#Arthur being possessive over John was definitely something I needed

[writingwithacupoftea]

Dusty Black Coat

Summary: Tommy Shelby is famous for his dusty black coat - it's part of his signature look. But, really, it's not just his anymore...it's his sister's as well. 

Word Count: 2765

Trigger Warnings: References to sexual assault after the third set of asterisks (***).

A/N: Hey hey hey, how are we all doing? I’m so happy to finally share this fic with you, it’s one that I’ve worked really hard on and it was one of the first ideas I had for a Peaky Blinders fic. As usual, let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy it!!

Tommy and Y/N Shelby had a relationship that no one could quite make sense of. Some people argued that the siblings were too similar for their own good, and that was the reason behind their seemingly constant arguing.  

But in between all of that, there were moments of tenderness. These often occurred in complete silence, as they simply enjoyed the other's company. Amidst the hustle and bustle of a Friday night in the Garrison, Y/N could often be found with her head rested on her older brother's shoulder, sipping a gin as they watched Arthur and John's drunken antics with soft smiles on their faces. Or, if you happened to glimpse through the window of the Shelby residence on Watery Lane, you wouldn't be surprised to see the pair curled up in front of the fire, reading late at night.

Yes, it was a complicated relationship to say the least.

Then Tommy went to France, and the residents of Small Heath realised just how much Y/N loved her big brother.  Of course, she missed all of her brothers while they were away, yet it was the one that the 18-year-old spend the most time yelling at that she clearly missed the most. It wasn't tears or words that communicated it, however. It was the fact that Y/N Shelby was nearly always walking the streets wearing Tommy's long, black coat.

The seven-year gap in age between the siblings meant that it was very oversized on her body to begin with. But as the years passed and the war continued raging on, the coat grew to suit Y/N quite nicely as she moved into her twenties.

When Tommy returned home, no one knew that him and his brothers were coming back, so the family didn't have chance to prepare. In fact, the first time that he saw Y/N, after four years away fighting, she was fast asleep. Upon closer inspection, Tommy had noticed that she was clutching his coat close to her chest and frowned at Polly, who had followed him, in confusion.

"She's barely let go of it since you left," and with those words Tommy found himself mimicking the gentle smile that graced Polly's face.

Since that day, a newfound understanding was created between Tommy and Y/N. Yes, they still argued (a lot, as any member of the Shelby clan would testify), but there was also now an unbreakable bond between the siblings. No one, not even the two themselves, knew what was so different about it, as nothing really changed in their relationship. But there was something there.

Oh, and it was also as clear as day that Tommy's sweeping black coat was definitely now Y/N’s as well...

***

Y/N loved the glamour of race days, no matter what business was occurring alongside them. Getting dressed up, having a few drinks, catching up with friends that she hadn't seen in a while; yes, she adored going to the races.

Everyone usually stumbles straight into the Garrison upon the return to Small Heath, and continues the party there. Tonight, however, not everyone chose to go to the cosy pub.

Y/N knew that her work could wait until the morning, but the meeting today was crucial for the expansion process of the Shelby Company Limited, and she wanted to get it done now.  

No one had been into her office for hours, and when she had left earlier that day Y/N had neglected to close the window properly, so the cold October air had seeped into every nook and cranny of the room. She tried to concentrate on the papers in front of her, but her thin (but beautiful) dress did nothing to keep the cold at bay and she couldn't write properly with her fur shawl on. Sighing, Y/N put her pen down and made her way to Tommy's office to see if it was any warmer in there. She hated working in an office that wasn't her own, it was too distracting, but she had to decide which was the lesser evil: distraction through cold, or distraction through location. As she looked around Tommy's grand office, however, she found the perfect solution to her issue: Tommy's coat was hanging on a stand next to the door. With a triumphant smile on her face, Y/N marched back to her office with the heavy material sitting nicely on her body.

An hour later, she was still going with her paperwork, still wearing Tommy's coat, and completely oblivious to the time and anything else going on around her. So, naturally, Y/N didn't notice her brother appearing in the doorway to her office, having noticed the light glowing within the room.

"It's not like you to miss a night at the Garrison."

Y/N jumped what felt like a mile in the air, dropping her pen in the process, and placed her hand on her heart. "Jesus Christ, Tommy! I bloody hate it when you sneak up on me like that!"

A small chuckle fell from Tommy's lips as he sat down on the chair on the other side of her desk. "We had a good day today, Y/N," Tommy stated before lighting a cigarette, "We're moving up in the world." He paused, examining his younger sister thoughtfully. "And that, Y/N/N, means that you can afford to buy your own coat." Tommy's serious tone was, in Y/N's opinion, completely undermined but the glimmer of a smile that graced his face for a matter of seconds.

Y/N huffed dramatically, "It's called being resourceful, Thomas. My office was like an ice box, and your coat was just hanging there. Really, if you're that possessive over it you shouldn't leave it lying around." She raised her eyebrows and smirked at her big brother as she put her papers back into the drawer and locked it. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I actually came here to get that so, come on, give it here"

"You can't be serious"

"I'm always serious, sweetheart."

Reluctantly, Y/N stood up, removed the warm coat and handed it over. Tommy put it on himself, before leaning over and turning out the light on her desk. "Fine, leave me to freeze to death, then you'll regret it."

"Wear something sensible next time then."

Y/N simply responded by sticking her middle finger up as she walked past him, and onto the streets of Birmingham.

(Barely two minutes into their journey, however, Tommy gave in. Hand in his pocket, he opened his arm up and Y/N cuddled into his side, his arm and half of his coat wrapped tightly around her. Suffice to say the pair felt the warmest that they had been since the war began.)

***

The damp early morning mist hung low over the grounds of Arrow House, and the sun was slowly beginning to rise in the distance. Y/N had barely slept, tossing and turning over and over again in her bed, her mind constantly replaying her argument with Tommy the night before. A rival gang had made threats towards the Shelby clan over a week ago, and Tommy had elected not to mention it to anyone. She didn't know why she was surprised, or shocked. But still, yet another row had ensued with her older brother.

As the clock on her bedside table ticked over to hit 5am, Y/N felt a desperate need to walk and think and breathe. And so, still wearing her nightgown, she made her way over to the stables, only stopping briefly to collect Tommy's heavy coat to keep her warm, not really thinking about her actions.

Y/N didn't know how long she had been in the stables. She had run a hand over all of the horses, speaking to them in hushed tones as she did so. Memories of her childhood came flooding back to her, and she was hit with a wave of sadness as she realised that the simplicity of their old life was long gone. Instead, she only had these lone moments to cherish, away from the chaos that Tommy's ambition had brought with it. Anger towards her brother hit Y/N once again, and yet she found herself hugging his coat closer to her, seeking comfort in it that everything would be okay in the end.

Thomas Shelby, she thought, humourlessly, the king of providing people with conflicting emotions; sounds about right.

She was removed from her thoughts, however, as Y/N heard her name being called out from afar. Speaking of the devil, she mused; but she decided not to alert him to her whereabouts. As Tommy's voice got nearer, she realised that she had heard him use that tone of voice once before, panic-stricken and desperate: when Charlie was taken. Guilt coursed through Y/N's body, and yet part of her felt a small amount of satisfaction. He needed to be reminded of the importance of family, something that had escaped him in the months following Grace's death, and to experience some raw emotion for once.

Moments later, Tommy crashed through the stable doors, wild eyes searching the place frantically. When they landed on his sister's figure perched on a bale of hay, he let out a breath that he didn't even know that he had been holding. Upon finding Y/N's bed empty when he woke up, and seeing the front door slightly ajar, complete, unadulterated fear had consumed his entire being. The only thought that ran through his brain was they've taken her...they've taken her...they've taken her...

And so seeing her, safe, unharmed and swathed in his coat (as she so frequently was), broke down any remaining barriers that were still left standing.

Tommy quickly gathered her into his arms, hugging her closer than ever before. Y/N was stunned – she and Tommy never hugged properly; it just wasn't their way. But, despite her anger, she melted into it, not wanting to let this moment slip away.

As Tommy pulled away, holding Y/N at arm's length to examine her for any sign of harm and finding nothing, he suddenly found himself able to speak again, though his voice hoarse from shouting: "Even when you're mad at me, you can't leave without my fucking coat, can you?" Y/N, unable to hide a small smile, slapped his arm and started to make her way up to the house, Tommy following closely behind, not wanting her to wander off alone again.

***

It was no secret that Y/N Shelby was a fiercely independent young woman (this often clashed rather badly with Tommy's desire to control, and the combination sparked many an argument between the pair). She hated people mollycoddling her, and so when she was still having nightmares a month after being sexually assaulted in a London club, Y/N didn't mention it to anyone. All she did was try to continue her work and life as normally as she could, constantly pushing her exhaustion to one side.

Of course, what she didn't bank on was the fact that Thomas fucking Shelby could read her like a fucking book. And a children's one at that.

He'd been there the night it happened: whilst Tommy had met with the club's owner, Y/N was dancing with a friend. She'd slipped off to get another drink from the bar (on the house, obviously) when one man thought he'd try his luck. Reeking of alcohol and speech slurred, he'd been incredibly...persistent...and because they were at the end of the bar on a crowded Saturday night, no one had noticed as the drunk pulled her into a back room, tearing at her dress as she tried to fight him off.

Well, let's just say that he wasn't very lucky that night – Tommy had noticed his sister's absence and somehow managed to find her before anything went any further. To this day, Y/N still didn't know how her big brother had done it, all she knew was that she'd never been so relieved to see him. She didn't really remember the journey to Ada's house, where Tommy had taken her to be looked after  while he went and hunted down the man who had dared to do this to his little sister: he had only managed to get in a few punches before turning his attention to Y/N, and it wasn't enough. The only thing that Y/N could clearly recollect was cuddling into her brother's chest as she sobbed, knowing that she was now safe. He'd buttoned his coat around her trembling figure, and to Y/N it was like he was still hugging her as he drove, the one thing keeping her grounded.

She felt the man's hands on her body every time she began to drift off to sleep. But she wouldn't tell anyone. Carrying on like everything was normal was just her way of coping with things, and she didn't want anyone to take that away from her.

It was eight o'clock at night when Y/N returned to the offices of Shelby Company Limited. She had been at the gin factory all day, checking on the progress being made there, and she was now more than ready for Tommy to take them back to Arrow House so that she could put her feet up. But, to her dismay, Tommy was still working away at his desk.

"Please don't tell me you're gonna be long, Tom?"

The man in question looked up at his sister, taking in her slumped posture and the darkness underneath her eyes. Instead of replying, he simply poured two whiskeys, grabbed his papers and sat down on the sofa in his office, gesturing for Y/N to do the same. Sighing, she removed her coat and hat and collapsed onto the space beside him, taking a large swig of the whiskey once she was comfortable.

"I'll be as quick as I can."

And with that, Tommy continued to read. Lulled by the warmth, whiskey and peace, Y/N's eyelids began to droop and (despite numerous attempts to stifle it) finally let out a long yawn. Not taking his eyes off the document in front of him, Tommy moved the remaining papers from his knee and placed them on the arm of the sofa.

"Go on," he said, in what was (for Tommy, at least) a lighter tone of voice.

Letting out a dry chuckle, Y/N looked over at her elder brother and replied: "I'm not 4 years-old anymore, Tommy, I will not -"

But before she could finish her sentence, she let out another yawn, causing Tommy to finally look away from his work to raise his eyebrows at her with a smirk.

"Fine," Y/N grumbled, "But if we're here much longer I'll just annoy you until we leave."

She slowly started to lay down onto the sofa, resting her head on Tommy's lap, and he subconsciously found himself stroking her hair with his free hand. When Y/N was much younger, this set-up wasn't unusual in the slightest, and the young woman now found herself feeling far more relaxed than she had been in months. So much so that she kept finding herself nodding off, but would shake herself awake every time, not wanting the nightmares to begin playing again.

He didn't show it, but Tommy was disheartened that his sister still wasn't going to sleep. He had hoped that the familiar position alone might be enough to send her off, as Tommy knew that he had quite a bit of reading left to do and wanted Y/N to get some rest. Tommy was more than aware that his sister hadn't been the same since that night in London, but didn't want to mention anything to her for fear that she'd bite his head off.  

The great Thomas Shelby was scared of his younger sister, who'd have believed it?

After a few moments of silent thought, he realised that the solution was simple. He reached around to grab his coat, which he had thrown over the back of the sofa, and placed it over Y/N's body like a blanket. When she looked up at him, silently posing a question, Tommy spoke to her softly.

"Get some rest, sweetheart. I won't leave you."

Tears welled up in the younger Shelby's eyes as she nodded slightly, grateful (for once) that Tommy knows her better than she knows herself. Y/N curled her knees up slightly and snuggled in to the warm, dark material. Feeling her brother's hand securely on her shoulder as he rubbed his thumb backwards and forwards over it, and inhaling the scent of whiskey, cigarettes and just Tommy, Y/N knew that nothing could get to her...and so she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders sister #tommy shelby x sister reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby sister #shelby!sister #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic

[babylooneytoonz]

I'm Coming Home, Baby

Summary: Y/N and John were childhood sweethearts (no Martha) and she has known the peaky blinders her whole life and they love her too but then John has to marry Esme and even though Tommy does feel bad he does it anyway. Y/n works in the betting house so they see eachother every day she acts like it doesn’t bother her but is obviously a bit distant with John who is still inlove with her but she is respectful of the marriage so when Michael comes in he has a crush on Y/N and kinda flirts with her and John gets jealous cause he will always love her. Then she is killed by the Italians and just people’s reactions.

Warnings: Heavy angst, character death.

Requested by : Anon

He was the first boy you ever befriended, shared your first kiss with. It happened on an old broken swing in the backyard of your house when you were only twelve.

You met John when he was thirteen. The memory was so fresh in your mind, even today, it made you feel like it was yesterday when you were hiding behind your mother, clutching the fabric of her skirt, your tiny little head poking out just to watch around, with your big (Y/E/C) eyes, when two boys rode into the plaza on a black horse. The older boy was probably 18, but your eye caught the eye of the younger one. You were so young; the concept of love was something you had not yet experienced. But now, if you thought about it, you loved that thirteen year old boy. Your love for him only evolved from wanting to have all his attention at all times, stealing his candies from his pockets, and playing skittles with him all day, to holding hands and walking by the river, stealing kisses when no one was looking.

There was a time when you two became so inseparable, you would spend hours together and you would spend your entire days with the Shelby family.

Then one day, you watched him leave, as the war was upon you all. There were tears, and you could hear hearts crack, the slow, horrid torture of sweethearts like you and John being separated, wives left alone as their husbands left them to go to war, mother's watched their sons leave. Polly had to hold you; tight against her chest for hours as you wept, after he had left, and you had no idea whether he would come back or not.

War changed you both. He witnessed so many atrocities , so much death and so much horror; the man that came back, his eyes had a holocaust, a deep rooted horror lurking within his irises. He would scream and thrash in his sleep, and no amount of pacifying could control him, except for you. But you had changed too by that time. You had lived without him for so long, you had lived with a constant worry and fear for so long, you had grown sombre and the fire that you possessed and the light in your eyes, that little twinkle, it was lost. You rarely spoke, when all you ever did once was talk. It was like you were now a walking, breathing corpse. Your heart still pumped blood, but that was all. You were a ruin, just like your lover. Things weren't the same anymore, thus, after war. No matter how hard you tried, John and you could not go back to what you used to be.

Although you the two of you weren't together, almost everyone knew that you belonged with each other. It was like you could understand what John wanted, even without him having to say it. Whenever John had a nightmare, you were the one holding him close, rocking him against your chest, while he clung on to you, hopeless and weak. You saw him at his worse, and so did he, many times, when the two of you fought, and you ended up breaking down.

All this love, all this pain, but you found comfort in your empty bed to think that John still loved you, it was the only blanket that gave warmth to your heart. However, one day, someone pulled that blanket off you, and the betrayal you felt shattered your soul.

You found out that Tommy had fixed John's wedding with one of the Lee's, Esme.

You didn't know what you hated more, or who you hated more. Was it John, who said yes and couldn't stick his arse up to his brother and say no ? Who could still look you in the eye claiming to still be in love with you even after being the one to scratch your heart out? Or was it Tommy? The man you looked up to as your elder brother? Who you trusted more than yourself, that he will never let you and John part your ways? Or was it Esme? The beautiful damsel who made you envy her? She was beautiful, she was young, and she was untouched by war, or that is what you thought. Maybe she would keep John happy, maybe she would be good for him, you kept repeating those words at the back of your mind again and again.

It was as though you couldn't breathe after that. You would sit up in bed, drenched in your own sweat, screaming at the top of your lungs, crying. At first, John did come, when your mother would telephone him and tell him what had happened, concerned and his eyes clouded in tears, watching you, wishing he could hold you, as your mother leant over the side of your bed and tried to calm you down but as the days to his wedding came closer, he stopped coming altogether.

You couldn't watch him take his vows, so you locked yourself in your room, having decided you were never going to step into the Shelby house again. The truth was, although they were your family, they were also your employers; you worked for Tommy Shelby, as one of his secretaries. If you left this job, you didn't know when you will find another job again.

Thus, a few days before John and Esme were to be married, you asked Tommy to give you a time off, for you needed it, to recuperate. And he did, without thinking twice. Tommy did what he had to do, it was a call of the moment, but it wasn't like he didn't know how much you or John were hurting. If giving you a chance to go on a much needed Vacation was something he could do to ease your pain, he would definitely do it.

You cried all night, a night before the love of your life married another woman. You sat in bed, hugging your feet closer to your body, thick salty tears spilling along your cheeks, your lip trembling and quivering. At times you would have to bring your palm up to press it against your mouth, for you had an urge to scream and to yell, but you didn't want to wake your neighbours. Little did you know, that outside your window, John had fixed himself, only his cigarette stick visible under the pale moonlight, for he wanted to make sure you were alright, and couldn't sleep without tossing and turning multiple times. Little did you know that he often wrote to you, but your mother burnt those letters before they could reach you; so they couldn't cause any more damage to you as this mess already had.

The next day, you left Birmingham City, having decided to get out of town, the first train to London, away from the chaos and the madness this city had brought upon you. Maybe a change will do you good. And you decided you will not come back, for there was nothing left there for you, except your mother but that was a different thing altogether.

You blocked it all out, all the hurt, all the anguish that you were feeling, swallowing it inside of you like a bitter pill, weeks after John and Esme Shelby were one, but one thing you couldn't do, was return back to work, for you didn't have it in you to face your biggest weakness. It had taken you weeks to stop feeling depressed all the time and you had finally learnt what it felt like when you had to just live on, putting on a brave face. You now knew what it meant when people said, things happen, and they don't really and most often don't happen the way we want them to, but life goes on, whether we like it or not.

Finally, fifteen long weeks after having gone without seeing John Shelby, one morning, you woke up in a puddle of your own sweat, thick hot beads of sweat trickling down your temples. Half lidded eyes, you reached for a glass of water to soothe your parched throat, but the anxiety and the fear bubbling up inside your heart didn't ease. You had to see him, to make sure he was okay. Nothing mattered to you in that second, when your heart was palpitating inside your chest and you were sat there, clutching your sheets and gasping for air.

You ran up into the living room, and fell next to the telephone ringing your mother, and cried on the phone, "I want to come back home mum, I thought I will feel better, but I don't, I just feel I will never feel better again."

You lied to yourself, that you were going back to Birmingham city, the first train you could find, so you could see your mother again, but your heart knew that it was much more complex than what it all looked like. Even after coming back, and spending all evening with your mum, you couldn't fill up the hollowness that you had been feeling in your heart. You knew there was only one way.

After much contemplation, walking down to the Garrison didn't seem like a bad idea to you; the Shelby's mostly spent their evenings at the Garrison, and you hoped you'll catch a glimpse of him from one of the windows, and you'll leave. It was a pale, moonless night, the winds were shallow, but you could still notice the winds, hitting your face, causing a shiver to run down your spine. The windows to the Garrison were mildly foggy as though they hadn't been scrubbed on in ages, but you could still see. You could see the Shelby's all standing inside, walking around, speaking to each other. He was standing there, in a pool of his family, Finn on one side and Arthur on another, his young boyish face gleaming underneath the golden ivory lighting of the pub. Also, a woman stood next to him, that you clearly recognised, Mrs. John Shelby.

Your heart still managed to skip a beat, when you saw a soft smile break out on his lips at probably a joke being cracked by Finn. Atleast he looked happy. When you were not.

"Excuse me? Is something wrong?"

A voice called out to you, causing your eyelids to expand, and your hand to fly upwards, your fingers managing to push a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Slowly, you turned around to look at the source of the voice. He didn't look much older than you, but from what you could see, you could notice how well dressed he was , almost like the Shelby's themselves.

"I, uh, it's nothing. I was just lost."

