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porkchop-ao3 · 4 years

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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 62)

Plans

Sorry for the delay but better late than never! This is a pretty long chapter so hopefully that makes up for it. Warning for use and mention of alcohol abuse.

Tagging @emily-strange and @actuallyhansolo ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

The night it all fell to shit was a weird one. It was like we were hanging in some kind of dysfunctional family limbo. Dutch left the tent where Micah was still fighting to stay alive against all the odds, and he glared at our little group of black sheep from across the camp. We'd grown in numbers, though, even if we weren't all sitting together in a posse, people were with us in spirit. Kieran and Mary-Beth had come over to see how Arthur was doing, and to make it very clear that they were firmly with us; they didn't trust Micah, never had and never would. They couldn't comprehend how Dutch was acting the way he was.

Lenny showed his support not through words, but by silently stopping by and patting Arthur on the shoulder, nodding at him once. Karen was blind drunk but she yelled at Dutch's closed tent, chanting the words 'snake' and 'die' before Bill dragged her away and deposited her on her bed roll. In fact, Bill and Javier looked like they were the only ones who had outright sided with Dutch, and I wasn't sure if they actually believed that Arthur and the rest of us were traitors, or if they were just siding with him out of blind loyalty. Javier kept looking over at us, something like regret and confusion in his eyes but whatever he was feeling obviously wasn't strong enough to have him leave Dutch's side. Bill, though… Bill was just full of contempt and whatever he believed, it certainly wasn't any conclusion he'd drawn himself.

Everyone else was just tiptoeing around, not seeming to firmly align themselves with anyone. These were the people who openly sympathised with Arthur and made it clear they didn't believe that any of us were the rat, but also joined Dutch at the table outside his tent where he was smoking a cigar – looking dark and pensive, miles away and stewing within a thick black cloud – to offer him similar words of comfort. The likes of Reverend Swanson, Pearson and Tilly. Even Miss Grimshaw, who seemed a little conflicted about the time she poured into nursing Micah, she didn't condemn either side. She just marched around with a perpetual sad frown, reeling at the way the family she'd tried so hard to keep moving crumbled around her.

I felt terrible. But it could all have been avoided if Dutch hadn't been so twisted by Micah. If he'd just listened to the people that mattered the most, his 'sons'. But it seemed he'd picked his side. Though I did wonder what would happen if… or when Micah succumbed to his injury.

"I think we should go," Arthur murmured to me quietly, as he pushed his stew around his plate. It was odd eating dinner at such a time, but there was still plenty of stew left in Pearson's pot and nobody wanted to let his hard work go to waste. Limbo. A weird feeling of normality caked in tension. Like when a marriage is breaking down but both parties are still trying to plod along, going through the motions.

I looked up at him immediately from where I sat on the bed next to him. "Now?"

Arthur met my eyes. "Well, there's nothing left here," he said. I pondered his words. It was funny. For weeks and weeks I'd longed to hear him say that, to get a concrete agreement that we were to leave and get away together. But now that it was served to me on a platter, I felt so odd.

"You don't want to see if Micah pulls through?" I questioned.

"I… I'm with Charles. I don't think he'll pull through," he breathed, looking back down at the plate.

"No, but," I began, not knowing where I was going.

"You don't want to leave?" His question wasn't judgemental or annoyed.

"Yes, I do. This just feels so surreal. So sudden. It almost feels like it'd be wrong to just pack up and leave after this has happened, like we should stay and try and sort it out somehow. Though I don't know how…"

"I know what you mean. But I'm worried about you, Micah pulled a gun on you. And I don't know what's in any of these fools' heads, there's no telling if someone's gonna try and do the same thing. And I don't know if I want to stick around and save anything that almost took you away from me, or condoned it."

I paused for a while, then finally nodded.

"Just eat up," he whispered, nodding back at me with a brooding look in his eye. "We'll start packing–"

His head jerked as something caught his eye. I followed his gaze and spotted Dutch getting up. My heart thumped painfully when for a moment I thought he was going to come over, but instead made a beeline for the horses, not looking anywhere but ahead. Without saying a word to anyone, he climbed up onto his Arabian and left. Just left. Everyone stared off in surprise, not really knowing what to say about it.

"Where's he going?" I breathed.

"I have no idea," he mused.

"Should… should we go after him, try and talk?" I asked, meeting Arthur's eyes. He looked into mine for a while and I could see him thinking, coming to some sort of silent conclusion that made his expression sour before shaking his head sharply.

"I don't think I wanna talk," he told me bluntly and I couldn't help but be shocked.

"You don't even want to try? Not that I think you have an obligation to," I said softly and Arthur shrugged his shoulders with an attitude I'd never seen in him before then.

"I'm done. And I mean it. I had plenty of doubts about him before this, and now I just can't see a way of fixing things. He took Micah's word over mine. He treated you like the root cause of all our problems and he couldn't care less that Micah almost shot you," he ranted, getting progressively more pissed off.

I looked away and thought very hard about what to say next. I was sorely tempted to say fuck it, and agree to run away with him right then and there. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not leaving the likes of Mary-Beth, Lenny, Abigail and Jack all here to suffer the consequences of whatever Dutch planned. Some people had made their mind up, but others… It was clear to me that they saw security in Dutch that they didn't have elsewhere. They were stuck.

"What if we ask around, and leave as a group with whoever wants to come?" I suggested. It wasn't the first time I'd said something like it, but this time felt different, like it was actually reasonable. That it actually might work.

"And then what?" He asked me.

"We'd take our things and go, find somewhere else to camp for a while, and then figure things out when we're not sitting in a camp full of people who might just want us dead," I said bluntly. His lips parted, his eyes bored into mine. The stare he gave was intense, and made me feel as though this was a turning point, a moment with huge gravitas and consequence.

"I think… I think that'd be our best option," he quietly agreed. "But what will we do about money, Dutch has–" he stopped, remembering something, eyes casting across the camp, settling on the Marstons’ tent. "Hold on a second."

Arthur got up, depositing his plate on the table by his bed before crossing over towards the tent. He called out for Abigail and John, and was ushered inside. I sat and waited, frowning to myself just slightly, pondering his sudden actions.

Javier strolled past my eyeline, between Arthur's tent and the Marstons’. Without giving it much thought, I called to him. He paused, casting his gaze to me almost in surprise. He stood there for a few seconds, cigarette hanging from between his fingers, a dusting of ash floating down as the stub burnt away with his inaction. He looked at me expectantly, though he moved no closer.

"Javier," I sighed sadly, shaking my head, "surely you don't trust a word Micah says. How could you? You know exactly what he's like–-"

"I don't," he told me bluntly. "I think he's full of crap," he shrugged his shoulders.

"So why are you acting like Arthur and John and the rest of us are the villains?"

"I… I don't… think that," he stammered, losing some of his conviction, speaking very hesitantly. "This situation, muñequita… this is messed up. But all I know is that you guys aren't being loyal to Dutch. And that matters to me."

"Why Dutch? Why should we be blind-loyal to Dutch when he doesn't care about us?" I frowned deeply, aggravated by his expectancy.

"He cares. Dutch always cares."

"He's pouring all our resources into saving a man who was about to shoot me in the face. He doesn't give a rat's ass about me, or Arthur. Because if I was killed in this camp, you know it would destroy him, the guilt he would feel–" I shook my head abruptly. "Dutch has never liked me. And that's fine, I don't care, but Arthur and I– we love each other. We're in this for the long haul. But Dutch doesn't want to see Arthur happy."

"He doesn't wanna lose Arthur to you. And that's exactly what's happened; Arthur wants to leave this gang to be with you, and you think Dutch should be perfectly happy about that?"

"If he saw Arthur as a son rather than a well trained gun, an asset to his criminal gang, then yes. He should be perfectly happy about him wanting to get out of this dangerous world and settle down," I answered bluntly, shrugging my shoulders and looking at him like I couldn't for a moment understand why he didn't see it.

"Criminal gang? That's the way you see us all?" He cocked his brow, finally taking a number of steps towards me.

"Not at the start. At the start you were all so hopeful and free. Now you're a bunch of penned in animals, lashing out and doing anything and everything to survive with no thought to anyone but yourselves. And this ain't an insult, though you'll surely take it as such. This is what Dutch's decision-making has done," I answered, keeping my eyes on his and not backing down. Javier was good. I knew he was. He was just being led into the fire by a smooth-talking egoist.

Javier was quiet for some time, twitching a little, his jaw clenched tight. He did not want to listen.

"Dutch saved me. He gave me hope when I had nothing, put food in my belly, shelter over my head, safety. Without him, I would not be the man I am today. I may not even be alive," he shrugged cluelessly, "and you want me to abandon him?"

"I don't want you to do anything," I sighed, finally breaking eye contact. "This is your decision to make."

"Listen, I–" he began, voice softening. "I always liked you. When Micah told us today about you and the Pinkertons, sure, I had my doubts about you. Now, I… I don't believe you're working against us. You have no motive, especially since you and Arthur…" he trailed off, sighing.

I looked up at him again, waiting for him to make his point, though he took his time.

"But I cannot betray Dutch. I can't leave him, not now, not when he is the reason we're all still alive."

I almost told him that he was also the reason why we had to run so fast, always pushing his luck, killing Cornwall, Bronte, robbing banks in huge cities, inserting himself into a fight that wasn't ours with Eagle Flies and making things worse for them. Pissing people off left and right and acting as the ringmaster for the world's deadliest circus.

“Where did Dutch go, anyway?” I asked, instead.

“Said he needed to clear his head. He’s really hurt, you know,” he told me and I was so close to rolling my eyes.

"He had his chance to listen to us but–” I began, then trailed off, “what's the use? I can't change your mind, Javier. I just hope things turn out right for you," I sighed.

His lips parted, but he didn't know what to say. Eventually, he dropped his wasted cigarette and then carried on walking.

Arthur came out of the Marstons’ tent just a moment later, an edgy, agitated but somehow hopeful look about him. He came to me, immediately beginning to gather his things from around the tent, putting them away in his chest. I watched him with a confused frown, lips hanging open, about to ask him what was happening when he told me anyway.

"We're going. Us, with those three," he told me very quietly, but in a rushed, urgent tone of voice.

"Now?" I got up abruptly.

"Yes. We gotta move while… while Dutch's gone. It'll be easier," he told me, "maybe some folk'll come with us. Would you do me a favour, princess?"

"Of course, anything," I blinked at him, stunned.

"While I'm packing up, you go out there and you… you talk to anyone who's on our side, okay? You see if they want out. And you tell 'em to pack up."

"Wait, how is this gonna work?"

"Abigail–" he began, realising he was at full volume before dialling it down, "Abigail knows where all our money is. She's got a key, she stole it while everyone was distracted, when Micah was telling his pack of lies about you. She felt like things was gonna blow up, and she was right. We got a key to all the money, every penny we been putting away for safekeeping," he rose up and closed the space between us. He cupped my face, his eyes were bright and alive, truly, for the first time I'd seen in a while.

"So, what, are we gonna take it?" I balked in a hiss of a whisper.

"No, not… not all of it. But we'll take our share," he told me, then pressed his lips to mine briefly, but firmly, "we deserve some of that money, it's ours. It's ours, John's, Charles'..." He trailed off, he sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than me.

"Damn right we deserve it," I encouraged, nodding my head, "hell, I bet you put most of it in there."

"We're just gonna take enough for us, just what's fair. We ain't gonna screw the rest of 'em over. We… we…" he stammered, his eyes dropping to my mouth. I could see the light dim from his eyes and I could feel the guilt he was experiencing like it was seeping from his pores.

"Arthur, it's okay. What we're doing is okay," I whispered to him, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him tight, "Dutch ain't left us many options. It's clear his mind's made up and he don't deserve a moment more of your time. Taking a little money from the communal pot… that's the least you deserve. All them years; he's lucky this is all you're doing."

"What if he comes after us?"

"Then I'll kill the bastard myself," I said through clenched teeth. "He ain't ruining another moment. This is a good thing, baby, this is… this is the moment. The right time, what we've been waiting for."

"You're right," he breathed, turning his head towards my hair and inhaling my scent.

"Come on. Keep packing, I'll go speak to the others," I said.

"Abigail's gonna sneak in and get the money. She knows where it is, it's in that cave," he told me so quietly that even I struggled to hear. I pulled away from his embrace and nodded. I kissed him once more, then exited the tent.

I scanned the whole camp, my eyes landing on Charles where he was on guard duty. It seemed so strange, again, that the menial jobs people did day to day were still being carried out. I guessed that people were just trying to cling on to normality. I sped over to him first, catching his attention when I was a few places away, he turned to look at me and grew tense at the urgency in my gait.

"Charles," I breathed, reaching him and touching his arm, glancing around once before continuing, "Arthur and I; we're getting out of here. The Marston's too. I ain't asking you to pick a side, I will never judge you for your decision, but–"

"Of course I'll come. You needn't ask," he told me in his no nonsense tone, tilting his head up slightly in a small display of pride and loyalty. A smile broke across my face.

