull through this. Infections are bad, and in these conditions, with no supplies? Well, your chances aren’t good. Jack is quietly crying in the corner, wrapped up in his momma’s arms, and next to his cries you hear large boots thumping against the wood, someone has entered the building. The footfalls grow quicker, rushing into a light jog approaching you. You force your eyelids to part, providing a thin view.

“Shit, Grimshaw? What’s going on?! She okay?!” Arthur growls, skidding to his knees at your bedside to help. He’s covered in snow, cheeks bright pink from wind whip, and his black hat is covered in a thick white dusting of ice. He’s suddenly more awake than he’s been for the last three or so days, and despite his lack of sleep, there is nothing but clarity and fear on his face when he sees the state you’re in. You look so small on the bed, so frail.

“I’m fine, Arthur.” You whisper, hand snaking down the mattress to rest on top of Arthur’s. Your lie doesn’t faze him at all, and he runs his eyes down your hip and thigh to where Grimshaw is cutting open your stitches, squeezing your hand as he does. Your nose wrinkles at the pressure and pull of Grimmshaw’s hands on your thigh.

“Mr. Morgan, she needs medicine and she needs it now. Got a bad infection. I’m afraid she can’t wait much longer.” Grimshaw states, looking up to your pale, sickly face. Arthur rests the back of his hand against your forehead, and you grimace, head pounding from everything that's going on.

“You’re burnin’ up real bad,” Arthur’s stomach turns with anxiety as he glances between your eyes and Grimshaw’s hands, “I’ll find some medicine. I will.” He growls, as if making himself a promise.

You know he may not be able to keep it. It took days to find this place, and he won’t make it far in the storm. John and Micah haven’t returned yet, and the chances of him finding medicine is low. If he leaves now, he might as well sign his death certificate along with yours.

“No- please don’t go out there, Arthur. The storms too bad.” You protest, hanging onto Arthur’s hand with every bit of strength you have in you, little as it may be. Arthur squeezes your hand, kneeling down to look into your eyes.

“I'm not just gonna sit around and watch you die. I'm goin’ to find you medicine.” There’s no room for debate in Arthur’s eyes. Begrudgingly, you nod your head, terrified that your illness is going to get more people killed. Once you nod, he leaves go of your hand. You wince, gripping the corner of the cot till your knuckles turn white as Grimshaw pulls the ruined sutures out of your infected thigh.

“I’m going too. Anywhere that has medicine could have food or supplies too. And maybe we’ll run into John or Micah on the road. Who knows where they are in this storm, I just hope they’re okay.” Dutch says, cracking his knuckles through his thick black gloves as he steps over to you.

You don’t try to protest as they head out the door, and you're thankful for Grimshaw’s stitching, as the pain keeps your mind off the fact that four of the gang members are out in the storm of the century, two are buried outside, and two are missing.

—

You drift in and out of sleep, eyes fluttering open and closed as the girls take shifts holding cool rags over your forehead, helping you sip cool water and changing your bandages. You have no idea how long you’re out, but at some point you wake up, once again surrounded by the frozen wind.

“W-what?” You whimper, eyelashes fluttering in the snow as you attempt to come to your senses, despite the pain that radiates through your entire body, and the fog that clouds your mind. There's a solid strength under your knees and your neck that you can't place. But it's warm, soft and strong. The chilly wind feels ethereal, and you want to cover yourself in its blissful coolness that soothes the fire blazing through your body.

“Takin’ you to your cabin. Miss Grimshaw got it fixed up. There's a real bed in there, it’s warmer, be better for you to heal.” A familiar, gruff, voice says. Despite the freezing, howling wind, there is a warmth against your side, radiating and wrapping around you. You want to push away from the heat, already too hot from your fever, but as you weakly pull away it only wraps around you tighter. You're too weak to fully protest, fighting to stay awake as your head becomes light and your senses begin to slip away to darkness again. You succumb to the blackness, and the howling, screaming wind grows further away as you lose yourself to sleep once again.

—

A cold, red hand shakes your shoulder lightly, rousing you a little as you groan.

"Hey… hey can you sit up a little for me? It's Arthur."

You squint, eyes fluttering open once again. Your surroundings are unfamiliar, a wooden cabin similar to the one you were in previously, but this one is smaller, cozier. You're laying in a real bed now, a decent sized one, with a thick pillow under your head and a heap of faded serape blankets pulled up over your shoulders.

"Mmmm.." You moan, wincing as your head pounds and your skin boils with a heat that you can't seem to shake. Your hair is soaked through with sweat, and your clothes cling uncomfortably around your body in their wet state. The hand on your shoulder shakes you a little harder now, coaxing you to sit up.

"I- I don't feel good, Arthur." You whimper, feeling unusually weak and vulnerable, but knowing you're not strong enough to do anything about it, "God, everything hurts and I'm so hot." You whisper, tears forming in your eyes at the unbridled misery that you're feeling. Every bone in your body aches, your muscles twitch and cramp from both a lack of food and the infection and it's miserable.

"I know… I know, here. I'll make it better, I'll make it go away, just please- sit up for me, alright?" Arthur pleads with you.

You nod, doing your best to sit up, wincing at the pain it sends through your body. Arthur helps you, placing his hand on your back to help you adjust as you lean up a little and rest your head against the old cracked headboard.

"Good girl… real good. Here." You finally manage to open your eyes and see Arthur holding a little metal cup up to your lips. It's the one that he keeps in his satchel for coffee, but the smell that's arising from the little silver cup is god awful. You're too weak to fight Arthur's cold hand as he presses the metal cup to your lips, tilting it so that the majority of the liquid slides down your throat. You cough lightly, as some of the medicine travels down the wrong pipe, and Arthur uses his thumb to wipe away the tonic that has dribbled down your chin. After a few coughs, and a whimper of misery, the tonic is all down.

"You got me medicine…" You mumble, partially a question and partially a statement. You glance up to Arthur with red, bloodshot eyes and see the worry that lines his face.

"Course I did. I told you I would." Arthur whispers back, placing the metal cup onto the dusty wooden floor. He's kneeling on the hard floor, knees digging uncomfortably into the wood. There's no chairs in the room, but he's not leaving you here alone.

"Scooch over, I'm comin in. Floors tearin' up these old knees." Arthur chuckles, helping you adjust closer to the wall under the heavy mass of blankets. After he's situated you, leaving just enough space for him to squeeze in, he sits down on the bed. He doesn't bother to kick his boots off, resting his feet up on the lower side of the mattress.

"There." He whispers, looking after you with concern, although he's less worried now that you've managed to drink down some tonic.

Your eyes have slipped closed once again, but you aren't sleeping, just resting as your fever has you by the neck. Arthur's body is solid beside you, gentlemanly of course. He brings his black hat down over his eyes in hopes of getting some sleep.

It only takes a few seconds for you both to succumb to sleep. For Arthur, it's the first he's gotten in days. And for you? All you've done is sleep. You'd be irritated with yourself if you weren't too sick to care. Quiet snores and slow breaths pass through the room as the two of you catch up on sleep and heal beside another.

Many things begin to change tonight, shifting the course as they do. The snow turns from a heavy downpour of ice, carried by the raging wind, to a slow sprinkling of fat, light snowflakes. They land on the roof, melting together and dripping chilly water down through the cracks until they splash against the wooden floor just feet away from you and Arthur. The snow and ice outside begins to melt away, just a bit, but it's an improvement from the blizzard.

Your fever breaks, and the red hot blaze that was dragging you closer to the brink of death with its fiery grasps turns to an even, cool temperature. The tonic spreads through your veins, starting the process of mending your leg back together. There will be a scar, a constant reminder of what happened here, but gone will be the pain. As the fever breaks, your sleeping body becomes more aware of the cold, subconsciously wrapping the blankets tighter around your small frame, begging the inanimate comforter to provide you with warmth that it doesn't hold.

And the last change; the one between you and Arthur. Something settles between you two, like two magnets feeling the first waves of force pulling them together. There's something there. There's hope with Arthur, there's friendship and compassion, companionship, and something more, you both just have to find it.

Your eyes flicker back and forth beneath their lids as you sleep, mind lost on a world of stars and flowers. The smell of fresh lilies and wildflowers surround you as you laugh, biting into fresh strawberries under the moon in a field of tall grass. The stars shine so brightly that you're sure they could fall out of the sky and land in your lap. The night is young, the world is beautiful. It's familiar, it's safe and it's good.

…and then you wake up.

Gone are the lillies, the warm night and the breeze. They are replaced by a cold cabin, by a chilly wind that howls outside and water that drips down from the ceiling. You roll onto your back, looking up to see Arthur still beside you. His hat is still resting over his eyes and nose, protecting him from any distractions that may prevent sleep. Your eyes linger on him for just a moment longer, taking note of the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his broad shoulders, and his beard that has grown a bit since you've fled Blackwater. You sigh, feeling the residual ache in your thigh. Reaching down, you lift the blankets to peek at the wound. You peel back your bandage some, wincing as you assess the damage.

The red ring around it has gone away, and Grimshaw did a nice job on her stitch work. It no longer oozes, but it's still a messy wound. You sigh out of frustration, fixing the bandage and pulling the blankets back over yourself. With the fever now gone, you've gone from one extreme to the other, shifting from an unbearable heat to a terrible chill, and you can't shake it. After a few moments of your teeth chattering, the solid mass of a man beside you begins to stir.

"You alright over there?" Arthur asks, ever the light sleeper. His voice is deep and gravelly from sleep as he takes his hat off of his eyes and places it onto the floor below. He notices your teeth clacking together, and the light shake of your shoulders as you curl into yourself under the blankets.