The young man skewered his head to one side, as if scrutinizing you from the corner of his eye, however, before he could speak again, a voice cut him off, a voice you knew all together, "Michael, where's Polly? I thought it was the whole family tonight. She-"

Tommy stopped talking, the minute he laid his eyes on you. Even in the darkness of the night, he knew it was you. It had been ages they had all seen you. It was as though you had just vanished, and your mother never told them your whereabouts, no matter how much they tried to find out.

"You-"

"Hello, Thomas."

You whispered, toying with your fingers.

"How? We all fucking tried looking for you everywhere."

"I left town." You tried to sound cold, but who were you kidding, no matter how much you tried, this family was yours, although you didn't share their blood. Tommy was like a brother you had never had.

"Does John-"

Tommy didn't complete his sentence, he just turned to follow your gaze as the two of you started looking at him, watching you from the inside, his jaw almost dropped as if he had seen a ghost; his eyes on you.

Michael finally understood who you were. You were the one, the one that had caused the sheen in John's eyes to die down, the woman who had his heart.

𖠁𐂃𖠁

You were okay.

It had been difficult, and at first, you didn't want to do it. Being back into the Shelby's life was difficult, and Tommy's offer of you retaking your position as his secretary was something that made you feel worried, that being around John will break your control over the situation.

But you wouldn't lie, there was someone who made you pull through, and stuck with you when you thought you wouldn't be able to do it.

Michael Gray.

You didn't remember the countless times you had used him as your pillow, crying on his shoulders while he let you. He didn't judge you, and he didn't lie to you, telling you that things will be fine. That is all you wanted.

You sat in the Shelby office, on a Saturday, and you weren't expecting the Shelby's to come in today, except Michael, who was already here standing by the telephone, speaking to someone.

You tapped your lit cigarette lightly, letting the white snowy ashes fall into the ashtray, as you brought it back up to your plump lips. Your eyes scanned through the files, your pen in your other free hand as you scribbled some numbers relentlessly into the notepad, until Michael slammed the receiver down.

"What's wrong, Michael?" You gave him a look.

"Nothing , Tommy's fucking shipment is stuck. Some workers strike."

"Well, if the man himself is least bothered, why on earth are you boiling your blood out for him? Let it go, Thomas is going to find a way to sort it out, yeah? Anyway, I need your help, this is some really messed up calculation."

Michael shook his head, pretending to be disappointed in you, but secretly, he loved it. He loved it when you called him over to help you out with the calculations, for this meant that he could tower over your desk, leaning down on you, secretly inhaling the soft, dewy fragrance from your silky locks, admiring you. So, he left whatever it was that he was doing and fixed himself next to your desk, almost leaning over you from your back, so he could look at the paperwork.

Just then, the doors flung open, and a sudden chatter filled the room, when Arthur, Tommy and John entered, bickering among themselves on a topic, without having paid heed to you.

"Right, so did you see his fucking face? He could have bloody shit his pants at that," Arthur chuckled.

Your face lost its pallor, and you averted your gaze from John, when he suddenly stopped listening to his brother, and his eyes fell on Michael, and you. He could not hide the sudden change in his expression, the jealousy and the hurt in his eyes. His jaw squared, and his eyes narrowed in reflex and he couldn't bite back on his words, "Michael, I thought we asked you to sort out the bloody shipment, and not fucking flirt around with the employees around here."

My eyes widened at his words, and reflexively, I stood up, fixing myself next to Michael in his support.

"Well, what can I fucking do if the workers are on a bloody strike?" Michael protested, stepping in front of your desk, facing the three men.

"Well, for one, you can do what you're fucking here to do, and not be on other people's desks," John snapped, ignoring the way your eyes widened at him in disapproval, and Michael grit his teeth, clenching his fists as he walked off, towards the door.

"Michael, wait." You called out, but he didn't stop, and the door slammed shut when he walked out of the betting shop.

"John, thats enough, what are you fucking doing, eh?" Tommy asked, stepping in front of John, blocking your view of him.

"Just getting some bloody work done around here for once," John grumbled back, trying to walk past Arthur and Tommy so he could barge towards you. However, before he could make his way to you, you stepped up, grabbing your coat, and your purse.

"Michael didn't deserve that," you spat at him once, before turning away, as you walked out.

You didn't wait to turn back and see that John had pulled out of Arthur's grip, and he was now making his way towards you. You stepped out of the Shelby office, your heels clicking against the paved roads, as you started walking away, when you felt a hand grip your arm and pull you back, pressing you against the brick wall.

"John, let me go." You protested, trying to push his chest so he could move away.

"What the fuck was that?" He barked, still not letting you go, his hands on either side of you, having trapped you there, while you kept trying to push him, so you could get out of being so close to him again, "Michael fancies you. He fucking fancies you and still you like to keep him around yourself?"

You almost scoffed at his hypocrisy.

"So what if he fancies me? So what John?" You screamed, taking a deep breath, wiping the tears that had managed to leak from your eyes, leaving stains down your cheeks. He parted his lips, trying to find the right words, but before he could, you started yelling again, "it was okay for you to bloody get married when Tommy asked you to, but I cannot let another man fancy me. Why John? You're a fucking married man now, and I can't move on and be with someone who fancies me."

He slowly removed his hands from either of your sides, and stepped away so he could give you the space, and you instantly stepped away, shaking your head at him and then running your hands through your hair, frustrated with this all.

You kicked the sidewalk with your heel, not even paying attention to how your heel broke from the hit.

"You know I didn't want this to happen Y/N, not any more than you didn't. But I could not say a bloody no to Tommy."

"Don't you dare put this on anyone but you. You fucking chose to say yes, and you weren't forced. I never forgave Tommy, but I will never forgive you too John, now if you allow I have to go look for Michael."

You bent, sliding your feet out from the heels and took your heels in your hand. You started turning, when then it all happened in slow motion, before John could do anything to stop you.

If John knew that the bullet from the Italians gun, that was meant for him, will hit you on the side of your neck, he would have shielded you with his own life.

It was a clean hit, the bullet striking his heart, poetically, and your neck.

Your eyes widened, your hand flying to your neck, as hot blood spurted out and you started coughing, your body feeling loose, like that of jelly.

He watched you gasp, clutching the side of your neck, his eyes widened in shock, his mind blank, and his heart beating faster than ever. Tommy and Arthur rushed out now too, and before John could react, Arthur was kneeling down next to you, checking your pulse, his palm pressed to your neck, as you slowly bled to death.

"Tommy, we need to get her to fucking doctor, she is fucking bleeding to death!!"

John just kept looking.

If only that bullet had taken him.

John Shelby lost his heart in a whiff of a second, watching it shatter into two, the day he watched the woman he loved take her last breath. He broke down next to your now cold palm that lay by the sidewalk, your eyes wide open, keeping you close to his heart.

You were dead, even before Arthur could lift you up and carry you into Tommy's car, you were already gone and your body went cold, your hand falling lifelessly down your side.

Now just a month later, history repeated itself, but only this time, John didn't feel like he had anything to lose, and instead, he only had something to gain. He was probably going to bleed to death, but there was one thing that comforted him, as he took his last, broken breaths, that maybe you were waiting for him on the other side, and he just had to throw out his hand, and you'll be there to catch him.

And this is what he thought, in those final moments, as he lay, covered in a pool of his own blood, shot down by the Italians himself, mere months after your death. His breathing slow, his chest heaving up and down, blood erupting from his wounds, yet he was thinking of your face, the way your eyes were trained to him as you died.

John was awake; atleast for mere seconds, just as he inched closer to death, when Esme hunched over him, trying to revive him and he opened his mouth, gasping for air, like a fish thrown out of water, trying to breath; but he did manage to say a few words, only, they were so muffled, Esme could never make out what he said.

No one could hear what John Shelby spoke to her, and she kept clinging on to his last words, imagining that he was telling her that he loved her, but what he said was gone the minute he was gone.

But if anyone would have heard it, he would have known, what he meant, when he took his last breaths, and the only words that came out of his lips were, "I'm coming home, baby."

He was finally going home. And they were going to be together.

Permanent John Shelby Taglist :

@really-dont-forget-it

@thepeakygurl

@baumarvel

@nyotamalfoy

@peakyfooky

Want to be added to my Taglist? Please fill up the form on this link. ❤️

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #peaky blinders #john shelby angst

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x OC} Chapter 14

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: None

.....

Chapter 14

Walking back into camp from the river, dumping my belongings at my small tent then borrowing one of the girls pocket mirrors they keep by their bedrolls. The dye definitely did its job. My hair now a deep earthy red reminiscent of the red chestnut Arabian my mother used to own and spoil like it was her fourth child. Happy with the outcome I then set off in search of Hosea. I couldn’t see him anywhere in camp but as I was passing John I asked if he knew where he could be. Told me he was going to meet him at the moonshine wagon they had stolen yesterday. Following him out of camp to where it was hidden. Hosea was there, inspecting the many bottles of moonshine that filled the back of the small wagon. Both of us greeting him as we approached. 

“Ahh, Miss Bella, Just who I wanted to see. I have a little plan with this shine here and I was wondering if you want to join.” Hosea asked, climbing down from the wagon. He seemed to sense my hesitation, coming over to stand beside me and placing a hand on my arm in the hopes it would ease me. “Don’t worry, nothing dangerous and you won’t be left alone. I was just thinking, having a lady present would make us seem less threatening.” 

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my answer.  

The chance to do something more than camp chores is something I wanted, not that doing chores wasn’t important but I desired to do something more to help. Maybe even bring in some money plus having a few dollars to myself. Growing up on a large farm I’ve never been one to shy away from hard work. Getting my hands dirty on a daily basis was normal, but getting them dirty on the kinda jobs the gang does will involve more than just soil under your nails and hay in your hair. But I’m sure I could trust Hosea seeing as he was one to avoid bloodshed and fights whenever possible, instead, running scams to take what they wanted from right under the noses of unsuspecting folks. “Okay. I’ll help if you think it will be of benefit.”

“Great! I'd suggest it would be better off if you wore something other than pants and equip your gun. Just in case,”

I nodded, feeling a bit more apprehensive about having to be armed. Better safe than sorry I thought as I turned to head back to camp.

“Oh, and Bella,” Hosea called back to me “Love the hair.”

 I changed into a plain baby blue skirt and a white blouse, donning a shawl to avoid the inevitable chill of the evening. Styling my hair into a loose bun allowing a few strands to fall around my face. Once I was ready and had my Cattleman holstered securely to my hip and the knife I still hadn’t returned sheathed beside it I made my way back to Hosea and John. Arthur was there too, asking Hosea what the plan was as they mounted up on the wagon. I sat at the back, feet dangling off the edge acting as the lookout. With this much moonshine just passing the wrong people could cause an unwanted interaction. Arthur called over to ask if I’m sure I’m okay coming along to help. Hosea butting in before I could speak to tell him Arthur will be just fine as I won’t be leaving their sides. Arthur looked over his shoulder at me either waiting for my confirmation or some words of worry. I just gave him a smile and a nod as we made our way along the roads in the direction of Rhodes.  The two men conversed on the plan. Returning the liquor to its owners for a ‘finder's fee’of sorts and to make a formal introduction to the Braithwaite family. In the back of my head, that name sounded familiar but I couldn’t place any faces to the name that dealt in the moonshine business. As they talked about the two apparent rival families in the area, Arthur mentioned a couple torn between both families that he has been helping keep in contact with one another. Imagine that, a big mean outlaw helping two young lovers. The ride wasn’t long, the historic plantation house sitting only a little further south to where we are situated along Flat Iron Lake. The men at the entrance let us go through to make our way towards the house, the grandness of it not being unfamiliar to me.

As we came to a stop the doors ahead opened revealing an older woman, Catherine Braithwaite, followed out by several men. “What you want?” She called out to us from the porch.

“Found something...out on the hills, thought...thought maybe you was in the market for it.” Hosea called back as he made his way to the steps.

“For what?”

“Some liquor.”

“I ain’t in the market for what’s already mine.”

“Way we see it, it’s ours,”  The three of us dismounted and made our way to the foot of the porch. I stood back a little and decided to stay near the horses.  “What with us possessing it, and i-i checked it all over for the life of me I couldn’t see your name on it.”

Now I could see the woman clearly, the faces to that name came flooding back to me. I had met Mrs Braithwaite months ago regarding a couple of horses Frank was wanting to buy. Surely she wouldn’t recognise me considering i had only met her once before and let’s face it, I looked a bit different then. She didn't seem to pay any mind to me. Looking me over once before returning to Hosea as their conversation continued.

“The alternative is you get shot.” a man stepped out behind Mrs Braithwaite, one of her sons I believe, shotgun in hand. Arthur instinctively going for his sidearm, hand hovering over the pistol just waiting for the word. Hosea quick to step in, “Now who wants to get shot over a bottle or two of liquor?” 

The man raised the gun but the woman was quick to stop him, pulling the weapon from his grasp. “Pay the man.”

“Pleasure doing business with ya,” Hosea said as he was handed a clip. “And, listen, we didnt take it, least not without orders from…”

“Oh, I know exactly who gave you your orders. Old sheriff Gray. You know what? I don’t want it. In fact, sir, now you can do me a favour, there’s an extra 10 bucks if you do. Drive the stuff into Rhodes head over to the tavern run by Mr Gray and give the stuff out for free,” She said, shushing one of the boys at her side. This feud between the two families ran deep for sure since she was willing to lose out on some business just out of spite.

“I believe they call that a promotional expense.”  Hosea huffed out a laugh, giving the woman a nod and turned to climb up on the wagon again. Mrs Braithwaite leaving us with parting words regarding playing a game of cribbage.

Heading into Rhodes was the last thing I wanted to do, especially so soon. I just had to make sure I kept my wits about me and to not leave their side for too long. Lord, I felt pathetic being as scared as I was. My pistol being the heavy presence at my side reminded me I could use that if need be.

“I ain’t playing dress-up. You know how I feel about that.”

“Of course you’re not...You’re a clowns.... idiot... brother.”

“Hosea, please…” Arthurs voice taking on a deep tone, one of irritation to whatever Hosea was proposing.

“I’m the clown. You’re the idiot. Just...look sad and keep quiet. Even you can do that, Arthur”

“Do I have to?”

“Put this hat on.” Arthur didn't have a choice in the matter. Hosea already removing his worn gambler hat and replacing it with a wide brim flop hat that was anything but attractive. Without missing a beat Hosea hands him a pipe to smoke and instructing him how to form his face. Despite Arthurs reluctance, he still followed whatever Hosea instructed, but he wasn’t happy in the slightest. I couldn’t help but giggle minutely as I watched. Arthur turned to me with a look of anger and disbelief before huffing out a quiet “shut up.” Covering my mouth to stifle my laughter. 

“What about you?” Arthur now turned his attention back to Hosea

“Shh. You can't speak. You’re turned idiot,” Hosea and I both started laughing now. “Quite broke poor mammy’s heart.” Hosea continued putting on a voice to get into the part causing Arthur to gruff in annoyance. He was hating this. We were loving it.

“There there, Fenton, there there. Don’t get mad now.” The humour had calmed me some. A warm sensation in my stomach overcoming the dread I was feeling the whole ride here. The ache on my cheeks a pleasant one. We pulled into Rhodes parlour house, Arthur dismounting and making his way to where I was sat. Hosea still spewing this little backstory he had created on a whim. 

“Okay, Fenton, stay calm now...for momma, she loved you so...just a shame you had to strangle her in a rage. Right, grab two cases of that stuff and follow me.”

Arthur held out his hand to help me down from the back of a wagon, his expression one of exasperation as he looked at me. Both of us reaching for a crate. 

“You, erm, gonna be okay?” He asked in a whisper.

“I’m sure I will be,” I replied with a smile

“Just stay near me. I’ll keep an eye out, make sure you’re safe.” “Thank you, Arthur - I mean, Fenton.” I couldn’t hold back the grin forming on my face, Arthur just looked at me deadpan as if to say ‘not you too’ as we followed Hosea towards the Parlours side entrance.

This was going to be fun.

@kashasenpai​

#hang em high #hang em high fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x oc #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x fem oc

[adashelbysgirlfriend]

Falling in Love - Arthur Shelby

i wanna do these for everyone but i just feel like Arthur does NOT get enough love, on here and definitely on the show.

Arthur:

big up him meeting you on the Garrison 

where else does he even hang? the guys an A L C O H O L I C 

you’re probably a lot sweeter than him (although thats not really a tall ask i guess)

he’s infatuated but your smile, he can't take his eyes off it

you bumble in all innocent and giggly and you’re like a ray of sunshine to him

“i don't think you belong here sweetheart” the whole ‘how did someone like you end up in a place like this’ trope but he's not eloquent enough to make it sound romantic 

when you get chatting, he's even more drawn in

youre a regular from that moment on, and he looks forward to the moment you walk in everyday

its all he looks forward too, actually

his brothers tease him about his plain obsession

but tbh what don't they tease him about

he doesn't care

i think it would take Arthur a while to invite you out on a date

the boys nervous 

even though he knows you well and is completely comfortable around you 

the idea of taking your friendship further both excites and terrifies him

what if you don't like him that way?

why would you?

he's old and past it and a loose cannon

and you’re you, you’re perfect

Arthur comes up with a plan though (all be it a horrendous one) 

‘I'm just gonna get fucked tommy, its the only way i can do it’

Tommy takes it upon himself to not only tell arthur how shite his plan is in detail but to also arrange the date so that his brother can't fuck it up anymore than he already may have

its a double date people!

Tommy and Lizzie, you and Arthur, and a meal somewhere fancy

Arthur dies a little inside when he sees you in a fancy evening dress

(gets an awkward erection too)

he can't take his eyes off you all night

he walks you home

you give him a kiss on the cheek, leaving the fully grown ass man blushing like a school boy

imma throw this out there but

loyalist brother?

i just feel like he would never cheat once he actually knows love

nobody has ever loved him the way you do, and he's convinced nobody ever will again so he refuses to lose you

the family LOVES you, Polly the most through  

she's cautious at the start, maybe even a little cold towards you 

thinks you’re only here for money

but then she sees you calm him down from one of his crazy lash outs and she realises that you’re worth your weight in gold 

or maybe you’re helping Finn or looking after one of Johns kids? she just needs some convincing that you’re Shelby family material 

and now the woman will KILL for you

more than that, she trusts you with Arthur and thats something very rare 

she's the person you'd tell first when you find out youre pregnant 

Tommy loves you too, a real soft spot for you 

John and Finn are just happy you aren't Linda tbh

Ada sees you as a sister 

SMUT BELOW

he wants you, a lot

but he also adores your innocence

hes in a constant internal battle of wanting to make you his but also not feeling good enough to touch you 

“How have you not shagged her yet?” - deffo john, and it earns him a clip over the head from Polly for it

“i think what our brother is trying to say is that you don't want to leave the lady thinking you don't see her that way, gives her time to wander” - this comes from Ada who is ALSO confused as to whats taking Arthur so long to bed you 

You’re the one to make the first move, proving youre not quite as innocent as he thought

he's surprisingly submissive

don't get me wrong, he's headstrong and passionate - sometimes in the bedroom too

but he likes it when you take over

hes has to be constantly seen as the dominant character in life that when it comes to sex with you, he likes to take a seat and let you take over

‘what did you want me to do then, Mistress? ‘

he LOVES when youre on top

he likes being slapped 

being tied up? LOVES that shit

likes being choked too

i feel like he could stab you and he'd thank you for it though so

he does like to blindfold you

i feel like he would try to tease you and just like..cum?

like the man just can't control himself when he sees your body

god bless

pretends he has stamina, but falls asleep straight after sex

literally

straight after

asleep 

snoring 

i don't feel like Arthur is much of a bragger, like he doesn't candidly discuss his sex life, not even with his brothers

you discuss WAY more with Ada and Polly than he would with Tommy or John

God definitely not with John 

because sex with you is his favourite thing but he's also possessive about it, youre all his and he isn't willing to share those details with anyone, not even his brothers 

he adores you more than life itself

if you made it this far then a big fat thank you guys !! 

#arthur shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders moodboard #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby headcannon #peaky blinder headcanon #tommy shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #ada shelby

[irishmacguirefucker]

Why and how did the gang start a ranch?

(So this got long as FUCK but please read it because oh my god i'm so so proud of it ok? Big thank you to @awesomeundertalelover3​ for proofreading and editing this for me, especially since I'm incoherent when I type.) The choice to start the ranch and stop being a “gang” was the result of a few things. First, it was the botched job in Blackwater. Dutch killed innocent Heidi McCourt, planting the first seed of distrust within the gang. Then in the escape, they lost Sean and the gravely injured Mac, and John, Davey and Jenny were both injured. Then Jenny died, of course, followed by Davey. The next big push into the decision was the time spent in the mountains. The cold and the difficulty of survival made many members of the gang think long and hard about their life as gang members, especially now that Hosea and Dutch seem to be fighting over whether or not Dutches plans will work out. 