"Well then," I breathed with a laugh, "I suggest you gather your things. We ain't lingering."

"Of course," he nodded.

"And will you tell Sadie? Give her the same option to get out of here? Anyone who you think might wanna come," I requested and he nodded again.

"So this is really happening? We're splitting the gang?"

"What gang?" I grunted, turning and looking at the tattered ashes of what was left. Charles said nothing, but I knew that he saw it too. He patted my shoulder twice, and then headed off.

Of the gang members left, there were few I wanted to ask. Some were far too loyal to Dutch; obviously the likes of Javier and Bill, others I just weren't close to. I never spoke to Strauss or Reverend Swanson; even Uncle, I didn't know any of them well enough to entertain the idea of asking. I figured Arthur would ask those sorts of people if he felt it was the right thing to do. It interested me to see that some people were already packing, though I knew they hadn't been asked yet. I assumed it was a case of fleeing the sinking ship. Pearson was one of those people, Trelawny – a man who seemed to come and go like the rain – was another. Mary-Beth was too, though she was doing it kind of slowly and subtly as if she didn't want people to notice that was what she was doing. Kieran helped her.

I made my way over to the girls' wagon, where Karen slept, Tilly woefully held her head in her hands, and Mary-Beth quietly folded away clothes and trinkets into a case around the side.

"Ladies, may I… could I speak with you?" I asked, watching as Karen groggily lifted her head, and Tilly looked up. Mary-Beth hummed her acknowledgement but didn't stop what she was doing.

"Arthur and I think it's best we move along, given the circumstances," I began softly, timidly. Tilly gave a humourless laugh.

"You think?" She queried. It wasn't mean-spirited. It was just tired and sad and disappointed. She was taking it hard.

"And we figured we'd ask folk if they wanna come too. The Marstons think it's a good idea too. I don't want this to seem like I'm asking y'all to pick a side, but I want to give you an option for if… if you don't wanna stay here no more. You ain't stuck," I continued, meeting Mary-Beth's eyes. Her lips parted and she was stunned, hesitant.

Karen grunted and slumped back down on her bedroll, ignoring the suggestion for the most part. I looked at Tilly. She stared off distantly, her mouth slightly pursed. I waited for her to say something, half expecting some anger or upset similar to that of Javier's, I thought she was just as loyal to Dutch as he was.

"I'm not going with you. But I ain't sticking around here neither," she told me, striking me full of surprise. "Things just went too far today, people pointing guns at each other, accusing everyone of everything, this ain't no place for nobody. Listen, I'm glad you have a way out of here. And I'm glad that that little boy does too," she pushed herself to her feet and pointed in the direction of the Marstons' tent. "But I… I don't think I want any part of this no more."

I nodded slowly. "I understand. Tilly, all I want is for people to do the right thing for themselves. And I want them to be safe. If you think leaving all of this behind is the right thing for you, then I'm fully behind you. You've been kind to me, just like everybody else. I appreciate the time I've known you," I told her carefully. She fidgeted a little on her feet, but nodded.

"Thank you, I– I wish nothin' but the best for you and Arthur," she told me, then with a final nod she disappeared around the wagon. I presumed she was gathering her things.

"I knew it," Karen slurred, her cheek pressed into the ground. "I knew she was outta here. Jus' like you, and jus' like Mary-Beth," she added. I couldn't help but frown a little, and Mary-Beth met my eyes, but Karen chuckled drunkenly. "I don't blame a single one of you. Get out before this thing kills you."

"What'll you do, Karen?" I asked, sitting down beside her. She lifted herself up, propped up on her elbows.

"Me? Don't worry 'bout me. I got places I can go," she told me, a dizzy smile on her face. She didn't seem to be bogged down by the gravity of the situation. The booze was to thank for that, of course.

"Like where?"

"I don' know. Places. I'll be fine."

"I'm worried about you," I admitted, remembering how my mother got when she drank too much. The scene before me looked too familiar for comfort.

"Y'all keep saying that. Stop it. Let me live my life," she muttered. I knew from experience there was no reasoning with a person in this state. No way to make them realise their self destruction.

"You're welcome to come with us, Karen, if you wanna get out of here," I assured her, patting her shoulder.

"I'm with Tilly," she muttered, "this whole thing's a mess and you can run off as a group but you'll fall apart too. Ain't nothing you can do. Nothin' ever lasts," she cried out bitterly, her face screwed up in a wince that was full of anger and pain and I thought of Sean. I thought of the fact that she was clearly close to him and I thought of how things began to fall apart along with his death. I was choked up. I cleared my throat and brushed a loose ringlet from Karen's face and she peered up at me like she didn't know how to respond.

"I'm so sorry, Karen," I whispered.

"For what, what'chu done?" She asked. I simply shook my head.

"I'm sorry that things have fallen apart," I added.

"Can't be helped," she sighed, reaching up and squeezing my hand. I was never particularly close to Karen, so the act warmed my heart.

"Um, may I speak with you?" Mary-Beth squeaked like a mouse above us, gingerly edging towards me and looking at me with concerned, arched brows.

"Of course," I nodded, then rose to my feet after giving Karen's hand a squeeze back. I followed Mary-Beth away from listening ears until she turned around and stood before me, fiddling with her fingers.

"I'm so sorry, but I can't come with you," she blurted out, and I already began to shake my head, holding my hands out reassuringly, but she continued anyway, "you know Kieran and I? We– I promised him–"

"Mary-Beth, it's okay. I ain't asking anyone in a bid to make 'em feel like they gotta. You have your own plans. I'm glad," I smiled at her.

"You sure? It's not that I don't trust you and Arthur and the others to keep everyone safe, it's just…" she trailed off and sighed, looking across the camp to where Kieran was. I put my hand on her shoulder.

"I know. You go and be with him. I know how you're feeling; take your chance to get away and build your life together while you still can," I told her, then opened my arms and let her decide if she wanted to hug me. She did. She closed the gap between us and squeezed me tight, rubbing my shoulders.

I felt like I wanted to cry. Why did this feel like a goodbye? More than just a goodbye for now, but a permanent one? I swallowed back the sudden wave of emotion I felt and patted her back a couple times before we parted. She offered me a small smile and took my hands in hers.

"I hope you build the prettiest of lives. We all deserve a little happiness, don't you think?" She told me quietly, and I nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I think we do," I whispered. She squeezed my hands, then headed back towards the wagon to continue her packing.

I exhaled and turned around to look at the state the camp was left in. It was full of people packing up; a scene that wasn't by any means new or different, it'd happened time and time again already. But the fact that people were packing for themselves this time… there was no sense of community, or togetherness. It felt like an ending. A dissolving of a family that once was so strong; it was heartbreaking, but somehow inevitable. Once there was differing ideas and loyalties pulled in different directions, things would change. And they changed in the most destructive of ways; with Micah laying shivering and sweating and close to death, with Dutch running off alone and abandoning the camp for the first time ever, with the majority of people deciding that it was too late to salvage anything. Deterioration until there was nothing but a scattered collection of parts left to make the best of things.

All because of Micah Bell.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #atink #reader insert #rdr fanfic

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

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could you maybe write something about Arthur falling in love with a rival gang member? like a bit like romeo and juliet or something, you can choose the ending, thx :)

I tried to keep this one short but then I puked out like thirteen pages, so have fun, Anon! Thanks for sending this in!

You’ve been running with the O’Driscolls for many years. Most of your life, really. Ever since you were a young teen. You’d been living with your parents and older sister in a cabin on the border of Ambarino and New Hanover. When you were thirteen, you had a habit of dressing like a boy even though you’re a girl. You just preferred the more comfortable, free moving clothing that boys wore and you kept your hair short to spite your mother. She’d been trying to push the woman’s lifestyle on you and you were just not having it. In order to rebel against her, you cut your hair so it was only a few inches long.

Your father didn’t care how you looked or dressed, he thought you should do what felt right. He taught you how to hunt and shoot a gun when you were young, and he did this with your older sister as well. She didn’t take to it as well as you did as she didn’t like getting her hands dirty. She was too much like your mother and you were like your father. He was the one who bought you pants and button-down shirts to wear and a hat to shelter your eyes and head.

It was the combination of your clothes, hair and that you always seemed to be covered in earth or dust from the road that saved your life. At the age of fourteen, the O’Driscolls came to your cabin one night. It was only a small group of them, but Colm O’Driscoll heard a rumor that your father was wealthy and just pretended to be poor for the sake of appearances.

This was true as your grandfather had been a railway magnate until he’d been forced out of his business and decided on a simpler, less stressful life. He’d left his fortune to your father, who decided to hide his inheritance. Your family lived on a small ranch, which made it easy to pretend like you had just enough to get by. But somehow word had slipped out about your family’s money and Colm came to steal it.

Colm and seven of his men barged their way into your cabin. They shot your father only seconds after breaking the door down, then your mother. Colm’s men grabbed your sister and dragged her off into the night. You never saw her again, though you still sometimes hear her screams when trying to sleep. Colm looked hard at you and thought, because of your appearance, that you were a boy.

“You’re gonna be one of us, boy,” he said in his oddly soft voice. “You’re gonna be one of us or end up like your daddy.”

You just nodded and went with them. You were forced to join the gang but you knew the consequences for trying to run. Of course, you also continued to dress like a boy. As you grew, you started growing your hair out to respect your mother in her death. Luckily plenty of Colm’s men had longer hair, so they suspected nothing. That changed when you started to grow older and parts of your body visibly changed. You had to wear a tight wrap around your chest, but there was nothing you could do about your wider hips. You managed to threaten a tailor to make a duster with padded shoulders to make them look bigger and hide your feminine figure.

Years passed from when Colm destroyed your family and you stayed in his gang. You would have left when you were close to twenty, but you knew what would happen if you deserted. One boy made this mistake and Colm hunted him down and within days of him leaving, Colm killed him. The matter of his death was neither easy or quick, so you knew if you left, the same thing would happen to you.

Of course it wasn’t easy being in Colm’s gang. Since you were smaller than most the others, you got picked on a lot and you got stuck with some of the more unpleasant tasks, like shoveling horse shit and cleaning up after the others.

Shortly after you were incorporated into the gang, you’d heard of Dutch Van der Linde and his boys. You only knew his name and that he and Colm were rivals. Every once in a while, you’d hear about them interfering with one another’s work, but whenever you asked why Colm had such a fury towards Dutch, the others would just tell you to shut up. You thought for a long time that Colm detested this Dutch just because he was another gang leader and they happened to cross one another frequently.

You’ve been in the gang more than ten years now. Ten long, miserable years. You want nothing more than to get out, but to do so means your inevitable death. You also know it can take mere seconds for Colm to figure out you’re a woman. He doesn’t like women in the gang, says they only slow the gang down. If and when he finds out, he’ll happily put a bullet in your head.

Colm has never liked you much. You think the only reason he brought you into the gang was because you were a child. Maybe Colm has something against killing kids or maybe he just thought you might have potential. You don’t take his malcontent personally. He doesn’t like most the men he runs with, only keeps them around because they’re good with guns and sometimes manage to pull a score successfully.

You’ve climbed up in his ranks though. You had no choice. In order to survive and to hide your gender, you learned quickly. Even though you knew how to shoot a pistol and a varmint rifle, you had to learn how to shoot a bigger gun. So you taught yourself. Colm’s boys taught you the craft of acting mean, targeting people and robbing them. You were good too. Perhaps it was just your feminine intuition on how to play people since you couldn’t physically fight too well because of your size, but you had a knack for tricking people and robbing them blind. Colm appreciated this and you moved up quickly.

You hate him though. No matter what he does or how much money you get through him, you hate him. You’d like nothing more than to slit his throat while he sleeps. But you’re afraid of him too. The first time you’d ever seen him was putting a bullet in your father and then killing your mother. You know he had something to do with your sister and there’s little doubt in your mind he ravaged her and then killed her too. Only a monster could be capable of that, to orphan a child and then force them to work for the one who killed their family.

You walk into the bar in Valentine, thirsty and sore. The past few days have been hell. For some dumb reason, Colm decided a couple weeks back to move the gang up to some fallen apart town near Colter. Then you all got trapped there during a blizzard. He’d been out with some of his boys when the blizzard hit. He came back with his right hand man, a fat man with a bushy beard named Hoskins. The others never returned, but Colm figured the idiots had gotten lost and died in the snow.

He told you and some of the other higher ups that you were all up here to rob a train owned by Leviticus Cornwall. You’d heard the name of course. He was a big, but impossible target. Cornwall was known to go after any idiot who robbed him with a vengeance. Colm told you all to stay up here for another couple of days before the robbery. Then he sent one of the newer members, some fidgety nervous guy named Kieran, out to scout for the train. He left and told you and some of the others to go hunt some game to keep everyone fed.

You split off from the others and managed to find a deer grazing out in the frozen wilderness, but when you came back to the hideout, it was littered with corpses. Only a few men were left standing. When Colm returned and found out the plans for the train robbery had been stolen, he lost it. He hit one of the other men right in the face. Only you seemed to notice that the kid, Kieran, hadn’t returned, but you said nothing.