"Y-yeah, fevers c-comin' down is all." You stutter, trying to restrain your jaw from shaking in the cold night.

Arthur leans in towards you to press the back of his hand over your forehead. His hand is so warm, and you lean into his touch, chasing after the heat that never seems to leave his body. He assesses that your fever is gone, and his worry shifts from you dying of infection to you dying of hypothermia. Your skin is like ice as you shiver and writhe under the blankets, searching for any kind of warmth you can grasp onto.

"Shit, you're freezin'. C'mere."

Arthur snakes his hands under the blankets, pulling you into the crook of his side so that you're partially laying against him, and partially on top of him. Immediately, his body heat wraps around you, as his hands run up and down your arms to create warmth. You shudder, leaning into him as much as possible to chase after the ever giving fountain of warmth that he gives off.

"If I'm makin' you uncomfortable, just say the word and I'll move. Just don't want you freezin' is all." Arthur whispers. He tells himself that this is solely to warm you up, that he would do this for any of the girls. But as much as he tries to convince himself, he knows it's a lie. The feeling of your small, cold hands gripping onto his shirt is one he never wants to forget. Having you so close, he knows he'll likely never get this chance again and he wants to soak up every moment.

"No- no, this is nice." You whisper against him, truthfully. He pulls the blankets over you both, and you're surrounded by his scent under the confines of the blanket. You focus on keeping warm, on getting better, trying not to think about being pressed this close to Arthur. Already you can feel his body defrosting your own, melting away the ice that resides in your fingertips and the chill that shivers up your spine.

You want to distract yourself, to get away from this vulnerable feeling because it's dangerous. You think about what happened with Lenny and Jenny, what happened to the good people who let their guards down and what they lost. You won't allow yourself this, and as soon as you're warm enough, you plan to move back to your side of the bed. He's only in here because there's not enough space in the other cabins anyways, you lie to yourself.

Desperate for a distraction, you think of a topic to bring up. Arthur's hand running up and down your back is far too consuming and you have to find something else to focus on.

"What happened while you were off lookin' for medicine anyway? You were gone a long while." You whisper against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart beating against your ear. It's beating a bit quick, and you try not to think about why that is.

"Well we ran into Micah. He got separated from John and we still haven't found him…" Arthur pauses for a moment, concern tracing his words although he would never admit to worrying over his bastard little brother, "We found a big farm up north from here. Seemed like a good place to look but it was overrun with O'driscolls. They started threatenin' us so we took em out and-"

You interject Arthur with a furrow in your brows, confused by the mention of a name you haven't heard before.

"O'driscolls?" You ask, thinking back and deducting that you've not heard of these folks before.

"Guess you ain't been with us long enough to run into them yet -well we've been out further west than them for a while too- They're another gang, big bunch of cruel bastards run by Colm O'driscoll. He and Dutch go way back in a proper blood feud. Bad business…" Arthur says the last line with a particularly dark edge, and you make a note to ask about it at some point in the future. A breeze shakes the little cabin, and you burrow in tighter against Arthur, shivering lightly.

"They had a woman holed up in the basement, it was her and her husband's house. I can't imagine what they did to her. We found her husband shot outside, and then Micah got the goddamn house burned down. It was a right mess." Arthur says quietly, lightly shaking his head as if recounting the day with distaste. You rest your chin on his chest, looking up to see the remorse on his face, knowing he is punishing himself for an act he's not responsible for.

"And the woman…? What happened to her?" You inquire, fearing the worst for this girl. If the O'driscolls are as big and nasty a group as Arthur described, then you can only hope that she's okay.

"We brought her back with us, just till she gets on her feet again… y'know Dutch weren't too happy about finding O'driscolls up in these parts. He wants to hit them first thing in the morning."

You nod, resting your head back on Arthur's chest, glancing up through the cracks of the roof to get an estimate for the time. Your watch, the one you stole off of your current pillow and personal heater, was abandoned in Blackwater. The moon filters through the broken down roof, signaling that it's very early in the morning. You sigh, tracing the moonlight that trickles through until you see a few flickers of light. It's the stars, shining brightly now that the fog of a storm has passed. Arthur is seemingly eyeing them as well, as he speaks.

"Y’know you're like my little star." Arthur whispers, voice gravelly against your ear. You crane your neck to look up at him, pulling your eyebrows together. He doesn't look down to you, feeling too vulnerable to make eye contact.

"Everything that's goin' on, all the chaos, and you're still burnin'." His thumb rubs slow circles on your back as he talks.

"Shinin', bright, beautiful, but'll burn your ass faster than you can blink." Arthur chuckles, not even realizing what he's just said until he feels your breath hitch against his neck. You move your eyes away from the stars to rest your chin on his chest, looking up to him once more.

"You think I'm beautiful…?" You whisper, trying to hide your smile at Arthur's flustered state. His cheeks turn pink and his jaw falls slack as he stutters and avoids your eyes.

"I- I didn't mean nothin' by it, I was just- didn't mean to say- I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry-" Arthur rambles, cursing his damn big mouth and his thoughts for getting him in this situation that he's digging himself deeper into. You laugh at Arthur's quick embarrassment and self reprimandation. You move to lay on your back so you can better see the stars, still nuzzled tightly against Arthur, with his arm under your head, and his thumb tracing back and forth over your shoulder.

"Y'know my momma used to call me Star before she passed." You whisper, pushing down the emotions as you think of your sweet mother and her all too early fate.

Arthur squeezes you just a bit tighter in a show of comfort when he hears your sniffle. He lost his momma at a young age too. No matter how old you get, or how long it's been, the ache is still there.

"Well I think it's a fittin' nickname for you, considerin' how much time you spend lookin' at em." Arthur smiles, glancing between you lying beside him, cuddled into the crook of his arm, and the twinkling stars that are peeking through the abandoned cabin's splintered roof.

"Star… I think that's gonna stick." Arthur adds, adjusting himself a little and crossing an ankle over the other at the bottom of the bed.

"God Arthur, isn't it just beautiful?" You whisper, awestruck by the stunning, shimmering lights in the sky. They peek down through the cabin's cracks, causing your eyes to fill with them and sparkle as well.

"So beautiful…" Arthur whispers, but his eyes are not looking up. No, Arthur's eyes are fixated on you at his side, until he forces them to pull away on account of decency. He pulls you closer to him, savoring every second and cursing himself for being selfish enough to allow himself this moment.

"You warmer now? Comfortable?" He whispers, so close that you can feel his warm breath on your ear. You try to convince yourself that this is normal, that snuggling tightly in a bed with your best friend is normal.

"Toasty warm, mister." You reply, looking away from the stars to lay back on Arthur's chest. He holds his hand out in the air, waiting for you to situate yourself before resting it on your back, swallowing thickly at your actions.

"Try to get some sleep." He says. It takes only minutes for you to slip into slumber. Arthur on the other hand? He doesn't sleep the rest of the night.

—

"Honey?" A voice calls to you through your sleep. It's far away, beckoning you to join the realm of the living as you come to.

"Hmm?" You respond, too tired to form a coherent answer.

"I brought you some bandages, figure those are gonna need to be switched by tonight."

It's Abigail, and once you realize it's her, you finally perk up. She's standing beside your bed, placing a little roll of fresh bandages on the broken bedside table. You watch her hand release the roll, and notice the little fluttering paper beside it that is being held down by a glass bottle of tonic.

Arthur is already gone, he's been swept away by Dutch to go raid the O'driscolls. It's a foolish move. The gang is barely on its feet. The miniscule supply of food that had been brought from Blackwater has already dwindled, and while people here starve and freeze to death, Dutch is off with the strongest boys on a merry chase. When Arthur had woken up, only a few hours after he'd held you back to sleep, he had brushed a hair out of your face, pulled the blankets up for you, tucked you in and left you a note on the table. Unfortunately for you, when Arthur left he also took his warmth with him.

"Abigail? Could you help me get to the main cabin? It's mighty cold in here and I'm afraid my leg ain't lettin' me put much weight on it."

Abigail turns back to you, smiling.

"Course', c'mere."

She takes your hands, helping to pull you up to your feet. The weight on your leg aches something fierce, but at least the fever is gone.

You step towards the little table, eyeing the paper and tonic. You recognize the paper, the texture and torn edges tell you that Arthur has ripped it out of his journal, scribbling to you with his beloved charcoal.

Star, I've gone after these O'driscolls with some of the boys, should be back by nightfall. Drink the rest of this tonic to keep from getting sick again- Arthur

You pick up the delicate paper, smiling at Arthur's nickname for you. Folding it, you place it in your pocket before reaching for the medicine.

"Star?" Abigail questions, peeking over your shoulder, curious of the note you've been left.

"Yeah, little nickname Arthur came up with. Well, my momma used to call me Star too. Been a nickname since I was a girl, but I haven't heard it in awhile. It's nice." You explain, grimacing before you drink down the few swigs of tonic that are still left in the dark glass bottle.

The note stays tucked in your pocket as Abigail tosses your arm around her shoulders so that she can take some weight off your leg.

"Arthur told me about John last night… I can't imagine what you must be goin' through. I'm sorry Abigail. John is tough though, he'll be okay and we will find him."

Abigail is quiet, nodding her head lightly with a slight wobble to her lip.

"I hope so, Jack would be- what would he do without John?"

You know she's projecting a bit, as Jack is surely not the only one who would be lost without John. There's tension in Abigail and Johns relationship, something likely happened before you joined the gang, but it doesn't change that Abigail loves him. No, love isn't conditional like that.

