HerFables

✶𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 | 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐭✶

[ak319]

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ you spin and I spiral — this is how devotion kills

ˏˋ ಇ Nae | 18+ | INFP | Main ࿐ྂ

writing slow-burning obsession & soft ruin ೀ⋆｡˚ ⋆ romantic horrors in pastel language

heartache dressed in silk ೀ⋆｡˚ ⋆ delicate madness disguised as love

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ Love tinted fairy tales and letters

ಇ. masterlists

ಇ. asks/requests list

ಇ. rules

ಇ. Wattpad

©ak319. All rights reserved. Don't copy, translate, modify, or repost my work or characters!

[qamar2026]

I write these words with a broken heart. To those who read this and choose to ignore it, you can simply scroll past, but I am living through the most difficult moments of my life. My husband is slowly dying before my eyes. Due to a severe head and jaw injury, he has been unable to eat or drink for over a week, his weight has dropped to just 39 kilograms, and he is suffering from severe, life-threatening malnutrition.

[qamar2026]

The doctors confirmed he needs urgent surgery, but we can't afford the operation and treatment. I feel helpless watching him weaken day by day, while time is running out.💔

chuffed - Vetted#53

[qamar2026]

I'm not asking for the impossible; I'm simply asking for a chance to save his life. Please, if you can't donate, don't hesitate to share our story. It might reach someone who can give him a new lease on life.💔🙏

[pausepostsfundraisers]

This campaign is vetted and currently at $3,115/$10,000.

Please help if you can.

You can donate here:

Samar's Urgent Plea: Save Qamar and Omar

My name is Samar. I write from a fragile tent in Gaza, a mother who loves her two little children with all her heart. My husband is severely

[qamar2026]

Please donate now. Your support could save his life.

[professionalmushroom]

Please donate to their campaign if it’s possible and share !!

[qamar2026]

Please, I am in urgent need of a donation right now.

[ak319]

can u do like a really clingy and touchy john? like he just always has to be near u and follows u everywhere and is always trying to cuddle or hold hands 😭

Warnings/MDNI: fluff!

┆ ⤿ ❀ m.list

"You are still sitting here and wasting oxygen? Get your ass up and bring me the bullets! You are the biggest bum I've ever come across! Imma' come back in 10 minutes and if I see you in this camp, you are getting kicked out for real this time. I have got enough on my shoulders, in fact all of US! But you seem the only exception-" There goes Hosea again.

"FINE I HEARD YOU CAN YOU SHUT UP FOR ONE SEC, LORD?! Man can't even sit and admire their wife in this shithole FOR ONCE!"

Yeah, that's what he has been doing. Watching you like a creep from outside the tent as you were cooking, unaware or…purposefully ignoring him because this is what he did every morning. Smoke and watch as if you were doing some kind of a magic show. You tried telling him softly that this wasn't good and he needed to be productive (in truth, you just got embarrassed when people around made fun of you or him for being an overly attached couple, which wasn't TRUE!). You were not a willing participant in this clinginess or whatever…

Your body jolted as you heard a chair being kicked over and stomping. His tantrum of the day as usual. But you didn't spare a glance and continued working. You didn't miss Pearson's snort, though.

You had enough of it.

❀˖°

"Joh-n--please get away. Not funny.."

"Mhm?? What was that, princess?"

"I--can you get aside?" There he goes blocking your way out of the tent again.

"You are always eager to leave and do chores." His thumb rubbed your chin with utter devotion. "They ain't gonna die if you sleep in once! Shouldn't I-NO, I should be your priority , so let's-" he held your arm, "Just relax today."

"No, we just woke up."

"Exactly, cuz' I still ain't satisfie-"

"JOHN! WE HAVE SOME WORK TO DO, MEET OUT IN THE STABLES IN 5!"

"I'M SICK!" You rolled your eyes at your husband's fake cough and groaning. "Need (Y/N) to take care of me today-"

"YOU'VE BEEN SICK SINCE THE MARRIAGE, SHUT THE ACT AND COME OUT! And we are all sick of you! Your beloved isn't gonna get fed by you being a sloth!"

"I feed her JUST FINE! FUCK OFF!"

"He's right-" John glared and hugged you tight to shut you up, making your voice muffled.

Arthur slapped the barrel outside in warning… Normally you would be scared of him, but sometimes he was a hero. "GET OUT IN FIVE OR IMMA' TEAR THE TENT AND YOU APART!"

"What's with these people always making me WORK! I'M A NEWLYWED GROOM!"

He leaves with that same aggressive sigh and pout and, of course, the long kiss as if he were going to a war.

"Be ready before I come back. Imma' take you to town, princess." Oh, as if that's going to be a blessing when he's going to hold your hand every second there and not even let you roam around.

"Woah, can't wait..."

"I love you, princess. Take care!" He booped your nose and went out with a giggle.

Idiot.

❀˖°

If someone wants a better visual of how clingy John is...then your account is not enough. Almost every member has something to say about it. Let's hear them out. (AN: I thought it would be more funny to do it in a commentary style..)

(Hosea, sorting his books, talking to camera)

HOSEA: People ask me, "Hosea, you've conned kings and preachers, you've talked your way out of gunfights. Surely you can get John Marston to do one simple chore." And I tell them, actually no. I cannot. Nobody can. There is no long con for a man in love. Believe me, I've tried three.