At this point they are cold, they are tired, and they have lost what they assume is 4 members of their family. But they kept on. They gained Sadie Adler due to Micah’s stupidity and they gained Kieran. You all know how things go until they get to Horseshoe Valley. But this is where things start to change in my AU. 

Horseshoe Valley is good for everyone, they continue to commit crimes as usual. But Hosea is contacted by the elder brother of his late wife Bessie. He wrote that he feared he would die soon, and his property would be sold to the government since he had no other family left in the area. His daughter lives in new york and she doesn’t want it. He’s going to go live with his daughter and get to know his grandchildren before he passes. But he doesn’t want the ranch he and Bessie grew up on in anyone else’s possession so he asks Hosea to do what Bessie would do. Who Bessie would give the farm to. 

The deed was to 55 Acres of land in New Austin. A beautiful 3 story ranch house with all the facilities to keep cattle, chickens, pigs, sheep, and horses. The man had sold all his livestock so that he could make it to see his family and then give the money to his daughter as a gift for letting him live with her. Hosea never told anyone, he was going to keep the deed for a while and sell it when the gang was in need. 

The Van Der Linde gang was being hunted and they all knew it. However, they tried to ignore it and tried to believe in Dutch. But with the unfortunate loss of so many members of their family at once was weighing on them. They were having trouble getting money and getting food, and they knew that gangs all over America were being wiped out around them. Arthur and Hosea would talk about how bad it was getting, and more than once members of the gang would tell Hosea that they just want to be loyal. They want to be safe again but they would never leave their family. The final straw was at the fault of Micah. 

When Arthur went to retrieve Micah in Strawberry he ended up discussing the jailed outlaw with the sheriff. He was going to get the man drunk and then get Micah out Hosea style, but when he spoke to that drunk sheriff he learned a lot. The sheriff revealed that the Pinkertons had been by and spoke with him and that he was part of a famous gang. With further prompting, the sheriff dropped the bomb that Micah was a rat. The Pinkertons had come to Strawberry to take Micah away because they knew who he was but offered him a deal. They would let him wait here to be saved and then continue feeding Pinkertons information, or they could haul him off to Siska and hang him before the gang even noticed he was gone. And so Arthur thanked the wasted lawman for his time and left Strawberry without the rat. 

When he got back and talked to Dutch and Hosea, he shared that Micah had told the law everything he knew and planned to come back as a rat. They knew very well that Micah knew far too much and finally Hosea knew what he was going to do with that land. With Dutch and Arthur there, he explained everything about his brother in law, and then he let them know *his* plan.

Hosea wanted the gang safe, even if that meant not being a gang anymore. He had been the shoulder to cry on for Lenny, who missed young Jenny. For Karen, who drunkenly admitted that she might be in love with Sean but never told him. For Tilly, who was terrified her old gang would find her again and she would be back where she was when she was 12. And for many others, who felt so broken by the last few months. His plan was to start collecting as much money as they can and use it to pay off their bounties and move to the ranch. To buy a few heads of cattle, take their chicken, buy some pigs and sheep, and start that ranch up again. 

Dutch thought it was crazy. Arthur agreed, but the look of hope in the blonde’s eyes was enough to see what he really thought. Dutch was angry, he was so so angry that Hosea would suggest this after everything they had been through. He even threw it back in Hosea’s face that he had tried to live the regular life, that Hosea couldn’t do it. That insult was the last straw.

He told Dutch that if he didn’t do this, he was going to die alone on a hill made from the bodies of this gang. People were going to leave him behind because they all know that the age of gangs and crime is over. Or worse, they would be loyal to him and they would die for it. Dutch would be responsible for the deaths of everyone in this camp. And with Dutch still stunned by the older man’s outburst, Arthur spoke up. He thought they could do it, and he would follow Hosea if that’s what would secure the safety of his new family. That’s what finally drilled it into Dutch’s head that this is the only option. His orphan son, who he had rescued off the streets at fourteen, was willing to leave him behind for this new plan. 

The first person they let into the new plan was surprisingly Strauss. While Hosea was sure they could figure it out, he needed to know just how realistic he was being here. He knew they would need to figure out what their collective bounties were and how they were going to pay that off. Strauss did a little math and a little research. Dutch himself had a $5000 bounty in New Austin. Hosea had around $2000 on his head, and everyone else (including Arthur) altogether was around $2000 max. They were lucky that many of the members were unidentified, meaning they were without bounties. Strauss told them they would need to get around $9000 dollars, and then another $500-$1000 to get the ranch started based on his estimations.

Getting the money would be hard if they kept the plan to themselves. The next people the three men told were Susan and John. They would need to start brainstorming ideas on how to get the money. Arthur was going to enlist the help of Javier and Charles to track down every treasure hidden across the map. John would start asking around towns for small jobs, legal ones. People who needed help building things, finding people, etc. Susan would have the girls get as much information as they could about possible leads with fake stories about their deadbeat husbands needing jobs to support their children or stories about wanting honest work for themselves to avoid becoming a prostitute. Everyone would have to pitch in, the only issue with this is that they couldn’t tell everyone yet, lest something go wrong and they can’t do it.

As they were collecting the money and saving, the gang was beginning to get suspicious. They were all working far harder and far more than usual for no apparent reason. Dutch was sending them to do legal work which was extremely odd, and the money they were earning was just sitting around waiting to be spent. Dutch knew he would have to tell them what was happening eventually, but he didn’t know how. He would have to tell the gang that they were no longer going to be a gang. That he was ending the life of crime they knew but expecting them to follow him into a new one. 

When they found Sean again, alive, spirits were high. They had his welcome home party and everyone celebrated. But Dutch was the first to see the toll that months of time spent with the bounty hunters had done to the man. He had new scars that he was hiding from his family, he was missing a tooth that he definitely had when he left. He had been tortured for months, and no matter how well he hid it, Dutch knew it was time for his gang to be safe again. 

Not long after the welcome party, many of the individual members knew. Charles learned from Arthur, Sean overheard a discussion between Hosea and Arthur and eventually told Karen, Susan learned from Dutch, etc. Soon Dutch was ready to tell the gang. And then Arthur ran into the Pinkertons when he was fishing with Jack and it really was the right time to say it. They moved to the new spot near Rhodes at Dutch’s insistence, if it were up to Hosea they would have up and left for the ranch instead but there were still a few things to be finalized. Once they were safe once more, Dutch made a speech. Arthur had let everyone know that Mac was dead, but hadn’t ratted them out and that Micah was dead too and he had been a rat, not long after he found out. And then he nudged Dutch forward to tell everyone what their new life could be. 

Dutch told them the whole plan, told them that they would be safer and they would be happier, but they had to trust him. And if they couldn’t trust him, they could trust Hosea. The gang is loyal, many of them were saved by Dutch and even with their uncertainty, they chose to go with him to this new life. And so in the next 2 months or so, they had enough money to pay their bounties. The Pinkertons would have to leave them alone, provided they played by the law. So they all travelled to New Austin to live on a ranch, and become more of a family than a gang. Bill was there for a while, until one night he wasn’t. There was a note in his room claiming that they had all turned into a bunch of soft bellied do gooders and he was going to start his own gang. Nobody searched for him.

#arthur morgan #Dutch Van Der Lind #sean macguire #karen jones #hosea matthews #hosea mathews #the van der linde gang #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #Ranch au #rdr2 ranch au #rdr2 ranch #javier escuella #strauss #leopold struass #susan grimshaw #john marston #micah bell #The Pinkertons #Lenny summers #rdr2 jenny #rdr2 mac #rdr2 davey #tilly jackson #charles smith #mary beth gaskill #Bessie Matthews #Jack Marston #Abigail Marston #Pearson

[protectduffy]

Yandere Types (M)

warning!! this contains violence, controlling/manipulation, stalker themes, nsfw, etc. so don’t read if you’re not comfortable! this is the male edition of some yandere headcanons for the camp boahs

Arthur

- obsession type

- this is probably more intense than what both of you expected it to turn into

- it began with him accompanying you whenever you wanted to leave camp, but then he would get really antsy if he realises you’ve gone somewhere without him

- where did you go? Why didn’t you bring him? Who are you with?

- Arthur follows you, sometimes doing it very subtly and other times just falling into step behind you

- he asks a lot of questions

- high morality Arthur is sweeter, always being careful not to upset you with his questions

- takes pictures of you, though, and keeps them under his mattress

- casually breathes in your scent when you walk past

- more likely to stay out of sight when he’s following you

- if he’s low morality, Arthur is super obsessive, constantly walking with you with one hand on your body somewhere

- he snarls if another man so much as looks at you, antagonising them

- often gets into fights for your sake

- likes to pin your hands down or push you up against things

Dutch

- monopoly type

- the most obsessive

- he’s very manipulative, you’ve seen him at work before but never had you expected him to turn his act on you

- says things like, “I don’t like that boy, I want you to stop seeing him”, “Why are you going there when you can be here with me, darling?”, “Look at me when I’m talking, little girl/boy”

- even when you’re not aware of it, Dutch is there, always watching with that dark look in his eyes

- he slowly starts pushing any friends out of your life who aren’t approved by him, forcing you to depend on him

- he might even “dispose” of some of the people he views as competition, telling you they’ve left you and cradling you when you get upset

- if he absolutely cannot be with you, Dutch makes Micah watch you, but if Micah oversteps his boundaries, he has to brace himself for Pure Rage Dutch

- likes you to wear something of his so that other people know you’re claimed, including one of his rings, his hat, or his shirt

Hosea

- possessive-paranoid type

- the quickest to escalate

- similar to Arthur, Hosea is very much obsessed with you but on another level

- he has to have you all to himself

- unlike the other similar types, he is quite paranoid about losing you and it makes him more frantic

- he always has to have you close and scolds you if you try to leave

- won’t tolerate competition, he doesn’t even argue he just removes you from other people (be it by dragging you away or prompting you to leave, even feigning feeling sick so you’ll feel bad for him)

- is a bit insecure, but also a very god actor so he’s great at covering this up

- can switch his moods in an instant

- you aren’t allowed to go anywhere without him, and he always has to be touching you

Charles

- punishment-dominance type

- possibly the closest to John’s training type, but much more forceful and corrective

- Charles gives you firm reminders if you slip up, if you ignore him, and so on

- he always has to be in control of you, making sure he knows where you are and what you’re doing

- you have to make eye contact with him or he grasps your chin to make sure you look at him

- he isn’t satisfied with just touching you because he wants you to touch him, too, so he makes excuses as if he’s hurt or he’ll simply tell you what he wants

- if you disobey him, you’re in for a long night

- he isn’t above restraining you or spanking, and he won’t let you go until you apologise numerous times

- Charles is usually cool tempered, but the line is when another person touches you, at which point he’ll snap and attack to “defend” you

Javier

- worship type

- he’s so obsessed with you and any amount of attention you give him, even if brief

- worships you and will do anything you ask of him, no matter how ridiculous or dangerous the task is, sometimes without you even having to ask him

- least dangerous type, he wouldn’t hurt you even if it meant risking his progress

- instead, he focuses on luring you in with sweet words in his native tongue and purring compliments, reminding you how much he needs and loves you, what you do to him

- doesn’t really care if other people talk to you but if they don’t treat you with respect, Javier bristles and becomes aggressive to defend your honour

- would die for you in a hot second

- “I need you, don’t go, I love you!”

John

- training type

- it starts with gentle suggestions, trying to correct your behaviour to where he’s happier with how you feel about him

- sometimes snaps at you but then instantly softens, it’s like a switch is flicked between anger and gentleness

- John will always coo at you and embrace you after he’s snapped at you, gently stroking your hair and reassuring you he didn’t mean it

- he begins to get more forceful, prompting you to behave

- “Say you love me, y/n, come on, say it!”

- works on a reward basis, like training a dog

- “Good girl/boy! That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

- makes you think that it’s normal, the way he treats you, because he’s forcing you to adopt the loving behaviour towards him without you even realising his manipulation until it’s too late and you’re stuck in his web of deceit

- if someone else is viewed as competition in his eyes, John only threatens then when you’re not around so that he doesn’t ruin his progress with you

Sean

- restraints type

- he just wants to be with you! forever and ever and ever and ever

- can’t stand to be without you for just one second

- sometimes hides his fear of losing you behind humour and affection

- he grows in intensity very very quickly

- Sean will pick you up or drag you somewhere if you’re not obeying him, or if you try to leave him

- wants to be inseparable, why won’t you stay with him?

- he will tie your hands and/or feet so you can’t leave, or just so he can tease you and gaze upon you

- prefers to hold you down with his hands and body, but also enjoys a good length of rope

- also uses scarves for a bit of extra fun

Lenny

- dependence type

- knows how to get to your soft spot

- he insists he needs you and will beg if he has to so you won’t leave him

- enjoys faking being sick or getting himself scraped up so you will nurse him back to health

- he just bathes in your attention

- lots of pet names and sweet compliments, almost sickly sweet, and gets a bit whiny if you ignore him

- “I need you, can’t you see?! I can’t do this without you! It would ruin me!”

- tries to get sympathy from you or make you feel bad in any way so that you’ll consider staying

- if you do leave, he’ll go absolutely insane and probably go on a rampage just to get you back whatever the cost may be

Kieran

- wrong idea type

- Kieran is so into you from the moment he sets eyes upon you

- he’s smitten and convinced that you’re into him, unfortunately assuming that there’s something there where there actually isn’t

- watches you a lot

- if you smile at him, he gets all bashful and believes that you’re sending him signals

- if you touch him, oh, he loses his mind! 

- he has the bad habit of getting the wrong idea in the most innocent of acts

- drools if you wear anything that shows even a little bit of skin and will probably think that you’re wearing it just for him

- protective, too, he scowls and gets huffy if other men show you attention but he probably won’t act on it

- even if you flatly tell him you’re not interested, he thinks you’re playing a game or just lying for the sake of it

Eagle Flies

- deceptive type

- everything is behind the scenes with Eagle Flies, and he’s very good at what he does

- what he does, exactly, is manipulate and deceive you in subtle ways in order to gain your affections

- it starts off small, like loosing your horse so you’ll go on a walk alone with him to find it, and memorising your schedule for his benefit

- however, if you don’t respond soon enough for him, he becomes impatient

- you’re his to love, can’t you see that?

- he’ll definitely challenge anyone who he sees as a threat to his love for you

- he starts working harder to force you to care for him by making sure you can’t leave

- one afternoon when you were suggesting heading back to your home after a visit to Eagle Flies on his lands, he was quick to do anything he could to stop you

- he had one of his friends come crashing from the shrubbery claiming that there were dangerous soldiers nearby, which inevitably meant you had to stay with Eagle Flies to stay safe

- once, when you really insisted on having to get back, he disappeared into the forest and came back unbeknown to you with a fistful of yellow flowers

- mixed with water and offered as a drink to you, it doesn’t take long for the headache and weariness that washes over you

- feigning being surprised at your sudden “cold”, Eagle Flies makes sure to keep you on his bed of soft furs

- he’s so good at deceiving you that eventually you start to succumb to his caring nature and he relaxes, but he’s always just a little on edge, ready to find some new way to keep you all to himself

#yandere red dead redemption 2 #yandere headcanons #arthur morgan x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #hosea matthews x reader #john marston x reader #charles smith x reader #javier escuella x reader #sean macguire x reader #lenny summers x reader #kieran duffy x reader #reader insert #dark headcanons #eagle flies x reader #reader inserts

[lovebitesimagines]

Dangerous Love- Failure.

So...you guys are definitely gonna want to have some tissues at the ready when you read this!

Masterlist.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

Tag list: @happyhostforsymbiotes @namelesslosers @brianaisasongbird @crazymofos021 @lifetimeofadventue @itsmissdahliahayward @1opinionshared @unrulyhealy @frootloop311 @amywhatsherface @thinkingsofamadwoman @shadow-of-wonder @anytimebitches @crazyonesarethebest @christinawxxx @biba3434 @onlythechicagoway @zazasblogxx 

Wanna be on the tagged list? Just drop me a message x

Warnings: VERY. FUCKING. EMOTIONAL. OKAY.

A confession comes hand in hand with heartbreak.

  YOUR POV

Your eyes felt heavy, weighed down with slumber that seemed to avoid you whenever you got close. The small moments of sleep you had manage to snatch, had been plagued with nightmares. You would only blink, and suddenly you were faced with a man pointing a rifle right at you. You had no time to scream, given no opportunity to make a sound, before the trigger had been pulled. The memory of the bullet tearing through your skin, had brought you crashing back to Earth. Your screams would ring out through the room, as Alfie would wrap his arms around you, attempting to soothe your panic.            

 You were curled up on the armchair, placed within a darkened corner of the room. The shadows provided you with some form of solace, as your eyes wearily took in the goings on around you. Alfie sat at the dining table in front of you, the members of your family around him. Tommy had called a family meeting, and despite Alfie’s protests, you had insisted on being in the room when it took place. Although now, you had begun to regret it. Exhaustion had made your body feel more battered and bruised, than it already was.            

A hint of a smile played upon your lips, as you took note of how out of place Alfie looked surrounded by your family. His shoulders where hunched over slightly, his large frame placed in between John and Arthur. You had noticed how your brothers had seemed to warm towards him, in the past few days, and for that you were grateful. You knew it hadn’t been easy on Alfie, seeing you in such a state. Pol had told you that they couldn’t get him to leave your side, in the days that you had laid asleep, his eyes forever watching over you. Guilt had continuously bubbled away in your stomach, since you had found out how much the shooting had affected your family.           

 It had affected everybody but one.           

 Tommy.            

You knew that he hadn’t bothered to visit you after the shooting, instead opting to hide away in his office. It had hurt you, knowing that the brother you had thought so highly off, hadn’t made the effort to check that you were okay. He had changed, ever since the news of your relationship with Alfie had come to light. His moods where far darker, with even John and Arthur making every effort to avoid him. It was strange, the transformation in him that no one could help but notice.           

 A low hum of voices rang throughout the room, your ears catching a few words from the strangely polite conversations that were taking place. The variety of noises all mingled into one, caused your temples to dully throb, a lack of sleep catching up on you. You shifted slightly in your seat, wincing quietly as you felt the stitches stretch with your movements. You hugged your knees close to your chest, closing your eyes for a brief moment. Silence suddenly fell upon the room, causing your eyelids to flutter open in curiosity.            

 Tommy.Your brother had always held the power of commanding a frightened silence across the population of Small Heath. Strangers were often aware of his reputation, long before they had the chance to meet him. He demanded respect from everyone who crossed his path, the only exception to the rule being you and your family. The Shelbys’ had no issue with putting Tommy in his place, which was why the quiet that had cloaked the room upon his arrival, was unnerving.             

You glanced at your family, a concerned frown beginning to crease between your brows. The tension that had manifested in the room was unmistakable, the air quickly becoming heavy with a thick hostility. Pairs of eyes followed Tommy as he made his way to the front of the room, each holding a similar expression.             

Anger.

“S’pose you’re all wonderin’ why I called you here today” Tommy announced to the room, lowering himself onto his chair. His face held the same, cold arrogance that it always had, a feature that you had gotten used too. Yet there was something different in his eyes, his cold blue orbs possessing an uncharacteristic hint of worry.

“Just get it over with Tommy” Arthur grunted, his eyes focused upon the table in front of him.

“You may notice we have a new member here today” Tommy ignored Arthur, giving a curt nod in Alfies’ direction, placing a cigarette in between his lips to light. “Not that I had much choice in the matter”.           

 The frown upon your forehead deepened at Tommys’ words. His unjustifiable insolence was beginning to wear thin on you. You noticed Alfie shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the chair far too small for him to be placed upon. 

“Thank ya’ for the invite” Alfie mumbled.

“Enough of the pleasantries. What did you call us here for Tommy?” John snapped, impatience clear in his voice.

“Alfie? What is it you wanted to say?” Tommy smirked, raising an eyebrow as his eyes bore into your fiancé. Alfie coughed slightly, rummaging in his coat pocket for a few brief moments, before pulling out a few fragments of silver metal.

“The bullet, yeah, that fuckin’ went through (Y/N) …” Alfie swallowed hard, allowing your family to witness a rare show of nervousness, before he continued to talk. “Had my fuckin’ name on it”.            

Silence.            

The quiet chilled your exposed skin, as Alfies’ words settled and disappeared into the air. You knew what this had meant, the unspoken meaning deafeningly loud. Your family glanced around the room, their eyes anxiously refusing to meet your own. Their chairs creaked, as they nervously shifted in their seats, grasping their sweaty hands. This behaviour was unusual of a Shelby, who never let their façade of confidence slip. The only person who seemed unmoved at what Alfie had to say, was Tommy.           