That's all that is said, all that needs to be said as Abigail helps you to limp outside. Your leg is getting a little stronger but it still hurts like a son of a bitch to fully support yourself, something you'll have to get used to sooner or later because you'll be damned if you have to be helped along everywhere.

The snow is still thick on the ground, but the heavy downpour of snow and ice has stopped almost completely. Instead, the sun shines, finally having escaped the confines of the clouds. Eventually, after some struggling, you both make it to the main cabin where most of the gang is residing.

When you push the door open, the relief is immediate. It's much warmer inside, and you notice that someone already has a fire going in the fireplace.

"Just set me down over here, I'll be fine." You whisper to Abigail, nodding towards an empty bench on the left side of the wall. She gets you situated down on the bench, checking that you're comfortable before heading over towards Jack.

It's a boring day, and you're frustrated on account of your uselessness. Soft cries can be heard throughout the cabin, of friends and lovers who have lost their other halves. You crane your neck to glance out the broken window, sighing and wincing at the sight of two freshly dug graves that are marked with wooden crosses. The one closer to you, separated only by the cold, foggy glass, is marked with a 'J'. You've been repressing the emotion, repressing the memory, not allowing yourself to feel or to grieve. For just a moment, your mask slips down and a pain stabs your heart from the loss that you endured just a few days ago. But quickly you pull yourself together, wiping away the unshed tears and forcing yourself to bottle up like you always do.

You need a distraction, a vent to keep your mind busy so that it can't pull you down into the dark thoughts that threaten to eat you alive. You've been sitting here, not busy for far too long and it's starting to eat away at you, slowly creeping into your mind. You need to do something.

Charles enters the cabin with a pail filled with chunks of meat, and you stand up, putting most of the weight on your right leg as you walk over to him. He sets the pail on a wooden table off the center of the room, next to a decent sized stove.

"Charles, let me." You say, wiping your hands on your coat before taking in the ingredients in front of you. The pail of meat is fresh, likely just butchered. It appears to be venison, and it'll make a nice, gamey stew.

He rests against the table, eyeing you up and down quickly before cocking his head, as if unsure.

“You sure it's good for you to be standing for so long? Why don’t you go sit, its no trouble for me to-” Charles starts to rebuttal before you interrupt him.

“Please- all I've done since we got here is sit, and I need to do somethin’, I need to keep busy. What's good for me isn't sittin’ down and thinkin’ over all the shit that just happened.” You plead. There is understanding in Charles’ eyes, he knows exactly how you feel. Your eyes then travel to his hand, and you remember that he’d been hurt too. You’d seen the burn on his hand when he and Jenny carried Davey out of the boat. Now it's wrapped in clean gauze, pale against his skin.

“Sides’, you’re hurt too. What happened to your hand? Looked like a burn when I saw you on the boat...” You whisper, taking the meat out of the bucket and putting it into a pot, even though Charles never explicitly told you that it was okay for you to take over.

Out of reflex he stretches his hand a little, putting some pressure on the throbbing pain.

“When that oil barrel got shot I was standing too close, had my hand on a metal rail when everything went up in flames, burned me pretty good, but I’ll be fine.” Charles explains, glancing towards the sound of whimpering sobs. You follow his gaze to a woman you’ve never seen before, presumably Mrs. Adler. She’s wearing nothing but a chemise and a coat, her blonde hair is dirty and her freckled face is red and puffy from her cries that haven’t ceased since arriving. Slowly, you bring your eyes back to Charles, checking inside the stove to make sure the fire was still lit and hot. You poke the burning coals and wood with an iron prod that was sitting beside the stove.

“Charles when I went in there… everyone was-” You pause, looking around at all the miserable faces in the room, pausing on Jack and deciding to choose your words carefully, “I saw all the people, what the hell happened?” You ask, thinking back to the passengers on the floor, dead, and the ones cowering in the corner. Charles purses his lips as you take the pail of water that he’d brought in earlier and pour it into the pot. Steam rises from the simmering pot, along with the first mouth watering scents of real food.

“Dutch, it's like he lost his mind in there. Once the boat caught on fire, he was gone, he started yelling, he shot a girl in a bad way. I haven’t been with him long but… it was unlike him.” Charles whispers, distaste coloring his face, and a scowl that matches your own. You nod, thinking over the hell that has been the last few weeks. Nothing can really be said about it, what is there to say? The silence is comfortable as you stir the pot.

“Thank you, Charles. I’ve got this from here, why don’t you go rest, you’ve done plenty.” You thank him, and he dips his head lightly, resting his hand on your shoulder as he steps past you.

The meat simmers in the pot, and the water begins to boil lightly. Amongst your ingredients on the table are a carrot, salted offal, two apples, an onion, rosemary, thyme and a whole lotta rum. It's apparent that Pearson’s priorities were not with grabbing the gang food, but rather fueling his own addictions. You sigh, taking the carrot and pulling your knife out of its sheath. You chop it into slices and add it to the pot, just as you do with the onion and herbs. It's a simple stew, but it's still going to be delicious. The savory aroma begins to fill the room, and soon the hungry bellies of the gang begin to rumble.

After some more stirring, and some additions of more herbs thrown into the pot, you deem the stew done. There are enough metal bowls on the table for everyone in the room, and you fill them almost halfway. As much as you’d like to hand everyone a full bowl, there isn’t enough and you need to ration it. The boys will be hungry when they get back, and you make sure there is enough for everyone.

“Alright everyone, stews ready!” You holler, wiping your hands on your coat once more and watching as a huddle of cold faces light up at the mention of warm food.

Karen and Tilly come up together, arms linked to stay warm. Both are swaddled in coats, and Tilly has a scarf wrapped over her head to protect her ears.

“It smells so good, this’ll be the first meal any of us have eaten since Blackwater.” Tilly sighs, excited and hungry. Karen nods, taking two bowls, one for her and one for Mary-beth who is reading on a bench by the door.

“Thanks for cooking, Star!” Marybeth giggles from across the room and your jaw drops with a chuckle.

“Y'know gossip spreads around this place faster than the goddamn plague.” You laugh. Apparently, Abigail had told the girls about your note from Arthur, and the nickname that he had signed onto the top of the paper.

You sigh, shaking your head and handing out stew bowls to the people waiting in line. You thank Grimshaw for all her help with her leg as you hand her a bowl. Reverend Swanson, who is mostly unfamiliar to you, mentions that he’d expected you to have coins on your eyes when he’d seen you coming out of the wagon. Miss O’shea takes a bowl with a wicked scowl on her face, and Hosea thanks you, wishing you well with your leg before taking his bowl and resigning back to his cabin. Everyone who is there comes up, except for Abigail because Jack is sleeping in her lap.

Once everyone has gone through you turn around and see that Mrs. Adler hasn’t gotten a bowl. You bite your lip, toying with it while deciding to take some to her. Maybe she’ll want nothing to do with you. Maybe she’ll see your place in this gang as no different than the O’driscolls who took everything from her. But you won’t know until you try. Throwing caution to the wind, to take a bowl in hand and carry it over towards her. Her knees are brought up to her chest, and her arms are wrapped around them as she sobs into herself. Once you are in front of her, you hesitate. She hasn’t noticed you in front of her yet.

“Mrs? Do you- Are you hungry…?” You ask, extending the bowl of stew towards her.

Her head snaps up at you, and the glare she sends your way is ice cold.

“Could you eat if you were in my situation?” She hisses with a thick Texan accent. You nod your head, pursing your lips as you begin to turn on your heels to head back to the table.

“Take that as a no then…” You mumble under your breath. You only make it a step away before she calls out to you, gripping your wrist and pulling you lightly so that you face her again.

“I, wait- Im sorry.” She says, feeling regret from pushing you away so rudely just moments ago.

“Please, sit.” The woman offers, gesturing towards the open area on the bench next to her. You extend the stew out to her, and this time she smiles before you sit next to her. You wince as it pulls at your healing thigh, but the pain is already getting better. Mrs. Adler notices, and then thinks back to when the man that had brought her in, Arthur, had asked for medicine from her cabinet.

“You were sick when I got here right?” She asks, eyebrows pulling together slightly as she takes a bite of the stew. Her eyes slip closed for a second as she relishes the flavor. Instinctually, you run your hand down to your thigh, tracing over the bandaged wound.

“Bullet to the leg, I’m afraid… Nasty business.” You all but whisper, once again fighting your memory in an attempt to repress them. Your eyes flicker around the room, and for the first time in a while you see a few smiles. The food has brought some hope.

“Yeah. I'm glad to see you back on your feet then. I… I wasn’t doin’ so well last night. Couldn’t hear much other than my own cryin’, but from what I did hear, you weren’t doing so hot either.”

You’re at a loss for words, not sure whether or not to respond on the matter of her grieving her husband. After a little debating in your head, you decide on the former. If something happened to the love of your life you would probably want to talk about it.

“Mrs. Adler-” You start, but she holds her hand up quickly and interjects.

“Please, call me Sadie.”

“Sadie, I’m sorry for what they’ve done to you. I know how it feels to have someone you love taken from you for nothing other than selfish greed.” You offer, thinking about your Pa. A few tears form in your eyes as you think about him. He was a bastard towards the end of his all too short life, but he was still your Papa.

She smiles, seemingly remembering something, but it falters, and forms into a deep frown with tears rimming her eyes. Watching Sadie remember her husband is like the sun being driven out by a thunderstorm. The good memories flash over her face for a moment before she realizes that they will never be anything but memories. There is no chance for making new ones now.