(cut to Hosea approaching your tent)

HOSEA: John, I need you to run a letter to Valentine.

JOHN: Can't. Busy.

HOSEA: Doing what?

JOHN: (gesturing vaguely at you, mid-chore, ignoring him completely) ...Overseeing.

Hosea: Poor girl is just….churning butter, John.

JOHN: It's a two-person job.

HOSEA: (to camera) It is NOT a two-person job….

❀˖°

(Pearson, at his cart, talking to camera)

PEARSON: Back in the Navy, we had a term for men like Marston. We called it "compromised." A compromised man is no use on deck, no use in a fight, no use choppin' vegetables , which, incidentally, he came to help me ‘shockingly’ with chopping and he chopped four carrots in twenty minutes because he kept stoppin' to watch her hang laundry like a fool. Turns out that is WHY he came to help. Because standing in the wagon gave him perfect line of sight. If only, this boy was good at using this damn sight in hunting, we wouldn't be fucking starving.

(cut to Arthur, exasperated, walking past)

ARTHUR: Where Marston at?

PEARSON: Where he always is! Their tent. Sleepin' on her lap, like a fucking baby he is. Pft.

ARTHUR: (already walking away) Right. Should've known.

❀˖°

(Uncle, half-asleep by the fire, talking to camera)

UNCLE: People think I don't notice things 'cause I'm always restin' my eyes. I notice plenty. I noticed Marston walk past me eleven times today just to go stand near her. Eleven times. I counted 'cause I had nothin' else to do, on account of restin' my eyes. I never seen such a useless man. Like do something productive instead of tailing 'round your wife. Men these days…tsk.

And most importantly, Arthur…

ARTHUR: I used to write his name on the chore board. Now I just write 'ers, and draw an arrow, and put his name under it. Saves time.

​

AN: I know kinda short but hehe, i am getting there. RDR2 fever just came back and im getting into it...

taglist: @littlebirdgot @captainyeiyei @hyunnjiin @loverssickness @honeybunny75 @aenishas

[ak319]

─⋆⋅𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦⋅⋆─

Definition: a tradition as cruel as it is final. A gunshot outside a woman’s door, her name spoken into the cold night air, and with it, her freedom is gone. There is no consent, no ceremony, only the sharp assertion of power masked as ritual. A crime? A sin? A violation of all that is decent? A taboo that civilized folk shun?. Perhaps. But outlaws don’t concern themselves with decency. Outlaws don’t ask. They take...

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "Redrum - 21 savage" 0:22 ━━━━●───── 04:26ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ↻

This masterlist contains ✮Chapters I✮Scenarios I✮Extras

───AN: This masterlist is only for Arthur and John. No other VDL members. It is made solely for this concept; abbrev: WOC. While sending me asks/requests, do make it clear that you want it for this concept by mentioning it. Do read the rules too.

───Warnings/MDNI: fem reader, forced marriages, kidnapping, manhandling, suggestive dub/non-con themes , angst, abuse, fluff, forced pregnancy, honour fluctuations (high--mid-- low), basically you are in 1800's // I don't condone such behaviour irl!

───Req/asks status: closed for now.

─── main rdr2 m.list

───Arthur's Version

──Chapters

⋆ 01 ⋆02 ⋆03 ⋆04 ⋆05 ⋆06 ⋆07 ⋆08 ⋆09 ⋆10 ⋆11

──Extras

Parenthood

───John's Version

──Chapters

One-shot ── Scenarios gonna be based on this

──Scenarios

No such thing as leavin' He Calls It Love Taught You Proper Daddy troubles You are pregnant Sweet Bread

© ak319. All rights reserved. unless otherwise noted. Reposting, modifying, or using my content without explicit permission is strictly prohibited.

- First Arthur Pic by Miranda and the other two below by ily.1iu / Pinterest.

[sharifmoody]

Please, please, look at my donation campaign and help me. I have newborn children and my son Ahmed needs treatment. He is a heart patient and suffers from two holes in the heart. He needs help and treatment. We do not have money and we are stuck in Egypt because of the Gaza war. My wife and I lost my jobs and there is no source of income. I would like you to help. To care for my children and provide the necessary treatment for my child Ahmed, please donate even a little thing to save my child’s life

I write to you with a heavy heart 💔 My children and I are going through very difficult times, and no one is asking about us. My son needs treatment and medication, and he needs milk, diapers, and urgent care. Please don't leave us alone in these difficult circumstances. 😔

We need your help. The situation is extremely difficult. You are our last hope. Food, clothes, milk, rent—everything has become incredibly expensive. My son, Ahmed, needs heart surgery and eye surgery. Please help my son so he can complete his treatment and undergo the operations. In addition to my family in Gaza, my parents, brothers, and sisters are also living in dire circumstances. Please help me for the sake of my family.

My name is Sharif, and I suffer from a back injury. I need intensive treatment and physical therapy to recover. Unfortunately, we lost everything in Gaza; we have no income and cannot work. The situation is extremely difficult.

PLEASE HELP 🙏🏽 EVEN A SIMPLE REPOST AND COMMENTING CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!