 They knew something.

 “So, what you’re trying to say, is that our sister got shot…because of you?” Tommy jeered, his voice harshly shattering the silence.

 “No. Of course I fuckin’ ain’t. I was just tryin’ to say that- “Alfie began, furiously glaring at Tommy. 

“You were just trying to that you’re a fucking dangerous man, and our sister is not safe around you!” Tommy snapped, stubbing the cigarette out upon the table.            

 Angry voices began to rise, heated words thrown carelessly between the two men. Each word was intended to hurt the other, filled with poison and undeniable hate. They didn’t argue with their fists or weapons, but each word packed a powerful punch, bruising the other.             

Fists slammed down upon the table, violently bringing the confrontation to a sudden end. Your head spun to the source of the sound. Finn stood there, red faced and breathless, his chair fallen to the floor behind him.

“I heard what you told Aunt Pol” he spat, his fists beginning to tremble as he turned to glare at Tommy.

 “I know it was you that sent that bullet”.

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

ALFIES POV            

Alfie was never one to get his hopes up, never was one to look forward to anything. Yet when he found you, you had changed all of that. Suddenly he had a reason to live, something to get excited about. You had made him want to be somebody different, to better himself. You had made him realise that there was a life outside of the harsh London streets, that there was something else other than violence and crime.          

  Life always had a cruel way of reminding Alfie who he was, solidifying his fear that he just didn’t deserve you. The bullet fragments had weighed down heavy in his pocket, constantly taunting him of his failure. He had been unsuccessful in protecting you, when truthfully, he should have been there. He should never have let you walk out of that front door alone, then perhaps the bullet would have hit him instead.          

  The intended target.            

Alfie had thought that revealing his findings to your family, stressing his concern about needing to protect you more, would have lifted a weight of your shoulders. He had assumed that this would have magically made everything okay. He couldn’t have been more wrong.            

 Alfie should never have underestimated Tommy Shelby, and that was the second mistake he had made. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had known that it was your brother who had sent the bullet. He had repressed the idea, refusing to allow himself to believe it. Your irresistible desire to see the best in everyone, had somewhat influenced him.          

   Tommys’ confession had changed everything. After Finn had outed him, the room had erupted into chaos. Alfie had watched as you stood up too quickly, tearing your stitches in the process. His heart had broken as he witnessed the tears spill down your cheeks, your skin paling you struggled to hide the agonising pain that you felt. He had stood back, as Polly led you out of the room.        

    He was a coward.          

  Alfie sat on the edge of your bed, his fingers playing with the edge of your blanket, the strands of material frayed around the border. The breeze coming from the open window, caused goose bumps to rise upon his exposed arms. His mind was a tornado of anxious plans, each one making less sense than the last. In the midst of it all, he knew what he had to do.            

He looked up at the sound of the door opening, a soft smile playing upon his lips as he watched you enter the room. You looked beautiful, hell you always had done. He would never understand how you could have possibly fallen for somebody like him. Tendrils of wet hair snaked down your shoulders, as you turned your back to him to open your closet.            

Alfies heart sank, as he watched you search for a dress to wear. He knew what your intentions where- to hide the scar that had formed upon your skin, shouting loudly to the world of your brother’s betrayal. He stood up slowly, watching you pull out a light blue dress, one that you had worn a few times already that week. He couldn’t help but notice the way your shoulders drooped, as your fingers caressed the material of the other dresses in your closet. He knew you longed to wear them again, to feel like a woman again.

“Ya’ know, I think ya’ look fuckin’ beautiful in whatever you wear” Alfie whispered, desperate to make you feel better. You turned to face him, suppressing the hint of a smile that began to twitch upon your lips, as you slid into the dress.             

Silence had been a common feature between you both, neither of you knowing what to say to the other. It fractured Alfies’ heart, each quiet second that dragged by, sending another sharp puncture through him. The air around you both was heavy with the words he wished he could say to you, anything to make this better. But he couldn’t.            

He had failed you.           

 You sighed softly, moving back towards the bedroom door. 

“Wait” Alfie mumbled, reaching out to gently grasp at your arm. “We need…we need to talk”.            

Alfie was aware that you knew what those four words meant, watching you slowly turn back around to face him. Your eyes gave everything away. That was something he loved about you, how you always openly expressed your feelings. Now the feature he adored, was slowly breaking his heart. Pools of tears begin to form in your (Y/C/E) eyes, droplets slowly spilling out onto your cheeks. Alfie longed to brush them away, to take back the words he was about to say, but he knew. He knew that he needed to do this, to protect you.

“I can’t do this anymore. Knowin’ that your family will forever fuckin’ hate me. Knowin’ that you fuckin’ got shot…because of me” the words spilled out of Alfies’ mouth, a torrent of excuses that he knew you would fight against.            

Your mouth opened slightly as you began to talk. Alfie shook his head softly, placing a finger upon your lips. He knew this would be the last time, that he was lucky enough to touch your soft skin. His mind frantically tried to come up with something, anything to make you let him leave. 

“I don’t love ya’” Alfie stated, trying his best to hide the truth from you. He watched as you stepped back, your face falling at the words he said. If he could take it all back, he would have done, but it was too late.            

He was doing this to protect you.            

Alfie made his way towards the door, pausing briefly as he placed his hand upon the door handle.

“(Y/N) …” he whispered, beginning to turn to face you.“

Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare” you murmured. 

Alfie pulled down upon the door handle, beginning to make his way out of the room, when he felt something sharp hit his back, clattering ominously against the floor. The fallen diamond ring glinted in the corner of his eye, symbolic of everything he had just let slip away. He swallowed hard, attempting to ignore the heartbroken sobs that began to tear through your body. He closed the door behind him, leaving the ring to lay sadly upon the wooden floorboards.

As Alfie made his way out of the house, the realisation of what he had just done began to sink in. He had left somebody, who had loved him endlessly, despite the countless amounts of flaws that he possessed. He had never expected to fall for you, yet he had found himself falling hard. He had left you out of fear, a cowardly action that he believed would protect you.

If Alfie had noticed the eyes that where watching him in the shadows, he would realise just how wrong he was.

#alfie solomons imagine #Alfie Solomons #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #Alfie Solomons x shelby sister #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby imagines #John Shelby #finn shelby #Arthur Shelby #shelby sibling #Shelby sister #Peaky Blinders #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #by order of the peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #better #have #tissues #heartbreak #be #prepared

[darkacademicx]

A List of Show Recs, While You’re Stuck at Home

This is a huge and continuously updating list.  The first 2 categories are ‘definitely DA’ and ‘Probably DA’, but beyond that all of the shows are sorted by category.  Enjoy!

Definitely DA:

The Living and the Dead - The plot revolves around Nathan Appleby and his wife, Charlotte Appleby whose farm is believed to be at the centre of numerous supernatural occurrences. Set in Victorian times and has ghosts and an excellent aesthetic.  Available on Amazon Prime. 5/5

A Series of Unfortunate Events - This series follows the tragic tale of three orphans -- Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire -- who are investigating their parents' mysterious death. The siblings are saddled with an evil guardian named Count Olaf , who will do whatever it takes to get his hands on the Baudelaires' inheritance. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny must outsmart Olaf at every turn, foiling devious plans and disguises. The series is based on the series of books by Lemony Snicket.  Available on Netflix. 

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina - A dark coming-of-age story that traffics in horror and the occult. In the reimagined origin story, Sabrina Spellman wrestles to reconcile her dual nature -- half-witch, half-mortal -- while standing against the evil forces that threaten her, her family -- including aunts Hilda and Zelda -- and the daylight world humans inhabit.  Available on Netflix. 5/5

Downton Abbey - This historical drama follows the lives of the Crawley family and their servants in the family's Edwardian country house. The programme begins with the 1912 sinking of the Titanic, which leaves Downton Abbey's future in jeopardy, as Lord Grantham's presumptive heir -- his cousin James -- and his son, Patrick, die aboard the ship, leaving him without a male offspring to take over the throne upon his death. As a result, Lord Grantham must search for a new heir. As the programme progresses through the decade, other historical events happen leading up to Lord Grantham declaring in 1914 that Britain is at war with Germany, marking the beginning of World War I, which becomes a major plot on the programme.  Available on Amazon Prime.

Gran Hotel - Set in Spain in the early 20th century, Julio arrives at a luxury hotel to meet his sister, head chambermaid Cristina only to discover she has disappeared. Julio makes it his mission to find her and infiltrates the hotel under the guise of a footman.  This show is in Spanish but available with English Subtitles. 5/5

Penny Dreadful - An exploration of the origin stories of classical literature characters in this psychological thriller that takes place in the dark corners of Victorian London. Sir Malcolm is an explorer who has lost his daughter to the city's creatures, and he will do whatever is needed to get her back and to right past wrongs. His accomplice, seductive clairvoyant Vanessa Ives, recruits charming American Ethan Chandler to help locate Sir Malcolm's daughter and slay some monsters. Available on Netflix and Hulu. 

The Umbrella Academy - On one day in 1989, 43 infants are inexplicably born to random, unconnected women who showed no signs of pregnancy the day before. Seven are adopted by billionaire industrialist Sir Reginald Hargreeves, who creates the Umbrella Academy and prepares his "children" to save the world. In their teenage years, though, the family fractures and the team disbands. Fast forward to the present time, when the six surviving members of the clan reunite upon the news of Hargreeves' passing. They work together to solve a mystery surrounding their father's death, but divergent personalities and abilities again pull the estranged family apart, and a global apocalypse is another imminent threat. 

Sherlock - Dr. John Watson is a war vet just home from Afghanistan. He meets the brilliant but eccentric Holmes when the latter, who serves as a consultant to Scotland Yard, advertises for a flatmate. Almost as soon as Watson moves into the Baker Street flat, they are embroiled in mysteries, and Sherlock's nemesis, Moriarty, appears to have a hand in the crimes.  Available on Netflix. 5/5

Stranger Things - In 1980s Indiana, a group of young friends witness supernatural forces and secret government exploits. As they search for answers, the children unravel a series of extraordinary mysteries. Available on Netflix. 5/5

Twilight Zone - It's a strange mix of horror, science-fiction, drama, comedy and superstition. Serling introduced each episode, and many of the black and white episodes concluded with a surprise ending. Available on Netflix and Hulu. 5/5.

Outlander - After serving as a British Army nurse in World War II, Claire Randall is enjoying a second honeymoon in Scotland with husband Frank, an MI6 officer looking forward to a new career as an Oxford historian. Suddenly, Claire is transported to 1743 and into a mysterious world where her freedom and life are threatened. To survive, she marries Jamie Fraser, a strapping Scots warrior with a complicated past and a disarming sense of humour. A passionate relationship ensues, and Claire is caught between two vastly different men in two inharmonious lives. Available on Netflix and Hulu.

Probably DA:

The Magicians - Quentin Coldwater, a grad student at Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy, has been fascinated by the magical fantasy world since he was young. But as he has gotten older, Quentin and his 20-something friends have discovered that the magical world they read about as children is not only real, but it poses dangers to humanity. While studying at the secret upstate New York school, the friends struggle to cope with the aftermath of a catastrophe that befalls the institution. Available on Netflix, Hulu, and the Syfy website. 5/5

Merlin - This action-packed fantasy-drama revisits the saga of King Arthur and his wizard, Merlin, by focusing on the two characters when they were ambitious young men struggling to understand their destinies. In this telling, Prince Arthur is known to be the heir to the throne (no sword from the stone here). And he is acquainted with all those who will one day form the legend of Camelot, including Lancelot, Guinevere, and Morgana. Merlin is also forced to deal with King Uther's Great Purge, which bans all use of magic. Available on Netflix. 5/5

The Order - When Belgrave University student Jack Morton joins a fabled secret society, the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose, he is thrust into a world of magic, monsters and intrigue. Out to avenge his mother's death, he uncovers dark family secrets and lands in an underground battle being waged between werewolves and practitioners of dark magic. Assisting Jack in the fight is Alyssa, a tour guide at Belgrave and fellow member of the Order, which is led by Jack's estranged father.  Available on Netflix. 4/5.

Legion - David Haller is a troubled young man who was diagnosed with schizophrenia as a child. Shuffled from one psychiatric institution to the next, in his early 30s, David met and fell in love with a beautiful and troubled fellow patient named Syd. After a startling encounter with her, he was forced to confront the shocking possibility that the voices he hears and the visions he sees may actually be real. Syd led David to Melanie Bird, a demanding but nurturing therapist who heads a team of specialists -- Ptonomy, Kerry, and Cary -- each of whom possesses a unique and extraordinary gift. Together, they helped David to recognize and harness his hidden abilities and unlock a deeply suppressed truth -- he had been haunted his entire life by a malicious parasite of unimaginable power.  Available on Hulu. 4/5.

Comedy:

Derry Girls - Following Erin and her friends as they grow up in a world of armed police in armoured Land Rovers and British Army check points in 1990s Northern Ireland and attempt to navigate the highs and lows of being teenagers. Available on Netflix. 5/5

Detective/military:

Broadchurch - When the corpse of an 11-year-old British boy, Danny Latimer, is found bloodied and dirty on an idyllic beach, a small Dorset community becomes the focus of a police investigation and media madness. Out-of-town Detective Inspector Alec Hardy gets the point position over Detective Sgt. Ellie Miller -- who feels the job should have been hers. Slowly, more members of the community of Broadchurch are drawn into the investigation. While dealing with so much unwelcome attention, Danny's family tries to cope with its grief. When a suspect is named and charged, the ensuing trial sees the defendant promising to expose more of the townspeople's secrets.  Available on Netflix. 5/5.

Haven - FBI Agent Audrey Parker arrives in Haven, Maine, on what she believes is a routine assignment. But the longer she stays, the more curious she becomes -- about the townspeople, who seem to be beset by a range of supernatural afflictions; about the town itself, which contains many secrets; and about her own surprising connection to this strange place.  Available on Netflix and Tubi.  4/5.

A Very Secret Service - At the height of the Cold War in 1960, André Merlaux joins the French Secret Service and contends with enemies both foreign and bureaucratic.  In French with English Subtitles.  Available on Netflix. 5/5.

Criminal Minds - An elite squad of FBI profilers analyzes the country's most-twisted criminal minds, anticipating the perpetrators' next moves before they can strike again. Each member of the "mind hunter" team brings his or her expertise to pinpoint predators' motivations and identify emotional triggers to stop them. The core group includes an official profiler who is highly skilled at getting into the minds of criminals, a quirky genius, the former media liaison who manages to adeptly balance family life and the job, and a computer wizard.  Available on Netflix and CBS.  5/5

Eureka - In the years since World War II, the U.S. government has been relocating the world's geniuses (and their families) to the Pacific Northwest town of Eureka. Daily life there shifts between amazing innovation and total chaos. U.S. Marshal Jack Carter learns this first-hand when his car breaks down in Eureka, stranding him among the town's eccentric citizens. When they unleash a scientific creation still unknown to the outside world, it's up to Carter to restore order. Subsequently, he's let in on one of America's best-kept secrets.  Available on Amazon Prime.  5/5.

Our Girl - Taking destiny into their own hands, British Army female medics of 2 Sections are dispatched on different missions, where they encounter the heartbreak and realities of life on the battlefield.  5/5.

Political:

The Crown - This lavish, Netflix-original drama chronicles the life of Queen Elizabeth II from the 1940s to modern times. The series begins with an inside look at the early reign of the queen, who ascended the throne at age 25 after the death of her father, King George VI. As the decades pass, personal intrigues, romances, and political rivalries are revealed that played a big role in events that shaped the later years of the 20th century.  Available on Netflix. 4/5.

Victoria - The monarch's life is chronicled as the story begins with the death of King William IV in 1837, her accession to the throne at the tender age of 18 and her relationships with the influential forces around her. With the advice of the prime minister Lord Melbourne and the support of her husband Prince Albert the young queen flourishes and establishes herself in her newfound role. Available on Amazon Prime. 4/5.

#recs #tv show #tv recommendations #tv reccommendation #covid2019 #covid19 #coronavirus

[outlaw-unicorn]

The dragon!Arthur AU you didn’t know you needed

(and maybe didn’t want either but @eaglepatronus and I had too much fun with this :D)

here be dragons (and charthur)

AcademySenseiIruka

Now I can't stop thinking about a dragon Arthur AU where Charles is the knight sent to slay the dragon. As he searches for the mighty beast, Charles meets and falls in love with a cowboy (Arthur) who it turns out, is the dragon he's hunting. XD

Charles: Is that a tail? Arthur: No. Charles: Sure looks like one. Arthur: No, It's a trick of the light. Charles: ... Arthur: (knocks over a table with his wagging tail) :)

[...]

AcademySenseiIruka 

Ohhhhhh, hers my version.

Arthur's mom was a dragon who tried to live life as a normal human. See, all the dragons in Brittian were hunted to near extinction and she fled to America in search of safety. Eventually she had Arthur, and when Arthur was young an irate drunk tried to kill him and, sensing her child was in danger, she took her true form to defend him. Later, when she was human again, she tried to explain things to her husband. To tell him she really loved him but he wouldn't have it. He shot and killed her.

Arthur then spent years chained to a wall in a deep cellar. That is until two outlaws, Hosea and Dutch found him. They raised him as their own but Arthur was always careful to keep his mothers secret. But one day, when the law was coming down on them, Arthur had no choice but to turn into a dragon and escape. When he landed, Arthur expected to be yelled at. To be disowned or attacked... and though Hosea was frightened, Dutch was excited. He praised Arthur for his abilities and began coming up with ways to use Arthur to rob banks. Eventually the Van Der Linde gang became known for picking up monsters as John Marston, a young Werewolf joined them as well as others cursed with magic.

After years of traveling and robbing banks, Arthur had amassed quite a bounty. And though no one outside the gang knew Arthur's true identity, Dutch had begun to treat Arthur more and more like an animal. Eventually new members of the gang were allowed to use Arthur the same way Dutch had. One day Micah ordered Arthur to attack Strawberry and in the attack Arthur felt something break inside him. He really was a monster. Some bloodthirsty beast that deserved to be hunted and killed. Arthur despised everything about himself... But Charles, a new member of the gang was a psychic. He could hear Arthur's fears and hate and self-loathing. Charles could feel Arthur's heart breaking, his grief for a life of peace he had never known.

Charles then sets out to prove Arthur is wrong about himself. To teach the dragon just how precious and kind he really is. Charles brings to Arthur's attention every good thought he thinks, every kind act he performs. But also he swiftly warns him away of the untrue dark self-deprecating thoughts.

In the process of saving Arthur from himself, Charles begins to fall head over heels for him. It doesn't take long for Charles to discover a steady growing feeling of love, growing in Arthur, is directed towards him.

But as the two fall more and more in love, Dutch and Micah have set their sights on attacking a heavily guarded bank. If they pull it off, they could be set for life, but if they fail, Arthur would be captured... Now it's up to Charles to convince Arthur he is worth more than what Dutch has convinced him he is. That he isn't some monster to be summoned and used, that he is precious and worthy of being protected.

rivendellelve 

Really loving Psychic Charles ♥ :D does that mean, in that universe Trelawny is an actual magician? :D

AcademySenseiIruka 

Gosh, didn't think of that but yes. lol

And Micah is probably able to manipulate thoughts... So in the end, it's down to a battle between Charles and Micah. Micah trying to controle thoughts and Charles being able to break others free because he can feel the true thoughts of a person.

rivendellelve 

Dang, now I'm imagining the big showdown between Charles and Micah.

Maybe Micah has taken over Arthur's mind bc he wants to use him for his plans (and swooping in an a dragon definitely fits his ego) and Charles has to rescue Arthur and then he and Micah are fighting for control :D that would be epic :D

AcademySenseiIruka 

YEAH!!! Charles hasn't noticed Micah even has that abuilitiy untill he tried to sway Arthur into doing the plan by making him bloodthirsty. Arthur can't tell what are his thoughts and what are Micah's but Charles can and tries to stop Micah. During the mental battle, Micah tells Arthur he has taken over Dutch. It enrages Arthur (just as Micah wanted) enough to transform. With Arthur angry, Micah is able to take control but Charles is able to get through to Arthur by reminding him he is kind. that he isn't a monster and that he is loved. Eventually, it breaks Arthur from Micah's intrusive thoughts and Charles is able to protect him.

Together they Kill Micah and when he dies, Dutch is able to break free of Micah's hold as well. Apparently, Dutch been trapped in his own head but still aware of what's going on. Just not able to stop Micah. He apologizes to Arthur for how he has treated him and Arthur forgives him, knowing it wasn't really Dutch all along. The camp goes back to the way it was and they all live happily ever after. It ends with Arthur and Charles cuddling together, both blissfully content... And Arthur realizes he is finally at peace.