“I- we…” Sadie starts, tears dripping silently down her cheeks, falling into her bowl of stew. She can’t find the words to express her heartache, or her gratitude towards you. But how could she? How can one put emotions so vast and contrasting into words?

“Jake and I, our farm-” She starts again, unable to put her grief into words. You place your hand on her knee, and she stops to look up at you.

“Hey, it's alright. Don't gotta talk about it now, just eat somethin, yeah?” You whisper, hoping that you haven’t made her feel worse. She looks up at you with a nod, and a sincerity.

“Thank you. You’re the first person who's actually talked to me since I got here. But I guess what could people even say…?” Sadie thanks you, taking another bite of stew.

“It’s no problem at all, Sadie.” You go to stand, but stop when she speaks once again, embarrassed that she didn’t ask your name.

“I didn’t catch your name.” She says, and you noticed the tears have stopped trailing down her cheeks.

“Well,” you chuckle, and tell her your real name, “but the new running nickname is Star, so why don’t you just call me that?”

“Thank you, Star…” Sadie offers sincerely, before letting you go. You smile at her once more before heading back to the table. Jack is still asleep, and you want to get some soup to Abigail. She hasn’t eaten either, but isn’t going to move the poor kid. He’s so young, too young to be going through all this. You pity Abigail, and how hard it must be for her to explain to her son what's going on.

Just as you go to grab the bowl off the table, a hand gently touches your elbow. You turn to see who it may be, needing some food or to give you an empty bowl. To your surprise the person in front of you is Lenny. Your jaw falls slack a little, and your eyes start to water before you stop them. You’ve been avoiding him, because what can you even say?

“Lenny…” You whisper, and there is so much pity and heartbreak in your voice that it sounds foreign to your ears.

He smiles at you, as if everything is going to be okay before he pulls you a little aside, away from the ears of others. It’s then that you see the unkempt look about him, his red eyes and the haunting grief that hasn’t left him since those few days ago.

“You were a good friend to Jenny… and I thank you for that.” Lenny says, glistening tears in his eyes that match your own. You hastily wipe them away, before glancing across the room, out the window to the fresh grave that is haunting you. You haven’t allowed yourself to feel it, to grieve it. You only knew Jenny a short time but in that time she was your friend and she’s gone. It took just a half-second for her life to be erased. Just a moment. If the shot had been off by a foot it would be you in that grave instead of her, and you wonder if it would be better off that way.

“She told me about your plans, about going to Tumbleweed. Lenny, I’m so sorry.” You whimper, asking yourself if Jenny’s death is your fault. They should be in Tumbleweed getting married by now. But Lenny is here with you, with tears in his eyes and a broken heart, and Jenny is buried outside.

“She- that never should have happened.” You pause, thinking over Jenny’s dying wish that she had whispered to you with the last breath of air that ever left her lungs.

“Jenny asked me to tell her how much she loves you… I was there with her, the whole time until she- until she…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, but Lenny understands, nodding with a smile that holds so much pain.

“I thank you for that, for staying with her. We dont get many chances for love in this life. Im glad for the time we spent together. God I miss her so much already, my sweet Jenny…” Lenny mutters, before pulling you into a hug. He’s so young, just barely an adult, and he’s already lost so much. The grief in the room is almost unbearable. Everyone has lost something, and yet you're the only one who won’t allow yourself to feel. Every time the emotion bubbles up, you stomp it back down. Lenny’s arms are tight around you in a show of friendship and heartache before he pulls away.

“Thanks for all you did for her, even in the end.”

“She would have done the same for me.” You smile, although there is no joy behind it.

“I'm sure she would have, miss.” Lenny adds before tipping his head to you and walking out of the room back to his cabin.

As soon as the door swings back into place, and Lenny’s figure disappears behind it, you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. A few tears and one quiet sob escape from you, but you quickly put yourself back together, wiping away your tears and avoiding the window that gives view to her grave. Just as you’ve finished collecting yourself, a little hand tugs on the bottom of your coat. When you look down, slightly startled, you see little Jack, cheeks pink from the cold as he looks up to you with tired eyes, despite the sleep he's gotten. He tugs on your coat until you give him your full attention.

“Are you okay? When I was with Mama I saw you crying. Is Lenny okay too?” Jack says, his little high pitched voice a light in the dark. You kneel down onto the ground beside him, ignoring your thigh, and once you're on the ground, he holds on to the lapels of your coat. His little chubby features are so worried. Jack’s too sweet for this life, too innocent.

“Yes, we’re just fine, little mister, I promise.” You chuckle, looking into Jack’s sparkling eyes that haven’t yet lost their childlike wonder.

“I was meaning to ask since you woke up, you hungry?” You ask, stretching from the ground to grab a bowl of stew from the table at your back. Jack lights up, looking forwards to his first meal in days.

“Oh yes, please! My tummy has been growling since we got here.”

You smile, handing him the bowl of stew and leaning your back against the wooden wall, still sitting on the floor. Much to your surprise, Jack settles himself right in your lap, scarfing down the soup as politely as he can. You tense for a moment, not expecting him to have sat in your lap. But after a few seconds you relax, resting back against the wall to let him be comforted, the poor boy just wants to be coddled, which is understandable.

“You are a very good cook! Better than Mister Pearson!” Jack says, excitedly. His bowl is almost half gone as he uses his sleeve to wipe away the broth dripping down his lip.

“Well thank you, Jack. Maybe I'll have to cook more often.” You respond. You enjoyed cooking for the gang, even though it's quite different from your usual line of work.

“Oh, please do!”

“Can I call you my aunt?” Jack blurts out, setting his empty bowl on the floor. Abigail overhears her sometimes overbearing son and chuckles knowingly.

“Uh, I- what?” You stutter, at a loss for words. Of everything he could have said, you didn’t expect him to say that.

“Well there's Uncle Dutch, Uncle Hosea and Uncle Arthur. I have aunt Tilly and aunt Karen… so are you my aunt now too? I asked if I could call Micah my uncle, but papa got mad…” Jack whispers, looking up to you with anticipation for your answer. With a little tap to his cherry red nose you respond.

“Well of course I’ll be your aunt, silly.” You smile at the pure joy radiating from Jack as he squeezes you into the tightest hug his little arms can manage.

“Okay so you’re my aunt Star!” He yells out, and your jaw drops with a laugh.

“You too? Has everyone picked this nickname up now?” You chuckle, surprised.

“Sure have!” Jack responds, cuddling back down into your lap.

—

A few hours later you wake up to yelling. You startle awake, gasping and out of instinct you pull your knife out before your eyes are even fully open. It's a habit you’re working on stopping. When you feel that unfamiliar weight in your lap, you pause to realize Jack is still sitting on you, nuzzled into your coat. He’s still asleep, and by the dark night outside, you presume he won’t be waking up soon.

“Abigail?” You whisper, not wanting to wake up the boy.

“I can take him now. Thank you. I didn’t wanna wake you either.” Abigail smiles, coming over from her makeshift bed on a bench. The yelling outside ceases for a moment before it continues again, but it's muffled. Abigail’s eyebrows pull together in worry before she gently picks up her sleeping boy and carries him over to his spot. She settles him down, and you move to stand but the ache in your leg has grown tenfold and is stiff as a board.

“Goddamnit.” You curse, realizing that you’d neglected to take the tonic that Arthur had left you that morning, and had spent all day walking on the bad leg. The lack of medicine combined with the sudden use has swollen your leg up and made it unbearable to put weight on.

Simply put, you can’t get up.

Anxiety suffocates you for a moment as you feel vulnerable and stuck. And yet you’re too proud to ask for help. You desperately want to investigate the noise outside, but you can't even stand on your own two legs. It’s the most frustrated you’ve been in your entire life. With a sigh, you give up, slinking back against the wall. After a while of internal struggle, you begin to drift to sleep again. It seems to be all you can do as of late, but your body is still fighting the latter end of an infection, and has been completely wracked by the trauma you’ve endured.

Your eyes are heavy, winning the battle as you fight to stay awake. That is until a large boot nudges your own on the ground.

“Hey you alright? Why you sleepin’ on the floor?” Arthur asks, standing above you. He looks exhausted, dark circles underline his eyes and purple bruises line his fists, which you choose to ignore.

“Just got tired and decided to stay here is all.” You lie, not wanting to ask another favor from Arthur. All he's done is help you, and you have nothing to give him in return. Asking him for more help would be just another debt to the man whom you can’t repay. He eyes you for a moment, hands resting on his gun belt before speaking.

“I'm goin’ back to the cabin. You headin’ over too?” He asks, gesturing towards the door.Your pride will not allow you this, and so you lie again.

“Yeah, I’ll go over in a few.”

Arthur chews on his lip, thinking for a moment before he dips his head and turns towards the door. His hands rest in the pockets of his large blue coat as he walks past the array of people who are sleeping, sprawled around the large room. He reaches the door and places his hand on the knob, but he doesn’t open it. With a small chuckle, and a shake of his head, he turns around and struts straight back over to you.

“What?” you ask, raising your eyebrow at the cowboy and pulling your coat tighter around your shoulders. One hand lightly massages the sore, tender flesh of your shot thigh.

“You can’t get up, can ya?” Arthur asks, all too amused by your scowl.

“I can get up just fine. Just choosin’ not to…” You mumble, avoiding Arthur’s eye contact. With a sigh, he leans down, wrapping his arm around your waist and helping you to stand. He’s on the same side as your bad leg, and he holds your arm tightly to help you along.

“I said I was fine-” You hiss, wincing when you take the first step.