Colm set his hands on the back of a rickety chair and glared into a lamp.

“There’s only one fella stupid enough and bold enough to steal a score from me. Goddamn Van der Linde. Well, I have a surprise for him. This is the last time he steals from me. I heard he and his bunch are wanted in Blackwater. Hoskins, you’ll help me find a way to get him.”

You rarely saw Colm after that, but he moved the gang to Hanging Dog Ranch in Big Valley. He ordered you and the others to hunt for new scores and for the whereabouts of Dutch and his boys.

You’ve been riding for days with hardly any sign of either gang. That’s why you’re in this shit hole of a town Valentine. Always muddy, always smelling of shit. You rap on the bar and order a beer. You’re in need of a bath, but you need to go back to camp tomorrow. You’ve been gone long enough and they might start to think you’ve deserted. Despite your hatred towards Colm, you do feel a strange sense of obligation towards him. Despite him having destroyed your family and livelihood, he taught you how to fight, how to rob and how to get away with it. Perhaps that’s just a lie you tell yourself. Maybe the only reason you’re loyal to him is because you’ve been part of his gang most your life.

Just as you’re finishing your beer, the doors swing open and a man walks in. You only glance at him for a second and spot his leather hat and blue shirt. He stalks towards the barber’s seat and gets his hair and beard trimmed. After he’s done, he comes and leans on the bar not too far from you. He orders a beer as well.

Something about him intrigues you. It’s rare for you to take an interest in men, and in this town he’s not out of style. Hell, he’s covered in dirt and his clothes are years old, from the looks of them. Still, he has this force and presence that drags your attention to him. You study him for a moment.

He glances over at you and your eyes meet. He’s got stunning blue eyes. You blink and look away. You both ignore each other and buy a few more drinks. After your third, you decide that’s enough and start to head out. Just as you leave the bar, you collide with the man.

“Sorry,” you say, forgetting in that split second to make your voice sound deep and gravelly. You’re usually so careful, but when you’re not around the gang, it’s harder to maintain.

The man lowers his brow, clearly confused. “It’s alright, mi… well, can I call ya miss?”

He looks you up and down, clearly confused. After all, your disguise is very convincing.

“Sure,” you say. “Long as you don’t tell no one else.”

He huffs a small laugh. “And who’d I tell that I met a young woman who looked just like a young, very small man?”

You smile. “I guess no one.”

He tips his hat. “You have a fine day, sir.” He gets on his horse and rides off.

************************

You’ve bumped into this man a few more times since that first meeting. You found a mutilated corpse under the railroad and he did too at pretty much the same time. Another day, you stumbled upon a strange rock carving near the Cumberland River and he showed up only seconds later. Another time, you were just heading back to Hanging Dog Ranch and you saw him in the big meadow skinning a pronghorn. You’ve never crossed paths with a stranger so often.

You’re in Valentine again and just heading over to the train station. A couple months back, you bumped into some annoying feller who offered you money for bundles of cigarette cards, and you’ve finally found enough that they might be worth something. Hopefully this idiot wasn’t pulling your leg. Just as you’re about to reach the doors, they open and the man you’ve met a handful of times comes out.

“Excuse me, sir,” he says, then stops. His eyes rake over you and he smiles. “Again? How many times you and I gonna cross paths?”

You smile. “Don’t get the impression that I’m following you, that’s not what’s happening.”

He smiles back. “Course not. Well, don’t let me keep ya.”

You’ve never been a big believer in fate or destiny, but the fact that you’ve run into this man so often has got to be more than mere coincidence. As he starts walking over to his horse, you turn.

“Sir, we keep bumping into each other. Now I don’t believe in divine interference when it comes to people and their lives, but… there’s gotta be a reason we keep running into each other. Let me buy you a beer.”

He grins. “That’s awful kind o’ ya, miss. Guess I can grab a drink. Though not Smithfield’s. Bar owner ain’t too keen on me right now.”

You agree and go to the smaller, quieter saloon in Valentine. You make good on your promise and buy him a drink. There, you both get to talking and introduce yourselves properly (though not entirely honestly).

“So tell me,” Arthur says, setting his bottle down. “Why’s a girl like you dressin’ like a man? Judgin’ by how well you do it, my guess is you’ve done it a long time.”

You sigh. “It’s…. It’s a long, boring story. Let’s just say it’s safer for me to dress like this than a woman. No offence, but men have a disgusting habit of targeting women because we’re the weaker sex.”

He smiles a bit. “Yes we certainly have a habit of doin’ that. However, I know you’re leavin’ somethin’ out.”

“How would you know?”

“Because,” he says, “you’re way too vague and you’re the only woman I seen dressed like this. So what’s the real story?”

You know you can’t tell him about Colm’s gang, but perhaps you can just tell him a vague bit of the truth.

“I run with a bunch of boys who aren’t too keen on runnin’ with women. Guess they don’t really like us, I don’t know. In order to keep on runnin’ with ‘em, I dress like this. They buy it well enough.”

“Don’t seem like a particularly good bunch if they can’t handle you bein’ a lady. Why don’t you just leave?”

“It’s… it’s complicated,” you say, hiding your eyes beneath your hat. “Let’s just say they ain’t keen on people abandoning them.”

He doesn’t press further and then he thanks you for the drink. You kind of hope you don’t see him again, he already knows too much about you for your own safety.

Just as you’re leaving Valentine, Colm and Hoskins bump into you.

“There you are, you son of a bitch,” Colm snarls when he sees you. This is a usual greeting so you think nothing of it. “Saddle up, boy. We gotta go to Six Point.”

“Why?” you say, mounting up on your horse.

“I left Lowman and McCann up there with some of the others. They were supposed to stash the money from that stage robbery and meet us at Hangin’ Dog. I ain’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em. Little bastards better not be dead drunk.”

You ride with the two to the cabin Colm sometimes uses as a hideout. You find the other men scattered around, dead but not drunk. Colm’s furious again and he kicks a bucket halfway across the site. He investigates the cabin and finds the money gone, as well as a double-barrelled shotgun he had mounted up on the chimney.

“You, boy,” he points at you. “You stay here. Get this shit cleaned up, and stay here until I come for you in case the shits who did this come back.”

“You want me here alone in case a possible group of expert gunman come back?” you say, not liking the odds.

“Yeah, don’t be yella. Just do what you’re told. I’ll come get ya in a few days.”

***********************

What Colm said would be a few days has turned into a few weeks. He’s had you stake out places like this before, so you know the drill: sniff out any possible leads from the closest town. While you’ve been trying to dig up clues, you bump into that Arthur Morgan time and time again.

The first time you did since buying him a drink, he offered to buy you one. After that, whenever you meet, you both go for drinks and get to know one another a little better. It isn’t long before you start to feel a sense of friendship towards him. He’s just as vague on his lifestyle as you are, but you don’t push out of respect. Before long, Arthur asks you to meet him in places to go hunting. He seems to like the company.

After one particularly long day, you part his company in Valentine and return to Six Point. You spend the next couple of days missing him. You miss him more than anyone else you’ve ever known and that’s when you’re hit with it: you like him.

The next time you meet, you try to keep things cool between you and him, but you can’t help but stare at him. He is handsome after all. Plus you know that while his temper can be quick to flare up, he can be incredibly gentle and caring. There was one time you both stumbled into a cabin where the occupants had died due to a fire. The cabin was relatively intact and it looked like they’d died from the gas. Arthur picked up a pen and a children’s book. When you questioned him on this, he just smiled.

“I have a couple of friends who mentioned they wanted a pen and a book like this.”

“Ah, so if I was to ask you to fetch me somethin’, would you get it?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

“Of course. Anythin’ in mind?”

You were almost surprised, but happy. “Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind a watch. I accidentally dropped mine and it broke a couple days back. Haven’t had the chance to replace it.”

He smiled and promised to bring you one. The next time you saw him, he had it. When your fingers brushed his, he blushed. Was it possible he had something for you too?

From then on, your relationship with Arthur changed. There was just a sense of electricity between you both, like you were magnetized. You went from purposefully bumping your hand into his to touching his upper arms and shoulders to brushing his hair when he had his hat off. It wasn’t long after that when you had your first kiss. It had taken you completely by surprise.

You’d both been drinking heavily that night and you were doing everything to control yourself with him. You’d been more attracted to him than ever, but you weren’t sure if he liked you too. However, in your drunken phase, the candlelight hit him just right and you just leaned over and kissed him. He was taken by surprise, but when you started to pull away, he stopped you and crashed his lips to yours.

After that night, the two of you met almost daily, even if it was just for five minutes. Arthur kissed you as often as he could. It didn’t take long before the two of you finally made love. You’d been out hunting and it rained hard, chilling you both to the bone. You were both forced to strip down to your undergarments as your clothes had been soaked. You nestled close to one another and one thing led to another and you ended up sleeping with him. Arthur was more than satisfactory in bed, he knew how to push buttons you weren’t even aware existed. He seemed pleased with your performance as well.

After having sex with him, you start to feel guilty for hiding so much from him. You’ve made love to him several times now and you feel incredibly close to him. More than anyone else you’ve known. He makes you feel like you don’t have to hide, you can be yourself. Perhaps now is the time you open up about your past.

You meet Arthur in the saloon, where you always arrange to meet. You’ve made up your mind when you walk up to him. He smiles when he sees you and wraps an arm around you. He kisses you softly, not caring who might be around to see.

“Well, should we go off huntin’ or do you wanna hit the hotel first and have a little fun?” he asks with a small growl.

You blush a bit. “I’d love to go have some fun, but… we need to talk first.”

His smile fades, but he nods. You feel even more guilty, the poor man probably thinks you’re going to break up with him. You take his hand and lead him outside to your horses and mount up. You lead him away from the town where you won’t be overheard.

You dismount and Arthur follows suit. He walks over but doesn’t touch you, clearly under the impression you’re going to end things.

“Arthur I… I feel I owe you an explanation,” you say, looking at your feet. “I haven’t been honest with you. Most of the things I’ve said have been little less than lies.”

He furrows his brow, clearly taken aback by this. You look up at him.

“I don’t want to lie anymore, Arthur. I’m….” you prepare yourself for the worst. Most men you can think of would be upset at dating an outlaw. “I’m an outlaw. The boys I run with are a gang.”

He sighs and smiles. “Jesus, darlin’! You nearly scared me to death!”

You look at him in shock. “What?”

“Honey, I don’t care that you’re an outlaw. You wanna hear one of my secrets?” He grabs your hands and leans in. “I’m an outlaw too. I run with a gang. Men, women, even a kid. Not my kid, course, but he’s a good boy.”

You smile up at him, your gut feeling considerably lighter. “Oh thank God. Can I ask which gang?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I run with Dutch Van der Linde.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Van der Linde?” you say.

He nods. “Somethin’ wrong?”

You swallow. “Possibly. Arthur, I… I run with the O’Driscolls.”

He lowers his brow and his eyes widen. His hands let go of yours. “The O’Driscolls? You run with those assholes?”

“Arthur, I can explain. It wasn’t really my decision and-”

“Save it,” he growls. “Your gang has caused nothin’ but heartbreak and anger for my gang. Van der Linde is like a father to me and Colm killed his girl.”

“And Van der Linde killed his brother!” you say. You’re not really sure why you’re getting defensive, but you know one thing: Arthur has a huge problem with your truth.

“Word is Colm hated his brother more than anyone else,” Arthur snarls. “But he killed Dutch’s girl. They were gonna get married! And you run with those fools? I can’t even tell ya how much trouble you’re bunch has caused us?”

You blink away some tears. “I thought… Arthur, I thought you wouldn’t care. Just because I run with them doesn’t mean I’m like them. I hate Colm more than you can know, but I can’t get out.”

“No one’s forced to do nothin’. You can leave whenever you want. But I’m gonna tell ya somethin’, Y/N.” His eyes darken and he squares his jaw. “If you choose to stay with them, you and I can’t be together no more. I refuse to be associated with a goddamn O’Driscoll.”

You lower your head and look down. You want nothing more than to leave, but if you do, Colm will butcher you. “I want nothing more than to run away from him, Arthur. But… he’ll kill me.”

He sighs heavily. “So you’re gonna choose to be a coward. Well, forget about things with me then, Y/N. I refuse to waste my time on an O’Driscoll.”

His words sting and he marches over to his horse, mounting up and leaves. Out of all the things that could have happened when you decided to come clean, this was not it. Your chest suddenly tightens painfully and your stomach just feels like it’s gone. You take a step over to the cliff’s edge and sit down. You’ve never despised your gang more. They’ve taken everything from you. Your family, your freedom, and now your lover. You can’t say you blame Arthur for leaving and you can understand his loyalty to his gang. He’s also right about you and you feel like a coward.

After a bit, you get yourself up and ride off to Six Point. When you get there, you finally let yourself cry. How can you go on with your gang now? You’d been so happy with Arthur, happier than you’ve been in years, and now it’s gone. Life with your gang seems even darker than before.

*************************

The next day, Colm comes, but he doesn’t want you to return to the gang’s hideout yet.

