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sayoneee · 4 months

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☆ HEAD OVER HEELS

“something happens and i'm head over heels” - tears for fears (smau)

contains: luke castellan x ares! reader. best friends to lovers? (again) secret relationship but everyone knows. alt universe everyones happy. woc friendly as always

kashaf’s note: free palestine! (for reference, connor is percabeth's age, while travis is yns age so um imagine)

liked by annabethhh, lukecastellan, and 183 others

yn summer days drifting away!

tagged travistole, connorstole

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clarisse why would you give them guns

yn im not stupid theyre fake obviously connorstole im hurt wtf travistole yn do u not trust us yn um. ur funny. travistole 💔

lukecastellan i see you’re poaching my siblings again

yn im just more fun what can i say lukecastellan liar liar pants on fire yn acting like ur 12 years old annabethhh finally someone said it lukecastellan annie ur my sister ur supposed to take my side wtf annabethhh 🤷‍♀️

silenabeauregard so where’s the summer loving?

yn u caught the grease reference!

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yn best girlfriends

tagged clarisse, silenabeauregard

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lukecastellan pic creds??

yn pic creds to this whiny baby lukecastellan u cried over good will hunting i aint forget yn how did u Not cry. it was so sad lukecastellan i look over and u were crying not once not twice but 4 times. yn im never watching anything w u ever again lukecastellan u cant ever replace me im one of a kind yn 💀

silenabeauregard I LOVE YOU GORGEOUS GIRL

yn MWAH MWAH 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

clarisse YURRR

travistole soft launching me i like it 😍

connorstole ik u lying rn yn 😭 silenabeauregard WHAT clarisse oh that's not... annabethhh yn ?????

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travistole best duos

tagged yn, connorstole, cbeckendorf

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connorstole why did yn get the priority tag

travistole bc we're the better duo yn so true (clarisse solos u) travistole oh im well aware clarisse 😁

yn people r gonna think im ur gf

annabethhh u arent??? yn i burst into tears how could u. travistole hey now. i'm not that bad. yn im going to kms silenabeauregard annabeth 💀 clarisse 💀 connorstole 💀 percyjackson 💀 cbeckendorf 💀 chrisrodriguez 💀 annabethhh what do you all know that i don't???

cbeckendorf love you too man

travistole 💋 clarisse silena yo mans acting up again

view percyjackson's story.

view clarisse's story.

view chrisrodriguez's story.

view silenabeauregard's story.

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lukecastellan 🚷

tagged yn, percyjackson, chrisrodriguez

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yn im w silena tho

lukecastellan shes cheating on u w charlie yn ig ur my last option silenabeauregard nooo yn come back bbg

chrisrodriguez bro stood up

percyjackson finally

liked by lukecastellan, travistole, and 213 others

yn last man on earth

tagged lukecastellan

lukecastellan thanks

yn i like donating to the poor! lukecastellan come donate in my cabin connorstole we sleep there nasty mf

annabethhh YOU'RE DATING LUKE?

g_man cmon now... percyjackson wise girl... yn sister-in-laws?

clarisse wow really.

travistole wouldve never guessed. chrisrodriguez had us fooled. connorstole impossible. cbeckendorf really confounded us silenabeauregard almost like they didn't act like they were about to kiss all the time yn kys.

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nonomives · 11 months

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Hunt vs. Hunted AU

(a.k.a. Vampire Wally AU)

Meet the Kardashians—i mean the Pillars

Part 1 || 2 || 3

Character line-up (Oldest to youngest)

So a bit of character Info:

There were more of them, but given the dangers of the monster hunter's profession, theyre the only ones left.

Hannah Pillar

She isn't the actual eldest sibling of the bunch, but among those who are still alive and somewhat sane, she is the oldest. A former mercenary whose main weapons were firearms. She was quite successful in her career but a traumatic incident happened that led to her not being able to weild a gun anymore. She eventually got hired as a desk worker in H.A. (Hunter's Assossiation) mainly handing out missions or intel to monster hunters.

She has a stable relationship with all of her siblings, sometimes the person everyone tells their worries to. She's nutruing and mature, but can also be quite cold and strict when need be. She is also often apathetic to things around her, something that got carried over even after she stopped being a hunter.

Harvey Pillar

Acting second oldest, Harvey is the genius of the group, or so he constantly claims himself to be. There is truth to what he says though since he works as a researcher in H.A. where he gathers information about the various mythical creatures the company had captured. Once, he used to admire this type of work until witnessing a thing or two which led him to be quite nihilistic. He's mainly just in it for the bragging rights and the money now.

