Emil, 18, pronouns are they/them. 18+ only, please! Sexual content (nsft) and spoilers are tagged. In this house, we love and appreciate Arthur Morgan. Requests (headcanons and fanfics) are open, matchups are open, and asks are always open.
Arthur really does just see all this super natural shit and never brings it up. He’ll overhear someone in camp say “I’ve heard rumors of people drinking blood!” and he’ll just not even comment. He’ll have fought a vampire with his bare hands and then not tell anyone. He witnessed a supposed werewolf/feral man and then never mentioned it. He drank from a witches cauldron and didn’t tell a soul. He saw an alien spaceship and thought to himself, “That’s neat. Guess it’ll die with me.”
Sometimes I ship Hosea and Bronte. It's shameful, but I think Bronte would like someone like Hosea. But now after that latest post I am considering the ultimate crackship of Uncle and Bronte. Bronte finding Uncle amusing, like a little jester.
SHDKDKFKGK god that’s a REALLY good crackship💀💀💀 I love the idea of uncle making the kind of jokes and observations in bronte’s presence that would get anyone else killed, but bronte lets it slide bc he just fuckin loves uncle
PAIRINGS: Lenny Summers/Jenny Kirk, Charles Smith/Arthur Morgan (implied)
WARNINGS: none
DESCRIPTION: Jenny looks beautiful, sitting there in the snow with a double barreled shotgun resting easily in her hands, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
A/N: Lenny is just eighteen or nineteen in the game, and that feels so young from an outsider’s perspective, but then I remember that I’m eighteen, too, and it’s just like. He’s baby. But does that mean that to all y’all, I’m baby, too? Older players of RDR, please tell me I’m not baby. On another note, we need more Lenny content, guys, because again, he’s smart and he’s funny and he’s sweet, and he’s one of the most interesting characters in the game, so c’mon, y’all.
xX————————————————Xx
Despite the snow, it was spring, and Lenny was hoping he would find flowers.
Instead, he dug through the snow pointlessly for a longer time than he was willing to admit, churning up the pristine blanket and upturning the muddy snow beneath it, all in the search for blossoms that wouldn’t appear until it melted. Sometimes, bulbs and wildflowers would begin blooming before the frosts disappeared, poking up before winter fully ended, but it seemed he wouldn’t have any luck searching.
What he did find was sticks, dry beneath the pine trees where the snow was thinner and they were freshly fallen, and, as industrious as he was, Lenny collected them instead, gathering them in one hand as he bent down. He hadn’t taken a weapon besides his revolver, so he hoped there wouldn’t be any more O’Driscolls, but he was close enough to camp to shout if he needed help.
When he had an adequate bouquet made of dry twigs and sticks, some with the needles still on, Lenny steeled himself, marching back towards camp. He knew where he’d find who he was looking for, the woman having taken the afternoon guard, but his mind raced at a mile a minute, making excuses for why he should just go back to his room and deal with being mocked for his cowardice. But he was determined to not back out.
Jenny Kirk sat watch at the northern boundary of camp, just where he knew she’d be.
She looked stunning, Lenny thought, black hair pulled away from her face with her white shotgun coat contrasted sharply against her dark skin. The double barreled shotgun held casually in her hands was pointed towards the ground, and she leaned up against the rickety wooden chapel behind her, staring off into the mountains. The fire in front of her was almost dead, the last embers of it flickering weakly, and he hoped his gift would be appreciated.
She must’ve heard him approaching, because her gaze flickered towards him, and he felt his heart skip a beat at her warm brown eyes. “Leonard Summers,” Jenny greeted, giving a military salute with her right hand as he approached.
“Jane Kirk,” Lenny saluted back clumsily, unable to keep himself from grinning.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, clearly pleased to see him. When he sat down next to her, she reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and holding it out in offering. He waved a hand, and she tucked it back inside. “What brings you out here?” Jenny asked, crossing her legs at the ankles. “Not that you aren’t welcome.”