Donate to save my innocent children

Hello, I'm Sharif Al-Amoudi from Gaza. I'm married and have twins, Hussam and Ahmed, who are five months old. They were born after four atte

https://www.tumblr.com/sar-soor/800243879780761600?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/nabulsi/777393943645208576?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/90-ghost/768348012370100224?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/a-shade-of-blue/777485404670656512/this-fundraiser-has-been-shared-by-nabulsi?source=share

[a-shade-of-blue]

Their previous fundraisers were shared by @/nabulsi (gfm), shared by 90-ghost

[dewshines]

1,244 / 50k, may 19th.

[followerex]

reblogged by nabulsi here for ease of access: https://www.tumblr.com/nabulsi/777393943645208576?source=share

the old campaign is still shown on that reblog, but when you clicked into the one from shareef it shows the new campaign. However, that post seems to have been removed.

[justers-fundraiser-reblogs2]

Please donate to this family if you are able to at all, anything you can give will make a difference and is absolutely worth it even if you can only afford to contribute a small amount, and be sure to reblog this post with tags so it can reach more people and donations can keep being made consistently!

[fundraiser-reblogs]

€1388/15000

As of May 26/2026!

[sharifmoody]

My children are holding on to a small hope your help now could save them from a harsh fate. Every contribution, no matter the size makes a real difference in their lives🙏

[this-account-is-not-active-rn]

Please help while there is still time!! Donate and/or share!! Any action you take can help as long as you do something!!

[existentialplasticextra]

Please everyone, ACT NOW and help Sharif and his family. They need URGENT help.

He has EXTREMELY LOW FUNDS, and donations are coming in very SLOWLY, so he needs as much support as possible!!

Please DONATE as much as you can, SHARE their story as widely as possible, and REBLOG with tags to keep Sharif's posts in circulation!!

[sharifmoody]

My mother was injured in Gaza and needs a metal plate in her leg. Please help me get her treatment. My mother desperately needs your donations and assistance.

[angellvck]

[girltalk]

you deserve love that feels like home ♡

[sohfdk]

vetted by @ga-za-evacuation-fund

I'm Suad Mohammad mother from Ga-za, I am writing this because my 6 children and I have lost everything in this devastating.

We are now living in a small fragile tent that offers no protection from the scorching sun or the freezing cold .We are essentially living on the street with nothing to our name Diseases are spreading through our bodies clean water is nearly impossible to find and we have no food to eat. Life has become unbearably bitter.

I am reaching out to you as a sister seeking help for her family. Ple-ase do not ignore my plea. Even the smallest amount of sup-port could protect my children from hunger and the cold.

We are desperate and we truly need you to stand by us,Thank you for your humanity.

[saragaza00]

Hello my friend I am a mother of two little girls from Gaza, Sara (6 years old) and Ameera (5 years old) 💔Before the war, we lived a simple life with a home and dreams like any other family. Today, our home has been destroyed, and we are living in a damaged tent after long months of displacement, fear, hunger, and loss.

My daughters spend their days standing in long lines for water and bread instead of living their childhood 🥺 My husband was also injured while trying to bring food for us during the famine.

I created this fundraiser with a broken heart, only hoping to protect my daughters and give them a chance to live with dignity, safety, and hope again 🙏

Any donation, no matter how small, can help us survive. And if you cannot donate, sharing our story may help us reach someone who can, but please try to support us with a donation because my campaign is still new and my little girls desperately need your help 🌿

Help Sara and Ameera Survive

Hi, I am Max Langlois. I created this fundraiser for these two little girls. Please read their story below, share and donate if you can.

Please do not leave Sara and Ameera alone in this pain and suffering 💔

[diviniyae]

text banners

credit not needed. recoloring welcomed. feel free to edit as you need!

[ak319]

Dark A.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim ┃ ─𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟏 ─

Warnings/MDNI: none. ✰ 2.4K +++ Arthur pic by bambs, scenery by watanabe, and dutch by 𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗌

★ Prev I concept m.list

It was 9 in the evening, and Molly , well, she needed a smoke. Dutch had barely strung together more than three words today. Why? Why would he ignore a perfect, loving, loyal woman? Because of a boy. A "self-proclaimed son" he'd plucked off the streets , and now that boy was gone, taking Dutch's smile right along with him.

"Bollocks…" She exhaled a slow ring of smoke, staring up into the starry night.

Then she heard it , a small noise. Small enough to be missed.

Suki.

Curled up beside your and Arthur's tent. Shit. They'd forgotten her in all the drama and hurry.

"Hey… there, girl." Molly crouched, scooping the cat into her arms with a gentle smile. For a moment, she forgot all her worries in the quiet warmth of soft fur , well, except for Bill and Pearson's thunderous snoring rattling across the camp.

"Let's see if there are any leftovers for you…" Her feet turned toward the wagon, but something made her stop.

The tent flap, slightly open.

At first, it was only curiosity , a passing wonder at how seamlessly you had settled in beside Arthur. She told herself it was nothing more than that. Her gaze swept over the dim space, lit only by the lantern hanging outside on Dutch's tent, its amber glow bleeding faintly through the canvas.

What an analogy. Dutch, a shining light in that orphan boy's eyes, and now that boy had gone and left this whole gang for his woman.