(hope it's not too heavy-handed but I think it's a satisfying conclusion)

rivendellelve 

This is the best thing ever! !! Like, I can totally see Micah taunting Arthur and Arthur falling for it even though he knows better and oh the drama Charles desperately trying to get through to Arthur while he's huge (and incredibly dangerous ) dragon ❤❤❤

And the idea that Dutch is conscious but unable to break free! ! (Have been playing around with a demonic possession story in my head for a bit that was kinda like that bit your Micah-version is way better ) Probably really gets him thinking about how he acted before that people didn't notice he was being controlled He probably changes for better after that

Now I imagine the gang actually settling down somewhere peaceful Like everyone gets on Arthurs back and they fly somewhere far away from Pinkertons in the dead of night Maybe they start a farm. Mangoes may or may not be involved 😁

AcademySenseiIruka

GASP... MICAH IS A DEMON!!! It would explain is mind manipulation and also give him other abilities, so no one would suspect him with controlling people. Maybe Micah is pretending to be a warlock or something? Like he can make things explode. But he hides his mind manipulation abilities because the more unaware you are the more effective it is.

Also, Flying off on "taxi" Arthur is the new best ending. They fly off to Tahiti and that's is where Arthur and Charles cuddle etc. If you want to write this it's all yours. I would love to see this as a full story but can't... plus you are the better writer. But no pressure. It's just fun to brainstorm.

rivendellelve

Oh boy, I would love to write it (even more so I really want to read it) but there is no way I have the time and energy for such a long story 😅 But sharing ideas is so much fun

Speaking of not-so-Warlock Micah, I'm thinking one of the other gangmembers is an actual warlock (maybe one of the girls) and they're something's off about Micah but mindcontrolled Dutch is like noooo, the poor man has just been through a lot

Also I remember reading something about a dragon whose treasure are his friends instead of gold and I can't stop thinking bout how the gang means everything to Arthur So when people go on a trip he's always lowkey clingy Like you'll be back soon, right? And lots of stay safe's

When Dutch and Hosea found out he was a dragon they got him some gold and were very confused when he more or less ignored it

Hosea got a bit teary eyed once he realized what was going on

AcademySenseiIruka

Awwww, I love that! Arthur is so precious as a person hoarder! And he probably doesn't even realize it and Hosea never brings it up to him cause he doesn't want Arthur to be embarrassed. (cause at this point its instinct and he can't really stop it)

Gasp, it would also explain why Arthur is sooooo angry with John when he leaves! It's not just that john left the gang it's that one of his treasures left. lol

Hosea would have the ability to see the future but because of Micah, his visions have been confusing lately. He keeps seeing Micah as a murderous dragon but Hosea says nothing cause he doesn't want Arthur to think he thinks Arthur is a monster. (also in the game Hosea says a lot of prophetic stuff, so it would fit)

Grimshaw would straight up be a witch. lol

(also, cause I didn't mention it before, Micah controls Arthur during the Strawberry attack. Arthur just doesn't figure it out until the battle with Micah at the end. Its why he got all bloodthirsty and why he enjoyed killing. Micah's influence taking over is why he felt broken.)

rivendellelve

yes to all of this!! i love Hosea being clairvoyant1! It fits sooooo well with canon. and just imagine - Dutch usually would accept Hosea's advice without question but suddenly Hosea's abilities don't work properly anymore and he can't fulfil his role as an adisor the same way as before. So Hosea thinks that's why Dutch isn't listening to him anymore

and he has no idea Micah is responsible for both.

and of course Micah controlled Arthur during the attack. Micah probably figured a high-stress situation such as this would be a perfect opportunity to test how far he could push Arthur with the level of control he already had over him

Grimshaw being a witch is awesome :D I'm pretty sure whenever someone was getting sick, she'd send Arthur to gather some herbs that she sneakily added to Pearson's stew. and what would've been a fulllblown pneumonia just ended up being a minor cold :)

also, can Uncle be a a satyr / pan? that way he could claim lumbago and goatlegs as reasons why he can't work :D

AcademySenseiIruka

Yes to everything! OMG, It's amazing how well this AU is fitting the canon. lol

I think Marry should be half muse. But she doesn't want to be someone's inspiration, she wants to be an author.

Molly should be some high elf princess runaway. Cuse it fits her personality.

Going back to what you said about one of the girls being a warlock... well I read a story a long time ago about this warlock who's magic was stronger the drunker he got. So Karen? Like usually she's just a normal human but when she gets drunk things start to levitate.

I keep wondering what Dutch would be. He needs to be something impressive because his overconfidence would be why he never suspected Micah when he should have. But nothing is really coming to mind.

Can Duffy be a Centar? lol

Maybe Sean would be a tall leprechaun? or is that too much? lol Nymph maybe?

rivendellelve

:D :D :D drunk Karen OMG I can totally imagine her being completely hammered and the most random things start happening. (and actually she's even more powerful sober but trauma and lack of confidence has her convinced she needs to be drunk to be able to use her powers)

and I love Mary-Beth deciding to be her own muse and not somebody elses :D

I think Sean tells everyone he's a leprechaun bc that's what people assume and what random a-holes on the street yell after him. but actually he's a Selkie :D

and Kieran is definitely a centaur. that's why he's so good with horses :D

Maybe Abigail is a Medium? and can talk to spirits? she's been making a living like that but bc there are so many fakes she has to resort to cheap tricks like levitating candles to make people believe her. (she tried a show with Karen once and it worked like a charm. Until drunk Karen started to sing ring dang doo :D)

but Dutch is difficult indeed. I am almost tempted to give him either no abilities - fitting the theme of him raging against society even though being born upperclass / upper middleclass. only this time he's like society'll never accept us "monsters" even though he's the only one that isn't

or make him a vampire. bc his ego would definitely fit - vampires being quite canny in the art of mindmanipulation themselves. He'd be so sure no one could ever control him that he only realizes once it's too late. he probably has Pearson or maybe Strauss make him some special ointment so he can stay out in the sun

AcademySenseiIruka 

I love both your ideas for Dutch for different reasons. Love him being a normal human (or norm) I don't know why. I think it's cause it somehow fits his personality to be some average person but how he carries himself is what gives him power and authority. It also makes him being in charge more of an illusion. That said, I also love the Vampire idea. Perhaps one that feeds on animals, not people? I just think high honor Dutch wouldn't feed like that. But once Micah gets involved maybe he would. That could be one of the warning signs for Arthur and Hosea.

I think Lenny should be an apprentice of some kind. Cause he's young he doesn't know quite what he want's to be yet so he's kinda a jack of all trades.

Speaking of Jack, with his dad being a werewolf and mom being a medium, would Jack be both or would he have the abuility to talk with animals? Like comunicate with animal spirits etc?

rivendellelve

OOOOh Micah is the one who starts convincing Dutch to feed on O'Driscolls and Skinners and Lemoyne raiders bc they're "basically doing the world a favor" and it goes downhill from there

maybe Lenny was training to become a magician when his dad was killed and he never completed his training but Trelawney decides to teach him a thing or two

and Jack can definitely talk to animals :D it might not be clear enough for real sentences but he gets pretty good impressions and can like, ask a bunny for the nearest clover field and he'll know the direction and have a pretty good idea of how far away it'll be :D

AcademySenseiIruka

XD Yes, Jack would be their best scout. lol Also, Dutch would just have him talk to bunnies and deer to find the safest places to camp.

So this got out of hand :D but it was too much fun not to share. Maybe definitely we’re hoping someone goes and writes dragon!Arthur fic :D

(and if you do it would be awesome if you dropped the AO3 link or tagged us)

link to complete thread https://archiveofourown.org/comments/277788937

#RDR2 #RDR #charthur #dragon!Arthur AU #ff #I need a fantasy to fanfic machine asap #bc I really wanna read this #also filed under: #why you shouldn't be afraid to talk to authors in the comment section #Arthur Morgan #Charles Smith #Dutch Van der Linde #Hosea Matthews #John Marston

[thejamesoldier]

A Single Frayed Rope

AO3 Link :)

Prologue | Chapter 1

A/N: I've taken some artistic license with this. Sometimes I will stray from canon and some of the dialogue will not be the game script verbatim. I'm not changing core aspects of the plot/characters we know and love, I just wanted to enhance or elaborate on certain aspects of the story so its told the way I would like and not just a copy of the original. I really wanted to make you feel like you are part of the story, woven in as an integral piece of the world instead of just dropped on the surface. If that makes any sense lol. Anyway enjoy !!

Chapter 2 ~ Colter II

"Sorry!" You say on a choked inhale, air struggling to get past your heart that's lodged itself up into the back of your throat.

The apology was reflex if you are being honest, along with the harsh startle your body gave when you whipped around towards the voice.  

"What are you doin' there miss?" A man smeared in shadow asks in a dangerously neutral tone, taking a few ominous steps forward as he does so.

While you can't make out much of him, just a black silhouette against the slightly lighter black canvas of the night, your heart stutters over a beat or two as you recognize his voice. This is Arthur. This realization brings you absolutely no comfort. He justifies this feeling as he crosses his arms tight against his broad chest when you hesitate to answer right away. Your spine locks against your shivering, pulling your insides in opposite directions and straining the muscles in your neck.  

"I'm --," You grit your teeth at the pain in your head and the scratch in your throat and decide that you don't have the capability to lie (well) right now, "I was trying to steal from these saddlebags." You surrender with a hitch in your voice.

"I see," He indulges in a slow drawl, then after a long punishing beat of silence, "And how's that workin' out for ya?"

"Not well." You reply as you hug your arms around yourself, not being able to stand the cold and the fear at the same time.

"Yeah, Sabine here," You just make out Arthur sending a stiff nod in the aggravated horse's direction, "Tends to get possessive of her personal space."

"I noticed." You say.

"Well," He huffs, a strange curl to his tone making something in the back of your head stomp its foot, "How do you reckon we go from here?"

"Please don't kill me." You immediately rush, not above begging for your life. He just caught you trying to steal and he had already been talking about torturing you earlier so yeah, definitely not above begging.

Arthur seems to falter as he hears the genuine fear wobbling in your voice. You're not sure how you sense such a subtle shift in his approach to the conversation but you do as he uncrosses his arms and clasps his hands together in front of his hips, the movement loud in the twilight, before clearing his throat,

"Won't be doin' that just yet miss."

"Yet?" Your chest constricts and stars fall from the sky, swirling in your vision and making your head feel like air. That venison jerky you ate whole earlier tumbles like a brick in your stomach, and you regret eating anything at all as bile fills your mouth.

"Yes, it would be a waste of my effort to kill you so soon after savin' you."

"You were the one that saved me?" You whisper on empty lungs as the stars begin to collect around his outline.

A streak of bold moonlight cuts through the thick overcast and slants across his figure, highlighting small silver slivers of him -- the rim of his hat, the swell of a cheekbone, the rounding of a muscled shoulder; a mystery amidst his own galaxy.

"Miss?"

You feel yourself falling as the stars around him start to spin.

I'm getting really sick of fainting, you think before the black swallows you whole.

--

"Goddamn it!" Arthur curses as he lurches forward and catches her just before she crumples completely into the snow.

Once he's adjusted her in his arms, he finds himself frozen and unable to move. Holding her close in an ironically graceful dip, the light of the moon whispers across her face. It tangles in her lashes and kisses her brow, runs down her nose and lounges on the soft curve of her upper lip. Arthur is struck by her, again, and stunned in the silent night. The beauty of her, obscure and poignant and unnameable like all things in nature are, seizes Arthur and he --

He hates her because of it. Hates the softness it encourages in him.  

The anger that protects him from all his vulnerabilities gathers up around him like wildfire, burning that softness in him to ash and charring him into a familiar numbness. A numbness he feels when he beats a starving man for debt money, or shoots a noncomplying witness who was going to send the law on the gang, or sees helplessness eat up the good in John's eyes, or watches Jack collect stray wildflowers for his mother, or the gentle pinch around the skin of Hosea's eyes whenever he smiles at Arthur --

Arthur grits his teeth against the hollowing in his chest and hoists the woman fully up into his arms. He walks carefully but quickly back to the Marston cabin, trying not to jostle her too much as he would hate to have her wake. Why is it that this woman always ends up unconscious in his arms? Arthur's not even carried Mary this many times. His brain short circuits at the thought of Mary -- oil pouring over open flame -- and nearly grunts out loud with the effort he puts into shoving all things Mary related back down the dark hole it slithered up from.

The woman's body burns like a live wire against him through the layers of his clothing, the memory of her naked skin pressed to his making his blood boil. He shoulders open the door and lays the lady down in her place by the weak fire. Arthur snatches his arms out from under her when she's fully transferred to the floor, slowly backing away like she could wake any second and attack him.

"Hi Uncle Arthur,"

Arthur jumps slightly at Jack's small voice whispering at him from a couple paces away. The boy is kneeling at the head of John's cot, both John and Abigail are asleep.

"Go back to bed Jack, we'll be traveling tomorrow and you don't want to be tired." Arthur chastises through a tight throat, wanting to exit the room and put space between him and the feeling tearing up his insides as soon as possible. Because absurdly, he feels...he feels fragile right now. Hot and shaky and exhausted and fragile. He hates it, hates her for kicking him into this familiar spiral. Hates that nowadays he can be so easily sucked into it in the first place.

"Okay," Jack answers as Arthur quietly leaves the cabin.

Arthur doesn't know why he doesn't immediately return to his post once he steps out into the snow, doesn't know why he sneaks a glance back inside through the frost fogged window. But what he sees sends deep cracks through the fist of stone that lives in the bone cage of his chest instead of a heart. Jack remains kneeling by his father's side and slowly begins reaching one tiny hand towards John's head. The moment crystallizes and Arthur can't move, can't breathe. The boy shakes as the tips of two of his small fingers graze the bruised skin of John's face, the side without the bandages. Jack's fingers hover after the first pet, and when John doesn't stir Jack bites his lip with child-like concentration and lowers his whole hand with earth-shattering tenderness to press against John's cheek.

Time unpauses and Arthur wrenches himself away from the window, gasping around the devastation in his chest as he drags himself back to his post by the horses. The cold night cloaks him, trying to put out the flames as Arthur stands there unable to escape the riot of emotion wrecking havoc on what's left of his soul. The stars whisper to each other above the clouds about humans and their talent for self-destruction while the moon looks on, ruler of the lonely, and is only sad.  

--

You awake with a startle and a gasp, sitting bolt upright from your place on the floor.

A sharp twang sings through your body and you try to bite off your shout of pain. It takes a moment for the hurt to finish rolling through you, and your body to settle enough so you could try and focus. Once you do get a grip you see that you're back in the cabin, and it still seems to be night time. You don't know how long ago your unfortunate encounter with that man Arthur was, but you thank any and all deities that may be listening that you're not dead.

You figure there's not much you can do right now to immediately aid yourself, but that doesn't stop you from planning. You need to be smarter and being smarter starts with gathering your wits and getting your shit together. No more fainting (if you could help it), no more escaping on a whim, no more naive honesty. You need to adapt and you needed to do it now. Tomorrow would most likely determine your fate and you refused to give fate the chance to fuck you over even more than it already has. Falling asleep is out of the question as every worry and fret piles higher and higher only to bury you deeper and deeper. You give a small start when a tiny voice clears its throat.

"You know," The young boy murmurs to you from across the room, "When I have trouble sleeping I count my Mama's breaths."  His mother (Abigail, was it?) is curled around him tight, sitting with her back against the wall, her cheek squished against the ledge of the man's -- John, you remember -- cot, and her arms wrapped securely around the boy. "If...if you want, you can count her breaths too."

You recognize that he is offering you something precious, a tiny jewel sparkling in the dark room, and it lightens the horror of the past however many days you've been here.

"Thank you, um," You blank on his name.

"Jack." He provides quietly.

"Jack, thank you Jack. I just might."

Jack gives you a cautious half-smile before closing his eyes and snuggling deeper into his mother's arms. After you've fried your brain to a crisp with worry you eventually try to rest. For a time you do actually start to count Abigail's sleeping breaths, thinking it can't hurt to try. When that doesn't work though you try to count John's, then even little Jack's. All of this does nothing but expand your hearing, making you hyper aware of every insignificant sound: the wind howling through the frozen town, the stray creak of brittle wood, the muted crackle of a weak fire in the next room over. It all pushes in on you, suffocating you with paranoia.

When you can't stand it any longer, you jerk your eyes open and quietly but swiftly stand up. Since going outside would be pointless and stupid (as you hazard Arthur or someone of this gang might be out there), your gaze targets the door connecting this room with the adjoining one. You close the short distance to it and carefully turn the rusted knob. As you open it slowly in the hopes of making the least amount of noise, you wince when it protests with a loud creak. Fuck it, you think before yanking the damn thing open wide enough so you can quickly slip through. You're halfway into the next room when you stop cold.

There, sitting hunched before the fireplace, is the large bulk of a man who's cleaning a shotgun. He turns at the sound of your intrusion and sees you frozen in the doorway. You can't make out much of his face in the dark room and he doesn't speak so you can't identify him by voice, so you both just petrify into statues.

One beat.

Two beats.

Three beats.

Then --

He silently hefts his gaze back down to his gun, effectively shattering the moment but not cutting the tension. That certainly wasn't an invitation to come in but it also wasn't a hostile demand to leave. So, naturally, you remain fixed in the doorway torn clean in half with indecision. Most of his back is facing you so only a slice of his profile is visible, and even that is blurred by the orange light of the small fire flickering in the wooden hearth in front of him.

"What you want?" His words fire like gunshots into the space between you, mirth curling like smoke out of the corners of his mouth as the air in the room becomes charged.

The baritone of his voice resonates in your memory...

Arthur?

How is it you keep running into him? Another habit that needs to be broken.

"Thank you,"

You jump at your own voice, surprising yourself, and he stiffens before ceasing his cleaning entirely. Your heart pounds between your lungs and blood roars in your ears. Why did you speak, why did you speak, why did you speak --

"For, for saving my life." You clarify, your voice tight as it fights its way out of your locked jaw and heavy with a gratitude so dense your tongue fumbles around the syllables.

Arthur doesn't reply at first, just jerks back into methodically wiping down the long barrel of his gun after a moment or two of silence.

"You're welcome." He says eventually, tone hard and carefully blank, and its what you had been waiting for apparently because as soon as the words leave his mouth you're slinking back into the room you came from.  

Your heart doesn't stop racing even as you lie back down in front of the fireplace and watch the dim embers flicker, even as you try to listen for Arthur in the next room, even as you slip into an uneasy nightmare-plagued sleep.

--

This time you awake to your wrists being not-so-gently tied together.

A man with a mean glint in his eye and a cruel smile hovering over you is the first thing you see when your eyes shoot open. He's talking down at you with loud harsh words that try to stuff themselves into your ears at the same time, all sharp edges and poisoned corners as they tumble around in your head.

"Bill get her tied to the wagon beside the other O'Driscoll and then we'll be ready to set out." Says a voice you've heard once before. A man with black shoulder length curls and dressed like he's straight out of some Victorian drama leans into your vision over the shoulder of who you now know to be Bill. His gaze is piercing and the authority in his voice is unmissable. His name evades you though as you instead struggle to grasp all that's happening.

It takes you a second to realize what the man had said, and before the increasingly familiar grip of fear can truly settle in your bones, Bill wrenches you up to stand on your feet and shoves you out the closed door. The pain of smashing front first through the door, the shock of the cold, the light of the morning, and the noise of people and horses bustling about hits you all at once, stunning you into a stand still before Bill pushes you forward again. You almost collapse into the snow at the force of it, still infuriatingly weak and still fighting to keep up on the current situation. Bill grabs the scruff of fabric at the back of your neck, scoffing his aggravation at your incompetence, and proceeds to drag you over to one of the wagons being readied for departure that are lined up on the main road.

"O'Driscoll whore!" Someone hisses at you as you're wrenched kicking and screaming down the line towards the back.

You're too disoriented and focused on trying to maintain your footing in the snow to see who it was. Though the scratch in the woman's voice sounded familiar, almost like a vulture's caw.

"Bill is all that violence really necessary?" Comes another voice you think you've heard before, tone a bit brittle with age or maybe its just the cold. You're too busy trying to twist yourself free to look up to the source of the voice -- a man who's perched on the driver's bench of the wagon behind the one you've stopped in front of.

"Dutch said she was an O'Driscoll spy, possibly one of their whores, I'm treatin' her accordin' to her station!" Is the attempted justification of your abuser, then you're yanked hard by your hair so your back is forced to press against his front, "Makin' you squeal will be so easy," Bill hushes into your ear.

You don't have time to register the pain in your scalp because his foul hot breath pours over your cheek and collects in the shell of your ear along with the rub of his course full beard, making your stomach drop in violent disgust. A revolted sound half way between a shout and a gag rips its way out of your lips and he laughs at the noise, shoving you off him to crash into the wooden lip of the back of the wagon. A scuffed up man shivers in the snow beside you, hands bound like yours are but tied to the back of the wagon like livestock. You both just stare at each other wide eyed and scared as Bill manhandles you into more rope and more knots as he also ties you to the wagon. He cackles and hits your behind hard, promising you something you wish you hadn't heard before walking off.