Complete drama queen. Heidonistic and arrogant, he can come off as an asshole once he opens his mouth. Hannah keeps him in check most of the time. He does try to act like a big brother but struggles to be sincere about anything because he thinks it's a weakness. Very insecure, easily gets envious, especially of Howdy. For as vocal as he is, he does have many skeletons in his closet.

Howdy Pillar

A very popular hunter that is crowned The Hero of the Century, succeeding his late older brother, Howard Pillar. This is all due to his countless instances of saving people from dangerous monsters, especially feral vampires. Add this and his family background, he was made the H.A.'s face man, appearing in many interviews and posters for the company. He is quite the busy man, and Hannah usually acts as his manager, helping him with his packed schedule.

Howdy is closest with Hannah, but he also enjoys the banters he gets with Harvey. Charismatic and witty, many would think he is a perfect person, the ideal hero. The reality of it though is that Howdy is only in it for the revenge of his deceased siblings. While he smiles and acts relaxed in public, he is otherwise serious and gruff. Doesnt trust easy either. He also doesnt like how the media portrays him and would try to avoid being detected by anybody while he's on the job.

Here's a sketch lol

Honey Pillar

The youngest of the group. She is the black sheep of the family, refusing to associate with H.A. or monster hunting in general, and choosing a career as an actress instead. Despite the controversy that came with this decision, Honey ended up becoming famous because of her alluring personality on the screen.

Aside from Hannah, she despises everyone. She hates Howdy especially because of an instance that lead to her twin sister's death and her loss of 2 arms. She hates Harvey a little less but prefers not talking to him at all. Honey is a drama queen herself, but in a less direct way.

#this will probs be the last post i make for a while #i have to focus on my acads so my activity here will be dead lmao #therare some stuff Ive got planned tho! like a couple animatics ive been dying to finish and show yall #so just expect that :3 #in the mean time #see yall after my break lol--#welcome home #welcome home fanart #welcome home oc #welcome home howdy #howdy pillar #welcome home vampire wally au #i might actually change this to a different title bc vampire wally is too common a name lol--#lmao #vampire wally au #welcome home hunt vs. hunted AU

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hatchet-boy · 1 month

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Judging SPN Seasons By How Messy It Would Be If Sam And Dean Started Having Sex

Season 1: freshly reunited. no one else in their world but them. they are obsessed with each other. they would fuck like feral dogs and it would make them so much worse. also dad is there. unspeakably messy. 12/10

Season 2: dad just died. the grief sex would be more tears than come and at least one of them is probably saying johns name mid fuck. dean might have to kill baby brother (TM) and so the obvious reaction to this would be extremely possessive sex. sam would not like that attitude (with the one exception of if it happens when hes drunk in playthings). messy in even grosser but marginally less feral ways than szn one. 13/10

Season 3: milder. still obsessed with each other but more settled into it now. deans turn to maybe die and sams turn to be uber-doober possessive about it. unlike sam, dean would be extremely into that. and his deal is comin due so he might as well. sad and tragic,, but not that messy. probably still more tears than come. 6/10

Season 4: dean just came back from hell to find sam fucking his new demon girlfriend. the angels are there. they're still hunting but Stuff Is Going On and god knows they need to be grounded with each other to make it through. sex would probably help. would do the opposite than make things messier. would be vicious. definite chance dean might try to feed sam his blood. 4/10

Season 5: apocalypse fuck. oh fuck. ruby is dead. angels and death and demons and god and destiny. sam and dean are the most experienced and secure theyve ever been and yet. the whole damn world is about to explode. and yet they are still tortured and annoyed by the goofy everday hunting horrors. fucking would be nice for them, would remind them they belong to each other. they think theyre gonna die so the consequences wouldnt matter a whole lot. less insulated and worried about holy judgment so the incest thing may be a bother now. 2/10

Season 6: you fuck your brother but its not your brother he's different in ways you cant explain but you havent seen him in months and you thought you lost him and hes not quite right but fuck he looks like him and talks like him and knows everything about the two of you and he fucks like a greek god and hes mean as a motherfucker in bed but you can take it its fine its worth it its sam godammit-

15/10

Season 7: stranded up the creek without even a twig for a paddle. both brothers are destroyed and traumatised and forcing each other forward by force of necessity and a brotherly hand on the back of the neck. at least its just them alone together (dean please ignore the hallucination of lucifer sitting in the corner and judging our cock size-). sex would go terribly and be the most unsexy sex ever sexed. but they would probably like the closeness if sam could handle it. messy but wouldnt ruin them long term. there would be a terrible Dick joke. 8/10