“Yeah and I’m a dancin’ girl, now let me help you. C’mon.” Arthur jokes, taking his time to help you across the room. He goes at your pace, and you force yourself not to think about his hand on your waist. Slowly but surely you make it outside, across the road, and into the cabin.

As soon as Arthur sits you down on the bed he sighs.

“You are so goddamn stubborn, woman, you know that?” He chastises lightly, grabbing the tonic and bandages that you were supposed to use about… twelve hours ago.

“Been told once or twice.” You rebuttal.

Arthur kneels on the ground in front of the bed, right between your knees to grant him easier access to your wound. He’s careful, slow and patient as he peel back some of the cut denim to take the gauze off of your leg. It’s quiet as he wipes away some old poultice from your wound, apologizing quietly when you wince or tense up. In those moments, when you gasp or tense, his hand immediately leaves your thigh. He doesn’t want to cause you pain.

“Real good…” Arthur says, putting new bandages in place of the old. He glances up to your eyes every now and again to make sure he’s not hurting you, and there’s something so intimate about it. Him kneeling on the ground between your knees, his hand on your thigh as he helps you to heal makes your heart ache in an unfamiliar way and it’s so overwhelming that you have to look away and change the subject.

“So… What was all that yellin’ about before you came in?” You ask, referring to the commotion that had woken you up earlier.

Arthur nods, carefully wrapping the gauze around your thigh.

“That would be an O’Driscoll.” Arthur says, irritated.

You have to do a double take to make sure your ears are working.

“A-an O’Driscoll?! You lot brought an O’Driscoll to the camp where we sleep? Where Jack sleeps??” You bite, eyes wide with shock and confusion. Arthur had just told you last night about this dangerous, cold gang with no morals and a leader that is as sneaky as a serpent.

“Weren’t my idea, Star, trust me.” Arthur says, seemingly as surprised about it as you.

“He’s a harmless feller. Dutch wants to question him for information, that’s all.” Arthur adds, trying to ease your upset.

You nod, accepting his response for what is rather than what should be. One thing about your decision to run with a gang is that you signed up to follow Dutch. You live with his shots, that was your choice. So even though you strongly disapprove of this move, it isn’t your call.

“Okay…” You whisper. The wind howls loudly in the distance, and as you glance out the window you see the graveyard across the way that you've been desperately trying to avoid. Of course, Arthur notices this. He finishes bandaging your thigh before he speaks up.

“How you feelin’?” He asks, squeezing your knee a little. You know what he’s asking. He’s asking how you’re holding up after everything that you’ve gone through. And yet, you have a feeling that he already knows without you ever having to speak a word. You can’t bring yourself to open up, not even to him. You’ve built walls for a reason and taking them down is hard.

“It hurts, but I'll be fine. Grimshaw says the infections already gone down, just gotta keep it that way now..” You say, feigning ignorance to the depth behind Arthur’s question.

You rub at the tender skin around the gun wound in an attempt to ease the ache. By the look on Arthur’s face, he’s not fooled, and you frown deeply, avoiding his gaze. To your surprise, he stands up and sits on the bed beside you. Even as you avoid his eye contact, you can feel him staring at you. When you refuse to look at him, afraid that the tears will start falling, he places his index finger under your chin and pulls your gaze to his own.

“Star…you ain’t gotta lie to me, y’know. Not with me.” He whispers.

Your eyes flutter shut and you try your damndest to hold it in, but a single tear falls down your cheek, and your lip quivers. The conversation with Lenny today was almost too much. It brought back every memory of Blackwater that you had been trying so hard to repress. Arthur wipes the sole tear away with his thumb, smearing it across your cheek before taking both your hands and placing them in his own.

“You’re tough. You’re strong for everyone around you, and you’ve always got this damn wall up. You’re-” Arthur pauses for a second, looking down to his lap in thought before looking back up.

“You’re my friend. You ain’t gotta hide around me, alright?” He whispers, bright green eyes looking straight through your tough facade and boring into your soul.

The tears just start falling and you can’t stop them. For the first time in your adult life, you don’t try to. You bring your hands away from Arthur’s, and up to your face as you sob into your palms. Immediately, Arthur pulls your hands away from your face and wraps his arms around your small frame, swaying you gently on the bed and shushing you. You cling to his blue coat with every bit of strength you have, dampening the wool as you cry.

“I- I can’t believe they’re gone, Arthur.” You sob. All of the passengers that died on the boat, then Sean, Davey and Mac, possibly John. Jenny and Boadicea…You gasp for air, lungs shaking as you release all the emotions that have been building up for far too long.

“I know, I know…” Arthur whispers into your hair, running his hand up and down your back to comfort you. You’ve not been looked after like this in a long time. It's nice to know you have someone to bear your soul too, but right now all you can think of is the ones you lost.

“Jenny- Jenny was my friend!” You half cry, half gasp into Arthur’s coat, clenching your fists so tight onto his coat that your hands are on the verge of shattering.

“She was- she was talkin’ to me about Lenny. They was- They were gonna-” You sob, hiccuping and snotting against him. It's not an aesthetic visual, but it's raw.

“I know sweetheart, I know they was, c’mere.” He mumbles, pulling you against his chest to hold you even tighter.

You don’t correct him for the pet name like you did in Tumbleweed. Maybe you’re too emotionally drained to care, maybe you don’t mind it. Your sobs turn to cries, that turn to whimpers, until after a long while of crying, you're just breathing against Arthur’s chest. His grip on you hasn’t let up, but neither of you have said anything, just swaying and shushing. Your eyes begin to feel heavy again, but you push out one last whisper before they close.

“Arthur… I'm so sorry about Boadicea…”

Arthur sucks in a deep breath, fighting the emotion that bubbles up from the mention of his former horse.

“That wasn’t your fault. You hear me? That’s not on you.” He growls, holding you even tighter. His heart breaks to know that you’ve been carrying that weight. None of this is your fault.

Before long, you’re asleep in his arms. Even after he hears your breathing settle, and the light snores that you make, he doesn't go. He rests his back against the wooden wall and falls asleep with you in his arms. He can’t bring himself to let go of you, even for a second. Terrified that you’ll disappear from his arms or feel the need to close yourself off or be alone again. Because you're not alone, not anymore.

—

You wake up slowly. Underneath you is a slow rise and fall, accompanied by light snoring. You smile warmly before even opening your eyes. Arthur’s arms are still wrapped around your waist tightly.

When your eyes open, you are met with Arthur’s sleeping face. His eyes are peacefully shut, and his lips are parted to allow his little snores to fall from his lips. Besides his absolutely killer morning breath, he looks as snug as a bug. You chuckle, slowly prying yourself from his grip, trying not to wake him. He needs the sleep. You crawl over him, yelping as he snores particularly loudly, shaking you with his rumbles. Eventually you make it out of the bed alive. Arthur is still sleeping, and you pull the blankets up over him.

You want to leave him a note, and pull your leather bound journal out of your satchel. You haven’t opened it since everything went to shit, and you run your hand over the cover before flipping through the pages. The last entry was from a few weeks ago, the night that you had laid under the stars and picked wildflowers. Before venturing out you had written about meeting Jenny. It was also the same day Arthur bought his journal. Oh, how quickly things change.

You eye your last entry for a moment before turning the page, and tearing the next section out. You take your pencil and scribble onto the paper before setting it on the table next to Arthur’s hat. You go to sign your name at the bottom, signing the first letter before pausing for a moment and changing it.

Thank you for last night, really. -Star

It's short and sweet. Once it’s secured on the table, you glance back at Arthur one more time before heading to the door. Maybe it’s from the tender care he had shown you yesterday, or maybe it’s coincidence, but your leg feels much better today. You’re confident enough to head to the main cabin yourself. Your thigh is sore, but not the burning pain that had torn through you yesterday. You walk past the stables, glancing in pity towards the wails of the O’Driscoll being held captive. Some of the snow has melted from the sun, which you're grateful for, as it’s easier to navigate across the road. Still it takes you a bit longer than usual, and you curse whatever may be out there that you’re stuck in this position.

Before you’ve even breached the door, you can hear the arguing, the crying. God, what now? The gang seems to be falling apart at the seams and everyone is shattering. Once you pull open the door, the muffled voices become clear.

“Dutch van der Linde, it has been two days! He ain’t been seen in two days!” Abigail yells, storming after Dutch who is glaring at a very worried Hosea.

“Abigail, your John is just fine. Lost in the storm, he's probably on his way back from wherever he is right now.” Dutch rebuttals, causing Hosea to grow irritated.

“The girl is right, Dutch. He could very well be dead out there. We barely survived here and we have walls, who knows where the poor boy ended up.” Hosea states, worried over the state of the closest relationship he’ll ever have to a son. Dutch turns, glaring daggers at Hosea, but he's met with a glare just as strong.

“I’ll go get him.” You state, and all eyes in the room shift to you. Abigail practically whimpers, uttering out her thanks as you pull your coat back over your shoulders. Hosea steps forward, a look of pity on his face.

“Dear girl, your leg… You’re barely back on your feet, you can’t venture into this mess.” Hosea says, gesturing to the freshly wrapped bandages around your thigh.

You pull your revolver out of its holster, squinting and looking down the barrel to make sure it's clean and fully loaded before you reholster it.

“I have to. For Jack, for Abigail. If he's out there I gotta find him. Sides’ my leg is fine, really.” It’s a bit of a white lie that your leg is fine, but you need to find John.

“I’ll bring him back, Abigail. I will.” You promise, hugging her tightly before heading towards the door.