'The pleasure of breakin' you for my own is gonna be so much fun.'  

Incapable of anything but choking on your panic, you flinch as the rub of the harsh rope against the skin of your wrists -- twin shackles of pressure and heat that only tighten further as you try to rip yourself free -- begins to burn.

"Don't yank or you'll make the ropes tighter," You jump as the man beside you murmurs urgently under his breath, "I think this will be a long journey and you'll want to maintain feelin' in your hands or you could lose 'em."

Lose your hands? Long journey? Your breathing cranks into hyperventilation and you feel yourself spiraling --

"Hey! I-Its okay, um my name's Kieran. Whats yours?"

You look at the man -- Kieran, and try to get yourself to take his bait, try to allow yourself to be reeled away from your panic. Smarter, you need to be smarter.

"Y/n, my name is Y/n." You force out in a hoarse voice between gasping breaths, desperately searching for some stillness in yourself amidst all the chaotic noise of your fear.

"Y/n, that's a nice name. It's good to meet you even if it is under unfortunate circumstances."

You can't manage a response but Kieran looks like he doesn't mind, just offers you a grimace you assume is meant to be a smile. But his effort to calm you is in vain, because your panic rockets back up when Kieran cowers as someone walks past him towards the wagon parked behind you. The man responsible for this reaction is tall, has a build on him that displays a kind of packed strength that contains true physical ability. Though something about his shape -- in the way he moves, sparks an ember of familiarity in your mind.

"Whatchu lookin' at?" The man challenges and stops dead in his tracks as he catches you staring, his shaded eyes lock with yours under the dark brim of his hat. His shoulders hold a tension that speaks to an intimacy with violence and his hands are fisted in great balls of bone and muscle. Its his voice that hits you like a thunder clap.

Arthur.

Making use of the daylight, you quickly pick out a few defining aspects of him to match to the Arthur in your memory then divert your gaze down and away, not wanting to risk his wrath. This is apparently the right thing to do because as Arthur dismisses the both of you with a grunt and heaves himself up onto the driver's perch of the wagon behind you beside an older looking man, Kieran shuffles closer to your side and warns,

"If there is anyone you don't want to piss off, its him."  

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

It probably makes you a horrible person but you're glad you aren't alone, glad that someone else is a prisoner too -- that there's at least one person who doesn't want to kill you. And if Kieran is claiming Arthur to be the worst of them, even worse than that Bill person, you think that maybe surviving this situation isn't going to be something you're capable of.

There's some clamoring around and shouts between the wagons as everyone begins mounting up, but it all blurs for you. You shake from the panic and the fear and the cold and the hunger...you go to a numb place. One where your senses dull, your mind blanks, and emptiness yawns in your chest -- eating up everything in its path. You dissociate hard because its the only way you can cope. When reigns are snapped and cries of 'Onward!' are released into the fridge air, all the wagons jerk stiffly into motion, you along with them, and your journey begins.

--

Arthur watches the two O'Driscolls struggling through the snow behind the wagon in front of him with a knot in his stomach. It was Micah's idea to have them walk tied to the wagon and not just sit secured in the back.

The wagon isn't going fast but its the terrain that's the problem. The prisoners first try to walk in the deep tracks the wagon impresses into the snow, but their ropes aren't quite long enough to allow them that far back so they end up just getting yanked forward. Then when they abandon this tactic and just simply try to keep up with the wagon by breaking their own path behind it through the knee deep snow, they tire -- fast. They inevitably begin to slow, their ropes loosing their slack, and they are once again pulled forward. There really isn't a happy medium, and no doubt all this dragging and yanking worsens the blood circulation of their bound wrists. Bill had tied them real tight and with short leads. Unnecessarily short in Arthur's opinion but whatever, he's too tired to bring it up and he figures that was probably Bill's intention anyway.

Exhaustion consumes Arthur as the caravan trudges down the mountain, the cold a great heavy iron blanket covering him from head to toe. Dutch has been running him ragged these past few weeks -- with fair reason -- but still, Arthur's gotten maybe a total of twenty-four hours of sleep broken up in small chunks throughout the past week alone. He worries he'll fall asleep at the reigns but is thankful Hosea chose to sit shotgun and is currently demanding to drive. Arthur grunts but relents the reigns, sore from the non-stop cold, lack of rest, lack of proper nourishment, and having helped Javier and Charles hack all the left over ice that froze the joints of the wagons off right before departing. Because while the storm did break and the sun had shown for the first time in days, it didn't mean the snow was going to thaw anytime soon.

"If you feel yourself fallin' asleep make sure to lean towards me and not off the wagon." Hosea says with that familiar teasing humor of his but Arthur can clearly hear the note of concern in his voice.

"I'd crush you if I fell asleep on you old man, better to fall clean outta the wagon and risk a scrape or two then kill ya tryna sleep."

Hosea gives a wheezing chuckle at that and the sound loosens a darkness from Arthur's heart he hadn't known he'd been baring. It lets warmth into his chest and shakes the stitches pulling his eyebrows together out too. Arthur is grateful for Hosea's attempt to lighten his mood, knowing Hosea himself has been sour this past week, as sour as Arthur's ever seen him. He's also never heard Hosea argue with Dutch the way he has been before. It worries Arthur, it worries Arthur greatly.

"Well crush me then, can't have you breakin' bones --," Hosea suddenly pulls the horses up short as the O'Driscoll woman in front of them stumbles to her knees, letting out a cry as she's dragged for a moment, before forcing herself back up. Hosea lets the two prisoners get a few extra paces ahead before encouraging the horses forward again and continuing, "Once we get down into warmer country I'll make an herb paste you can put in some hot water. Drinkin' it should help you recover."

"I ain't hurt." Arthur bites out on reflex.

"You ain't well neither." Hosea immediately shoots back, accompanied by a significant look he sends at Arthur's profile.

Arthur sighs and surrenders the argument, finding he could never win them against Hosea anyway. That was due largely to the fact that Hosea was mostly always right, but Arthur chooses not to think too much on that as his shoulders slump forward and his back aches something fierce. Also the base of his skull has been throbbing since yesterday but he figures that's also due to his exhaustion.

"Bill shouldn't have made 'em walk like this," Arthur hears Hosea mutter as the woman falls again, "No point in it. Will only slow us down."

"I don't think she's a spy," Arthur admits as he rubs his face with his gloved hands, sniffing hard once he's done to keep his nose from running.

"No?"

Arthur shakes his head and scratches his beard, the skin under the thickening stubble dry and cracked from the cold.

"Caught her tryin' to steal from my saddlebags last night. I stood six goddamn feet from 'er, didn't notice me at all." Arthur elaborates with a scoff, "Plus she apologized when I caught her. She ain't no thief."

"Why were you up?" Hosea questions with that fatherly fierceness of his, completely ignoring the rest of what Arthur said.

"Dutch put me on watch." Arthur shrugs.

Hosea is silent at this and when Arthur turns to look at him, Hosea has a rather hardened expression on his face,

"He should have let you rest."

"Ah don't worry about me, I'm fine."

Hosea doesn't validate Arthur's words with a response, only frowns deeper as the O'Driscoll man does his best to encourage the woman to keep going as she struggles to stand from another fall.  

"You think she's an O'Driscoll?" Arthur questions in the hopes of distracting Hosea from his thoughts, hating the dark look molding his face into a mask of muted ire.

Hosea only gives a noncommittal hum and continues brooding. Arthur realizes why Dutch always says he reminds him so much of Hosea, they have the exact same brooding face. Arthur clears his throat and returns his gaze forward knowing Hosea wants to not be bothered for a bit. A few beats of silence throb by and Arthur realizes Charles has been awfully quiet (not that that isn't normal for Charles but still).

"How you doin' back there Charles!" Arthur calls as he turns in his seat to face the back of the wagon where Charles is sitting, huddled and wrapped around himself tight, on one of the barrels.

Charles levels him with a look that makes Arthur immediately regret asking. Clearly Charles is miserable just like everyone else. Feeling a bit sheepish, Arthur is about to turn back around when Charles' face lightens out of its exasperation as he takes a breath to speak.

"I'm doing alright Arthur."  

Arthur nods, "How's that hand?"

"Better. It'll heal a lot faster once we get out of the cold."

"Good." Arthur grunts before swiveling forward, missing the rare small smile Charles gives Arthur's back at his concern.

--

You can't feel your legs.

At first it was just your feet, but as you continue to trudge through the deep snow the numbing feeling begins to crawl upwards. Maybe its a good thing you can't feel them, they probably would be aching just as insufferably as the rest of your body is. You don't know how much longer you can keep going for, you hope its long enough, but the snow is getting thinner and thinner so you figure once the snow is gone things will get easier.

Wrong. You are so wrong.

Since karma or fate or whatever is responsible for you is a complete asshole, you quickly realize how close you are to truly losing your shit. Once you leave the mountain feeling eventually returns to your legs as you travel into warmer and warmer areas, and the pain is excruciating. You haven't eaten anything but a slice of stale venison jerky, you've been on your feet for god knows how long, you're weaker than you've ever been, and you're surrounded by dangerous people who all want to kill you. Your panic is like a new limb at this point, constantly there living in the back of your head never sleeping just always on. Like a switch you can't turn off. And it drains you, drains you of everything you are. You've forgotten what its like to not be exhausted, what its like to be strong and safe and happy.

There has been a pretty constant stream of small talk happening in the wagon behind you, but you're still so distant you don't have the capability to pay attention to what they're saying. You're in too much pain to even try.

You hear the water before you see it. Kieran begins wrapping his hands around the lead of his rope, pulling him just short of the wagon. He nods at you to do the same,

"The river looks deep and the current looks strong, you don't want your rope to snap if you fall."

Before you can ask why, you catch a glance around the wagon at the deep river flowing towards the unmistakable roar of a waterfall. The wagons cross single file a yard or two away from the drop off, the horses snorting and neighing their protest at the force of the current. Your attention spikes like a plucked wire, all your nerve endings zinging to life as your wagon nears the water. You copy Kieran and frantically wrap your wrists in the excess rope, shaking as you do. Your panic ebbs like a tide in your brain, drawing back to crest in a tidal wave as you are finally forced into the cold water.

It's deeper than you thought. Much deeper and much stronger. The current takes your feet out from under you almost immediately.  

You open your mouth to scream but your lungs flood with water. Kieran can't do much but shout for you as your head goes under. You fight to gain footing, and once you do your head bursts through the surf with a gasp and you clamp your hands around the splintered lip of the wagon, holding on for dear life as the wagon trudges on.

--

Arthur's breath had stopped when he saw her go under.

"Careful of the rocks Arthur!" Hosea calls to him, snapping Arthur's attention back on driving.

The wagon jerks in the water as the left rear wheel crunches over what felt like a cluster of rocks.

By the time Arthur looks back up, the wagon in front of them is out of the water and on the otherside of the bank, and the woman sounds like she's coughing up a lung.

"Get us outta the stream!" Hosea then orders when he notices Arthur's attention has been stolen once again, "You gotta keep us movin', but calm --,"

Arthur interrupts him with a grunt and guides the wagon out of the river, they get maybe a foot onto dry land before a resounding crack echos up against the ravine and the wagon collapses.

"Ah shit!" Arthur curses as he pulls the horses up short.

"All right, let's take a look," Hosea sighs in a very obvious tone of exasperation.

The line of wagons halt, people shouting their concerns.

"You okay?" Javier calls from the wagon in front of them.

"Everything alright back there?" Bill says almost at the same time from beside Javier.

"Does everything look alright?" Arthur snarks, voice sharpened by sarcasm and aggravation at being the reason the line is held up as Hosea, Charles, and him all hop down to assess the damage.

The two tied O'Driscolls eye the situation from over their shoulders, huffing and shaking in exhaustion.

"Well, what's going on?" Javier says from his perch on the driver's bench, swiveled around to face them and squinting to see what all the fuss is.

"I broke the goddamn wheel!" Comes Arthur's tempered reply, gesturing to the wheel that's rolled off a bit as he walks to the back of the wagon.

"Alright, let's get it fixed." Hosea concedes as he waves Charles over.

"You need help?" Javier offers as Bill rolls his eyes at the entire scene and faces forward.

"I reckon we can handle it!" Hosea assures as he makes his way to the back of the wagon, "Alright Charles you and me hold the thing up, while you try to put the wheel back on Arthur."

As Arthur picks the wheel up and begins rolling it back over to the wagon he says,

"You still strong enough to hold up a wagon?" He phrases it like a jab, but he really does want to know if it'll hurt Hosea. They could always switch.  

"Shut up." Hosea snaps with a strange opposing gentleness, a special tone he always seems to use when he's being short with Arthur.

"I'm just sayin," Arthur grumbles as he positions the wheel onto its knob.

"Well, say less." Hosea grunts as he and Charles lift the wagon with the strength of their legs and their lower backs.

--

You fight the whole body collapse you feel simmering just under your skin and hollowing out your bones. This is the longest you've been still for who knows how long, and you're beginning to wonder if you'll be able to move again. If you have the strength to take even one more step. There's grunts and the sound of muscles bashing against wood as your wagon jerks into motion again.

"We'll meet you back at camp!" Calls the voice of one of your drivers, his accent sounds Hispanic though you can't place which country.

"Alright!" Someone shouts back as your body locks up in pain in anticipation of moving.

Your feet are throbbing, your knees feel like snapping, your hips and upper body feel as heavy as stone...how much longer...

--

I will try and update as soon as possible! Sorry for such a long break!! :( 

Chapter 3

Masterlist

#A Single Frayed Rope #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #arthur morgan #my works #my writing #thejamesoldier

[sunshinexlollipops]

FOR THE LOVE OF MANGOS PLZ. A/O ARTHUR HEADCANONS (both with the reader and Arthur being A/O plz! Thx!!!)

anon. I have heard your prayers. your answers are coming. (like Arthur. and much of this community over abo Arthur, apparently lol.)

BONUS: alongside doing alpha and omega for Arthur, I did high and low honor as well. It would definitely affect how Arthur acts in the ABO verse. Also made gender neutral, alongside you being alpha or omega yourself. ;)

——————

A L P H A A R T H U R

Low Honor

when you first arrive in the gang, Arthur allows his eyes to wander to you. he leered alongside the others when you were new, and he didn’t make any attempt at hiding his interest.

soon, the others become competition, and you best believe Arthur is going to finesse himself an alpha/omega like you. you are his prize.

he boasts about himself, takes the lead on missions, steals the prettiest and best stuff for you, hunts your favorite game, puffs his chest, tries to act badass and suave. he pretty much postures himself at you, acting like a stereotypical alpha trying to impress their intended mate.

and normally, you hate pompous alphas like this, but damn if it doesn’t work.

he’s possessive asf. constantly baring his teeth at anyone who so much as looks your way with any interest in their gaze.

you’re HIS alpha/omega, and he makes sure to let everyone know.

there’s also a huge thing about scent: you have to ALWAYS smell like you’re his. whether he marks you, your clothes— or even puts you in his own— strangers don’t even have a problem with knowing that there is an alpha to answer to if they try anything.

if someone even so much as makes a comment or joke, or if a stranger says something in passing, best believe you have an enraged Arthur Morgan at the ready. he will take people down, guns or not.

marking is also done with hickeys. he loves how flustered they make you, and he takes damn pleasure in seeing the jealousy in the others’ eyes for getting to put them all over your neck. it’ll make it that much sweeter for his mating bite.

he hints about your upcoming heat/rut, or even about his own, and there’s no doubt that he wants to be there for the main event.

and when it does happen, Arthur is there before you’re even really into it. you can even be in the middle of camp, he won’t care— he’ll grab ahold of you, throw you over his shoulder, and take you where he deems fit to weather it out.

(maybe his tent in camp, or an abandoned shack he scoped out nearby, it all depends. because even if someone tries to bother you both, they’re getting shot.)

the alpha is rough and quick, he gives it to you like you need. there’s never a dull or slow moment when you’re in bed with Arthur.

overstimulation KING. you think your climax is the end of it? WRONG. he will work you through every second. even when he’s got a knot deep in you. the man will stop when either you or him drop. and good luck, he’s got stamina core for daysssss

also. huge fan of eating you raw. he loves getting your slick in his beard, till he looks wet with it. he will literally make you drip from his tongue alone. you’re better than a shot of whiskey any day.

when you do pass out eventually, Arthur takes those moments to stand outside for a quick smoke break. shirtless. with nail marks from you all over his chest and back. he likes the way Micah gets pissed, because he was never alpha enough for anything like this. (a cig never tasted so good, either.)

he’ll sketch you as you are, naked, and marked up by him. he also does close ups of his bites, those are his faves.

it’s when you’re deepest in heat that he gives you his mating bite. you knew it was coming, he made it obvious, but it doesn’t stop the gasp that escapes you when he does it.

he places it where it’ll be obvious no matter what you do, and he likes it like that

he’ll mark your neck up like nothing else, and he’s very proud of the way you looked wrecked afterward

you don’t walk right for at least a week and a half afterward, something that Arthur puffs his chest about. he always smirks at the comments the others make at your stiff gate. it makes watching you that much more pleasurable.

likes you loud. he wants no one to doubt when he takes you. he wants you screaming so they can all hear just how good he’s making you feel. you’re embarrassed most of the time, but shame is nothing he could ever feel when it comes to something like that.

pretty much every time a job goes well or there’s a celebration, it ends with him knotting you. ;)

when stuff goes bad, there’s still knotting, but expect him to get you to the point where your body aches as much as it sings under him.

if you get pregnant, expect Arthur to be extremely pleased with himself. he bred you well, and he can’t wait to see how you’ll look.

he’s more possessive and wanting of you when you’re expecting— you always have him stiff and hungered when he sees you as you are, knowing he did that to you

when the kids (or pups) are born, he’ll try and get you knocked right back up

High Honor

it starts with a crush, and dear lord was Arthur pining when you first arrived.

he hears the others gushing about you, and when the others also speak of their own interest, Arthur stays quiet and feels hopeless— how could you end up with an alpha like him with so many better people lining up?

he vents in his journal, writing poems and fantasies he has where he gets to be your alpha. he is very longing, and sometimes you catch him staring at the fire or when you happen to feels his eyes on you. (he can’t be subtle, even though he thinks he is.)

he draws you, ofc. with flowers in your hair, when you laugh. his favorite moments are when you’re smiling, because he likes to imagine that he’s the sole reason it’s stretching your lips.

this man practically breaks his own heart over you, and he M O P E S

but, much to his surprise, the girls and other encourage him, and he FINALLY gathers the courage to tell you about the god damn cavity you’ve made with how sweet he is on you and you A C C E P T?

he courts you, right and proper like an alpha should. he gets you flowers, sweets, nice clothes or other trinkets he thinks you’d like— all acquired fairly. he also takes you on dates, from the theater in Saint Denis to quiet rides through the Heartlands with you by his side.

he endures so much teasing, especially from Micah and John, but he will take it. he doesn’t care if he’s gone “soft,” you’re too good for him to be anything but. Micah can still stfu though.

he doesn’t ask you to help with him during his rut, and he’s shy to offer his... uh.... assistance.... with your heat/rut. not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t want to pressure you! he doesn’t want you to think he’s only here for that, or that he would be disappointed if you declined! this dumbass would gladly go gray if you waited that long.