Season 8: WHOA BOY WHAT A DOOZY. BOTH BROTHERS HAVE PARAMOURS ON THE SIDE WHOM THE OTHER FUCKIN HATES. DEAN IS PURGATORY FERAL AND HAS ONE EYE ON A VAMP. SAM IS SOFT HAS HIS PINKY FINGER TWINED AROUND SOME RANDOM GIRL. WHY DIDNT YOU LOOK FOR ME?? // YOU TOLD ME NOT TO!! // YOU TRUST A DAMN VAMPIRE OVER YOUR OWN BROTHER?? // YOU HIT A DOG... meanwhile sam is doing the trials losing his mind again and dean is losing his mind about that. letting you down was my biggest sin//there is nothing i would ever put in front of you. messy. 10/10.

Season 9: less than ideal with sam possessed by and angel. dean is rocking with the guilt and confliction. the mark of cain is also making him a bit feral again. theyre safe together in the bunker but thats already claustrophobic enough sex might just suffocate them both. pretty messy. 7/10

Season 10: your big brother is an angry angry man but its not his fault right??? its because of the mark right?? he cant control it and you love him and you want to stay in the safe house/bunker/tomb with him you dont want to leave anymore and you need him. youve both been through enough. you deserve this. there would be minimal messiness caused by sex with your brother rn. exception to those few weeks where he was a demon. 2/10

Season 11: gods sister is here and its the apocalypse again. dean hates what he has with Her. at least his sammy is here. at least theyre together. still crazy about each other. gay incest sex is the most reasonable reaction. god might find out- but then again, he and his sister are pretty wacked out together too, and are we not made in gods image?. 1/10

Season 12: Mom is here and so is lucifer and his kid and also the cunt ass brits. not ideal. minimal messiness so long as no one finds out. and fuck all them anyway its pretty clear sam and dean can only ever really trust each other. sex would be affirming and safe here. they are absolutely fucking in the kitchen to the smell of toast and coffee. dean discovers he has an std because no its not normal that your balls have iched like that for the past four years you need to go to a doctor and dean i swear on the impala if you gave it to me- . 3/10

Season 13 to 15: fellas is it gay to have sex with your brother who you've been functionally married to for over a decade? probably not right ha ha. if they havent already fucked by now theyre not going to. theyre just gonna be intensely platonically married until they die. they both have erectile dysfunction by this point . sex would mean everything to them but change nothing they would still be old and married in their bunker with the devils kid tomorrow regardless. they dont care what people think anymore. fuck all messiness. 1/10

Post Season 15 Finale/Heaven: we deserve a soft epilogue my love sammy. mildly concerned about being kicked out of heaven for incest but with everything else theyve done they still made it there. it would be the least of their sins. lovely soft and nothing hurts. can you make a sex tape in heaven? 0/10

#labelling this one under 'things i spent too much time on but love anyway'#constructive criticism is more than welcome here #spn #samdean #wincest #first times #edit to clarify:#this isnt rating how /good/ it would be if they got together in each szn. just how /messy/ it would be

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moonlitnyx · 6 months

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𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄

Starring | Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Ruggie Bucchi, Lilia Vanrouge x GN Reader

Synopsis | Ever thought about your faves in a more fanatasy-esque au?

Format | Short drabbles/fics on each character

CW | Fluff (?), hints (stop lying to the people nyx) of angsts, rook hunt is in this fic, reader calls ruggi a peasant in his part, royalty setting, enemies to lovers sorta with lilia, hints of a sorta master-servant relationship with vil, another massive warning for ROOK HUNT

AN | tell me why i wanted to throw myself off a cliff when i thought of these four in a fairytale setting like theyre just made for the angst and the yearning and pining and-

𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓

A manicured finger circles the rim of a golden goblet, the chalice filled with dark red wine the color of crimson blood.

Vil Schoenheit, king of one of the most powerful queendoms on the continent, sighs as he massages his temple, legs crossed as he leans wearily on his plush, velvet seat, his purple-tinted lips curling down into a frown.

"Is something the matter, your majesty?" The fire crackles softly in the fireplace as you whisper the words tentatively, and Vil turns his head towards your direction, his frown deepening as he inspects you.