“Estrella! I'm coming too.” Javier calls out, pulling a patterned poncho over his coat and grabbing a sawed off shotgun from his items. You nod, chuckling as Javier approaches.

“Estrella? I even wanna know what that means?” You laugh, gearing up with Javier.

“It’s nothing,” he laughs, “You think we can handle this? Just the two of us?” Javier asks, holstering his gun before holding the door for you. You walk towards the barn while you think. You’re not even sure who to ask, but you’re not waking Arthur up, he needs the sleep. You chew on your lip for a second, thinking it over before you come to a decision.

“Yeah, just us. We can handle it.”

When you push the barn doors open, you see Charles, sitting in a wooden chair about ten feet in front of the tied up O’driscoll. He’s sharpening a knife, barely paying attention to the smaller man’s cries.

You dip your head to Charles in greeting before going through the open stalls. Boadicea isnt here, and it causes that dull ache to grow a little stronger. You do see however, right next to your still unnamed buckskin, an unfamiliar horse.

“Where’d this guy come from?” You ask, petting the skittish tobiano.

“Oh. Arthur found him when they raided those O’Driscolls. He’s keeping him for now.” Javier says before grabbing the reins to his paint, Boaz. He leads the stallion outside, and you grab the buckskin to chase after him.

“Can you track?” Javier asks, mounting up on Boaz in time with you. He starts off at a trot, leading you towards the main road.

“Yeah, my Pa taught me when I was just a girl. If he was through, I’ll see. I just hope his tracks aren’t covered with snow…” You say, retaining hope that John is alive and well.

“Good. we’ll go back to the main road, try to find where he broke off.” Javier calls back to you, pushing Boaz into a canter. You run after him, pulling your coat up over your nose to protect it from the cold.

You cut across the river, and it isn’t long before you find a few sets of tracks.

“Hey is John’s horse shod?” You yell up to Javier, who chuckles.

“No. That horse is the most sure-footed bastard you’ll ever ride. Carajo, he’s more like a mule than a horse.” Javier jokes. One set of hoof tracks resembles a shod horse, and one an unshod, so you start following the latter trail.

“It cuts across the crick here.” You yell, running across the little creek and picking up the trail on the other side. Javier and Boaz fall behind you, following as you lead the way.

After following the trail for a bit, you come upon a gorge. It causes your limbs to tingle with anxiety, and you try not to look down and see how deep it goes.

“Shit, be careful. There's a hell of a drop here.” You say, navigating your horse around the fault. John was more reckless, his tracks prove that his horse cantered around the gorge, cutting deep as if running from something. After some more following, splatters and drips of blood are evident against the crisp white snow.

“Javier…” You whisper, following the trail that shows evidence of the horse spooking, and jumping around, like there was a fight. More blood is spilled in the snow the further you travel along.

“I see it too…” He whispers, and both of you are less sure that John is okay.

“Oh no.” You mutter under your breath as a large body comes into view. You gallop towards it, sliding your buckskin into a stop as you jump down.

“It’s John’s horse. He must have went on foot from here.” You say, glancing between the initials “JM” that have been tooled into the leather, and the disappearing trail of footprints in front of you.

You take in the poor horse before jumping onto your own. It was brought down and partially eaten by something, either a bear or a wolf, most likely the latter.

“His tracks disappear, but we gotta keep goin’!” You holler over the wind. The cold is almost unbearable as you ascend higher up the mountains, and the snow grows deeper, making it harder for the horses to climb.

“Estrella, the horses are getting tired.” Javier calls up, unsure of when to stop following the lost trail.

You feel your horse’s gait getting sluggish, and feel his breaths become hot and heavy.

“So we’ll go on foot.” You rebuttal, refusing to give up just yet.

After cantering to the top of the hill, you hop down, grabbing a springfield rifle and enough ammo to kill whatever may be prowling.

“JOHN!!” You scream into the wind, receiving no reply except your own echo and the whipping wind. You can barely stand the wind, but you push on anyway.

“I don’t- we dont even know he’s up here.” Javier tries to reason, but you continue to walk away, sliding down a small slope before coming to a ridge that youll have to jump up to. Its taller than you, and you sigh in frustration. Javier notices your hesitation, and he jumps up, grabbing the rock platform and pulling himself up before extending his hand down to you.

"I'll help you, come on." He calls down and you hesitate to take his hand, a scowl formin on your lips.

"I don't need your help." You hiss, knowing fully that you absolutely do need his help. The platform is way taller than you.

"Easy there tigra, I'm just trying to help." Javier placates, and you feel bad for snapping at him. You jump up as high as you can manage, gripping onto his hand and allowing him to pull you up by your arms.

"I'm sorry. Just tired of sittin' down and askin' for help all the t-time." You explain, standing up and dusting the snow off your legs while shivering heavily.

"I understand that." Javier smiles, leading you towards a crack in between the rocks. It's big enough for you to walk through, and you squeeze in, feeling both frozen to death and terrified by the altitude you’re at. Javier is quick to slip in after you, noticing the chills that wrack your body.

“Here this should warm you up.” He extends a bottle of bourbon out to you. The cap is already popped off, and you down a swig before handing it back. The bourbon burns down your throat, warming you as it does.

“Thanks.”

Just as Javier takes the bottle back, you hear a voice. You can't make out what it says, but it's raspy and familiar. You and Javier share a glance before you start running to the other side of the tunnel.

"John!! Keep talkin' so we can follow your voice!" You beg, jogging after the initial sound.

"Help!" John yells, and you dart to the left in the snow until you come upon a dip. Your leg aches, but it doesn't matter. This is too important. You run to the edge of the little cliff and look down.

Down the cliff, John looks up at you, frozen and exhausted. There are bloody gashes in his face, markers of a wolf attack. Blood trickles down his chin, staining the snow white. Really, it's a miracle he didn't bleed to death.

"John, you look like shit." You say before whistling to the horses. Javier is only a few steps behind you, and he hops down into the hole. John groans in pain as Javier tosses him over his shoulder.

"Good to see you both too." John says with a small laugh despite his bleak situation.

"Brother, we were worried about you." Javier says, waiting as Boaz canters up the hill alongside your buckskin.

Once the horses reach you, Javier helps John mount up behind his saddle. You both get on and start cantering down the hill towards Colter.

"Your woman's been worried sick about you, y'know." You holler over the wind towards John who looks far too close to sleep for your liking.

"Oh there will be hell to pay when I get back."

The three of you grow quiet, too concerned with getting John back to really chat. You make it about halfway, pushing the horses as hard as you can through the snow before you hear them.

Howls sound out from the top of the mountain, and you whip around on your horse to see five snow white wolves running down the bank towards you.

"Shit, John looks like your buddies came back to finish their meal!" You yell, pulling your rifle from the holster on your saddle. You flip the safety off, load a bullet into the chamber, aim right for the closest wolf's chest and fire.

The first wolf goes down, and as the shot rings out, the other four falter for a moment before returning to their chase.

You aim for the next closest wolf, but right as you squeeze the trigger, your buckskin trips on a rock hidden under the snow and you miss. The horses are galloping so fast down the mountain, and turning around makes it difficult to aim. The wolves are getting far too close for your liking, and anxiety causes you to have tunnel vision.

You take a deep breath, and as you exhale time seems to slow down. You aim, squeezing the trigger four times and taking down all four wolves. When the last one hits the ground, your vision returns to normal and time seems to resume.

"Fine shootin, lady." John says as you come out of your trance. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced before, and you have to shake your head.

"Thanks." You say, tossing your rifle strap over your shoulder and spurring your horse across the river.

Colter has come into view now, and you see the few people loading up wagons outside. So we're leaving then?

You slow down your horses, coming into the town.

"We need help!" You call out, dismounting and jogging to Javier's horse.

Abigail runs out the main cabin door, and the relief that washes over her face is clear as day. But as she takes in his poor state, it is replaced by concern.

"John Marston where in the hell have you been?!" She yells, rushing over to where Javier is lifting John down.

"Oh you know, up on the mountains gettin' eaten by damn wolves. I missed you too, dear." John jokes, wincing as they carry him inside.

You are left alone outside the cabin, and you take the horses by their reins and lead them the a hitching post. After tying their reins up, you offer both horses an outtake from your satchel, which they greedily accept.

Just as you're about to head back to the main cabin, the door swings open.

"Why didn't you wake me up? I was worried sick." Arthur says, walking hastily towards you before, to your surprise, wrapping you in a hug. It lasts only a few moments, and you exhale, releasing the day's tension as he hugs you. When he lets you go, he leans down to inspect your thigh.

"You okay? It hurt? You shoulda got me up, that was a dangerous trip." Arthur says, worry evident on his face. You raise one eyebrow at him, giggling at his 'mother hen’ state.

"Haven't you learned that I can handle my own yet, Arthur?" You ask, a little offended that he's suggesting you needed help. You know he means nothing by it, but still.

"Oh, I know, trust me I do. But you shouldn't have to do everything alone."

The air grows too serious for your comfort, and you nod towards the main cabin before heading over to the door. Arthur is by your side as you open the door.

"Further East?" Uncle says, getting up out of his chair, "Why don't we just run down to the city and turn ourselves in? How you mean we're going further east?"

"The west is blocked off, we have no choice! We go east, lay low for a little while. We can hide out and lick our wounds. And then my friends, once they have long forgotten our troop, we seek absolution out west, as far as we can go." Dutch says, addressing everyone in the middle of the room.

You and Arthur give each other a look, not too sure about heading further east. Hosea steps up beside Dutch and looks around at his family.

"I don't like it, but he's right. We have nowhere else to go." Hosea adds.