“Turns out Van der Linde was behind the massacre here,” he says. “Only one way he could’ve known about this place. That coward Kieran must’ve been behind this. I also heard a rumor.” He glares at you. “One of my boys said he saw you talkin’ with a fella named Arthur Morgan. You know he’s one of Dutch’s boys, right?”

You swallow. “Yes. I was merely telling him this is our turf and he should get lost.”

“I see, though I doubt it. From what my boy was tellin’, you looked like you were friendly with him. More than friendly even. I can handle one of my men feelin’ attracted to other men, as long as they don’t act on it. But I will not accept anyone falling for a Van der Linde, you got me, boy?”

You nod your head. “Yes, sir. I am not attracted to Morgan, but I understand.”

“You always was a bad liar. Now I need to go somewhere for a few more days, but when I come back, you’re comin’ with me. Now if I hear you’re fraternizing with any more of Dutch’s boys, you ain’t gonna like what I do to ya.”

With that, Colm stomps out of the cabin and rides off. You’re left shaken. “Goddamn it, Arthur,” you say quietly. “Why must you be… you?”

****************************

Two days later, you’re still at Six Point. You haven’t left the cabin since Colm threatened you. You’re sure he’s staked out some of his men in Valentine to keep an eye on you. As far as Arthur goes, you’ve heard and seen nothing. You miss him more than you care to admit, but you’ve already given up on ever seeing him again. He made it perfectly clear how he feels about you.

You’re beginning to wonder if running and taking your chances would be worth staying with Colm. After all, it’s not like you get much money from his jobs and you’re no more safer staying than you are running. He’s turned around and shot his men several times over stupid things. You weren’t one of them out of mere chance. More than that though, you’re tired of hiding. Hiding who you are and what you look like.

Just as you’re beginning to think of a plan of escape, where you’ll go and what you’ll do, a knock comes on the door of Six Point. It’s not Colm. He never knocks. Perhaps it’s just a weary traveller in need of shelter from the torrential rain outside. You readjust your high bun and put your hat back on, pulling the masculine disguise back together.

When you open the door, you don’t find a traveller. Arthur’s standing on the porch, his hat in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” you say quietly, trying to cover your emotions. Your voice is surprisingly steady. You fold your arms around yourself, waiting for his anger.

“I came to apologize for the things I said, Y/N,” he says softly. “I know I made some assumptions without botherin’ to ask you if they’re true. I know you ain’t runnin’ with Colm out of affection. He’s the reason you gotta dress like a man, I’m guessing.”

You nod and take your hat off. “Yes. If he ever finds out, I’m dead.”

Arthur purses his lips a bit. “Well, darlin’, I… I’m wonderin’ if I can propose somethin’ to ya.” He waits for you to respond. When you don’t, he goes on. “I was thinkin’ you could abandon Colm, come with me into my gang. You’d be the safest there.”

You look up at Arthur. “Does Dutch know? Does he know that I’m an O’Driscoll?”

He sighs. “I told him about ya. He knows. He… weren’t too happy when I told him how I feel about ya. But I told him you’re little more than a prisoner with Colm. You’re only loyal out of fear.”

You sigh and turn around to face the interior of the cabin. “I’m guessing it’s not enough to convince this Dutch to let me in. He’ll probably question my loyalty to him as well.” You turn and look at Arthur. “If I stay here, I’ll remain a prisoner. But if I go with you, I’ll still be a prisoner. Arthur, I’m trapped no matter what I do.”

He walks in after you. “Not if I have anythin’ to say about it. It ain’t like I’m bringin’ ya in against your will. I got a lot of weight in my gang, Y/N. If I say you’re stayin’ and you’re alright, Dutch will listen to me. It’ll help a lot when he sees how useful you are to have around. Just help with the work and you’ll be accepted soon enough. I ain’t sayin’ it’ll be easy, but it might be the best chance you have.”

He waits for you to respond. He’s right, of course. You know you’re already walking a thin line with Colm and it’s only going to get thinner. Arthur may very well be your salvation and, like he said, within the ranks of Colm’s greatest enemies is where you’ll be safest.

“Do I have to keep on disguising myself?” you ask.

Arthur smiles. “Absolutely not. We got plenty o’ women in camp and none of ‘em are ashamed of looking like women.”

You smile and reach up, undoing your bun. It feels good to let your hair flow down just past your collarbones. You run a hand through it, aware you need a shower. You quickly change into a set of more feminine clothes, which you bought with Arthur a few weeks back. After washing your face, you look hardly recognizable from the man the O’Driscolls think you are. You’ll be able to slip past them easily enough.

“Okay, Mr. Morgan,” you say. “Take me to Van der Linde.”

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female #awkward asks

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elphaba-fang · 5 years

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In your name, I find meaning

Dragon Age fic! Please comment, like and follow for more stories!

~*~

SLAM!

The doors, shoved so hard they nearly fell off their hinges. Athnalen of clan Bellsullion. Warden-Commander to the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. Slayer of Darkspawn. Personal friend of the king and queen. Lover to a witch of the wilds. And father... Father to-

“Where is he?!” Athnalen demanded, drawing a sword after bashing a charging warden in the face with his shield.

“It has come to my attention, Warden-Commander Athnalen... You've been shirking your duties as a grey Warden.” The deep, gravelly voice of an older man. “As First Warden-”

“You let the Inquisitor save the wardens! Warden-Commander Clarel almost destroyed the entire order!” Athnalen shouted. “But that doesn't answer my question! Now where is he!?”

“Listen to me, if you do not begin to take your role seriously, your obligation, seriously, you will not be Warden-Commander any longer.”

“Where is he?!” Athnalen demanded again. His sword pointed towards the First Warden. “Where is Kieran?!”

“He is being held by one of the few other Wardens who may take your place. Madame de Fluerise. Held just north of here.”

Athnalen turned, began his March when the gravelly voice spoke again.

“If you march through those doors, you're no longer a warden. We will hunt you and kill you.”

Athnalen, with a heavy sigh of regret, took off his armor and threw it to the ground furiously. He strode out. Wearing nothing but a light fabric.

“You are obligated to protect your people! Protect the world from Darkspawn!”

“And I have done that! I have saved more lives in my short time as a warden than you have! But now? If you expect me to pick you and selfishness over my son... I'll put an arrow through your eye.” Athnalen stormed out. His weapons still equipped.

Within a few moments, Athnalen had found where they were keeping his son. With a deep breath, he waited.

“Such a sweet boy...” the woman grabbed Kieran's face.

“If you don't let me go-”

“You'll what? Cry? Scream? Bore me to death with a speech?”

“My father will kill you.” Kieran glared. A flicker of a vibrant purple in his dark eyes.

“He'd have to get past-”

There was a sound of a fast whistle. And then the recognizable echoes of bodies falling.

“Commander we-”

Fweeeho!

An arrow punctures the back of the man's head and he falls down dead. The woman takes a sword and holds it to Kieran.

“Reveal yourself knife ear!” She demands. “Or your boy will die!”

Athnalen drops from the empty entryway ceiling. Bow taught, arrow ready. Aimed at her.

“Ah, so the knife ear reveals his location.”

“You alright Kieran?”

“The boy is-”

“I wasn't talking to you!” He glared through face paint. “Kieran, are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes...”

“Did she hurt you?”

“Not yet...” He whimpered.

“That's enough out of you boy!” The woman smacked Kieran with her armored gauntlet. When she turned to Athnalen however, she realized... she made a mistake.

With a sword drawn and a dagger in hand, he charged her. She took her shield and barely managed to block. Moving ever so slightly, she shifted and fell over.

Clang clang clang clang clang!

The constant clanging of metal on metal. The constant uncomfortable sound of the scraping, clashing and breaking. Repeatedly hitting. To where the woman was now on her knees barely able to keep herself from being knocked over completely. She didn't have the strength to stand against his fury.

SNAP!

His dagger broke. She shoved him with the shield and tried to slash at him. He felt it. The elf faltered and tossed the broken dagger to the side. Taking some of the blood from his side, he smeared it on his face and exposed skin. As thought more war paint was on him. His eyes lit up and seemed to be highlighted by this blood. And he was furious. The woman charged at him, he dipped around and slid behind her. Kicked her forward, and ran to his son.

“Kieran!” He looked to the boy, who lifted his head. A giant bruise was showing on his face.

“I knew you'd come save me.” He smiled, however than smile vanished quickly “Father!”

Athnalen turned and held an arm up. The black armor blocked it. Sparks flew from the clashing metals. Something was bringing Athnalen to fight harder and harder. He needed to protect Kieran. Protect his son. With a burning fire inside, he grabbed the woman's sword with his hand. The hot pain in his fingers didn't matter. He turned her blade and shoved. Through the base of her skull out through the top. She fell. Dead. Athnalen looked to the dead body.

“And to think, a few short hours ago, she was a sister to me... A comrade...”

“Father...?” Kieran looked to his father, taking the bleeding hand. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I... Yes.” He felt like he was lying, but now his only obligation was to his family.

~*~

Obligation. Athnalen is forced to pick between the two families he has. Those among his fellow wardens, and those that he has fallen in love with and fathered. He is a caring and loving man. Also, he's wearing special custom Dalish armor. It's black and red. It matches him, although many of the elves around him will say his Vallaslin is dark pink or magenta, it is red. Which is frowned upon is Dalish Culture. His was red however, not by choice. And that will be explained later. For now, enjoy Athnalen being a good daddy! Yay! This will continue in another fic, if anyone's curious.

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your-art-is-gay · 6 years

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Meet The Writer

1. What’s your oldest WIP, and how old is it? What inspired you to start it?

My oldest WIP that’s still currently in motion is my main one, The Academy. It turned two years old September 22 (ahh!!)

I got the idea when my dad (also a writer) suggested a school with a bunch of magical creatures living in tandem, instead of a magic school specifically for like wizards or whatever. I thought it sounded very interesting, so I took a couple of character’s I’d made before and started writing!

(Fun fact, a few of the main characters in the Academy were originally from a Percy Jackson fanfiction about demigods with fears that greatly contradicted their powers! Paris was a son of Aphrodite who was terrified of falling in love, and Kieran was a son of Hecate who despised magic! Early drafts of the Academy had very heavy influence from Greek Mythology as well, up until I decided that I really didn’t want it to be so similar to Percy Jackson and created my own mythos instead.)

2. What’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to writing?

I tend to overanalyze, well, everything in my writing. One of the worst feelings is when I think of something really clever and then I discover that it opens up a plot hole in an earlier portion. Oh well, that’s what revisions are for, right? *gross sobbing*

3. What scene did you enjoy writing the most out of all your WIPs? What scene did you enjoy writing the least?

Ooohhh, that’s a good question. Frankly, I’m not entirely sure. I definitely really like the quiet, romantic scenes, because I’m a total sap and I don’t get to write many of those.

As for the one I liked the least, well… One of my main characters has been through some pretty traumatic shit in their past, and partway through the book they have a nightmare and completely break down, and gods I hated writing that. It hurts me so much to put them through that.

4. What’s your favorite trope?

Well, I have a lot of them. I really like characters who are done with everything and everyone and only go along with the crazy shit that happens to them because they have to. Like, they’ll let the plot drag them around but by the gods they’re kicking and dragging their heels along the way. I also really like casual fourth-wall breaking, Gilligan cuts, and the *thing happens and two characters in the background exchange money* tropes.

5. Which of your protagonists do you relate to the most?

Well, I have a character that’s very heavily based off of me―and who also shares my name. Although, while they were written with the intention of being somewhat of a self-insert, they’ve grown and changed as a character so much now that we really aren’t alike anymore. Frankly, I’m not entirely sure. I’d probably say Nick just for simplicity’s sake, but I don’t really know.

6. What is the worst writing experience you’ve ever had with another writer, anywhere, since you’ve started writing?

I don’t really talk to people in general. I don’t think I can recall a negative experience with another writer, actually.

7. What character from a famous story, book/movie/comic/game, or otherwise, do you despise the most? Why?

Severus motherfucking Snape. I have so many reasons for hating him.

He was an abusive, racist prick who got pissed when his female friend wasn’t romantically interested in him, called her a racist name when she tried to help him, and fucked off to join the wizard Nazis.

He only defected over to the good side because he was still obsessed with Lily and was afraid of her being murdered.

He literally asked Voldemort to spare Lily so he could be with her―sure, kill the year-old infant and the man she actually loves, but no, keep her alive so I can force my love on her.

Despite being a supposedly “good” guy, he mentally abused his students for years, so much so that he even became Neville Longbottom’s worst fear.

Neville Longbottom, who frequently goes to see his essentially braindead parents and is alluded to being able to remember when they were tortured so badly that they became that way, was tormented so badly by Snape that he became Neville’s worst fear.

Upon finding the Potter house after the were killed, he completely breezes past James’ body, ignored the wailing and bleeding child in the crib, just to hold Lily’s body and weep over how he never got to sleep with her.

He has an unreasonable hatred for Harry just because Harry looks like James.