Ah, Dutch. When will you ever realize…

There was a quiet sting of envy as her eyes drifted over the space. The way your hairbrush lay beside Arthur's comb. Homely. Domestic. All the small, tender things missing from her own life. How was that even possible , more warmth tucked into what began as a hollow, vengeful arrangement than in a relationship built on something real? Something like love?

Her gaze wandered to a chest near the far side of the tent. A beautiful one. Nearly as fine as her own. Yours.

"Maybe your snack is in there, hm?" she murmured to Suki, knowing full well it was wrong. But one glance outside confirmed the camp was still and silent, and , well. Recent events had given her reason enough. She just needed to be sure. To know that you were someone worth trusting. A woman who was a victim, not a…

"Mhm. Doesn't seem like it."

Her hand glided over folded garments until her fingers met something solid beneath a satin dress. A perfume bottle? Her brows knitted as she lifted it , small, dark, filled with what looked like dried leaves and herbs.

But Molly O'Shea was no fool. She was not one of the naive girls giggling around the campfire. She had knowledge, and she had sense , enough of both to recognize exactly what she was holding.

These herbs.

Something clicked in her mind. Several things, in fact. And several others… didn't.

She stood there a breath too long. Should she take it with her , no. No.

She placed it back carefully, tucking it beneath the satin just as she'd found it, closed the chest, and made certain everything was exactly as it had been. Then she slipped out of the tent with Suki still warm against her chest, her breathing heavier than she'd like to admit, and made her way to the wagon without looking back.

❀˖°

"Hosea… got a minute?"

"Yes, what is it, Miss O'Shea?"

"It's , I wanted to ask about Abigail's condition. Is she doing any better?"

Hosea skimmed the camp for the girl's presence, but it seemed she was still sleeping in. Good. She needed it.

"Doing better, yes. Though she gets cramps often now." He exhaled quietly. "It worries me."

"I know. But do you know why? It wasn't happening before…"

"Well, when I took her to the clinic, the doctor said she may have eaten something that didn't agree with her." He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't mention the rising tensions here, of course , the shootout with the law, all of that. And John… that stupid boy, keeping his distance. He's been gone for days now. I just hope he went after Arthur and nothing else."

"Hm." Molly nodded slowly. "Well. I'll be sure to look after Abigail more."

And that was how she found out , mid-conversation, almost in passing.

"Oh, it could be a reaction to those chocolates I had…"

Molly's fingers stilled around her cup. "Which ones?"

"(Y/N) gave some of them to me." Abigail shifted, pressing a hand absently to her middle. "Everything's been unsettled since, if I'm honest. Suppose they didn't suit me. They were so delicious, though."

…Chocolates.

The box in the chest. The bottle. You taking Abigail to the clinic in those early days , and then the law arriving not long after. Was any of it a coincidence?

Molly held her expression carefully, even as her mind turned it over and over, fitting the pieces together like a puzzle she wasn't sure she wanted to finish.

"Mhm. Could be," she said at last, her voice smooth and unhurried. "Next time, don't eat anything like that , nothing artificial from the market. All you need are fruits. Pure, simple things."

Abigail's expression softened, a warmth blooming in her tired eyes at the steadiness of Molly's voice . something almost motherly in it. It nearly brought tears to her eyes. With everything so tense, and John gone…

He never cared anyway.

"Thank you so much, Miss Molly," she said quietly. "Your words mean a lot. They really do." The thudding of hooves stole their attention. After two weeks , guess who was back? Arthur and you.

You were wearing different clothes than the night you'd left, and Arthur had a bag slung over his shoulder. A long silence swept the camp as everyone registered the sight of the two of you riding in together, unhurried, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Seems like someone had a good holiday." Molly smirked, arms folded. "At least some people around here are enjoying themselves."

Abigail was already on her feet, crossing the camp toward you both.

"Arthur, son ... you're back." Dutch stepped forward, pulling him into an embrace that Arthur returned stiffly. Then Dutch held him by the shoulders, studying his face for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them. "Knew you would be," he said gruffly, with the quiet certainty of a man who had never truly doubted it.

His contemplative gaze swept briefly to you , acknowledging, nothing more. Certainly not with the same warmth he reserved for Arthur.

"Well. There's something I'd like to speak to you about, son." Dutch gestured toward his tent. "Would you mind?"

He was surprised when Arthur's hand found yours.

"Yeah, we do." Arthur's voice was even, unhurried , and all the more final for it. "Whatever you've got to say on behalf of that bastard, she hears it too."

The camp went quiet. Arthur Morgan...saying no to...Dutch? Unheard of. Dutch held his gaze for a beat, then two. Something shifted behind his eyes , not quite surprise, but close to it. He exhaled slowly through his nose.

"I understand." He turned his head. "Pearson... fetch us some (coffee/tea), would you?"

❀˖°

Pearson set the cups down without a word and made himself scarce. Smart man.

Dutch settled into his chair with the ease of someone who had never once lost an argument he cared about winning. He let the silence sit for a moment , comfortable in it, the way only men who controlled rooms ever were. His eyes moved between the two of you, unhurried, taking inventory. Then he smiled. not unkindly.