"And where will we go? Do we have a spot picked out? Twenty people ain't exactly easy to hide, Hosea." Tilly points out, and as you look around the room, everyone seems to be at a loss.

"I don't know, dear girl. We'll find it when we come across it I suppose…

An idea sparks in your head, and you step forward from Arthur a bit.

"Actually I may know a place." You interject, and everyone's eyes land on you.

"My daddy was a gunsmith, and every year he took us to this trade fair in Valentine. It's just down the mountain." You say, and Hosea nods, thinking.

"Valentine… I know it, little livestock town, our kinda place." Hosea thinks out loud.

"Just off the town is an open space, hidden in the woods that overlooks the valley. It's well hidden and big enough for all of us. We used to set up camp there every year when I was a girl.

"And it's safe? Well hidden?" Arthur asks, stepping up towards you. You nod, craning your neck to look at him.

"Yeah. There's trees around all sides except for the overlook. Plenty of good spots for lookouts, it's not too close to the road. And we'll have a pretty view too."

"And this place, it have a name?" Dutch asks, stepping forward.

"Horseshoe Overlook."

Dutch and Hosea share a look, thinking it over, before Hosea comes forward and places a hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you miss- what are they callin' you now? Star?" Hosea cuts himself off.

"Apparently." You chuckle, quickly glancing back to Arthur.

"Well it's fitting. You're a bright girl, my dear and you may have just saved our sorry asses." Hosea pats your shoulder for good measure before turning to the rest of the room.

"As soon as Johns back on his feet we are heading out!"

You sink back beside Arthur, looking up at him for a few moments. He knows that look. You're worried. Here you all are, heading towards yet another unknown, another situation that may hold death for everyone. But Arthur will be by your side through it all. And if even just for a little while… that makes it all okay.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #rdr2 #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic

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shady-tavern · 9 months

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Masterpost

For anyone who wants an easy overview of my stories.

***

Fantasy stories:

Missing Piece

A Deal of Games

Deals and Revelry, Quin's Backstory

Healing Hearts

Vampire's Lullaby: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Drabble

The Tailors on Baker Street, Drabble

Winter Star

The Fall of a God

Learning to give Life

Lich Mage and Melina: Part One and Part Two

Symphony of Song and Music, Drabble

Everything

Amnesiac God-Spouse

Seeking Shelter from the Dragon

The Miracle Dealer

What makes a God

The Royal Oracle

Hero and Villain Stories:

Heart Song

A Dash of Villainy within A Hero: Part One and Part Two

Perfect Nemesis: Part One and Part Two

Villain providing an Out for Heroes

Nightshade

Villain Roommate

Silver and Hero: Part One and Part Two

Space and Aliens:

Going Home

Psychological Warfare Chess on Crack

Sneak Peeks for Patreon Stories:

Dancing with Stars

Holding Curses with Gentle Hands

Salt and Iron

Sanctuary

Dark Waters

Woven Magic

Doll House

The Price of a Life

The Magic of Consequences

Heartless

WIPs:

The Shape of a Soul: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Want to read more and support me at the same time? Want more awesome, fun or wholesome stories? Want to lord your support of an artist over your enemy's head as you laugh at them from the top of your metaphorical castle tower?

Or perhaps cackle in the woods while a disgruntled woodcutter shakes their fist at you? Head over to my Patreon!

There will be a new, exclusive short story every month (and occasionally a surprise second one!) while I work on upcoming books and more stories that I will post here!

Also, you get bragging rights. For what, you decide, but I am handing you a blank writ for bragging rights.

#my writing #masterpost #masterlist #short stories #fantasy #heroes and villains #aliens #humans are space orcs #many of those are writing prompts #hope this list is useful!#hope I didn't forget any stories

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eleanor-bradstreet · 5 months

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Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 6: A New Venture

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: G Word count: 3.4k

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Sophie woke as the rousing noise of the inn began to filter through the walls. Reluctantly leaving the warm sanctuary of her bed, she dressed. Her clothes had been laid out by the fire and were mercifully dry. She decided she would stay put until Benedict’s carriage arrived and collected him. And then she would go…somewhere. Somewhere that Cavender was unlikely to find her and somewhere she wouldn’t risk encountering Benedict again, or any Bridgerton for that matter. But the money in her purse wouldn’t get her very far. She would need to work her way further and further from the danger of discovery. Canterbury was the nearest city that wasn’t London. She could find a floor to clean or linens to wash somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t an aristocratic home. Then once she had collected a few coins she would move as far north as she could and repeat the cycle until she finally felt safe. If she would ever feel safe…

The whirlwind of reuniting with Benedict and all the events that had followed had made her forget her predicament completely. When she was with him her only thoughts were of him, not even her own survival. But now, in the cold light of morning, knowing that they would be parting ways, the dread of uncertainty settled on her again.

She heard a clanging sound in the hall and opened the door to see a maid a full foot shorter than herself staggering under the weight of a tea service and trying to open the door to Benedict’s room. Sophie turned the knob for her. The middle aged woman gave her a warm smile and then crowed across the room, “Here we are, sir.”

Sophie stepped in to find Benedict propped against the pillows, awake and wearing his shirt again though pale enough that he was nearly the same color as the white linen.

“Thank you,” he croaked as the maid set the service on the table with a clatter. It held a pot of tea and a dizzying spread of eggs, toast, bacon, sausage - so much food she was surprised the poor maid had managed it all. Sophie’s stomach grumbled loudly, making her realize she couldn’t remember the last time she ate. The stout maid smiled at them both and then tottered out of the room.

Sophie looked from the laden table to Benedict, “Are you feeling better, Mr. Bridgerton?”

“No,” he rasped, pulling a frown. “My throat feels like it’s on fire.”

“Would you like me to fetch you some more water?” she asked solicitously.

He shook his head and started to sit up with a wince. “I’ll have tea.”

Sophie motioned for him to lay back, “I can get it for you.”

He didn’t protest, just grinned his crooked grin and sank back against the pillows. Sophie fixed him a cup of tea as well as a plate with a bit of everything and carried it to the bedside. She couldn’t help but quip, “Are you expecting company? That’s enough food for six of you.”

He sipped the tea and shrugged, “Thought it would help. Please, eat.”

She started to protest. “Oh no, you have already…”

“Eat.” He cut her off with an insistent stare and a stern finger pointed at the table.

She fought back a smile, fixed herself a plate and took a seat at the table. Benedict watched as Sophie tucked into the food. It was obvious that she was trying to put on her best manners, but eventually hunger must have gotten the better of her, because after a minute she was practically shoveling food into her mouth.

It was only when Benedict noticed that his jaw was clamped together like a vise that he realized he was absolutely furious. At whom, he wasn’t precisely certain. But he did not like seeing Sophie so hungry.

They had an odd little bond, he and the housemaid. He’d saved her and she’d saved him. Though they had only known each other for one night, it was a night with some harrowing challenges which she had risen to meet with an unexpected fortitude. She was charming and he felt connected to her in some way. Protective, he supposed.

“Did you eat at all yesterday?” he asked quietly.

She looked up, surprised at his question. After a moment she answered softly, “It was a busy day.”

Benedict frowned. She’d obviously been busy running from the pack of idiots at Cavender’s house, likely even Cavender himself if it had driven her to quit her employment.

“Next time I see Cavender,” he growled, “I’m going to beat him to a bloody pulp.”

Though she knew it wasn’t proper to encourage threats of violence, Sophie couldn’t quite prevent a smile at the thought of Benedict defending her. Or of seeing Philip Cavender with his nose relocated to his forehead.

Once he saw her smiling, Benedict smiled back and chuckled, his anger subsiding. The two of them continued to eat and he was glad she kept looking at her plate so she wouldn’t catch him glancing in her direction.

“It was very kind of you to care for me,” he said at last, his rasping voice still hardly above a whisper.

She looked up at him, swallowing. “It was nothing, really. Anyone would have done it.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “but not with such grace and good humor.”

Sophie set down her fork and looked at him rather seriously, “Mr. Bridgerton, it is I who should be thanking you, for everything. For bringing me here, for the beautiful room, for this breakfast. I only wish I could repay you.”

She looked sheepish when she mentioned repayment, which brought him a familiar stab of guilt. He knew well the privileges he had by consequence of being born a Bridgerton. He hadn’t given a moment’s thought to paying for the rooms or ordering whatever food suited his whim. He knew that he could afford whatever he wanted just by virtue of his name. He tried his best not to forget that others - most everyone else in the world, in fact - did not live with such security. But when one had been born into his lifestyle, when it was the only reality he had known, it was easy to take it all for granted. It took talking to someone outside his class to remind him of how fortunate he was and so he endeavored to do it as frequently as possible. Though it never failed to make him feel self-conscious, even ashamed, because he knew how others regarded him and probably thought of him as undeservedly well off.

“Miss Beckett,” he met her gaze, “I am more deeply indebted to you than you are to me. You sent for a carriage and sat up with me. That is worth far more than one night’s roof over your head and some eggs.” She smiled at him, blushing, and he noted how engaging her smile was.

“Where will you go from here?” he asked gently. Her smile faded and she lowered her eyes, searching for an answer to give him, but she stayed silent. He pressed further, “I know you left Cavender House unexpectedly so I presume you do not currently have another position?”

She looked back at him and shook her head though she did not look helpless. Rather, her jaw was set and her eyes were shining with a stony resolve. Green eyes, he could tell from this distance. Deep green.

“Do you have any family?”

At last she spoke, “I will be fine. I am quite adept at taking care of myself.” Her clipped tone and pursed lips made it clear she would not entertain any further questions about herself.