Pulling out the bundle of sticks, Lenny extended it towards her, and she laughed, setting down her gun to accept the unconventional bouquet. He shifted nervously on his feet, scratching sheepishly at his jaw. “Uh, well,” Lenny stuttered, watching nervously as she admired them.
He wished he could find the same eloquence speaking to her as he did the rest of camp, but despite his usual ease when expressing his thoughts, she always turned everything in his mind into a jumbled mess. It was like his ability to communicate rationally ended whenever she was near, so great was her influence over him. It was embarrassing, but she seemed to find it endearing. At least, according to the other women.
“Your fire’s been burning for awhile, and, um, so I thought...”
“Thank you,” Jenny said gratefully, reaching out with her booted foot to nudge his toes. Leaning forwards, she dumped the collection of dry twigs and branches onto the fire, and it sputtered, the flames reinvigorated by the new fuel that had been added to the scout fire. Sighing, she rubbed her gloved hands together, her breath condensing in the air. “A hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Lenny. It just... doesn’t feel real.”
“We’re set for life,” Lenny agreed. She patted the rotting pew beside her, dragged out from inside of the dilapidated church, and he sat down, stomach twisting nervously. Hell, they’d hugged before, slept a foot apart from each other and woken up with their limbs tangled together, but he still got nervous seeing her smile, let alone sitting close to her. “I suppose we have Arthur to thank for that, stopping Micah from blowing our cover inside of that ferry.”
“That plot of land,” Jenny mused, nudging him with her elbow and looking at him brightly, “I’m excited.“
“Me too,” Lenny sighed. He’d built up an image in his mind, of a farmhouse surrounded by miles of fields, of an oak tree that he’d sit and read underneath for hours. He’d go to a real school at the college in Annely, if they’d accept a black man with no formal education beyond what his father provided, and none of them would have to rob or murder again. They’d lost enough people, that it was about time their luck changed for the better. “You’re staying, right?”
“Micah’s leaving, so I’m here to stay,” she assured. Lenny knew her opinions on the man, and he shared them. If Micah was planning on staying, he would’ve begged Hosea to talk some sense into Dutch. “Charles might leave, too,” she continued, “although... he’s become pretty close to Arthur lately, yeah?”
“They’re cut from the same cloth, I think,” Lenny said with a shrug, “so it makes sense that they’d get along.”
“All those hunting trips of theirs,” Jenny scoffed, “and yet they never seem to talk in camp.”
“Charles is quiet,” Lenny reminded her, “and Arthur’s always gone, for one reason or another.“
“Meanwhile, we’re the ones always talking,” Jenny continued, gesturing vaguely between them, “and yet we never go out on jobs together.“
That was admittedly Lenny’s fault, if only because he was always too shy to ask her. Hosea and Dutch, on the other hand, were always encouraging him to invite her on robberies and fishing trips, almost to the point of embarrassment. The support was nice, but he was a grown man — he could make his own decisions, just as he could court the woman he liked without interference.
“Maybe we’ll go hunting together,” Jenny sighed, “once we make it out to Leveret.”
“Maybe,” Lenny agreed, heart racing in his chest.
“You’ll have my back, yeah?” Jenny asked, tilting her head.
Lenny nodded quickly. “O-of course.”
Her hand found his between them, and she squeezed it tightly, smiling at him warmly. Lenny’s mind sputtered out, and then restarted again, alarm bells going off in his head. Their hands were joined together, her fingers curling around his, and the touch was enough to make a lump form in his throat, mouth going dry.
“Thank you,” she said again. It would’ve been the perfect moment to kiss her, he realized belatedly as she pressed her gun into his hands, but then she was smiling mischievously and standing up, fixing the hat on his head. “I’m gonna’ go get lunch from Pearson’s wagon. I’ll bring you back a bowl of stew.”
“Alright,” Lenny said weakly, watching her go.
Well, he supposed, there would be more opportunities to come.
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