"The matter is you have a grass stain on your uniform." He clicks his tongue as you try to find it, before giving up the search with a sheepish grin as you rub the back of your head with a hand. Vil rolls his eyes, his attention directing to the fireplace.

"You should know that as my personal servant, you must act and dress according to the status of your master.” His voice is reprimanding, and you silently wince, recounting all the times he had said those same words. It was practically branded in your mind.

"I'm sorry, your majesty," You mumble, still trying to find the stain on your clothes, and Vil sighs again, closing his eyes, before turning his attention back to you.

"The stain is on the right-no, not your right, my right-you missed it." You fumble with your clothes, and finally find it, a small speck amongst the white and black cloth. How Vil managed to find it was a mystery to you.

Vil rests his chin on the back of his hand, intelligent lavender eyes examining you, before he opens his mouth, gaze back to the fireplace. "I've been sent a marriage proposal."

"W-what?" You stiffen at Vil's words. It feels like your heart has stopped-and maybe it has. You've seen the letters, with delicate handwriting from princes, princess, and nobles all over the country, asking Vil for his hand in marriage. He had refused them all, never seeming to care of them. Until now.

He glances back at you, his violet eyes softening at the sight of you. He gets up from his seat, walking towards you with uncanny grace, with elegance fit for a queen. He places a pale hand on your cheek, and you lean into his cold touch, before he lets go, instead placing a slender finger under your chin, making you lift your eyes up towards his. Your eyes reflect in his, and you gulp not because your scared, but because of the way Vil looks at you with a sort of rueful gleam in his eyes.

"You are, of course, are coming with me." He states it like an order, and you nod.

"Of course, your majesty." The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓 - 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

You had met the man at a hunting festival, not knowing who he was when your gaze landed on him. He was like a knight from a fairytale, shining under the autumn sun, and his emerald-green eyes had captivated you instantly, as did all the men and women had been when they met eyes with him.

He had presented his finest catch to you of all people. A fox, with fur as orange as the sun when it sets. He had smiled-quite charmingly. you grudgingly thought in your head-and had kissed the back of your hand. You had bashfully looked away, and the man had chuckled softly, his voice deep yet melodic. It made your heart thump in your chest, made you feel warm and your head spin liked you had taken a sip of sweet next and had immediately had fallen into a drunken stupor.

You didn't know who he was at the time.

Rook Hunt. The son of your father's worst nemesis, and, which made him your worst enemy too. It was your obligation, your duty, to hate him just like your father had hated Rook's father. Just like how your mother, who stirred her tea as she glanced at the Hunt family with disgust did. You shouldn't have been captivated with Rook's foxlike charm, with his devilish smile and his malicious eyes that had tempted you to sin against your family.

But you did. Your heart was guilty, weighed heavy with secrets as you couldn't help but take the blonde-haired man's gloved hand. Couldn't help it when your heart thrummed inside your chest when his lips ever so silently grazed you ears as he whispered sweet nothings. Couldn't help but smile when he laughed, the sound like sweet birdsong.

You shouldn't have snuck out at night to see him, or looked out from your balcony as he sang love poems. Shouldn't have been enamored with him from the start.

"You look lovely, my child." Your mother's eyes are filled with love, her lips formed into a smile. "Perfect for your wedding."

You glance at the mirror, looking at the fabric of your wedding clothes, at the insignia of your family set pridefully on your chest. You can hear your mother softly whispering, "The count is luckily to be married to you, my sweet child." And it rings in your head, taunting you for having be tempted with Rook Hunt's sweet words and glistening eyes.

The count was not Rook Hunt, your parents would have committed every sin in the book before that would happen. No-the count was some random man, someone who wasn't your beloved. Someone who you would stay for the rest of your life with.

You smile at your mother, weak and wavering. "Mother, please," you laugh, a small sound in the big room. "your laying the praise a little thick." Your mother clicks her tongue and squeezes your cheek.

Little did she know how you glance at a small vial on your stand, blue in color, corked and hidden away.

Little did she know how you take the vial, curling your hand around it as you make your way to the alter, the count already there and dressed to the nines.

Little did she know that her only child would meet their end in their marital chambers.

𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐇𝐈 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄'𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

"You took my ring." You grit your teeth, extending out a gloved hand towards the skinny, raggedy boy-the thief who had stolen your ring in the first place. "I demand that you give it back, peasant."

The boys blue-gray eyes are laced with mischief, and he leans in, hands behind his back. "What ring?" He drawls. "I think you got the wrong person." He toothily grins, and you can feel your eyes twitch. The audacity-

"Don't play dumb with me." You tap your heeled boots on the gravely road as you look down at him, and he tilts his head. So he wants to play innocent, huh? "If you don't give me back my ring, I'll call the guards. Maybe then you'll fess up."