(which you never would, obviously. but damn if that isn’t sweet asf.)

when it does come around, he is so sweet. he found this really nice place— this precious cabin— and he’s been preparing it for months while he waited for this moment.

he’s so gentle with you, and not impatient at all. he preps you, makes sure you’re always comfortable. he only intends for you to feel pleasure, not pain, and trust me— you’re gonna enjoy yourself.

he peppers you with kisses, constantly asking if you’re okay or if there’s something else he can do. he’ll follow your requests, and give you what you need as you want it.

when you climax, Arthur is sweet to you, he praises you, holds you close as it happens. he doesn’t push you, and let’s you float right back to him whenever you’re ready.

during the moments in between the heights of your heat, he cleans you up, and feeds you peaches by his fingers as you lean against his chest.

he’ll hum songs for you, because of course he doesn’t know the words. but the tunes are pretty, just like you.

if you ask kindly enough, he’ll even read from his journal. but don’t worry, he’s always been a sucker for big doe eyes, and yours do him the worst.

he shows you the sketches he’s made too, especially when he was thinking you’d never give him the honor of being your alpha. they’re too precious.

the heat/rut will pass without a mating bite, because it needs to be done RIGHT.

he plans it out, it’s pretty much Hallmark. he buys your favorite food, takes you to your favorite place. he makes it special by giving you the same flowers that made his first bouquet that he gave you, and made sure to ask you under the stars like you wanted.

he is careful about it, and he feels awful that it has to hurt, but he makes sure to kiss it afterward, and he gives you a tonic to make it stop aching.

he places it lower on your neck, where it can be easily covered if you wanted

(but you’d never— because the way Arthur looks so flustered when you walk around with unbuttoned collars is WORTH IT)

he is such a proud alpha, and he walks around camp with his head held high and not even Micah can bring him down

he constantly gets you things, or does stuff with you. he never lets a moment pass where you don’t feel loved or appreciated by him

if you get pregnant, Arthur will be emotional. tears, but happy ones, will be shed. he can’t believe he got so lucky to mate an alpha/omega like you, and that you’re giving him a family again.

after you break the news, Arthur will practically worship you. that, and he will be protective like nobody’s business over anything and everything— someone threatens you? someone says your fat? expect low honor Arthur levels of mayhem.

when your kid finally get into the world, he can’t help but be the proudest papa Arthur. he is a bear to these kids, and he dotes on them endlessly. but he also makes time for you, and always tells you how grateful he is.

he doesn’t push for more kids, but you can tell he’s a big family man, and you can’t help but try and put a smile on his face for as much as he finally puts one on yours like he wanted to from the start

O M E G A A R T H U R

Low Honor

when you arrive— holy shit. he might as well be in heat with how wet you get him. the others thirst over you too, and oh, it makes Arthur j e a l o u s.

NEEDY. when he notices you, you spark an itch he can’t scratch. he is constantly biding for your attention, and he’ll do whatever he can to get it.

he touches himself to the thought of you, and he gets off many a time by the fantasy of you getting him and claiming him. never gets old. especially when you catch him moaning. totally not on purpose.

Arthur does all he can to seem like the omega you desire, and he may or may not have done things like play around with your clothes to get you smelling like him.

when his heat comes up, he plays up how bad they are and that he needs someone. he definitely makes sure to do this around you. for no reason at all, of course.

you offer, and ohmygod what a surprise Arthur accepts that shit like VISA

Arthur preps like nobody’s business. he tries to make himself look nice, tries to figure out things you like. he aims to have you claiming him by the end of this.

when he feels his heat ramp up, he’s slick for you, and let’s you know.

he takes control, and rides you hard. has has you begging for him, he takes you so deep. he’s practically hoarse himself, and the whole camp knows just how you feel inside of him now.

(thanks Arthur)

he plays on your instincts, and he manages to get you to bite him on the neck. your claim is the first thing he’s wanted since a good fuck when his first heat hit, and damn if he didn’t get both from you.

if you knot Arthur, it practically makes him D R O O L

Arthur has no shame about the bite. he shows it off, let’s everyone know that he got claimed. he hasn’t been this much of a show since he presented.

he always tells you how slick you get him, and he will always try and pull a quickie whenever he can manage.

he tries to spur jealousy from you whenever he can, but don’t worry, he’s just as possessive over you

High Honor

holy shit. you. you are something else, and damn if Arthur doesn’t feel like a sad pathetic omega for lusting after you as he is.

he’s never craved someone like you before, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it. he hasn’t even exactly felt the desire to be claimed, but oh, you make him feel a lotta things.

he doesn’t try to mention his heats— he doesn’t want you to think you owe him help or that he’s dreamt about you making him feel good, but when you finally ask about it it just kinda... happens?

when you offer helping him, he about loses his mind. you? during his heat? what did he do to deserve that?

he gets so nervous, thinking he’ll embarrass himself, or that you’ll reject him for whatever reason. he thinks he’s hideous and doesn’t understand what you see back in him, but he just tries to focus on making it good for you.

you notice his nerves, and you assure him it’s fine. pretty much all of his heat, you’re praising him, and you get to see just how it gets to the omega. apparently, he really likes it when you tell him how good he is.

Arthur feels great, and he responds so well. you light him on fire, and damn, a heat never felt this good. you make it bearable. enjoyable. that isn’t an easy feat.

when Arthur climaxes, he clenches around you, both with his arms and his body— and he cries out.

you end up biting him out of reflex, and oh god— it makes Arthur caterwaul because he didn’t know how much he needed this

you apologize, saying you should’ve known and done better, but Arthur doesn’t care. he loves it. and he loves you.

Arthur is proud of your bite, and he can’t believe he’s your mate. he accepts the role with grace, and enjoys the way it gets you flustered.

he oftens tells you how much he loves you, and how he wouldn’t be mated to anyone else.

there you go anon! hope you enjoyed. ;)

#arthur morgan #abo verse #abo #alpha arthur morgan #omega arthur morgan #omega #alpha #omega reader #alpha reader #rdr #rdr2 #read dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #ask #anon #anon ask #submission #headcanons #arthur morgan headcanons #rockstar #lemon

[rheyninwrites]

Old Friends Part 9

Thank God it was happy screaming, shouts of joy from our friends as we returned. Javier jumped out of the car grinning from ear to ear, while John was more reserved, but with that same smile that said he was just bursting to tell us something. Arthur and I were quickly hustled inside as everyone else grabbed some of my belongings. As they spread the items out across the kitchen counter and living room floor, my eyes grew wide and I covered my eyes with one of my hands.

“Oh. My. God. You guys, half of this stuff isn’t even mine! I knew it looked like too much stuff, and I knew you looked suspiciously smug when you came out!”

John replied first.

“Well can you blame us? After what he put you through? Leaving you in the middle of nowhere, keeping you from seeing your friends, wouldn’t even let you put up your goddamn paintings!”

Then Javier.

“Don’t look at me, I only took your clothes. Oh, and the Xbox. And this watch.”

“Well, the Xbox is fair enough. I actually paid for that, even though he said it was his. Now that I think about it, I probably paid for most of this stuff, but that still doesn’t give you the right to just take it!”

“Well why the hell not? If you paid for it, it’s your property, plain and simple.”

“Arthur, it is definitely not that plain and simple. What if he decides to try and report it stolen?”

“Didn’t you used to live with him? Pay the bills? If he did try and report it, it’s your word against his, and you got plenty of people here that know what he did to you. You think he wants that?”

Abigail really had a point. And I was tired and wanted it over. Besides, what was I gonna do, drive back over there and return it? I threw up my hands up in defeat.

“Okay fine.”

That got a cheer, as Karen and Sean went around passing out beers, and Arthur tried to put them back. Finally he relented, on the grounds that everyone had no more than one, and nobody drove until he cleared them as sober. I knew that was mostly directed at Sean and Karen, and I smiled as I watched my friends, dancing around, laughing, and celebrating my freedom.

Why the hell did I let some dumb guy take this away from me?

I made my way over to where Abigail was leaned against the wall, John flirting with her like they hadn’t already been married for years. It was really cute and sweet, a long way from the times they used to spend more time fighting than anything else. While I could have watched her happily soaking up the attention, I had a question that needed to be asked.

“So, John. Are you gonna finally tell me what took you so long getting my stuff, and why you came out looking like the cat that ate the canary?”

“Okay, but you gotta promise you ain’t gonna get mad at me.”

“Probably not, but I’m not gonna make promises I might not keep. So spill it.”

“Alright. Geez. So I may or may not have taken a few minutes to lift his mattress and shove a few dead fish under it.”

I took a minute to process what he had said, and what it really meant. That mattress was his prize possession, probably the only thing in the damn place he’d paid for on his own, and he’d paid a pretty penny for it. And now, very soon, it was going to smell like rotten fish, possibly irreparably. So simple, but so effective. What would he even be able to do about it? A grin spread across my face, and pretty soon I was laughing so hard my sides hurt. Sadie asked what I was laughing at, and when I told her, she started laughing too. Pretty soon, the tale had spread across the whole makeshift party, and John felt like a genius.

In the midst of my laughter, I turned around to find Arthur staring at me from across the room. I smiled at him, and he returned it, nodding and lifting his beer in a toast. This time it was me who returned the gesture, and I began to cross the room toward him, but was stopped short by Bill.

“Hey, you know now that you’re free, maybe you could let me take you out to dinner sometime? You know, get you back into the dating scene nice and slow?”

“Somehow I don’t think slow is exactly what you got in mind. Jesus, Bill, give her a minute to breathe before you swoop in like some kind of damn vulture.”

“Who the hell are you to say anything about it, Morgan? You her protector or something?”

“No, she can protect herself just fine. I’m just a concerned friend. She’s had her head all turned around for years, now she’s got a chance to be herself again. Let her have it. She can say when she’s ready to go out again.”

Bill turned away in a huff, just as Charles walked up.

“He asking about taking you out again? He just won’t give up, huh?”

“Apparently not. Though I sure wish he would.”

It wasn’t long before everyone started drifting away, most of them having work the next day. Arthur and I saw them all off with back slaps and hugs, Arthur checking Karen and Sean both very carefully for signs of overindulgence on the way out. Somewhat surprisingly, they had actually stuck to the limit. We promised that very soon we’d have a proper get-together, when everyone was free to attend, and that I wouldn’t fall off the radar again. As John was driving off, Abigail stuck her head out the window to yell at me.

“Don’t have too much fun being single, now!”

“Oh, I don’t think you have to worry about that. I have a feeling that Arthur’s gonna make sure he chases them all off for quite some time!”

I elbowed Arthur in the ribs right as Charles came up to hug me goodbye. He leaned into my ear and whispered quietly.

“You have no idea.”

I gave him a confused look, hoping he’d explain, but all I got in return was a smile and wave. Then he was gone, and Arthur and I were alone again. In his house, which I apparently now lived in with him. This was going to be an interesting situation.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan fic #rdr2 fandom #red dead redemption 2 #modern rdr2 #modern arthur morgan #arthurmorgan #rdr arthur #red dead redemption #rdr2 fanfic

[arkeresia]

‘scarred’

some John and Arthur angst / pretty self-indulgent HAHA 

 - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 “Marston, if you don't leave that thing alone you're gonna have a goddamn crater in the side o' your face”

 John reached up yet again, dragging his dirty fingernails roughly down the length of the still-raw scars cut into his cheek, nails catching on the jagged stitches poking through the wounds. The itching was driving him insane; it felt like it was deep under his skin, swarming and burning and crawling. Being cut and bruised and hurt was nothing new to him, sort of came with the territory when you lived in fields and country and robbed and killed for your livelihood, but nothing had ever come close to the searing pain he'd endured in the weeks of recovery up in those dreadful mountains.

 The wounds stung and flared as he scritched at them insistently, narrowing his eyes at the larger man sat across the campfire from him, smirking face buried again in his small leather journal.

 “Oh yeah? I'll be scratching someone else's face off if I don't so how about you mind your own business.” John spat venomously, lip curling as he picked up the flint arrowhead he was carving and set upon it indignantly with his hunting knife.

 Arthur smirked again, shaking his head as he scribbled a small unflattering doodle of a skinny scar-faced man, pouting and bitching. The kid had still barely gotten out of his bratty teenage mindset, despite now being closer to 30 than his teens. He peered over the top of the pages at the smaller man, watching him furiously scrape at the flint so hard there were small sparks flying from the knife. His eyebrows were knitted together in frustration and his face twitched in annoyance. Arthur sighed softly; the boy had been through a lot.

 John had never been one for talking about things, it was like pulling teeth getting him to open up or confide. Though his hot temperament and guarded personality usually made him come across as dense and sullen, there was a vulnerability to him that had always struck a chord in Arthur, no matter how he annoyed and infuriated him.

 John reached for his cheek for the eighth time in ten minutes and Arthur threw down his journal, launching his pencil and lurching forwards to slap his hand away; resulting in a pseudo wrestling match which John quite spectacularly lost, fingers bent back and squawking hoarsely.

 “LEAVE IT ALONE!”

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

 The snow was absolutely not stopping.

 Thick, glistening sheets lay unmarred and picturesque against the sweeping backdrop of the mountains; breathtaking if not for the fact they were stuck and freezing to death. Arthur gazed through the small smeared window of his cabin room, his bones almost creaking from the cold as he shifted and rose from his bed, his huge furred overcoat tucked tightly around him. He was wearing every item of clothing he could possibly squeeze onto himself, four pairs of socks, two pairs of gloves and still the cold bit right through him. Shivering, he put on his scuffed gambler hat; pulled it low and left for outside.

 As he passed through the adjoining room, Dutch looked up from his seat at the weakly-burning fireplace, face wrapped in a chequered necktie and hands held out desperately to the feeble flames.

 “Oh, you're awake Arthur,” he exclaimed, his musical voice somewhat shaky and his eyes tired, “or did you actually get any sleep?”

 “A little, I guess.” Arthur shivered again, pulling his gloves tighter, “at least it's quiet up here.”

 Dutch's eyes creased at the sides. “Ahh, you were always a strong one, my boy. This place is Hell; Hell on earth and I cannot wait to be back where there is some life. Life and warmth, preferably”

 “Not gonna argue with that, Dutch.” said Arthur shortly. As much as he hated civilization and all it stood for, anything was better than dying a cold, dismal death in this frozen wasteland. It was almost a blur how they had even ended up here with the panic and the frantic escape from Blackwater; it seemed like they'd been running for years and yet also only days. Time passed strangely in the mountains; hours could be minutes or, more commonly, minutes could be hours.

 He still didn't fully understand what had even happened at Blackwater; only that the worst possible outcome had apparently happened and good people had been killed. People he respected and valued. He hadn't been able to shake the bad feeling he'd had about that job from the beginning; like an omen or a warning lingering in the back of his mind. He rarely felt real fear, but running from that place was one of the most terrifying experiences he'd ever faced.

 Hordes of men; murderous and merciless tearing after them like creatures possessed. The deafening noise of hooves, screams, curses, gunshots. How they hadn't lost anyone else was a miracle; how any of them were still alive even now was a miracle.

 As Arthur turned to leave, Dutch turned in his seat towards him.

 “Oh, Arthur, I believe Abigail wanted to speak to you. She seemed troubled, was wringing her hands something fierce. She must be worried sick, the poor woman.”

 “No doubt.” said Arthur, shaking his head. Leaving Dutch to his thoughts, he exited the cabin and trudged heavily through the thick snow carpeting the small abandoned settlement of Colter, patting his tired, fatigued horse as he approached the cabin where the women and Jack were holed up. He knocked lightly before poking his head halfway round the heavy door.

 “Mornin' ladies, uhh, is everyone decent?” he asked reticently, edging the door open a little more as he spoke.

 “Hah, that's a laugh, as if anyone's gonna be gallivantin' naked in this weather. You're funny, Arthur.” Tilly's voice called back, scoffing. Arthur squeezed through the opening and shut the door quickly behind him. Karen and Mary-Beth sat huddled under furs in the corner and Tilly shifted under blankets piled on the bed. Abigail looked up from the storybook she held with Jack perched on her knee, closing it abruptly and shooing Jack so she could rise.

 “Oh, oh you're awake, I, uhh, I need to ask you another favour.” She approached as she spoke, uncertainly. Arthur's eyebrow rose in some sort of amusement.

 “Oh don't tell me he's gone traipsing about on another mountaintop, I've had enough of lugging that fool around in the snow; I don't think he's cut out for grand expeditions.” exclaimed Arthur sarcastically, rolling his eyes dramatically.

Abigail frowned. “'Course not, you think he's in any state to traipse around anywhere right now!? I'm scared he's gonna die, Arthur. He won't speak to me, won't speak to Jack or even look at us. I'm scared we're gonna bury him out in this wretchedness and I can't bear... I just can't...” she trailed off, a small tear forming in her eye.

 Arthur gazed pityingly at her sorrowful expression, an old jealousy tugging in his chest at her concern for that idiot boy, and how desperately besotted she was with him. He'd never fully understood what it was with those two, how such wildly different people were so hopelessly trapped together; a beautiful woman with everything to live for and a scrawny good-for-nothing with a temper like an injured polecat. She'd even given him a son; a good kid who just wanted a father he wasn't prepared to be. Anyone in their right mind would have ditched him long ago; but Abigail was never in her right mind when it came to John.

“If you could just...I mean, would you try...” Abigail fumbled her words, looking dejectedly at the floor as Jack looked over inquisitively from the corner he'd snuggled into. Arthur sighed.

“Suuuure okay, I'll go check in on him, but I dunno if he'll be any more willing to talk t' me. There ain't much more I can do for him, Abigail.”

Abigail nodded, wiping at her eye with the sleeve of her thick knitted shawl. “Thank you, Arthur. I......thank you.”

 She turned away hastily and went to her son, winding him tightly in her arms as she sat. Arthur sighed once more, nodded in the other ladies' direction and took his leave.

   Approaching the nearby cabin where John lay recovering, Arthur rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck and tried to think of what the hell he was going to say. He couldn't deny he was worried too; the state John had been in when he and Javier finally found him on that lonely mountain had been far worse than he'd expected; frozen, starving and a face full of blood and gore. If it hadn't been for the man's desperate cries as they called out for him, he would have thought he was a goner as soon as he lay eyes upon him, slumped brokenly on the ledge in the bloody snow.  

 They barely even made it back to Colter with him, thrown haphazardly over Arthur's shoulder as his old friends prowled onto the horizon, hungry to finish their work. Riding desperately through the snow flurry, flinching at the echoing snarls and howls surrounding them as Arthur and Javier fired shots almost blindly; running yet again.

 John had been near death, that was certain. For once they'd had the snow to thank for leading them to him; any longer and he'd have been a cold corpse. Even with the care and attention of Susan and the girls it looked uncertain he'd see the week out. Cold had eaten into him, the beginnings of frostbite had set into his extremities and his face was an absolute mess of deep claw gouges and ugly wounds. John had never been considered the most handsome of the bunch, and the twisted scars he would definitely be left with were not going to help.

 So here he lay now in his makeshift hospital room as Arthur shouldered the door open gently, looking over to see if the man was awake. John was still as a plank, laid on his back with the right side of his face swathed in bloody gauze and cloth. He turned his head slowly at the sound of movement and squinted with his unbandaged eye.

 “Hullo John.” said Arthur plainly, sitting heavily in the chair by the bedside. John said nothing but huffed a little as he faced back to the wall. Always the moody lil' bitch, Arthur thought. He shifted in his seat. “I won't ask how you're doin' I guess. Don't need an answer to that, you look like shit.”

 John's face twitched into a smirk; then a grimace as his shredded flesh shifted under the wounds. “Nothing new there, right.” he croaked. His voice was hoarse and sand-papery, more so than usual from lack of speech, and the new cut on his lip glistened red as it split.

 “They really got you. Still, 'least they left some scraps of you behind, maybe you taste s'bad as you look.” Arthur said whimsically, still not being able to resist teasing him.

 “Har har.” John barked bluntly.

 They sat in silence as minutes ticked by, neither of them moving or knowing what to say. Arthur suspected John's pride had probably been hit hard by the whole situation; Mr. Strong and Independent being treated as an invalid, being fawned and fussed over. Arthur was considering just up and leaving when John finally broke the silence.

 “Arthur.”

 Arthur looked up questioningly.

 “They got my eye.”

 Arthur stared at him blankly. John stared back.

 “I can barely see you. The wolves got my eye. Didn't even notice 'til I woke up after you got me back.” John's lips tightened into a line. “I'm gonna be useless.”

 Arthur frowned a little, leaning in to inspect. He pulled up the man's eyelid with his finger, narrowing his eyes. It looked fine to him. Except a small, small mark, like a tiny tear in the steel coloured iris. Arthur cocked his head to the side and sat back down.

 “Don't look like much to me, maybe it won't be permanent. You got quite a whoopin' up there.”

 John looked defeated. “What if it don't? I'm gonna be a sideshow anyway. What good am I gonna be if I can't even see straight?”

Arthur chuckled low in his throat. “You'll shoot better with one eye anyway. Hmm, Scar-Face or Dead-Eye; can't decide which I like better.”

 John stared at him gone-out for a second before surrendering to painful laughter, he and Arthur sharing the moment in comfort, a weight lifting from the room and a brief contentment settling in.

 After a little time, Arthur stood, smiling amiably as he turned to leave.

 “...thanks, Arthur.” said John in a small voice, “For...y'know. ...thanks.”

 Arthur understood. He mumbled something as he left, maybe to himself, but John heard regardless.

 “Get strong, little brother.”

 John thought a lot about that in the hours that followed.

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

#rdr2 #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #john marston #red dead redemption fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #fanfiction #writing #my arty crap #i really wanted to include the fan theory about john being blind/partially blind in one eye i love it

[megswritingplace]

How Do You Sleep? (Shelby Sister fic)

So, for the first time ever, I’m posting my work on Tumblr as well as AO3. This fic will follow a slightly altered timeline for the Shelby’s, as another Sibling is introduced (and John is still alive). Any thoughts/comments/questions are appreciated. I’m hoping to make this a whole story, but bare with me as writings block is strong atm.