"First things first." He looked at you directly, inclining his head with something that almost resembled grace. "I am glad you are safe, my dear. Truly. Whatever… friction may have occurred, that much was never in question."

Then his gaze shifted to Arthur, and the smile warmed further , genuinely, or so it seemed.

"And you." He exhaled, leaning forward, elbows to knees. "You had me worried, son. I won't pretend otherwise. But you're here. That's what matters."

He reached for his cup. Took his time with it.

"Now." His tone didn't harden so much as settle , like a man easing into the real conversation after the pleasantries had served their purpose. "I imagine you've got a good deal to say to me. And I'll hear every word of it, I promise you that. But I'd ask , I'd ask, Arthur, not demand , that you hear me out first. As you always have. Can you do that?"

He didn't wait long for an answer.

"Micah is…" He paused, as if carefully selecting the word, as if he hadn't already chosen it long before he sat down. "…Micah is what he is. I won't insult your intelligence by telling you he's a gentle soul. We both know better." A quiet, almost conspiratorial chuckle , just the two of us, Arthur, we understand things the others don't. "But what I will tell you is that he is useful. And right now, in the position this gang finds itself in, useful is not something we can afford to throw away lightly."

His eyes drifted to you then...briefly. "I understand he caused… upset. And I am sorry for that." The apology landed smooth as river stone, worn of all rough edges. "That was not my intention. None of this was my intention. You have to believe that."

He set his cup down.

"But Arthur." His voice dropped, just slightly , intimate now, drawing a circle around the two of them that quietly excluded you without ever acknowledging it. "This life we lead, it asks things of us. Hard things. Things that don't always sit right. You know this. Better than anyone here, you know this. And what I need , what this family needs , is for you to be present. To be here. With us. The way you've always been."

"She's important to you." He didn't look at you when he said it. "I can see that plainly. And I would never ask you to give up something that matters to you." He spread his hands open, the portrait of reason. "All I'm asking is that you don't let one bad moment drive a wedge between you and the people who have been with you since the beginning. That's all, son. That is all I'm asking."

He leaned back, calm, unhurried , a man who had just laid out something perfectly fair and was now simply waiting for the other person to agree.

His eyes finally settled on you, steady and warm and utterly unreadable beneath it.

"And you, my dear , I hope you know there is place is yours too and you have value here. We take care of our own."

"Course you do." You retorted. "Arthur, that disgusting man is not coming back here , whatever the case. Over my dead body!."

And with that you were gone, leaving Dutch to stare at the space where you'd been sitting.

"Arthur-"

"She's right." Arthur's voice was flat. Unmovable. "He doesn't come within an inch of this camp. We go to him if we need his help so badly. That's the end of it."

Dutch held his gaze for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. "Fine." He reached for his cup again. "Fine."

For now.

"There is… one more thing." His tone shifted , lighter now, almost careful, the way a man handles something fragile he doesn't want to drop. "Consider it good news. Lord knows we could use some."

Arthur didn't move, just watched him.

"This is something I kept between myself and Hosea for a time. I won't go into every detail, but , when we left Blackwater, the two of us became involved in a business arrangement with some gentlemen. And as a reward for our part in it…" Dutch set his cup down with quiet precision. "We were given a plot of land. In Cinderpoint. An acre and a half. Good location. Good soil."

The tent was very still.

"I had construction started , quietly .. with some of the money we earned helping out your girl's father. I'm telling you now because I want you involved, Arthur. I want you to take responsibility for it. Go out there, look after the building, oversee the boys. It's time we…" He paused, and for just a moment something almost genuine crossed his face , tired, and old, and wanting. "It's time we put down something solid. A farm. A proper business. A foundation." Arthur stared at him.

The word foundation sat in the air between them like smoke.

He'd heard Dutch talk about plans before. I have a plan, Arthur. Trust me, son. He'd heard it in the cold, heard it hungry, heard it with blood still drying on his hands and Dutch's voice steady as a river current, always pulling him forward, always just over the next hill, the next job, the next horizon. One last time had been said so many times it had stopped meaning anything.

And yet.

Land. Legal. Documented. Theirs. Arthur picked up his cup. Turned it slowly in his hands without drinking from it.

"You're tellin' me," he said at last, his voice low and measured, "that we've got land. Sitting there. Right now. With papers."

"Every document in order. Hosea saw to it himself." Dutch leaned forward slightly. "This is real, son. This is not a dream I'm selling you. This is something you could stand on."

Arthur was quiet for a long moment. Long enough that the sounds of the camp outside filtered back in , someone's boots on gravel, the distant whinny of a horse, the ordinary noise of people just living.

He thought about you. The two weeks spent outside...under a proper roof for once. About what it had felt like to wake up somewhere quiet, with you beside him, and nothing pressing in from every direction for once.

He thought about how that had felt like something worth keeping.

"Cinderpoint," he repeated slowly, like he was testing the weight of the word.

"Good land," Dutch said again, quieter now. Arthur set the cup down and rubbed a hand across his jaw, eyes distant. "I'll go look at it." His voice gave nothing away. "Can't promise a damn thing til I see it with my own eyes."

"That's all I ask, son." He reached over and gripped Arthur's shoulder, firm and brief. "That's all I ever ask." Arthur nodded once. Then stood, setting his hat back on his head, and stepped out of the tent without another word.