He was so salty about something that happened when they were children (that wasn’t even Lupin’s fault, by the way) that he outed Lupin as a werewolf and forced him to resign, depriving Hogwarts of the only good DADA teacher it ever had.

And yet, despite all of this, he is given a redemption arc. He is considered a redeemable character, when Draco Malfoy, a literal child who was tortured and abused for a good portion of his life and had very little of a say in most of his awful choices, “doesn’t have a heart of gold.”

Snape is seen as a romantic, selfless guy by a good portion of the fandom because…he was obsessed with a girl who wanted nothing to do with him? Because of a throwaway line where he proclaimed he would always be obsessed with a girl who wanted nothing to do with him?

It’s bad enough that the fans think this, but the books treat it like this as well!! SNAPE, of all people, gets a redemption arc―if you can even call those bullshit excuses that. I, for one, am thoroughly sick of abusive characters getting redeemed.

(Sorry for ranting, I have a lot of feelings about this.)

8. What’s your favorite line of dialogue you’ve ever written?

Most of my characters are sarcastic little shits, so that’s really hard to say.

9. Who’s the worst character you’ve ever written, in terms of morality?

Well….hm…. The thing about my characters, particularly my antagonists, is that I do my very best to make them something other than just evil. In their eyes, their bad actions are justified. So, it’s really hard to choose.

My main villain is a very self-righteous, ambitious sort of guy. He’s kinda racist (a lot of older magi in my story just….really don’t like the fae), and thinks that the magi (magical folk) are superior. BUT, instead of wanting to take over the world or anything, he just wants to leave. Long story short, the magi are originally from another dimension, and it’s there that he wants to return them. Unfortunately, this other dimension is presumed to have been destroyed, and even if it is there, opening a rift to go there could potentially completely destroy our world. He doesn’t care about that, though―after all, it’s only humans and dirty fae that would die.

The only other character I can think of is the one I just really hate. Like, she just oozes evil and I kind of love to write her, because I don’t really have any other characters that have that slick evil personality. But she’s a pretty terrible person too. Her twin brother was taken by the fae as an infant, a changling left in his place. The changeling doesn’t know that yet―but she does.

Their entire life, she’s blamed him for why she doesn’t have her actual brother. She pretends like she loves him, but the entire time she’s been emotionally abusing him and making him constantly feel like crap about himself. She’s even physically abused him, by taking iron and burning him whenever she can get away with it.

I think she’d probably be the worst.

10. Do you prefer happy endings or bad endings? Or do you prefer the middle ground?

Definitely good endings. I can appreciate well-written bad endings, but only after I get over my initial emotional response to it. Sometimes, that takes me a while―like Swarm by Scott Westerfeld. I read that almost a year ago and I’m still fucking pissed. I’m just not really a fan of endings that leave a bad taste in my mouth. (One of the reasons I chose to reread Huck Finn for English instead of doing Of Mice And Men, despite the fact that I kind of loath Huck Finn.)

I’m also aware that not all stories can have feel-good endings, and in many of them, those types of endings just don’t make sense. *squints at the end of Mockingjay*

But, in general, I greatly prefer good endings.

#writing #writing tag game #meet the writer #sorry for going off on a tangent #I just really hate Snape

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arcadiasarchives · 3 years

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The Choices We Make

Did I fill one of my own prompts? Probably. At least I’ve actually finished something. This was actually finished a little while ago, before I went into Lockdown but I’ve been waiting for the person I wrote it for to read it before posting.

University was turning out to be a lot more fun than Killian had expected. His lessons were interesting, the teachers cool, and he’d begun making friends for the first time in what felt like forever. He was finally out of the house as well, having found a classmate to share his place with to help cover costs, and it felt good to be away from his brother no matter how much he loved him. It turned out that love didn’t stop you from wanting to punch people in the face. Fancy that. He had the flat to himself that night, Nicolai had a tutoring job at the library, and he was using the quiet to get as much of his homework as possible out of the way. If he got it done before the weekend he’d just be able to kick back and relax, maybe have a few friends round. But that was only if he got his homework out of the way because as cool as his teachers were some of them were right demons, literally. He’d been working for hours, music on low in the background, and was just considering stopping to eat something when he heard the window open. It should probably worry him considering they were on the 5th floor but he had a pretty good idea who it was. And if it wasn’t them, well worry wasn’t going to help anyway. He glanced at his visitor’s reflection in the glass of his picture frame, shaking his head with a small sigh. “You realise who they are don’t you?” It wasn’t a question not really and he wondered briefly if he’d get away with not answering. Though if that was the case his brother would have just sent a text rather than breaking into his flat at stupid o'clock. And really, he had a key. “Of course I do, now would you mind shutting that window it’s cold out.” He heard the window shut and his brother’s footsteps move closer to the desk. Sighing he set aside his homework and turned to give the other his full attention. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been expecting this after agreeing to be the villain’s brother’s room-mate. But he certainly wasn’t going to be made to regret the decision, not even by Kieran. “Is that all you have to say?” Kieran’s voice was a little harder than Killian had been expecting and he frowned. He was willing to entertain his brother’s misgivings certainly, especially as he’d been nice enough to come while Nicolai was out though whether that was intentional or accidental was anyone’s guess. But he drew the line at being treated like a reprobate child. Pushing away from his desk he gave his brother a once over before getting up and heading into the kitchenette. “Pretty much yeah, coffee?” He started the machine anyway, Kieran had quite obviously stopped by after patrol and caffeine might put him in a slightly better mood. Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand he ignored the clock on the wall that clearly said he was pushing his luck when it came to sleep and opened the fridge. There wasn’t much that didn’t require cooking, which to be honest he couldn’t be bothered with, so he grabbed an apple of the counter instead. Kieran had followed after him and was now leaning against the breakfast bar, frown still firmly in place. “Please tell me that’s not your dinner?” He said as he watched his brother bite into the apple. “It’s not my dinner.” Kieran shook his head with a frustrated sigh, he wasn’t fooled by Killian’s innocent smile but he had other things to focus on for the time being. He could bitch about his brother’s poor eating habits later. “It’s dangerous for you to live here.” Killian sighed, he’d been hoping against hope that they’d drop the subject. “No more dangerous than me living back home, I’d wager.” Kieran flinched at that and Killian felt momentarily guilty, after all, he hadn’t meant to imply it was Kieran’s fault. But what else could he say? Unlike him Nicolai had no idea who Killian was, Kieran’s identity was still largely a secret and he’d done everything in his power to keep Killian off everyone’s radar even his own people for a while. Whereas Nicolai’s siblings had never cared about hiding their identity or protecting him. It had made him a target, if not of violence then of suspicion and fear, Killian refused to be a part of that. They’d been pushed together by one of their teachers during the first week of class. Neither of them had any connections in the class and hadn’t really made any effort to find a work partner when prompted. So she’d done it for them. Nicolai had been nothing but upfront about who and what he was and when Killian had told him it didn’t matter he’d meant it. Kieran’s opinions be damned. He placed one of the two coffee’s the machine had made in front of his brother and lent against the other side of the counter. “You were safe there, even if everything’s discovered. What happens if everything is revealed now?” Kieran demanded thinking of all the contingency plans he’d put in place over the years. Even before he’d trusted Marcus enough with his secrets he’d made sure Killian would be safe. “I’ll be more careful, I’m already more careful, it really doesn’t change anything.” The entire place was warded, he and Nicolai had spent hours at it, not to mention the security system they’d put in. This place was just as safe as the house was. “Your room-mate changes everything!” Several things in the kitchen shook and Killian glared, his own temper rising. “You don’t know anything about him.” And he really did try to keep his voice calm but there was no mistaking the edge it had taken. “You can’t just make assumptions like that.” Kieran snorted. “What makes you think he’s all that different from his siblings, you really expect me to believe one of that family turned out decent?” Killian opened his mouth, closed it, took a deep breath and opened it again. “I’m not sure we’re in a position to be criticising peoples family background do you?” It was the safest thing he could think of saying but it still made Kieran slam his mouth shut with an audible click of teeth. They didn’t talk about their family history, through some sort of unspoken agreement none of the decent side of the family did. But not talking about something and hinting at its existence were two very different things in Killian’s opinion. “Maybe not but it certainly gives me reason to doubt his motives.” “Jesus I’m not going to ask why you’re so paranoid, because I know and I get it I really do, but there’s legitimately no way Nicky could have ulterior motives to getting a place with me. As far as he’s concerned I’m just another student.” Unless you know something I don’t Killian mentally added but he didn’t say it out loud. He wasn’t about to accuse the other of keeping things from him and he didn’t believe Nicolai would do such a thing anyway. “Fine let’s say I accept that he has no idea, what about when he finds out? Or if you trust him that much what about when his siblings find out?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You can’t really believe he’ll stand up to them for you? Why wouldn’t he just hand you over?” Because it’s wrong he thought angrily but Kieran was unlikely to accept that as anything but deflection. He took a deep breath and suddenly he didn’t care if he upset his brother he just wanted this all over with. “You shouldn’t hold everyone to your own standards,” Killian spat ignoring the was his cup trembled. He had himself under control, hopefully, the same could be said for Kieran. “Some people obviously have better morals.” It seemed to take a minute for the words to compute but then Kieran’s cup exploded. Maybe Killian should suggest to Marcus that they start practising calming techniques again. Not that he was probably going to be seeing him for a while. “Are you saying that I-” “Well, you’re the one pushing it so-” “Because I’m worried about you I can’t believe-” “No! Being worried is one thing but this is-” “Just because you’re too stupid to consider- “Oh, so I’m stupid now am- “You’re certainly acting like it! You have to see it’s not safe-” “I don’t see anything except your prejudice and-” Their shouting was stopped by the front door opening and Killian quickly tried to reign his temper in, glaring at his brother in warning as Nicolai looked between them from the door. He looked exhausted, not just physically but mentally and Killian wondered how much of their argument he’d heard. “Sorry, I can-” He started but Killian was quick to cut him off. “No it’s fine, Kieran was just leaving anyway.” The look his brother gave him made something inside Killian hurt but he didn’t argue, barely even looked over as he headed out, brushing past Nicolai with a quiet ‘night’. Killian slumped back against the counter, staring at the shards of glass and slowly spreading coffee. At some stage, during their argument, the other cup had been destroyed as well and there were a few things on the floor, though nothing looked broken thankfully. He should start cleaning up but he couldn’t make himself move. Something was placed on the counter beside him and he turned to look at Nicolai as he leaned beside him. “I picked up dinner on my way back, didn’t think you’d have stopped your essays.” Nicolai’s voice was soft and careful, he expected that if his friend didn’t have a headache it wouldn’t be far off and he didn’t want to risk making it worse. “Yeah, I was almost finished when...” He trailed off unsure exactly how to continue before shaking his head slightly. “I should clear up.” “I’ll do it, go set the food at the coffee table.” “But-” “It’ll take me less time than it will you in this state.” He wasn’t wrong, Killian had been planning on clearing up by hand which considering they were short on cups probably wasn’t the wisest decision anyway. So he picked up the bags of take-out and headed into the main room. Nicolai had joined him before he’d finished setting out the cartons and he slumped down onto the sofa beside him, holding out a bottle of beer which Killian accepted gratefully. They didn’t usually drink on a class night but as he clinked his bottle to Nicolai’s he felt they both deserved it. While Killian lent forward to grab some food Nicolai turned the tv on to a random channel. It was barely loud enough to hear but it had been their ritual from the start, both used to plenty of noise. They’d been eating for a little while when Nicolai spoke. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be,” Killian said through a mouthful of food before quickly swallowing. “It’s not your fault.” “Would you have been fighting with him had you not been living here?” “Probably,” Killian said with a shrug he was always fighting with his brother after all. “As badly?” Nicolai pressed smiling slightly at Killian’s annoyed huff before stealing some of his food. “You have to admit I’m a defining factor.” “Perhaps,” Killian agreed as he stole half a spring roll off the other’s plate. “But that’s his problem, not yours.” “I don’t like the idea of ruining your relationship with your brother,” Nicolai said quietly and Killian smiled, nudging his friend gently. “You won’t ruin it I promise, he’ll cool off and we’ll talk like adults when we’re not both so tired. He’ll come around he just needs some time.” Killian refused to dwell on how long it might actually take. They’d gone months without speaking to each other while living in the same house, now who knew how long it would last. But they’d get there eventually even if it took Jasper and Marcus smacking them round the head come Christmas.

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makuthespaceartist-blog · 7 years

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Kiertina week: Flower shop AU

My contribution to the Kiertina week! I had this idea in my head for a few days now. Forgive me any mistakes and there are probably a lot of them-English is not my native language and I haven’t written anything in literally years. Hope you’ll enjoy!

When Kieran finally opened his eyes that morning he immediately felt something was wrong. He vaguely remembered turning his alarm off around 5 times, but it took him a while to realise how late he was because of it. When he saw the clock showing 11:37am he tried to convince himself that it was only a mistake or that his clock didn't work correctly. The realisation struck him when he checked the time on both his phone and a clock in another room. Not only was he late to his morning classes, but he was also late to a very important exam.

This day couldn't be worse.