The boy rubs his bruised arm in thought, and you gaze at it with a pang of guilt. You didn't cause those wounds-no, you weren't that heartless-, yet it still made you feel sympathy. The boy catches you looking, and hides his arm away, concealing the swift moment with a charming smile.

"Is their some sentimental value with this ring or something?" The boy asks. "'cause most nobles wouldn't really care. I mean, they can always afford a new one." He says the last part with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"It's my engagement ring." The words leave your mouth, leaving a sour feeling on your tongue. "Look, I won't call the guards. I'll pay you for the ring, how about that?"

The boy places a finger on his chin, thinking before tossing you a small, shiny ring. The ring had a diamond, embedded with sapphires around it shaped like a star, and you fumble with the tiny thing before holding it firm in your grasp.

"So, may I know what your name is, peasant?" You smile. "I believe I should know the name of the person I'm gonna be sending who knows how much gold to."

"Ruggie, Ruggie Bucchi." The boy-Ruggie, grins. "And yours?"

𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄 - 𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐘

It is a known fact that faes and humans cannot coexist peacefully with eachother.

The faes are to petty, to fickle of a creature. To deny them is to wound their pride, their oh-so precious ego that they stroke. They are creatures of magic and beauty, of fantasy and fiction. They believd they are better, more superior, and thus cannot be trusted when they whisper sugared words in your ear.

The humans are to destructive, to ruinous. They come to the lands, and destroy everything in sight, from trees and flowers to women and children. They come and pillage, destroying the world's flora and fauna. They are made from mud and dust, and cannot compare to the fae's beauty in the slightest.

That is why war was inevitable.

Yet here you are, in the fae capital with a battalion at hand and your leader as you negotiate peace, and your eyes meet the pink-red of the general besides the enemy queen, and you scowl. He, however, smiles quite charmingly, and you bite your tongue trying to prevent a curse from slipping out of your mouth.

Lilia Vanrouge, or better known as General Vanrouge, is the right-hand of his queen. He led his armies to war, and was-no, is, a ruthless killer. Someone who does not show mercy, and even though you practically begged your king not to go into fae territory to negotiate peace, the absolute nut-job had agreed to.

The meeting is adjourned, the queen of the fae already disappearing in a haze of green flame-probably disgusted by having to stay another second where nasty, little humans are, and your can hear your king's footsteps echo softly as he leaves the room. No one remains, and the silence is deafening, except for one other in the huge chamber besides you.

"Don't you want to accompany your ruler? I'm sure he is wondering where his little dog is." Lilia drawls, chin resting on his hand as his eyes-those damn, blood-red eyes-gazed upon you with mild interest.

"He has soldiers accompanying him," You reply, voice stiff. You frown as he leans in, eyes alight in the dim lighting of the room.

"Do you think mere humans could stand against the fae?" He doesn't say it mockingly, his voice is filled with curiosity that irks you. The fact that he thinks its impossible.

You walk up to him, and his eyes widen in what seems to be surprise. Surprise that you relish in, as you look down upon him. "Theres more then one way to bring down a fae, General Vanrouge," you whisper, the words echoing in the silent chamber. "Iron isn't the only thing that can kill."

Lilia's lips curl up into a grin.

©moonlitnyx. do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

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junosmindpalace · 1 month

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DOWN IN THE MEADOW

🎧 deep in the brook, catfish are waiting for the hook!

pairing: arthur morgan x fem!reader

synopsis: you, a former saloon girl, and your relationship with arthur through a song in accordance with the seasons.

content: family dynamics, domesticity, relationship timeline, a little bit of insecure arthur, horrible transitions between jack and arthur povs, messy intro and conclusion, soft gentle love thats the fic

wc: 2.9k

a/n: i haven't posted anything in nearly a month...SO sorry about that but here's this! i promise i've been working i've just been pickier with what i choose to post + theyre all lengthy as shit. this is different from what i usually write but we're trying some new stuff </3

Something that not many people were aware of was how very boring the outlaw life could be.

More often than not the lifestyle meant a whole lot of housekeeping, hunting and fishing; and that was only if you were old, strong, and experienced enough to handle such activities. To Jack Marston's misfortune, he was none of those things.