Outside, the camp carried on around him. But his mind was already somewhere else, flat land, open sky, and the quiet, dangerous shape of something that almost looked like a future. You , him and perhaps more...all now very near..

He couldn't believe it. His dream of having a normal life was finally coming true...

AN: It was hard to come back to writing after being so busy, which ultimately made me suffer from writer's block too, but y'all guys' love for this story made me vomit all the words out. Kinda short than rest of parts but...yep. To be added or removed from the tag list, u can always lemme know!

★ tag list: @m1stea @warmsideofthepillow03 @thatoneraeder @marzintears @nxttaru @cazzacarm @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @nulixity @poll-u @bajabish @cheesycheddarr @luzzbuzz @dilfsarelife @ninastyless @claire-is-here @replaythatrayrae @hopingtoclearmedschool @lain3iwakura @bashfulcowgirl87 @catjsashrine @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @meheheasasa @sensitivegamergirl @jbrownta @mandalover2023 @ceza-141 @httpskuri @abigatorchomp @nalitali @hopingtocleaemedschool @misoxramen @kiwifishy @immasimp4oldman @strawluvr @dutchiepoo2 @ikonic141

[ak319]

60's Yan househubby x fem!reader

──Intro

Warnings: matriarchal world, bxg, mpreg, implied content, reader is a playgirl and misandrist af cuz why not, uncanny, a bit of horror? Syno: It's bad enough when your fling tells you that he's pregnant. Worse still, when the gossip mill has already spread the news to every doorstep on your street. +++ beautiful dividers by @/ diviniyae. This was based on an ask btw, even though I had mentioned that for OCS, I don't usually prefer getting a word-for-word ask, but since I was myself planning to write a vintage hubby oc and couldn't resist, so here it is. ─ m.lists

Your fault, wasn't it? You simply couldn't keep it in your pants. But then, what else were you meant to do? You had only just secured a respectable corporate position, moved into this new neighborhood. Not quite the upper crust, but polished enough. A place that signaled you'd moved up in the world, respectable enough to make your parents swell with pride.

And then there was this boy.

That peculiar young boy you had spotted once or twice skating about without a care in the world, or truthfully, more than once or twice. Much more. How else could he have learned your comings and goings with such precision? He was an odd one, cheerful yet curiously shy. Bold in the way he carried himself, yet hesitant to draw too close. Almost like a stray cat, forever circling, waiting for you to notice.

And damn, the cat had claws, something you discovered soon enough after the date. Yes, a date. It happened after you finally recognized those doe eyes he cast your way in the driveway, when you returned from the office and he, with disarming boldness, complimented your tie.

Corrie Green.

That was his name. The one which he muttered so soft you almost missed it.

‧₊ᵎᵎ🍒⋅°✮

The diner wasn't high society, but it had polish, chrome trim gleaming under low amber lights, checkered floor shining as if scrubbed for royalty. The kind of place where men came dressed sharp, perfume lingering, nails polished until they caught the light, and where women like you leaned back in booths, cigarette in hand, owning the room without needing to try.

Corrie sat across from you, smoothing the crease of his boots with bows on top. They were the kind of red that reminded you of that Dorofei movie, what was it called? Oh yeah, The Witch of Oz. His doe eyes never lingered away from you for long. His lace collared shirt had a faint shimmer to it, the kind of thing a boy wore when he wanted to be noticed with a cute skirt that showed his milky legs. And those pearl earrings with green stones complementing his eyes, swang to and fro with every nervous bob of his pretty head with blonde hair, made you imagine all sorts of things.

What?

You were a woman, and not an unattractive one, either. Part of the reason you never had to try too hard when men came flocking to you, eager to please. They'd spoiled you, really. Ruined your habits. That wasn't your fault. What woman could resist when it was being offered up on a golden plate?

The religious types in the neighborhood clutched their pearls over that. "The Bachelor," they whispered, like it was both a warning and a scandal. Maybe a compliment, maybe just a way of telling their sons to stay home. Either way, it didn't stop anyone.

And clearly, Corrie's parents hadn't been keeping him on too tight a leash.

"So, tell me darling," you asked, swirling the ice in your glass. "What are your plans?"

"P-plans?" His red, glossy lips closed around the straw of his cola, buying him time, cooling his voice. His blushed cheeks were now the norm to you. "Finish college and… settle down. Ha-ve...kids. You know… the usual."

Not much of a manist type, then. You had a soft spot for those men bold enough to fight for their rights, to stand tall and demand to be heard. That was adorable in its own way. A kind of a turn on?

Still. This one worked too, the standards, as you called them.

"Mhm. That's cute," you said, leaning back, lips quirking. "And how do you imagine your significant other to be?"

YOU. YOU. YOU. YOU

His heart was thrumming with this word. That's what he wanted to blurt, but God, your eyes. The way they pinned his green ones in place left his mind blank and his tongue tied.

"Um-" he started, fiddling with his straw again, lashes lowering to his drink before flicking back up at you. "Kind. Strong and funny.... Someone who knows what she wants. Someone I can… keep happy. And who can keep me happy too?"

The corner of your mouth tugged upward. You knew that look. You'd seen it in men before, the unspoken plea, the wanting. But Corrie's was different. Sweet, yes, but edged with something more.