He groaned in frustration, considering going back to bed, instead of going to uni and trying to talk his professor into giving him another chance. He rejected this idea as fast as he could. He had to get himself back together. Kieran sat down in his armchair, rubbing at his temple while nervously thinking about the best plan to fix today's failure. He got back to his feet and started getting ready.

Kieran didn't fool himself-he really didn't want to get out of his apartment. He still wasn't ready to deal with his daily life after last week's events. He sighed, feeling the tight grip in his chest at the memories. He still could hear his boyfriend's words, he still could feel the emotions he felt. Kieran was sure he never cried as much as that day, clenching the phone in his hands, hoping Mark will call him again and say that it was not true, that everything was some stupid, immature joke.

But nothing like this happened and since that day Kieran hasn't heard from his boyfriend.

Well, ex-boyfriend actually.

Coming to terms with getting dumped through phone after being together for four years was something Kieran still couldn't do. He promised himself that he will be angry for such a disgraceful treatment, that he's going to forget Mark as fast as possible. That Mark never truly deserved his love.

But none of the arguments he created in his mind really worked for the way he felt in real life.

He sighed again, feeling frustrated with himself being so sentimental and emotional. He got out of his apartment and started quickly running on the sidewalk, barely avoiding hitting into other walking people.

The one thing he completely didn't avoid was a bucket of flowers standing next to a small flower shop close to his apartment building. Kieran got so lost in his thoughts about Mark that he ran into the bucket with full force, not only spilling it's contents everywhere, but also spilling half of the water on himself.

He stood there, in the middle of the sidewalk, considering if this was the time he should jump under a car.

This day got even worse.

He sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose to calm his nerves. He could feel passerbys looking at him with surprise, some of them even laughing quietly at the state he was in. Kieran decided not to comment on this kind of behaviour, concentrating on picking up the flowers into the bucket. They were beautiful, red roses. Most of them were broken due to the fall and Kieran stomping on them. The guilt and sadness spread in his chest, when he thought about how much work someone had put into growing them and preparing them for sale. He looked at the open door of the flower shop and decided he couldn't just leave without taking responsibility. Looking at his wet trousers and half wet shirt Kieran just shook his head and, carrying the bucket with the remains of the destroyed roses, he went inside the shop.

The strong smell of flowers hit him immediately. It was awfuly sweet, almost intoxicating.

Kieran didn't really visit much flowers shops before, but he was sure none of the ones he saw looked like this one. There were flowers wherever he looked-buckets with cut flowers covering almost the whole floor,pots and bouquets standing on the few tables and inside the cabinets, small pots hung on hooks under the ceiling. The only place where there were no flowers was the narrow path to the counter. In a small room like this it gave an owerwhelming feeling, almost as if Kieran found himself in some magical forest. He got closer to the counter when he heard someone coming from the back.

“Hello, how can I hel...oh!” the florist stood in place when she saw the state Kieran was in and the bucket of destroyed flowers in his head. She has to be around my age Kieran thought, looking at the girl behind the counter. She was a Latina, with long, dark, curly hair, styled into a half-updo pinned with rose hair clip. She looked at him with big, brown eyes, that were more amused than shocked. He looked quickly at her nametag. “Cristina”.

Kieran placed the bucket on the counter, not really sure how to explain the situation, without making himself look like and idiot.

After a second he realised, that there was no way he can not make himself loo like an idiot.

He sighed quietly and brushed his fingers through his hair to think about the best words.

“I'm very sorry, my lady” he started, not missing the way Cristina's mouth quircked upwards at the words “my lady”. He knew the way he spoke was quite oldfashioned, but he got used to the way people laughed at him, so he continued “I didn't pay enough attention on the sidewalk and actually managed to walk right into this bucket with your flowers...It was definitely not intentional and I'm very, very sorry for what happened.”

For a few seconds the florist just looked at him without saying anything. Kieran found it odd that he didn't really mind her staring at him and didn't feel awkward at all. He returned the gaze waiting for a response.

“I...” Cristina started, moving her stare to look at the bucket. He bit her lips slightly, trying to hold back laughter, but couldn't stop herself from smiling “I mean, you don't have to worry about it. Really.”

Kieran too lowered his gaze to the roses lying miserably in the bucket.

“I would like to pay for them all. It is my fault that they're all destroyed. I am very sorry for wasting your work.”

Cristina looked at him again, her smile wide and bright. She moved the bucket closer to herself and started pulling some of the roses out.

“Just like I told you before, you don't have to worry about it” she answered, breaking off a crushed stalk from one of the roses. When Kieran opened his mouth to protest she stopped him with a hand gesture “Really, I won't take money from you. Most of the roses are still fine to be used in bouquets or in flower crowns. I will find a way to give them life, you can be sure about it.”

She pushed one of the roses towards him.

“If you want though you can buy one. For your girlfriend or your boyfriend” for a second Kieran wondered if it was a statement or a question. He just shook his head, feeling a stab of pain in his chest, when he thought about Mark again.

Her ethusiasm made Kieran feel a little better, but he still felt guilty. The fact that he was all over the place and had to lock himself up at home for four days straight was miserable enough. He didn't want the first day out to go this way.

When he looked up at Cristina again she was studying his face with interest and-something Kieran was sure he imagined-concern. She tilted her head slightly to one side, looking as if she was contemplating wheter or not she should say what she had in mind. After a few seconds she put down the now empty bucket on the floor and started segregating the roses that she put on the counter.

“If it's not too personal” she tilted her head again, stopping for a second “it's quite unusual to see people be so distracted, that they can't notice something as big as a bucket with roses. Plus it was marked with a plate so people would be more careful.”

Kieran felt a slight blush creeping on his cheeks. Knowing himself how ridiculous this situation was he felt even more embarassed when he was being called out on it.

“So if it's not too personal, what caused this...thoughtfulness?” Cristina finished, looking up at Kieran from the flowers.

He was never a person who talked a lot about himself. He didn't feel the need to rant about his feelings to other people, especially not to strangers. But now, when he was looking into Cristina's kind and gentle eyes he felt like he needed to talk. He needed to get this out of his chest. Kieran didn't tell anyone about the breakup yet. Something inside him stopped him,because telling others would mean that this is true. That this is the reality. That right now Kieran was dumped and single.

He took a deep breath.

“A few days ago my boyfriend broke u with me, after four years. He did it through phone” Kieran smiled bitterly at the memory.” I wasn't really myself the past few days. I was late to my classes and wanted to get to uni as fast as possible. And then...well, you know the rest.”

Cristina looked at him with sadness in her eyes. She immediately turned her stare to the rose she wanted him to buy before.

“Well, it wasn't the best time to suggest you buy a rose for your boyfriend was it?” she asked with a soft smile on her lips, putting the rose away. Kieran shook his head.

“You didn't know my situation, so it's not a problem”

“Still, I souldn't have assumed” she said, leaning on the counter. She tilted her head again, biting her lips a little harder. Kieran decided he finds this tic of hers absurdly adorable.

Cristina straightened up and looked him in the eyes.

“If it can make you feel a little bit better...Last month I found out that my boyfriend was cheating on me.”

Kieran found himself thinking that it's impossible for a guy to cheat on such a beautiful girl. He creased his eyebrows in frustration. Of course it's possible. Evrything is possible.

“Then he wasn't a worthy boyfriend” he answered, not really knowing what else to say. Cristina smiled brightly again.

“Oh no, he wasn't. And he wasn't the best fiancé to the other girl either.”

That left Kieran dumbfounded. He always thought stories like this happened only in books and movies. His naivety shocked him.

“He had a fiancée at the same time when he was in a relationship with you?” Kieran chocked out.

“Yup” Cristina nodded,rubbing her neck with a loud sigh “and I probably would still not know it the girl didn't contact me herself. She thought I knew about it and was trying to get her from him, but...we both left him after the whole situation.”

Kieran stared at his wet shoes lost in thoughts. He decided to share them with Cristina. “Sfter Mark broke up with me I was sure that I am the most miserable person in the whole world. That no one will understand my pain and that I do not deserve such treatment” he said quietly, looking up at the flowers filling the shop “only now did I realise how selfish my thoughts were.”

Cristina smiled at him brightly.

“They were not selfish. Almost always we tend to feel more about our own problems. I did it too” she shrugged “ and then I realised that my situation wasn't the worst either. I was happy in that relationship but when I think, that if it wasn't for that other girl I would still be with a man who lied to me about who he was...I'm happy it ended this way and this fast.”

Kieran thought about Mark. They have not seen each other for 2 months, since Mark moved abroad for a student exchange. He truly believed their love was strong ebough that they'll be able to maintain a long-distance relationship. Everything changed the day Mark moved. He barely called and texted, slowly distancing himself from Kieran. Maybe he planned this from the beginning? A change of place being his possibility for a change of life, which meant a change of partner too?

Shaking his head Kieran looked at his phone. It was past 12:30 now and he realised that if to catch his professor today he would have to get to uni in 15 minutes. He looed down at his trousers again and sighed in frustration.

Cristina cleared her throat, getting Kieran's attention back to herself.

“You said you had to get to class fast right?” Kieran nodded ”I can ask my dad to give you a ride.”

Kieran was really surprised by the offerIt was probably the only way for him to get there on time.

“I can't really accept your offer. I caused you so much trouble with the roses and now...”

Cristina didn't let him finish.

“Don't worry and just wait here. Roses like water, they will look much better after I put them in a vase.” she picked up the roses she separated, that still looked good enough to be sold. She then started to go out, but stopped at the last moment. She tilted her head again, and now Kieran was sure that he really liked this tic. She turned back to him with a light blush on her cheeks “The roses like water and the florist really likes coffee”

She stormed out from the shop without looking back. Kieran smiled to himself for the first day in four days.

His day suddenly got a lot better.

#kiertina #kiertina week #makuthespaceartist writes #kieran #cristina rosales #kieran x cristina #tda #tsc #the dark artifices #the shadowhunters chronicles #cassandra clare #kieran kingson

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marcythewerewolf · 7 years

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Hi M! I was wondering if you've written anything Emma + Julian as of lately. I love all of your writings, even the headcanons (AND THOSE LONG ASS POSTS. I LIVE FOR THEM.) and I really wanted to read something about those two. Anything, really. Just mess me up and hit me with your worst (best)

You’ve just written me a blank check, friend. I’ll try to fill it as best I can. Warning for some prime, post-LOS Disaster Babies, and also some light making out and heavily charged touching. And when I say heavily charged I mean in the electrical hazard sort of way.

Emma’s touch burns his skin now, leaving faint red trails that fade after a few seconds. No matter how lightly she brushes his skin, it’s like touching the sun in miniature. No matter how hard he tries, Julian can’t bring himself to care.

She swirls spirals on his forearm under the table as the Council drones, and he tries not to flinch because Dru is leaning into his other side and keeps giving him odd looks when he does.

Jia Penhallow looks tall and gaunt as a statue, hair as dark as Annabel’s. Her face is locked in a permanent expression of deep discomfort, the best sign that things aren’t going well. Try as he might, Julian can’t quite listen to anything but Emma’s soft breathing beside him.

“-eeting adjourned,” Jia says finally. “We’ll call a vote on the proposed sanctions against Faerie tomorrow.”

No one has directly called out the Blackthorns yet. Julian can’t decide if it’s concerning or for the best. After the initial outcry over the Mortal Sword, most of the backlash had promptly been directed at the usual scapegoats. Good Shadowhunter children couldn’t be blamed if the wicked Downworlders took advantage of them, and no one could be bothered to do anything with the good Shadowhunter children because stopping disasters just isn’t the Clave’s way.

Even through two layers of leather, Emma’s hand is a hot iron on his upper arm as they walk out of the hall, ignoring the stares and whispers. Rumours, they can handle, what Julian cannot countenance the idea that they might be separated, in any way.

In his fugue, he thinks if he lost Emma’s warmth he might just collapse, stop working like Ty has.

Absolute zero is a state where nothing can move at all, the lowest temperature possible in the universe, and right now that feels like the default state of Julian’s heart.

They wait for Jia to come out so they can walk back with her to the Penhallows’ house. Diana, though much kinder and much more trustworthy, doesn’t have the space to let all of them stay with her.

The attic where they’d been shoved as children is even more cramped now, and so Jia and Patrick had politely extended a few more guest bedrooms. Julian had turned her down. He knows lots of people have to be looking for place to stay in Idris at the moment, and the instinct to Not Be A Burden is strong.

They’ve made do. Ty, Kit, and Tavvy are on the bed, Dru has allocated herself a chair, and Julian and Emma are camping on the floor with spare pillows and blankets. More often than not, Tavvy comes to join them. Ty needs his space now more than ever.

He’s up and eating when the get back, which is a good sign. Dru fills in Kit on the meeting, and Julian listens closely. Now that Emma isn’t touching him and he’s back with his family, he can almost start to think clearly again.

The facts as they stand aren’t good. Helen and Aline only haven’t been sent away because Jia had made the argument they were vital witnesses to what is now being called the Massacre in the Hall of the Accords.That gambit could backfire quickly, if the Dearborns have their way. Mark and Cristina have left to try to find Kieran, and hopefully protect Mark from repercussions. He is safe, and that is a comfort, but he’s also not here.