Life as an outlaw could be especially boring for a young boy such as himself, with no one of his size to cancel out each other’s boredom by becoming playmates. His momma and various aunts and uncles did their best to entertain him when they had the spare time, and he too found amusement in the beauty and wonder of the outdoors.

Fortunately, the worst of winter's wrath was over with, and beside the occasional snowfall, the weather was tame enough to settle down in a new camp and lounge about.

Because he cannot leave the camp very often, Jack settles for sitting by its outskirts. And it’s one of these even days that become odd when he spots his Uncle Arthur return from a trip into town accompanied by a stranger on the back of his horse.

Jack was closely acquainted with every member of his misfit family; he could recognize every worn face within it. Who wore which scar and where, which voices were more often fussy or brimming with glee, and even the ones that one day disappear and never return. This face that his Uncle Arthur brought back with him was a face he didn’t recognize, kind and curious as he observed it to be.

The small boy had been taught from a very early age not to trust strangers. There are few people in this cold and cruel world that wholeheartedly care for him; the vagabonds in this makeshift home of his were a couple.

But Uncle Arthur had brought her to them with reassurances that she would fit in just fine within their family, to them and seemingly the timid woman herself, who looked onward on at him for guidance. And Jack trusted what the older man deemed safe to accept this new member with hardly any worry in the back of his mind.

It didn’t take long for all of camp to learn that she had been a saloon girl from the town over where Arthur had been frequenting on business. It explained why she had arrived with nothing but a dagger in a holster sewed to her boot and a guitar on her back.

The strange woman, however, adored Jack from the moment she had introduced herself to him, sitting in the tallgrass and braiding its strands. Jack observed, outside of her initial nervous demeanour, that she had kind eyes and a wit about her that he observed in many members of the gang, including those he loves and cares for the most. A mouth that his mother found often laughing as a result of and along with, and one that spun tall tales in the form of song and dance with various camp members.

However, everyone was expected to contribute to bringing about funds and resources for the gang. It meant Arthur, the primary enforcer, spent most of his time out of camp running errands.

You often asked to tag along in the shotgun seat of his wagon, whether to satisfy your own intrigue of the terrain or on Miss Grimshaw’s orders, but the extension of his hand gently escorting you on board was confirmation that Arthur didn’t have very many qualms with his company.

Between light-hearted conversation, the two of you admire the thick blankets of shiny snow that had built up over various days of steady snowfall through squinted gazes as the light reflected back into your eyes. It glimmered and gleamed under arrays of sunlight, and crunched satisfyingly beneath each turn of the wheel. Your boots are thick and comfortable enough that you’re also able to enjoy the crunch beneath your feet when you arrive into the nearby town and hop off the wagon, with Arthur assisting in steadying you on your way down.

You scout the town for work while Arthur does his shopping, and it isn’t all that long until you find it in nearby saloons. A couple of standalone gigs for a fair sum of money is perfect for your circumstances. Arthur offers to drive you into town nearly every day, the exception being when he’s already out of camp prior. It’s your primary contributor to the gang’s stability, besides helping around camp when you could.

Uncle Arthur and the saloon girl often accompanied one another in their errands, by the shore of a river, or on a log beside the campfire. Jack could often find the two of you exchanging everything from anecdotes to laughs to something more shy and intimate. There are a set of unspoken social customs and courtesies when it came to confronting such curiosity, but Jack was too young to understand such customs; and far too curious.

So curious as to go so far as to one day innocently ask his Uncle Arthur if he was sweet on the girl—in front of her. His bluntness had the poor man choking on the rum from his flask as his cheeks flushed from either the suffocation or the embarrassment he felt over the situation--or perhaps both.

“Wha…N...No, you can’t just—“ he attempts to recollect himself, letting out a couple of coughs into the crook of his elbow before inhaling a strangled breath in. His eyes dart nervously between you and the boy. “You can’t just ask things like that, Jack. It ain’t polite. Where'd you even learn that...?"

But your warm eyes only crinkle in amusement as you laugh.

“I don’t mind. Besides, what does your lot know about polite?”

Jack liked her songs, and found his feet eagerly carrying themselves over when he hears her by the campfire with Javier, guitars out and voices in sweet harmony. Sometimes she’ll get up and dance, and Jack will join her on her feet. One evening, there's already someone else swaying with you to a melody, and your gleeful laughter is paired with Arthur's bashful chuckles.

Oh, curse his northern attitude for leaving him so stiff, burning under the intensity of your warm gaze. The ambers from the campfire leave a little twinkle in your eye that makes his stomach stir uncomfortably, his muscles seize up the slightest bit. But your appreciative smile and courtesy as he bows playfully tells him there was nothing to forgive in the first place.