‧₊ᵎᵎ🍒⋅°✮

And that was exactly how you ended up in a hotel with him.

"I---I haven't done this before," he had whispered, voice trembling.

You couldn't have been more excited.

Well… you shouldn't have been that excited about being the first one to pop the cherry like a cavewoman because from that one reckless night-

He's carrying your baby.

And how did you find out? From him? No. The whole neighborhood knew first. His brother let it slip to the hairdresser, and the hairdresser told everyone else.

"Why did you tell him?!" you exploded when the news circled back. "And then what did your brother do? He told the fucking hairdresser. The hairdresser of all PEOPLE?!"

By then, gossip had spread like wildfire, and Corrie, poor, frantic Corrie, came running to your door. Perfect. Just what you needed. Your Saturday ruined, your night out with the girls shot to hell.

"I--I just had to get it off my chest," he sobbed, clutching at you like a child. "I--m-y mother, my family, (Y/N)… please. What should I do?"

"END IT! What else?!" Your voice cracked like a whip. "I can't have a -----fucking kid right now!"

Corrie froze. The sobs caught in his throat, his lips parted but no sound came. His glossy eyes stared at you, wide and wounded, like he couldn't quite believe what you'd just said. Like any woman could say that. Was it that normal for women to say...that? Was...this not his fairytale? Was he that...bad? That you didn't even consider...having it with him? Was his cousins and school fellows right about him? About him being a spinster forever? The one whom women only spared one glance, not a second one, definitely not a third. But you did....didn't you? So...why...?

Maybe life...doesn't have any Princess Charming after all. Just a fucking story they sell to men---idiot unworthy boys like him so they keep dreaming while the other, beautiful, deserving ones live their life with their princesses. His hands trembled where they clutched his knees, silent now, as if the air had been knocked clean out of him.

The room was thick with it, your words still hanging, his silence pressing back, until the doorbell rang.

You turned your head slowly, a chill running down your spine. Corrie didn't move. His eyes dropped to the floor, tears slipping down his cheeks as if he already knew.

And when you swung open the door, there they were.

His parents.

Corrie's mother stood in the doorway first, tall and iron-backed, her coat still buttoned though the night was warm. No softness about her face, just the sharp edge of command, the kind that could slice through bone. His father trailed behind, smaller, almost folded into himself, his hands wringing like he wasn’t sure whether to comfort his son or stay invisible.

"You daughter OF A DOG!" his mother spat, voice ringing through the walls like a verdict. She stepped inside, no hesitation, every inch of the house already hers. Mr. Green followed, shaken, clutching Corrie to his chest as though the boy might disappear if he let go.

"I told you to stay away from her! And look----see?! My intuition was right all along!" Her finger jabbed at you like a spear. "The kind of filth she surrounds herself with, her hooligan friends. They're all the same, wild, no discipline, no honor-"

But Corrie? He wasn't listening.

His plan had been so simple in his head. You'd hear about the baby, and you'd come running, swoop him off his feet. Maybe you'd even hold his hand first, for once. Maybe things would shift.

Not this. Not you telling him to end it. End what hadn't even begun.

You stared at him, at the way he stood frozen under his mother's fury. Something in your chest twisted hard. You’d seen men cry before, usually with a bottle in hand, shouting at you, breaking furniture. In short, all your past 'boyfriends' had. But him?

He didn't shout. Didn't throw anything.

He just stood there, pale and still, as if he had accepted it already.

And then it slipped from him, barely audible, so small you almost missed it. "Mama… let's go home… please."

His hand clutched hers just as she drew back from which she was about to strike you.

"You asshole, stay away from my household, got it?!"

You watched them leave. Corrie's mother with her iron spine, her jaw tight enough to cut glass. She didn't look back once, didn't even spare you the dignity of a final glare.

The door shut, and the silence that followed was worse than the shouting. You stood there, throat dry, the taste of shame still bitter on your tongue. For the first time in years, you felt small, like every reckless choice, every careless fling, every word you threw like a knife had finally cornered you. You'd ruined him.

With trembling hands and no choice, you picked up the telephone and dialed your mother's number without a thought.

She was strict with you, always had been. COO of some big-shot company, her expectations had weighed heavy on you since childhood. That's why you’d run from that town, desperate to escape her shadow, desperate to live without being measured every second.

"Yes? What is it?" her voice came sharp through the receiver, followed by a faint hiss of a lighter and the telltale drag of smoke.

"Um… mom. Well, something happene-"

"Just get to the point."

"There… well, there's this boy, and I-"

"You got him pregnant?"

"…Y-yes."

"What are you telling me this now? Go to their house and fuckin' propose. Make it official, own it. You gonna let a man run around with your kid somewhere?"

"But I don't want it-"

"You should've thought of that before, dumbass. And not with your cock like always. Your father wants you settled anyway, and I'm tired of you fuckin' around here and there. So settle down proper. Our family also has a reputation, for God's sake. Got it? You got a job, a house, what else are you waiting for? I had you the same age.. It's time I get a grandkid."

She was right… half right.

"Yes, mom, but I-"

Click.

"Hello? Mom? …Damn it."

You slammed the phone down, throat tight, chest burning. Fuck it.