“What about Livvy’s body?” Ty asks, still looking at his bowl of soup. Julian’s not sure he’s made direct eye contact with anyone since his twin sister died. “Did they say anything about what they did with her?”

He shakes his head. “No, buddy, sorry. We’re working on it, but the Silent Brothers are being very close lipped, apparently.”

In truth, he’s not even sure they’ll be able to have a funeral. The Mortal Sword is sacred, it’s got to mess up the usual rites and rituals. He can’t tell Ty that though, not yet. The situation is fragile enough as it is.

Julian’s brother crumples softly in on himself, and the overall mood of the room takes a despondent turn. Emma leans across on the bed and lays a searing hand on the back of Julian’s neck, making him stiffen with pain. The shock is what he needs to pull together though. As every hair on his body tingles, he tries to look like he’s in control.

“It’s only been a day and a half. You know how the Clave moves, and Jia is intentionally trying to slow things down. It’ll get better, I promise.”

The words ring hollow, even to him, but Emma smiles and that makes it okay.

In the dark at night, it’s the worst. They’re so close, but so far away. The room is full of the susurration of a half a dozen children breathing, and doing all the things he wants to do is impossible.

What he can do is touch her. Tavvy’s on the bed tonight, they have the floor to themselves, and Julian traces flowers on her bare stomach in the dim moonlight. Her skin is covered in goosebumps, and every time he touches her again her breath hitches in her throat. He does spinning roses and symmetrical camellias and dandelions which are really just an excuse to stroke lines in every direction away from her belly button. She is so hot, like a bonfire in a blizzard, and he wants to throw himself inside her and burn to death. Instead he draws ivy up her collarbone until the pads of his fingers feel so unbearably warm he puts them in his mouth despite himself. (There they are cool to the the tongue.)

Emma grins, puts one branding iron hand on the small of his back and pulls him in closer to her.

“You know it doesn’t work like that,” she whispers, as softly as a butterfly landing. It’s clearly a struggle for her to be so quiet. Even the way she moves, unrestrained as a storm, makes him hesitate, but he still can’t stop himself from holding her.

“It’s magic,” Julian whispers, wrapping an arm around her so she shudders. “It can work however it wants.”

When she presses him down into her thin pillow on the worn wood floor, she feels heavier than she should, like a car crushing his chest. He can barely breath as she kisses his eyelids, and when he opens his eyes again the world is gold and red.

Once Julian catches his breath and lets the stars behind his eyes fade, he writes, RUNE? on her upper arm. She shakes her head and gives him a questioning look. Runes don’t work like that, they both know, but maybe whatever horrible power they have now does. They shouldn’t experiment. He desperately wants to.

It’s a dark sort of curiosity that drives him to pull her nearest hand to his lips. With some consideration, he kisses each knuckle and callous and watches as she shivers. Still, even that small reaction isn’t enough. He goes for the vein at her wrist and works his way up her arm, brushing away the tangle on blonde hair when he reaches her shoulder. Emma leans into him, her breath like steam on his neck.

Ty turns on the bedside lamp. “What are you doing?” he demands.

Next to him, Kit and Tavvy, both wearing pairs of Aline’s old pajamas, start to stir as well. A disgruntled noise from Dru is followed by some bleary stares and then her falling out of the chair.

“That’s illegal!” Ty and Dru say at almost the same, scandalized time. Julian doesn’t even have time to offer up a defense, although not many platonic explanations for their activities come to mind.

Kit frowns. “Wait, really?”

Dru is scared for all of them, Ty is offended on multiple accounts, Tavvy is elated, Kit is mostly confused.

They all promise not to tell, though Julian knows their faith in him has taken another hard hit. The family comes first, no matter what. He raised them well.

He and Emma retreat to the bathroom to come up with a plan of attack. A plan of recovery was equally acceptable.

“They’ll understand,” Emma assures him as they sit together on the tile. “It might take a while, but I know they will.”

“I-” Julian begins, and finds the lie chokes in his throat. “Maybe you’re right. We don’t have time though. What if the Cohort moves, what if charges start to be brought against us, what if they threaten Helen, or Mark?”

She squeezes his hand, bringing some warmth back in the frozen fear of his mind. “Then we’ll destroy them.”

When they return, Ty has also held his own meeting, and drafted a few ultimatums.

“We need to tell Helen and Aline,” he says. He’s still not looking at anyone straight on, but his voice is strong and steady.

“We can’t keep lying to each other,” Dru says, chin wobbling but eyes stubborn. “You can’t keep lying to us, Jules.”

“Please-”

Ty cuts him off before he can offer any soothing words. “We know you meant well, but we’re not kids anymore. We can handle this.”

They can. They are shaking and shaken, but unbroken yet. He’s so, so proud of them, and he loves them all so much. He can’t imagine ever hurting them, even for the endless enveloping fire Emma now embodies, and he desperately hopes it stays that way.

“And I want to find Livvy,” Ty says, in a voice that breaks before Kit wraps his arms tightly around him from the back. “I- we can’t leave without her.”

It’s settled just like that, quickly in the night by children not quite sure what they’re doing and certainly not old enough to be making the choices they are. Story of Julian’s life.

Breaking into the Silent City is easily said then done. Emma and Julian go alone. It’s better than endangering the children.

In dark corridors, tombs of fallen warriors, and hallowed libraries, they find nothing, not even the answers about their predicament Julian was half looking for. Deeper still, in the cells and vaults, there is still no sign of Livia. Her corpse, bloodless and tiny and horribly awkward in death, limp and hanging from the ornate hilt of the Mortal Sword like he remembers, is nowhere to be found. The shards of the Sword itself are all laid out on a bier, but the girl who died for them gets none of the same decency.

All the Brothers except a few are out, searching the world for answers to the crisis of the day. Emma choked out a few on the way in, but the City had been mostly unguarded.

Under the circumstances, Julian thinks lighting the whole place on fire is entirely reasonable.

Emma’s face shines as the stone melts and catches with the help of their burning, glowing, wicked rune. She’s flush and fierce and delighted as they drag the unconscious Brothers into a safe building and run, and Julian delights with her, feels hot and bright and alive. Love is a sort of mourning, just as vengeful arson is a sort of funeral pyre. He had given Uncle Arthur a church, Livvy deserves at least a small city.

The entrance to the Silent City soon swarms with more Brothers, with Shadowhunters rushing to help. By the time they meet back up with their party in the Penhallows’ back garden, the plume of smoke is visible to most of Idris.

Helen looks appalled, Aline looks impressed, Ty mostly just looks upset. “Where is she?” he asks.

“What did you do?” Helen asks, hands on her hips like an older sister in full.

“She wasn’t there,” Julian gasps, “So we, ah, made do. It’s not a proper Shadowhunter funeral, but it’s close enough, isn’t it?” Still high on skin contact with Emma and powerful magic, he feels like he could wrestle a bear. He wants to find a bed and kiss her senseless, and the bed is really optional.

Helen has the gall to disapprove, as if she was there for them at all, as if she has any room to judge them for being unacceptable by Shadowhunter norms. “Julian…” she sighs, looking worriedly at Taavy and Dru. They’re hiding behind her. It’s possible, Julian realizes, that he might look a little mad right now.

“We’re fine,” he insists, and when Helen moves to touch his cheek, he bats her away.

She shrieks, and yanks her hand back quickly. The garden of Blackthorns and Blackthorn-adjacents freezes. Aline is hovering over her in an instant, inspecting her blistered hand and murmuring questions.

Helen looks a little frightened, and that’s enough to frighten Julian. “I’m fine,” she says, “I just… it burned. Even the air around you is hot. Jules?”

He and Emma exchange a glance. “Nothing like that’s ever happened before,” Emma tells her quickly, “I mean, sometimes things kind of like that, but not really like that. No one’s ever gotten hurt.”

Before, remains unspoken.

The grass around Julian and Emma’s feet starts to wither and smoke. Above the little walled garden, the plume of smoke reaches higher and higher, up into the heavens, no longer a triumphal column and now just a marker of a disaster somewhere not too far away.

#julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #lord of shadows spoilers #the dark artifices #blackstairs #my terrible parabatai children #fanfic #m writes

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ashleighxx · 7 years

Text

Sacrifice

A very belated birthday gift for the amazing ABBY! @3tinkgemini

No babies, very vaguely TO canon events, skewered into my own vision :D

Klaus missed her.

Tremendously.

He hadn’t seen the blonde baby vampire in person since they destroyed a few trees in the woods on the Salvatore property, and God did he miss her. Not even sketching her curves, painting her soft, pale skin could do her justice anymore. He struggled to match the exact shade of blue in her eyes, and he could never capture her light just right anyway. He had been living in New Orleans for over a year now and the mini war over being King had distracted him from his thoughts of her for a while, of his longing. He wasn't celibate by no means, not when he knew she would put her heart and soul into each relationship she would have until she finally came to him.

If she ever did.

He had taken a few blondes to bed over the past months, imagining it was her body writhing underneath him, her blonde curls he saw, her name that he had to bite his tongue from growling out in ecstasy and once he couldn't stand the torture of visioning her in his dreams it was blonde's he craved to sink his teeth into, to punish. If not for his promise of never setting foot back into Mystic Falls, he would have moved back there in an instant. If not for him letting her know he would be in New Orleans should she need him, he would have fled the States all together. To keep her tempting presence away, if only in miles.

But for now, New Orleans and the Mikaelsons had a new drama to attend to, so Klaus had to shove his thoughts and feelings of his love back into the small space of his heart that beat.

Beat only for her.

Klaus held a council meeting at his home in the abattoir in lieu of recent events. He gathered, along with his siblings, the key players of the supernaturals in New Orleans. Marcel, the head of vampires now that Klaus won the city and became King. Hayley, head of the werewolf pack in the bayou, the same woman he sent to Louisiana a few weeks before he ventured into the French Quarter courtesy of Katerina Petrova’s informative letter. The regent of the nine covens of New Orleans, Josephine LaRue and Camille O'Connell, whom took over the human faction in the wake of her uncle, Father Kieran's, death.

A few days prior, Klaus was looking around the bayou searching around for a source of suspicious deaths. Some vampires and wolves have been found drained, another vampire, by the looks of the markings. But scooping out an abandoned warehouse, Klaus ran into something, or someone, who shocked and scared him to his core, even if he tried to mask it.

Mikael.

The Destroyer, whom was supposed to have still been dead, stood in the centre of the building, and had it not been for the brave bartender Cami saving him, Klaus had nearly died at the hands of his father.

Fighting with Mikael, intending to disable him from life until he locked him up, Klaus was presented with the missing white oak stake, close to his very own undead heart. He understood the game Mikael was playing with him, he was taunting him, playing with his prey as he had the opportunity not to miss but Mikael redirected the wood as close to his target as possible. Cami, who Klaus explicitly had told to stay outside while he went in to survey the presence he felt inside, came rushing in to the scene. Klaus lying in agony on the cold concrete, his own blood pooling from his body, with Mikael stood above him, looking down in a hatred.

She screamed as she saw the stake in Klaus’ chest and distracted Mikael enough for him to remove the white oak. He looked up at the man who both raised and then hunted him to attack, but he paused as he saw the eyes that used to, and still does, haunt him, look at the blonde bartender curiously. Klaus thought he was going to attack her, so he attempted to stand up and protect her. But Mikael’s eyes turned from contemplation to realisation before he flashed and sent Klaus careening backwards with force and he flew backwards into rubble and vanished.

Along with the indestructible white oak stake.

He hadn't been seen since, and no deaths had popped in either which was really concerning the Mikaelson family. Had it not been for Cami seeing the other man, Klaus could have sworn it be another nightmare. But the truth was, Mikael was alive and someone had raised him from the dead to destroy the family. Destroy him. He needed to find both Mikael and the witch who was stupid enough to bring him back quick.

After a few discussions with his siblings and the three of them trying their best to scour New Orleans apart looking for their father, Elijah had suggested to call a meeting with the other factions. It could help keep them safe from the destroyer, and with Marcel's knowledge of the beast that forced them to flee from the very city they reside in now, could help plea for the witches to help track him down and aid them.

The wolves and vampires were really concerned about the recent deaths and Klaus wanted to explain to them about what he had discovered, but the witch Josephine had some concerning news of her own. She had recently discovered an imbalance of power in the coven the Deveraux's were in charge of before they had died. Since the harvest girls had been revived, and the elder ancestors back to where they came from after Davina’s final sacrifice, the power had shifted dramatically. Josephine tried to explain the anomaly of it all, that the other covens magic was perfectly fine, that after the harvest their powers had come back as they should and now they were trying to figure out what was affecting the other coven but reluctantly needed advice from the Originals, whom may have the necessary knowledge they needed to put things back to normal.

Before Klaus was about to reply, the abattoir gates had been swung and crashed into the walls, shaking them under the force, chunks of plaster falling onto the floor.