Spring eventually sprouts up from the ground, and with it, more opportunities for leisure activity. Abigail kindly asks if you would take little Jack with you and Arthur to bask in the serene nature trails by the meadows, to which you happily oblige her request.

Arthur leaves camp with you on the back of his horse or on the shotgun seat of the wagon more often than not. Sometimes--Jack overhears--it's on Miss Grimshaw’s orders. Other times, one or the other is in need of some company to assist with a personal chore. And very occasionally, the reason lies solely in wanting to be around one another (though this is more speculation on the gang's part, who by now have also taken note of that lingering something, and coming to this conclusion from the longing gazes as if it were obvious).

In the back of the wagon, you observe the thawing of the snow with Jack through the harmony of your guitar, each firm, yet soft, strum ringing through the warm spring air. The smiles in your voices coupled with the gentle hum of your singing soothes something hard and tense in Arthur’s soul as he too basks in the sweetness of your melody while he drives at the front, melting it to the equivalent of the sludge of the snow.

When Mr South Wind sighs in the pines

Old Mr Winter whimpers and whines

Down in the meadow, under the snow

April is teaching green things to grow

From prairies to creeks to small forests, your journeys take you in all sorts of places. The grass only grows greener, the sun only shines brighter, and the day is perfect when the wind is cool, too. More and more often are you and Arthur out of camp, and every time you return, Jack observes, you’re both in quite high and satisfied spirits.

Arthur sits cross legged in a meadow just along one of the trails he takes to and from town filled with wildflowers. His journal sits in his lap, and he carefully sketches a scene not too far down from him. Just a few meters away do you sit with Jack by the wagon with your guitar on your leg as you sing affectionately, with grins plastered on both of your faces as you sway with the rhythm.

When Mr West Wind howls in a glade

Old Mr Summer nods in the shade

Down in the meadow, deep in the brook

Catfish are waiting for the hook!

You participate in crafting jewelry out of the yellow flowers alongside the boy, using the back of your guitar as a makeshift table as you carefully pluck the dandelions and daisies surrounding you, watching one another as you weave the stems and excitedly present the final products to one another. Later, you’d teach him how he can store all kinds of leaves and flowers and herbs between the heavy pages of his storybooks. That was just the sort of thing you did; bring about this an innocent wonder and awe into peoples lives like no strange character Arthur has ever met; and he’s had quite his share of encounters with strange folk.

He doesn’t remember the last time the world has brimmed with so much color, full of a kind of special magic. He finds it impossible to replicate the scene to perfection in his journal, but each additional detail--your tooth peeking out from your smile, the crescent shape of your eyes, the gentle dexterity in your hands-- reduces him to some sort of breathlessness.

And each time he picks up his book and flips back to his illustration, he returns to that beautiful day, the same feeling of sheer admiration returning with it, so maybe he didn’t do too terrible of a job.

Arthur's journal holds a dirty secret: that perhaps he was in love with you.

A fair portion of the pages were filled with sketches of you, whole portraits and mini doodles, of passages detailing your endeavours together, transcribed song lyrics of yours, and worst of all, the ever changing feelings of his toward you. They aren't very becoming from a man such as himself, but perhaps nothing good really was. A sort of guilt and hefty embarrassment weighed on his heart the more he reflected on it, too depressingly for a man who should be only elevated by the realisation. But what other than sorrow did love ever promise Arthur?

Old Lady Blackbird flirts with the scarecrow

Scarecrow is waving at the moon

Old Mr Moon makes hearts everywhere go bump, bump

With the magic of June

It’s Jack’s favorite part of the song because of a little smack! you give the body of the guitar over halfway through the verse, and he either claps or slaps his own knees along to the rhythm with a giggle.

As dusk approaches the horizon, Jack finds the two of you sitting on the shore of the river just beside camp, and through the gaps between tall pine trees and tents with their equipment alike, Jack can see your legs thrown over Uncle Arthur’s lap. A gentle hand of his rests on your clothed thigh, smoothing down the fabric of your skirt as the other is placed behind him, keeping him upright. You play around with the placement of Arthur’s hat on his head. For whatever reason, it amuses you to no end, and the unimpressed look on Arthur’s face only fuels your laughter. Still, he’s only able to maintain the expression for a moment before it morphs into one of endearment.

The water from the river sparkles behind the two of you as the scene unfolds before the boy’s eyes, and he’s forced to look away when he feels a tug at his arm.