Well, you guessed it. You put on your best suit, grabbed a bouquet and some trinkets for his family, and made your way to their house with one intention only: to ask for his hand, to make him your husband. The one thing that terrified you.

Marriage.

You didn't know if you were built for it, if you could carry the weight without breaking. But you had to try. And maybe, you didn't even have a choice anymore.

So you stood in front of the Greens, every judgmental glance and angry silence from them cutting deep. Yet when you asked, when the words stumbled out raw and determined, the answer came.

Yes.

Because their son was unwed. Because he was already pregnant. And because, without hesitation, without doubt, he had already said yes to you.

‧₊ᵎᵎ🍒⋅°✮

Any woman would burn with envy if they saw you with Corrie. You had it all. An obedient husband who never raised his voice, not dazzling to the eyes but steady and soft in ways that mattered, the best cook anyone could dream of, and now a child on the way.

He's a very average husband, perfect, if anything. Corrie cooks like he was born with fire in his hands, keeps the house spotless, always dresses neatly, modestly, like a man should. Everyone in town whispers what a blessing he is.

But still… something feels off.

He never fights with you. Never. Not even a snapped word, not even a sulk. You don't dare confess it to your best friend, she'd laugh, tease about swapping husbands, tell you you've got a "pretty problem in heels." But you remember your childhood, your father, mascara-streaked and shrieking through every fight, accusing your mother of flirting with every passerby. Your grandmother's words linger too "the one you have to calm down is your man, lovers come and go, but men need to shout their claims, need to remind you they are not blind. How else would a woman know if her husband loves them?"

So why doesn't he? Why does Corrie never ask about the men who linger too long at your smile, never throw jealous barbs, never once raise his voice? Why does he only beam, kiss your hand, and ask if you're hungry? Be the perfect trophy husband at official gatherings? That angelic face of his, too calm, too tender, should feel safe. Instead, it makes your stomach twist.

It doesn't matter. You tell yourself it's foolish to be afraid of a man.

Yet… it's strange, isn't it? How Corrie always grows most excited in the kitchen after you've had fun with some...beauty you meet out there. How he cooks your favorite meals with a glow in his pale eyes, while those same men vanish from town without a trace. Sometimes their faces resurface in the newspaper, filed under the word missing.

And still, Corrie smiles sweetly, serving you another plate of meatloaf.

Always the fucking meatloaf.

AN: Guys trust me im a "manist" , i support equal rights for men and women-😭☠ i was laughin writing that- and reader is too, see how she loves men so much? 😔✊

[farahhaboub]

$658 left. Only 4 days left 💔🙏

I am trying so hard not to fall apart, but I am scared. Truly scared. In just 4 days, we need to raise $658 for the medication my mother and father depend on. Every night I lie awake thinking about them, wondering what will happen if we cannot get the treatment they need in time.💔

My parents are growing older, and their health is fragile. When I look at them, I don’t see numbers or fundraising goals . I see the two people who gave me everything they had. The people who stayed awake when I was sick, who sacrificed their comfort for mine, who loved me unconditionally every day of my life. Now they need help, and I feel helpless watching them wait for medication that I cannot afford.😔💔

I am not asking for luxury, comfort, or anything extra. I am only asking for a chance to protect my mother and father. A chance to keep them safe. A chance to hear their voices, see their smiles, and have more time with them.

Please, if you can spare even a few dollars, help us. If enough people give a little, we can reach this goal together. We have only 4 days left, and every donation could make a real difference in my parents’ lives. From a child who is terrified of losing the people they love most, thank you for reading, sharing, and caring.🙏😔

Current process: USD 16,407 / $17,065

Vatted by : @90-ghost

Vatted by : @sar-soor

Vatted by : @fairuzfan

[farahfamily4]

Please donate whatever you can and share the post 🙏

[anxietyproblem]

[mamdoufamily]

Hello friends, Muhammad's condition has deteriorated and he has been transferred to the hospital. A CT scan has been urgently requested, and he. He urgently needs $200 to cover these treatments. Please donate and share his story

A father writes his story here

I am Mamdouh Al-Amoudi from Gaza, The father of five children: Lana, Muhammad, Amin, Youssef, Yazan, and my wife Samia. We are currently liv

Please don't forget us. For the sake of my children's lives, please donate and share my story.

Please don't leave us to face these difficulties alone. Ease our suffering during these days. Donate to my children and share our story as widely as possible. Please. Mohammed needs treatment. Mohammed is suffering from bronchiectasis.

To donate 👇👇

[followerex]

sharif has confirmed to me that this is their brother, so likely legitimate.

[ak319]

Chat meanwhile how about u guys gimme ideas for Arthur morgan x sis or John x sis can work too, like I need platonic stuff piled up too in my idea box😀😀 (dark stuff especially)

As for some lovelies asking if imma write more on Sins of Father , so the things is that SOF started as a oneshot and other part (s) of it I did were based on requests.

I feel like I wanna write some sis fics too and have no plans currently to continue on SOF.

Might get back on it when I feel like it!

[ak319]

ALL THIS GIVING KADEEE ESPECIALLY EMMA😭👅👅🤌🤌✨️ I imagine it's the after engagement interview pic of Kade with the smug satisfied look