“How lovely of you to gather a crowd to watch me end your weak and pathetic life, boy!” Mikael's voice vibrated around the room, sending shivers up Klaus’ spine. He knew his father couldn't take him down, not with the help of his siblings, but Klaus was more concerned for their safety though. The stake was indestructible, so if he did meet his demise, what would stop him from going after Elijah, or Rebekah.

His own flesh and blood.

Klaus turned around to face his brother to tell him to take their sister far away from the man who tore through towns and villages tracking them down, but his feet dragged toward the brunette walking in, head down to the floor with a cloak covering most of her face, chanting lowly.

He heard Elijah flash to assist him, but heard him crash back on the floor straight after. The others were being blocked away from him.

“What is the meaning of this father?” Elijah questioned him a he dusted off his suit.

Klaus growled once he saw who was under the black, velvet, hooded cape. "Davina?!" Marcel gasped, shocked, stood up from his chair to make his way towards her. The barrier cutting him off from getting too close. "What are you doing?" "It's okay Marcel. I unlinked Klaus from his bloodline." She spoke up. "You won't die along with him." "But D...." "It's going to happen Marcel, whether you like it or not. There's no stopping this. His family have ruined New Orleans." Davina cut Marcel off.

“And what make you think you two can defeat me old man?” Klaus snarled at the older man.

“Oh Niklaus, how foolish of you.” Mikael started laughing. “You see this one over here,” he swung his arm pointing at Cami, “had me fooled I must admit. I thought she had followed you down here. That is until I looked closely.”

Everyone looked at him in confusion, pure dread was filling Klaus. He knew where this was heading. Praying he was wrong, praying to every deity he deemed nonexistent that she was not here. Not at the mercy of Mikael. “I have no idea what you mean.” He chuckled, feigning ignorance, but it wouldn't, and never fooled Mikael.

“What I mean is, your blonde is a vampire, not a human.” He replied cocky, causing Klaus to swallow his fear down. “Her blood is quite exquisite…” Mikael tried to tease Klaus. It worked too. Klaus growled at his father and tried to flash over to him before Davina stopped him. Klaus dropped to the floor in agony as the witch was giving him an aneurysm, his hands gripping onto the side of his head. “That’s what I thought.” Mikael taunted him. “Come on in, sweetheart.”

The blonde woman who appeared in his dreams, and whom he wished he could see, walked into the courtyard, striding past Davina to stand right next to Mikael. Her steps were her usual confidence mixed in with a slight tremor of hesitation. Her bright blue eyes had the light dimmed, blank under the hazy compulsion that was present. Hate filled the depths of her eyes. Klaus wanted nothing more than to remove it from them, but he supposed it was better than fear. Caroline would never show that kind of weakness.

Just like him.

That was one of the reasons of what he meant by they were the same.

Mikael reached out to touch one of Caroline’s curls, causing her to hiss at him the exact same time Klaus couldn't contain a possessive growl.

“You know what you have to do don’t you?”

“Stab Klaus through the heart with the white oak stake. Do everything I can to kill him. Even if it kills me.” Caroline voiced her command in the usual monotone of compulsion. She took the stake from he hand and she turned to look at Klaus.

Davina had stopped giving Klaus an aneurysm a little while back, but he was too blinded but his emotional pain of seeing Caroline became his father's lap dog to notice.

“Nik…” he heard his sister's whispered anguish for him. Caroline used this opportunity to flash over to him, but he was too quick for her, moving away from her when every part of him wished her to be near. “What’s to stop me from breaking her little neck and killing you with the stake instead?” Klaus asked Mikael.

Mikael responded by taking a dagger from behind him and cutting into his hand, Caroline flinching and hissing in pain long with the incision. “I had the with to link my life with hers. If I die, then so does she.”

The situation dawning on both Klaus and Caroline, little sparks of fear and concern flowed through their eyes before they masked it at the same time.

Caroline kept flashing over to him while Klaus stepped away and intercepted her move. He was obviously stronger than her, and he kept his distance away from Mikael too. She was just about to flash to him before her eyes turned to determination, she suddenly stopped halfway and flung herself away from Klaus.

“What are you doing girl?” Mikael shouted.

She done it again, and again, and again.

Each time she flashed towards him, she would force herself away from him in turn.

Caroline was trying to resist the compulsion placed on her, tried to help save him. This beautiful, stunning creature was trying to her best to save them. Klaus hadn't seen this happen before.

No. He thought. Stefan had resisted his compulsion because of his love for Elena. Maybe she… No she wouldn't… Couldn’t… Not him... Not yet.

"Kill him! NOW!" Mikael roared his command, sensing Klaus’ distraction. Caroline hurdled herself from her position by the stairs across the room and tackled Klaus, unable to refuse the unrelenting compulsion. The pair tumbled around and Caroline ended up sat on top, the hybrid tucked in between her thighs. Klaus looked up and the glorious woman. Any other time he would relish to be in this position with her.

Struggling with the compulsion, Caroline couldn't help but to bring her shaky hands downwards towards Klaus' chest, regaining enough control to move it and tearing the flesh into her own leg at the last second. She bit back the cries of pain as she heard an echo cry behind her. Spinning her head around she noticed Mikael's own leg bleeding in sync with her own. Her life wasn't just linked to his, but his with hers. Caroline stared into Klaus' confused eyes and whispered, "Tell my mum I love her." His eyes flashed to his father and back at hers in fear and recognition. "And Klaus? I do love you." Her voice broke as she tore the stake out of her leg and aimed for her own undead heart. Klaus, the most powerful person in the world, hadn't felt this powerless since he was human, since he watched the wolves tear into his youngest brothers flesh. And now he felt the same paralysing fear watching the woman he loved turn a stake intended for him on herself. He felt as if he was watching the scene before him in slow motion, his hand couldn't get to her fast enough. The wooden weapon was just about to pierce her pale skin when her neck twisted sharply to the left, and echo of another neck snapping following and a thud as a body dropped to the floor, but Klaus was busy catching Caroline before she fell and grabbed the offending weapon out of her hands. He sat up, slowly cradling her lifeless body but still undead, thankfully.

“What the hell Kaleb?” Davina shouted at the newcomer, but Klaus couldn't take his eyes off Caroline. Off her soft, pale skin of her neck being in such an unnatural state. How she should never have had to be hurt like this.

Never again, he vowed. “Not Kaleb, darling.” He replied, which piqued Klaus’s interest to glance up at the man who dared enter his home. A young man, warlock, from the aura that surrounded him.

“What do you mean you're not Kaleb? And what have you done to me? I cant use my powers.”

“I had to block your powers for a bit, darling. They should come back when you're ready to undo that link on my father from that tasty little thing.”

Davina stepped back away from him, confused as to who he was. ”Then who are you?”

The young man bowed dramatically with a smirk, a hint of mischief in his eyes which was so similar to… but it couldn't be, Klaus thought. “Kol Mikaelson at your service.”

REVIEW HERE

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #Ashleigh's fanfiction #au: canon

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jezabellgirlandfriends · 6 years

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Nightshade by Molly McAdams

Series: A Redemption Novel Genre: Romantic Suspense

She is chaos. She is poison. And she is the one thing I crave.

The heart-stopping final installment in New York Times bestselling author Molly McAdams’s Redemption series.

My life has never been my own. From the time I could walk, I was trained to be the mob’s hardened assassin. To be a monster. I’ve been told what to do, when to kill, and who to love. The minute I strayed, I lost everything.

Then I met Jessica.

She swept into my life like a storm of heartache, seduction, and intrigue. She’s everything I hate, but with one look, I can’t stay away. With one touch, she ignites a craving unlike anything I’ve ever known.

But her secrets threaten to destroy everything closest to me. Including her…

Together we’re poison. A destructive combination of darkness and chaos. And I want to savor every drop in my veins.

***The Redemption series is a series of romantic suspense standalones***

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“THE GIRL WAS POISON. MY PERSONAL NIGHTSHADE.”

Another powerful and well-written story by Molly McAdams who seems to revel in her role as a pen-wielding sadist by unleashing such painfully poignant books.

The Redemption series books really do build with a slow burn. The story, whilst intriguing, appears to simmer until it literally explodes in front of your eyes. At times, I questioned whether the story was building too slowly to maintain my interest but then I remembered that the same thing had happened in Books 1 & 2 and their conclusions made the waiting all the more worthwhile. This is exactly what happened with Nightshade. The story meanders in a way which creates more questions than answers and whilst it appears confusing at times, all of your answers and more are explained in perfect detail by the end of the book.

This story was perhaps even more painful than its predecessors and even made me cry! I loved Kieran’s character before, and the way he was portrayed as a cold and callous killer, but we get to see an altogether different side of him in Nightshade as he meets a girl who tames his inner darkness.

He looked like a lethal contradiction. So calm. So savagely animalistic. Eyes wild. Yet lifeless. He was terrifying. And he was beautiful.

Jessica has her own fair share of demons but it is clear from the outset that she has unrivalled determination when it comes to protecting her loved ones. From her first interaction with Kieran/Nightshade, Jessica sees that they are both trying to contain their demons, but for very different reasons. Jessica is trying to keep drug dealers at bay to protect her mother and Kieran is part of the syndicate responsible for providing her with the drugs. With Jessica’s only option to meet the spiralling debts from her mother’s addiction by selling her body, she finds herself not only on Beck’s radar but also Kieran’s. What you don’t realise until later into the book is the level of debt that Jessica is in and to whom. With men threatening her from all directions, it’s no surprise that Jessica is a little crazy and untrusting.

Happiness wasn’t meant for girls like me.

I loved the relationship that forms between Jessica and Kieran. With neither able to trust the other but their bodies ruling their minds, they seek solace in each other’s arms but is Kieran ready to move on after Lily and can Jessica escape the men determined to break her?

This is definitely a book to savour and to read at leisure. Please don’t try to squeeze it in between other books or read it in snippets. In order to experience the full effect of this story, it is worth taking the time to allow the book to consume and break you before putting you back together.

This ebook was kindly provided by the author, publisher and Netgalley prior to release date in return for an honest and unbiased review.

We are proud to provide honest and unbiased reviews written from the heart.

The muscles in Kieran’s jaw ticked, and the anger rolling off his body suddenly felt like a living thing. But his stare never wavered from mine as I soundlessly opened the knife at my side. “Or did I hit a little too close for comfort last night?” I asked, my voice both seductive and mocking as I took another step closer to him and then another. “Could you just not satisfy her?” “Enough.” My brows rose at the growl behind his demand. “Is that right?” His eyes held so much warning as I took the last step to press my body against his. My body trembled and begged to get closer still, but I forced myself not to move. I hated him for the way he felt. I hated him for the way my body craved more and betrayed me. I hated him for everything he was and for making me want him in a way I’d never wanted a man. I hated him. “Who knew the mob’s feared assassin was lacking.” One second I was in front of him, staring into those wild eyes, the next I was pressed face-first to the wall with Kieran’s hard body caging me against it. His strong hands were pinning mine to the wall. My knife was gone. His chest moved roughly against my back, his breath made my hair dance along my cheek and lips, and I ached to push against where I could feel his hardened length in his jeans.

Oh God.

What is wrong with me?

I tried to force a wild laugh from my lungs. I tried to taunt him. But there was nothing. “How long?” he demanded, his voice hoarse. I curled my hands against the wall and shivered beneath him when his body moved closer and he pressed our hands harder to the wall. “What?” I asked breathlessly. “How long have you been watching us?” “Wouldn’t you like to know?” A huff tumbled from my lips when his mouth met my ear. The sound ended on a whimper when the movement forced my butt against his erection. I needed the heavy, sickening feeling weighing my body down. I needed the disgust and hatred at having a man so close. I needed the reminder of who I was and

why

I did what I did. But all I could smell was the subtle hint of his soap. All I could see was his tattooed arms twisting over mine. All I could feel was his lean muscles crowding around me in a way that felt so foreign and good. And I wanted more . . .

Weak. So weak.

“How long?” My body tensed. If he had yelled the question, it might have been easier. But there was something truly terrifying in the soft tenor of his voice. And for the first time, I was afraid to be in the same room as him. But I wasn’t scared for my life. I was scared for my soul. I slowly looked over my shoulder and forced myself to hold his disturbing stare. “Nearly half my life.”

A powerhouse romantic suspense that will have you questioning your morals and second guessing your view on love.

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A captivating romantic suspense that will keep you breathless until the last sentence.

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iBooks UK | Kobo UK

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Molly grew up in California but now lives in the oh-so-amazing state of Texas with her husband, daughter, and fur babies. When she’s not diving into the world of her characters, some of her hobbies include hiking, snowboarding, traveling, and long walks on the beach … which roughly translates to being a homebody with her hubby and dishing out movie quotes. She has a weakness for crude-humored movies and fried pickles, and loves curling up in a fluffy comforter during a thunderstorm … or under one in a bathtub if there are tornados. That way she can pretend they aren’t really happening.

#Blog Tour #Nightshade #Molly McAdams #darknessmeetschaos #Amazon #Goodreads #Book Blogger #Book Reviewer #Romantic Suspense

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