“And others.” Benedict smirked, which elicited a small smile in return. Based on what she was saying, or rather not saying, it was evident she had no immediate connections and no plan of where to go upon leaving the inn. While he knew it was none of his business and he likely wouldn’t have asked if the night before had gone as planned with him dropping her at the inn, now he felt obliged to ensure her well being. No, not obliged. He realized that he wanted to ensure her well being. She had cared for him, he enjoyed her company, and he didn’t want to part from her just yet.

“You must come with me to Aubrey Hall,” he declared. Her eyes widened but he continued, intentionally rasping his voice more than it already was. “You said yourself that I wouldn’t be fully recovered today and I am not. You have proven yourself to be a very capable nurse and I will be in need of your assistance until I am well again.” He pulled a pained expression.

Sophie held her breath. She could sense the cheekiness under his request but regardless, he was still dreadfully pale and unwell. Her heart began to pound at the thought of spending more time with him. An undeniable part of her wanted to say yes. But she also couldn’t think of a torture that would be more exquisitely painful. She knew better, and her judgment overruled her emotions. “Sir, I am not a nurse.”

Benedict laid back against the pillows, “You’re the closest thing I’m likely to find in these parts.”

“You must have plenty of help at Aubrey Hall.” Sophie kept her voice steady, willing him to see reason. “A valet?”

He waved away her question, “All of the staff are in London for the season, my valet included. My visit to Cavender’s was meant to be a brief one. Aubrey Hall is all but empty except for the few souls necessary to keep the place from falling into ruin.” He leveled his eyes on hers once again. “You are all I’ve got.”

The yearning in Sophie’s chest grew stronger. She was lucky enough to have found him by chance the night before and had already made her peace with parting from him again. Now, beyond her wildest hopes, he was asking her to accompany him and care for him at his family home. She wanted to, oh god how she wanted to stay with the man she loved. But she knew no good could come from it. She was keeping so many secrets and if he learned any one of them, she was sure he would end up hating her and casting her out. Speaking more to convince herself than him, she protested. “No, this is most improper, I can’t…”

“You will be well compensated for your services.” His words made her pause. He was clever, and had likely estimated that she didn’t have money to go very far if she even had somewhere to go. He was right. Earning more money at Aubrey Hall would make a significant difference and enable her to move away further and faster. She also knew that it was a safe place to stay where she was guaranteed to avoid Cavender, given Benedict’s anger toward him. The choice was hers: refuse Benedict and scrub floors in Canterbury for weeks before hopefully earning enough to inch northward, or endure a few more days hiding her feelings and identity from this kind and handsome man in a place of safety and comfort to gain the funds to go as far away as she wished. The preferable path was obvious. Surely she could keep her feelings at bay while she made sure he recovered his health.

As if reading her mind, Benedict continued, “Just a few days, Miss Beckett. During which you can search for a new position. And of course, I will give you the highest recommendation.” He held her gaze tenderly. “You said you wished you could repay me. Help me. Let me help you. Then both of our consciences will be clear.” They stared at each other. Sophie’s heart was beating so hard she was convinced he would hear it across the room. Sensing his impending victory, Benedict asked her a final, punctuating question. “Where else are you going to go?”

She was spared from responding by a knock at the door. Benedict rasped a reply and the man in the apron entered with a bow of his head. “The carriage from Aubrey Hall has arrived, sir.”

Benedict nodded and he withdrew. He turned back to Sophie with an expectant gleam in his eye and Sophie knew that he had won. She would accompany him. For better or worse, she let her heart and her purse overrule her anxieties. She could lie for a few more days then leave him in health and comfort and have the means to support her future, wherever it may lead. It wouldn’t cause either of them any harm. She rose slowly to her feet, trying to breathe normally. “I shall gather my things and meet you at the carriage.”

The crooked grin that broke across his face and lit his eyes made her heart skitter. She wanted to kiss him, but pulled herself from the room before he could say another word.

—

Sophie collected her bag and left the inn, making for the stables. As she walked through the paddocks, Danae’s brilliant white head leaned out with a snort and a shake as if in greeting. Sophie let the horse give her hand a customary sniff before stroking her soulful face and soft mane. “Good morning, lovely girl,” she cooed. In her heart Sophie thanked her for the previous night, for serendipitously arriving just as she fled down the road and for conveying her and Benedict to safety. She was a beautiful animal, hands taller than any horse Sophie had seen before and despite her sophisticated, wellbred posture, her eyes remained gentle.

Soon enough, a young footman approached her in fine livery. He announced that he was from Aubrey Hall and was there to collect Danae and escort Sophie to the waiting carriage. Though he was being polite the confusion in his eyes was unmistakable, no doubt wondering why she was accompanying his aristocratic employer. Rather than muddle things further with an explanation, Sophie followed him to the roadside. The carriage was not as lavish as Sophie had envisioned; a plain black coach with no insignia, drawn by two chestnut horses.

Before she could climb to sit on the driver’s bench where servants typically rode, the door of the inn swung open and another, older footman emerged, half-carrying a stumbling Benedict. His clothes were disheveled and his face was nearly green. The footman guided him to the carriage and both men helped him to clamber inside as he coughed weakly. Sophie hated seeing him so ill but tried not to let it show on her face. The footmen were clearly perplexed enough as to why she was there. The last thing they needed to see was her staring at their nobleman employer, eyes full of emotion.

Before the carriage door was closed Benedict called out hoarsely, pointing at Sophie, “She rides with me.”

Both footmen turned to her, maintaining their composure but with distinctly questioning looks. Damn it. She should have known he would do this. She smiled meekly and mumbled, “I’ll look after him,” then stepped into the compartment. Benedict was leaning heavily against the blue-upholstered wall. He opened his eyes as Sophie perched herself awkwardly across from him.

“Not one of our finest carriages,” he croaked, smirking. “The family took them all to London.”

Sophie gave him a small nod in response. This would be the finest way she had traveled thus far in her life. She could never have dreamed of owning even one private carriage, much less a fleet of varying quality. With a lurch they began to roll down the high road of Rosemeade. Sophie could see through the windows that the older footman was driving the carriage while the younger had mounted Danae and was following closely behind.

She turned back to Benedict, noting the sweat on his brow. “Are you going to write to your family and tell them you are staying at Aubrey Hall?”

He nodded, “I will.”

Sophie tapped her fingers against her bag, squirming in uncomfortable silence. Here she was, faced with the reality of her decision - trapped in a carriage face to face with the man of her dreams, unable to leave and unable to confess her feelings. She knew it would be better at Aubrey Hall where she could keep him comfortable with the freedom to leave his presence and busy herself with chores. But this was excruciating. And he looked so very awful. She wanted to hold him in her arms and stroke his hair, kiss his forehead and tell him all would be well, but she couldn’t.

“I’m not sure how I can be your nurse in the back of a carriage, Mr. Bridgerton.” she confessed.

His eyes lit up despite his ashen face. “Just make sure I keep breathing,” he smirked.

Sophie couldn’t help but roll her eyes and smile. Did his cheekiness ever subside? Maybe only when he was unconscious.

“I’m sorry,” he wheezed, coughing again. “It’s not bound to be an entertaining ride.”

“I think you should conserve your voice and try to sleep if you can.” Sophie found that she was not intimidated from using a direct tone with him. He was clearly good humored and liked to spar with words. He certainly smiled more when she was matching his wit than when she was being meek and submissive.

Smile he did, then settled deeper into the corner of the carriage. Sophie turned to look out the window, letting him rest.

Benedict felt like hell warmed over and the jostling of the carriage was nearly making him dizzy. He must have been sicker than he’d realized the night before. He no longer felt the urge to cough every few seconds, but his body felt worn-out, exhausted. His muscles ached, and his throat was damned sore. Even his teeth didn’t feel quite right.

He had vague recollections of Sophie taking care of him. She’d put cool compresses on his forehead and watched over him. But he’d never quite seen her face. Most of the time he hadn’t had the energy to open his eyes, and even when he had, the room had been dark, always leaving her in the shadows, reminding him of -

Benedict sucked in his breath, his heart thumping madly in his chest as, in a sudden flash of clarity, he remembered his dream.

He’d dreamed of her.

It was not a new dream, although it had been months since he’d been visited by it. It was not a fantasy for the innocent, either. Benedict was no saint, and when he dreamed of the woman from the masquerade, she was not wearing her silver dress.

She was not, he thought with a wicked smile, wearing anything.

But what perplexed him was why this dream would return now, after so many months of dormancy. Was there something about Sophie that had triggered it? He’d thought - he’d hoped - that the disappearance of the dream had meant he was over her.

Obviously not.

Sophie certainly didn’t look like the woman he’d danced with two years earlier. Her hair was all wrong, and she was far too thin. He distinctly remembered the lush, curvy feel of the masked woman in his arms; in comparison, Sophie could only be called scrawny. He supposed their voices were a bit similar, but he had to admit to himself that as time passed, his memories of that night grew less vivid, and he could no longer recall his mystery woman’s voice with perfect clarity. Besides, Sophie’s accent, while exceptionally refined for a housemaid, was not as upper-crust as hers had been.

How he hated calling her her. That seemed the cruelest of her secrets. She’d kept from him even her name. Part of him wished she’d just lied and given him a false name. At least then he’d have something to think of her by in his mind.

Something to whisper in the night, when he was staring out the window, wondering where in hell she was. Mind spinning with thoughts of her and his curious feeling of connection with Sophie, added to the weight of exhaustion he felt in every bone, he closed his eyes and mercifully found sleep.

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