“Oh, Jack, aren't you nosey? Let’s not bother Uncle Arthur right now,” his mother quickly ushers him away toward the opposite side of the camp, glancing between her son and the pair of you. “He’s busy.”

Jack is able to spare one final glance over his shoulder in your direction, catch a glimpse of your foreheads resting against each other as your laughter subdues, before he turns away and allows his momma to lead him to help his pa with some of his chores.

When Mr East Wind shouts over head

Then all the leaves turn yellow and red

Down in the meadow corn stocks are high

Pumpkins are ripe and ready for pie

Autumn, specifically, is an interesting time to be out and about. Arthur chaperones you and Jack on your scavenger hunt of various fall plants and beauties. The two of you point out the various colors in the trees and on the ground, the mushrooms growing between blades of grass, and the various herbs and flowers and crops that grow in the fields. Arthur doubles as a delightful treasure trove of knowledge, with some of the items already having a portion of his page in his journal dedicated to its likeness, and some he adds in as you go along.

You entertain his insight as you walk arm in arm, and something about it is just so delightfully domestic, Arthur recognises, that it makes him feel like mush again.

For a moment, he nearly forgets what his life really is, what sort of gruesome deeds he’s responsible for, the consequences of this lifestyle, and he’s desperate to hold onto the moment. Innocent and peaceful, a life he's been unrightfully yearning after for a while now. The foraging all in all reaps well, yet Arthur can’t help but find the real reward in the way you lean your head against his arm as if he were a pillar of security, not an anchor that weighs you down.

Old Lady Blackbird flirts with the scarecrow

Scarecrow's waving at the Moon

Old Mr Moon makes hearts everywhere go bump-bump

With the magic of June

Unfortunately, the magic of the warm weather does not last forever. Yet not even the encroaching winter chill could freeze up the warmth in your chest. But it did nip at your fingertips--at your’s and Arthur’s and Jack’s.

The groups joint efforts are relied upon a hundredfold when the snow starts to fall and the chill breezes through the flaps of the tents in the camps. Like a clock tower bell, it indicates that it’s time to up and move and find more secure shelter, with stronger walls and better furnaces. Somehow the bitter cold doesn’t leave a quiver in your heart, and it's proven when you sit on the edge of Arthur’s wagon with Jack and Abigail and your guitar in your lap as you strum through a melody for Jack’s entertainment.

When Mr North Wind rolls on the breeze

Old father Christmas trims over trees

Down in the meadow snow shoftly gleams…

The lengthy trip wears everyone down eventually, and after an indefinite amount of time consolidating the various paths, the gang happens along an abandoned town in which to take refuge from Demeter’s grief.

By the time you arrive at the safe destination to set up camp, the stars have made themselves visible in the sky. Arrangements are quickly made to set up camp and settle everyone into a room with a place to sleep, wagons being unloaded and horses tied to posts. Thankfully, the snow has ceased attempting to bury the gang in a thick blanket, and the winds howl has lulled to a short whistle. Arthur’s sleeping arrangement differs for the first time in years; Miss Grimshaw tells him he now shares a room with you.

As it is your first time relocating, the move takes a harsh toll on both your physical and mental exhaustion. Along with young Jack at the back of Arthur’s wagon you both lie dead to the world with uncomfortable expressions. Abigail raises the boy into her arms when she comes around with a huff, cradling him close to her jacket.

“Alright little man,” she tells him with an affectionate, exasperated tone as she turns to trudge to her cabin, “let’s get you to bed now.”

Arthur turns to stare at you, hugging your body in an unconscious effort to keep even the slightest bit warm and relaxed, and for some reason cannot find the heart to wake you from your uneasy slumber. So he huffs, strides over, and situates an arm under your legs and another behind your back.

“C’mere, sleeping beauty…” he grunts as he lifts you in a similar fashion close to his chest, slowly making his way toward your shared cabin. “Didn’t realize you were so adverse to traveling.”

Then again, it wasn’t anybody’s particularly favorite part of the lifestyle.

Yet an endearing smile plays on his lips when you unconsciously snuggle closer to him, and he knows that the love in your touch and the song in your heart would keep him warm even after the thaw.

…earth goes to sleep and smiles in her dreams...♡

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#arthur morgan x reader #i dont knkw how big the self insert fandom is for arthur on here but #self indulgent i’m never writing him again #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan x fem!reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #rdr2 oneshot #rdr x reader #rdr oneshot #rdr fluff

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