Chapter 1

St Abigail’s School for Girls, Sussex 

“As you know from the letters we sent Mr. Shelby, we had a few tense years to begin with. But, considering her upbringing, that was to be expected,” the woman Tommy was following spoke plainly, unbothered that she had just openly insulted him and his family. He nodded along though, hoping the insult would counteract the fact that he had never read any letter the school had sent him. He never saw the need for the correspondence, it was their job to deal with any problem, and what could he have done from Small Heath anyway? 

“The recent years have shown a remarkable improvement. I would go as far as to say she’s now one of our model students,” the woman continued talking, as she led him down yet another never-ending corridor.  

Her words surprised Tommy greatly. He had hoped he was coming home with an average report at best, even that would have been better than the rest of the Shelby’s put together. Well, except Michael, and possibly Ada, although Tommy knew she only liked to think she was better than her name after living in London for so long. A ‘model student’ was much more than Tommy was expecting, especially when he remembered who he had brought here all those years ago. The thought made him apprehensive to see who he would be taking home this afternoon. If she had changed so drastically, how would she fit back into family dynamic again? 

“I apologise again for not being able to keep her here until her 18th Birthday, but we really need the space back for some of the new girls coming before September. And now she’s officially finished, we can’t legally keep her here. I know you’re a busy man Mr. Shelby, but you’re only her legal guardian for a few more months; and the last I heard there was talk of University,” the woman stated. To Tommy’s ears, she sounded more excited than she had any right to be. University was a word the rest of the family barely knew, it was sure to go down like a led balloon if it was ever brought up.  

Before the woman could add anything else to her one-sided conversation, she finally stopped walking. She had brought them before two large mahogany doors, that looked just as heavy as Tommy’s heart felt in that moment. The two brass knobs attached felt more domineering than anything Tommy had faced in years, including his now frequent trips to Parliament. He would rather face unrelenting Politicians than whoever was waiting for him on the other side of these doors.  

Tommy was able to take one deep breath before the woman pushed the doors open, forcing him to step inside. Tommy took the room in for a moment, finding it similar to his study at home. It felt just as luxurious, and ironically just as fake, as his own. His gaze wandered until it reached the one high-back leather chair facing away from him. From there, his gaze got stuck on the top of the head that was peeking out at him, covered in hair that looked incredibly similar to his own.  

“Alice?” Tommy jumped as the women’s who brought him here spoke, he had forgotten all about her. As she spoke, she began to approach the girl in the chair, whilst Tommy’s feet felt frozen to the ground. “Are you ready to go?” the woman asked with a smile, “Mr. Shelby is here to collect you.” Either the girl in the chair did not answer, or she spoke so softly Tommy could not hear her, but before he could register what was happening, the girl in the chair stood up.  

Tommy held his breath as the girl turned around to face him. He averted his eyes away from her face as soon as she turned, he could not bring himself to look into her eyes just yet. Instead, the first thing he took note of were her hands. Whilst one was cradled loosely in a fist, the other was delicately holding onto a book. With her index finger marking the page she was on, the book was turned so Tommy could read the title. Tommy’s instantly recognised the book and the cover, it was the same copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland he had dropped her off with. Based on the tattered look of the spine, Tommy guessed this was not first time she had reread it. A twinge of guilt pierced Tommy at that thought, though he could not explain why.  

Tommy knew he was making the situation more awkward than it needed to be, refusing to look into her eyes, and not even greet her, but something inside was stopping him. In truth, he just did not know what to say, for once. He had spoken to all manner of people over the years, and with his newly attached title, making small talk was an almost daily occurrence to him. But this was different. It was foreign but familiar. The last time he had seen her, she was ten, and did enough talking for the both of them. She could have talked for hours on end, about horses, and playing, and reading. But now, he had no idea what the girl in front of him would want to talk about. She had lived a separate life for the past seven years, alone, independent from the rest of Shelby’s and Small Heath. Another pang of guilt hit Tommy at that thought, though he knew why this time. It felt like the only similarity between now and seven years ago was the book she was holding. 

Tommy knew he had stalled for long enough. He lifted his eyes up, knowing it was time to greet the girl in front of him. However, when their eyes connected, he still found himself at a loss for words. His mind was racing trying to think of something to say. If he could not say something now, how would he cope in drive back to Birmingham? He should have brought John or Arthur, or even little Charlie with him. All three of them would be able to break this silence easily, even just by saying nonsense. Tommy opened his mouth in the hope that some words would fall out, anything would do at this point.  

However, just as he did so, a small smile came across the young girl’s face. For the first time, he noted she had an air of patience around her, a trait he never remembered her possessing before. It felt as though all she was waiting for was for him to finally connect his eyes with hers, because when he did so, she was the one to break the silence.  

“Hello Tommy,” she said in a voice as soft as her smile, something that should have warmed Tommy’s heart, had he not noticed a hard look instantly cross over her eyes. “Long time no see brother.” 

- 

Arrow House, Birmingham 

“Why the fuck are we going to all this effort Pol’?” John complained, watching yet another maid flit about the room, cleaning up non-existent mess. He was exhausted just watching them.  

“Yeah,” Arthur piped in from behind the newspaper he was reading, “it’s not like she’ll notice, she’s the messiest of us all.” 

Polly rolled her eyes at her nephews. Alice did use to be the messiest Shelby, but that was when she was ten, and lived in a house full of men. She had spent the last seven years away from them, learning things the rest of Shelby’s could probably never comprehend. Polly knew the girl making her way back with Tommy was not the same one that left with him, and she was not sure the rest of the family understood that. But they had all changed so drastically, how could they not think she had as well? 

“Need I remind you what school she’s been for the past seven years? Don’t you remember Pearl Higgn’s niece going to St. Abigail’s? She only went for a year, and look how she came back. You shouldn’t be expecting the same wild little ten year old to be walking through those doors later,” Polly knew she sounded harsh, but they had to be told. If they had unrealistic expectations for her, they were sure to be disappointed, and these boys could never hide their expressions well.  

Polly heard Arthur snort from the corner, before mumbling, “oh, we all remember how Pearl’s niece turned out,” making Polly roll her eyes.  

“Come on Pol,” John started, “even at ten, she had the most gypsy blood out of all of us. Running around the streets barefoot and filthy. Even Tommy couldn’t stop her most of the time. Do you really think the years could get that out of her?” 

Polly shook her head at John’s naiivity. Despite everything they had seen and experienced, the Shelby boys still held onto hope that their sister would come back to them just as innocent and sweet as when she left. Polly knew better though. Even if she had been in Small Heath, Alice would not have stayed innocent for long, but at least they would have experienced it first-hand and known why. Now though, seven years of mystery stood between them, and who knew what had happened to her in that time? And if Polly knew one thing, she knew the years at that school would have definitely got the gypsy spirit out of her, by whatever means necessary. 

#peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #shelby #shelbysibling #writing #please be kind

[yeetmetotahiti]

femS/O in a poly relationship with Arthur/John maybe sfw and nsfw? Thank ya 🌺

It started out a bit rocky tbh. I mean, these two don’t exactly get along all the time. But when you were talking with Arthur/John and brought up bringing the other into the relationship you were surprised how they didn’t hesitate to agree.

There was a bit of a transition problem, these two are so stubborn and both wanted to be in charge. But after some chewing out from you they both settled down. After that things went smoothly once you worked out a routine.

It took a while for the gang to get used to it too, three people in a relationship wasn’t something that happened in the gang before. So they were confused for a bit on why you all were being sweet on each other. After they figured it out though, they were cool with it; they’ve seen weirder. (those ufos though)

Arthur is definitely the more caring of the two, John is trying but he’s sometimes oblivious. John will leave you little trinkets at your tent and bring you coffee in the morning though

Arthur is the one to come to if you need hugs, John will hug you back but it’s a little awkward at first. Raccoon boy isn’t the best with his emotions, but if it comes to it he will defend you with his dying breath.

Both are pretty possessive over you and will do anything for you. Sometimes this becomes a competition of sorts to them and you have to get them back in line. You’re in this together, it’s not a race.

Arthur is definitely the softer lover. He’s all for PDA, caring for your needs first, and just making sure you’re comfortable. John is more of the “gotta go fast” type but he does care for your needs too. 

John is shit at oral, lets be honest here. Arthur is pretty good, but not the best.

They both switch whose on top and whose on the bottom depending on the situation.

Some nights they compete on who can make you feel the best and cum the fastest and wow! You are in for the night of your life! The rest of the gang hates those nights.

All in all, they balance each other out pretty well and it makes for a great relationship.

#rdr2 #red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #John Marston #arthur morgan #Van Der Linde Gang #i didnt proofread this at all

[splat-dragon]

this is probably gonna be a very dumb suggestion but could u write a story about john leaving the gang for a year and arthur is like really sad cuz he misses him and then john comes back and instead of arthur being happy, he’s mad cuz of how much he missed john i really hope that’s easy to understand i feel like it’s all over the place and if u don’t wanna write it that’s okay !

Thanks for the suggestion! It definitely wasn’t dumb, there are no dumb suggestions. Feel free to send me any you have! This was a blast to write; I love angst! Sorry if it wasn’t what you were asking for

The Prodigal Son Returns

Summary: Marston had been gone for a year. Had left his boy without a father, had left Abigail to raise Jack alone. Had abandoned them, had up and left their family. And then he just shows up and expects to be welcomed back with open arms? Thinks that bringing everyone gifts will make them forget his transgressions?

Yeah, right.

It was one of those days.

Those days where the sun itself seemed out to get you, shining straight overhead no matter how hard and how fast you rode your horse. The ground baked, cracking beneath poor Boadicea’s hooves. The mare’s sides heaved, bay coat gleaming with sweat, shoulders flecked with white spittle.

Arthur was slumped low over the mare’s lowered neck, shoulders curled and chin tucked against his chest, hat pulled low on his head to cast as much shade on himself as he could. Only fools would be out in such horrible heat, and so he allowed Boadicea to have her head, the mare knowing the way back to camp. His shotgun was slung over his lap, in case of the off-chance that there were some particularly stupid O'Driscolls or Bounty Hunters about.

A young buck was strapped down across Boadicea’s croup, blood from the wound that put it down mixing with the mare’s sweat. The buck, too, was covered in sweat, having worked up a good lather in a rather short chase. Its pelt wasn’t in the best condition - it wasn’t mangy or anything, but it wasn’t golden and gleaming like he wanted. It was a completely average animal, but it would feed and clothe them.

A clod of dirt crumpled beneath the mare’s hoof, and she shied with a disgruntled snort. Arthur stretched forward to pat her neck, a soothing murmur rumbling in his chest. The mare’s flesh twitched beneath his hands, but she settled, twitching her ears at the sound of his familiar voice. With a squeeze of his thighs, the mare began to move again, striding forward reluctantly. As the outlaw straightened up, he unlatched a canteen from its place on her saddle, swishing it around. The water inside slashed hollowly and, he began to drank, tasted of metal. But his mouth was as dry as the soil beneath the horse’s hooves, and so any water was welcome.

Lowering the empty canteen, he swallowed and closed his mouth, hissing as his jaw protested the movement. The man reached up to massage the flesh, already able to feel a bruise beginning to bloom. He would be the first to admit that he deserved the blow - he owed Javier an apology. Several apologies, if he was being honest. Owed everyone in the camp an apology.

He had been out of sorts for over a week, to tell the truth. Had sent Jack crying to Abigail when he wouldn’t wear the flower crown the child had made (he had a chocolate bar in his pocket for the boy, though it had probably melted). Had told Pearson what he thought of his cooking - what everyone thought of it, though they were kind enough to hold their tongues. But last night Javier had been playing his guitar and singing while Arthur had been reading through one of his old journals. Perhaps he would have held his temper any other night, had been reading any other journal. But it had been a year to the day that John had left, and he had found the journal he had had when John joined up. He had been reading through it when Javier began to sing, and the distraction had thrown him into an uncharacteristic rage.

The man didn’t remember most of the things he had said. It was as though he had been possessed, had watched himself loom over Javier, screaming so loud the untethered horses had had to be rounded up. He remembered, though, telling Javier that no one wanted to hear him sing - that he had a horrible voice. That his guitar was horribly out of tune and made his ears bleed.

Arthur groaned, rubbing his face.

He had continued on along that vein until Charles, no longer able to stand the look on Javier’s face, had walked up, grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and decked him. His eyes had rolled, and everything had gone blurry until he had been dropped at Dutch’s feet.

And Dutch had been so disappointed. He would have preferred anything to Dutch being disappointed. He’d rather Dutch hit him, strike him, shoot him, yell at him. There was nothing worse than having Dutch say “I’m disappointed in you, Arthur.” The man had sent him away from the camp, telling him not to come back until he had cooled his head and had something to show for his time - whether that was an animal to butcher or money from a robbery, it didn’t matter. It had been rather cool last night, and he knew that, if it had been half as hot as it was come the morning, Dutch would have never sent him out to suffer.

“I miss him, too.” the man had said, patting his shoulder, a knowing look in his eye. All the fight had left Arthur, leaving him full of shame as he slunk out of Dutch’s tent, heading out to tack up his mare. Everyone gave him a wide berth, having seen the earlier confrontation.

Boadicea came to a stand-still, and Arthur was drawn from his thoughts, raising his head. The air was a margin cooler, he realized, and he found himself in the shaded pathway that led to their camp. Something curdled, low and uneasy, in his stomach - someone should have met him long before he made it to this point. Had something happened while he was gone? But - no, the other horses were grazing in their places, even those that were untethered. If anything had happened, the horses would have scattered.

Oh, if whoever had been assigned watch had lazed off, Dutch would be furious. And so would he, he would not stand by and allow someone to potentially be hurt because their guard decided to take a break.

The man slid down from Boadicea’s saddle with a groan, stretching and feeling his bones pop. His pants were soaked with horse-sweat, and clung to his skin - he reached down to peel them loose. Patting the mare’s side, he undid the ropes that held the buck in place, slinging it to the ground, taking the time to remove the mare’s tack. He didn’t intend on leaving the camp for the rest of the day, already dreaming of the bath he wanted to draw, needing to get the coarse horse hair off of his skin - it itched!

Arthur took a moment to scratch that hard-to-reach spot behind Boadicea’s ear, the mare shaking herself as she lowered her head to graze, grateful to have been relieved of all the extra weight. He murmured his thanks, intending on coming back to groom her later, get all the caked in filth out. But for now, he stooped down to sling the buck over his shoulder, making his way into camp.

Pearson’s wagon had been set up near the entrance so that those who brought back carcasses to be butchered would not have to carry them far. Arthur dropped the carcass on the table, noticing for the first time how quiet it was. He frowned - a stew had been abandoned while cooking, the fire beneath it almost out. Albeit, that might have been a blessing.

The man looked around, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. There seemed to be a commotion, he realized, near the back of the camp, and so he began to follow it, one hand dropping to the pistol on his hip. Although it didn’t sound like that kind of commotion, but the happy kind of commotion, the one where everyone would end up drunk as skunks later and miserable tomorrow. The kind with loud, excited, lilting voices, falling over each-other and speaking so rapidly that he couldn’t make out the words.

He had to step over a bedroll - it was Jack’s, he realized, the boy must have dragged it out from the lean-to like tent. It was far too large for a boy of his age, made with dark-colored wolf fur. It had been John’s, before the man had left, and there was an agonizing pang in Arthur’s chest. Before John had left, Jack had had to share his bedroll with Abigail, as there was no point in making him a bedroll he would make filthy and out-grow so quickly. But with John gone, they had an extra bedroll they didn’t need, one that was threadbare and worn with much of the fur shed, and so it had been bequeathed to the boy.

The man took a deep breath, looking to the side. He could see John as though the man were right in front of him, grumbling as he was given the bedroll by Hosea, complaining about the fleas he was sure to get. But it was impossible to miss the soft, pleased expression on his face. It had been given to John not long after he had earned his place in the family, when the boy was only eighteen or so.

Arthur walked passed the campfire, where the logs had been circled around it so they could sit and stay warm on cooler days, and chilly nights, listen to Javier play his guitar and sing. Wincing, he looked away from the log that the man had been sitting on when he had lost his temper the night before. John had loved to sit around the fire, hands dangling between spread legs, head low and eyes half-lidded as he allowed himself to relax, basking in the warmth and humming along to whatever bawdy song was being sung. But the man blinked, and little Johnny Marston was gone.

He approached the table where he, Hosea and John often sat, playing Poker and Dominoes. On the wind, he could hear John moaning on and on about women, how they would tear you apart mercilessly, nag at you and mold you into someone wholly different. Even now, he could hear the man’s words become jaded and bitter, snarling and snapping like a cornered wolf as he swore that little Jack Marston wasn’t his - wasn’t his blood, wasn’t of his flesh. Arthur flinched, looking away from the table, hearing his own voice join in the ribbing. Maybe if he hadn’t said anything, maybe if he had told the others to lay off, they wouldn’t have woken to find Marston gone. Maybe if he had… maybe if he hadn’t… Maybe if he did… Maybe if he didn’t… Maybe…

When he found the source of the commotion, he thought for sure he was seeing another ghost. Because there was no reason for John Marston to be standing in the center of their family, looking hale and healthy, eyes bright and happy, hands moving rapidly through the air as he spoke. But there was no denying it - not unless he was hallucinating the way that Dutch was standing there, nodding along. The way Hosea was smiling in that way of his, one hand on Dutch’s shoulder, just like Dutch’s was on John’s. The way that everyone was watching John as though he were some hero returning from a brush with death, not a mangy cur that had fled with its tail between its legs at the first sign of disagreement.

His heart rushed in his ears, and Arthur’s fist clenched on his pistol. For a moment, nothing sounded like a better idea than drawing the gun and putting a bullet between the man’s eyes, watching him drop like the worthless dog he was. But then movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Abigail moving away from the gathering, towards her tent, hurrying Jack ahead of her. Her movements were sharp and harsh, and the snarl of rage on her face was a mirror of his own.

Looking back at Marston, he sneered - the man had begun to pass out gifts. Who was he now, Father Christmas? Did he think he could gather back their favor with things? But it seemed to be working. Karen seemed to be quite happy with the crate of various alcohols he had pulled from the wagon hitched behind a horse Arthur had never seen before - some dark brown thing, with a wild white mane that covered its eyes - and Javier was speechless as he ran his fingers over the neck of a beautifully crafted guitar. Dutch was quickly given several fountain pens, and Arthur idly wondered how many people John had to kill to get all of these gifts, eying the many things still in the back of the wagon.

Arthur shook his head, turning on his heel to walk away. Pearson was distracted by a new set of cooking utensils, and so he intended on butchering the deer before it could go bad in the heat. But a call of “Morgan!” and the sound of approaching footsteps made him still, turning to see who had come up to him.

John Marston stood before him, weight resting on his rightmost foot in a habit that he had picked up from Arthur. And for a moment, Arthur could see little Johnny, the young boy who had mimicked everything he had done; until the boy - the man - opened his mouth. “You didn’t think I forgot you, did you?” he chuckled, pressing something into Arthur’s hands.

Morgan looked down, finding himself holding a journal. Ghosting his fingers over the cover, he found it to be black leather, of extremely high quality. In gold, the letters AM were carved into the bottom right corner of the cover, and when he opened the journal the spine cracked. The pages were smooth and white, still neatly bound and unwritten in. In the back of his head, Arthur knew that Marston had to have bought this himself, had to have spent a great deal of money on it. There was no way he could have had the luck to steal a brand new journal engraved with his initials on it.

Heat bubbled in his chest, and he flashed his teeth; he flung the journal at Marston’s feet, feeling a grim satisfaction as it landed face down, pages crumpling and pure white becoming coated in filth. Whirling about on his heel, he began to stalk away, grinding his teeth. His eyes landed on Hosea, the older man bouncing Jack on his knee, trying to distract the boy. “People don’t forget, John.” His use of the man’s first name made him startle, raising his head from where he had been staring at the ruined journal, turning it over in his hands. Arthur saw, then, Abigail sitting on her bedroll, head in her hands, shoulders shaking, and then he knew why Hosea was playing with Jack. Arthur growled, clenching his fist as he fought the urge to spin around and lay the man out - the man had walked out, been gone for a year, thrown his family into chaos and left them missing one of their own. Jack had lost a father, Dutch and Hosea a son; Abigail a… husband, if he could be called that, and Arthur his brother, as reluctant as he was to admit it. And then he waltzed in, passing out stolen gifts, expecting to be welcomed in with open arms. Some of them may have fallen for it, those who weren’t too close to him were happy to accept a gift in return for forgiving him, but his family would not.

“Nothing gets forgiven.” he spat and, uncaring of the heat, stalked away to tack up Boadicea, not sure of where he would go but knowing that he would not return until he had blood on his hands and something to tithe to the camp.

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