#fleewest

If cleanliness is next to godliness, John Marston was a million miles away from both of those things. His hygiene had been the punch line of too many jokes shared around the campfire, and with Dutch’s upcoming scheme (which of course required them to attend a local mayor’s party), everyone collectively decided to give John their two-cents as to how he could look less like a raccoon for the event.

Arthur took the shove well, a step taken back though his eyes were no less dark, breath still stolen away. “Only counts as impatient when I want it,“ he muttered, voice rough from the kiss more than irritation. It wasn’t so much an accusation, that would imply displeasure with the fact, it was more a statement. They worked by her schedule, not his, and for the most part he was happy with that. Sometimes, however, he wanted a little more. Sometimes it was worth the consequences.

He caught her hand in its retreat, allowing the distance she established to remain, but wanting at least that. He turned it over, thumb tracing her palm. “’m tired of this place anyway.“ The party had grown old. As much as Tilly might like the sleek way his suit clung to his big frame it left him feeling unwieldy and clumsy, even if the glass or two of complementary wine had eased his discomfort some. 

🌻  + URL   POSITIVITY MEME     //     ACCEPTING .    //   @lovedefeats !!! @missoshea !!! @hellbentwidow !!! @charmedgun !!! @fleewest !!!

Ayee girl power ok !!! in order to not make this the longest post in the world I’m gonna (*holds back tears*) try and refrain myself from writing too much dsjkh. I’ll also put it under read more because who am I kidding it’ll be long anyway.

                       Reaver could be quite the gentleman when he desired to be such. He had lived as essentially a crownless king for centuries, manipulating royals and members of high society wherever he went. Needless to say, despite the fact that he could be an absolute fool, he knew how to play others when he truly wished to. While surely this young woman was used to her fair share of conmen, men such as Trelawny had nothing on an immortal who had been at this game for hundreds of years.

                      Turning from his horse, the hero of skill would wave towards the other; as if flagging her down for help. He had a plan, and much like every other time he possessed such a thing, there was going to be nothing stopping him from seeing it through until he got what he wanted or became bored.

seated at the table, brought in as an extra gun ; willingly so, he never minded helping out gangs when he could. lingering eyes wander around the camp, studying the faces of the members, watching as they gather around a pot of stew, the aroma in the air made his stomach grumble ; tempted to get himself a bowl.

     SLOW ,    SOMEWHAT   UNSURE   STEPS   BRING   HIM         closer.            he’d  finished  brushing  the  saddles  and  the  horses  that  had  needed  brushing.            had  even  fed  them  some  of  the  apples  he’d  found  on  their  way  back  from  six  point  cabin.            his  own  mare  at  first,            but  then  it  had  seemed  cruel  to  ignore  the  others’  longing  looks.            they’d  accepted  her  without  any  bickering.         (   she’s  affable.     doesn’t  take  up  much  space  or  attention.     just  like  her  rider.   )              yet  it  is  hard  telling  which  one  of  the  people  have  accepted  the  idea  of  him  as  part  of  their  gang.            which  is  why  he  hesitates  before  tentatively  gesturing  towards  the  box  next  to  the  one  the  woman  is  sitting  on.            “   mind  if  i   -----  ?   ”

He was taken aback by her sudden sincerity at first; but soon softenedー fitting work worn and blistered hands over her daintier one, forming a warm and protective chrysalis. Tilly was no stranger to hard work, but delicate hands had become noticeably softer since he last saw her. Arthur was glad; for as incredibly capable as she was, the life of an outlaw was never meant for her. The city suited her, so tremendously smart she was, sharply dressed and in charge of her own life. All of Saint Denis would eat from her palm before long, Arthur was sure of it.

“Ain’t nothin’, Tilly. Y’know that.” He chuckled, patting the back of her hand, “Call n’ I’ll come runnin’.”

Not that she ever would callー bullheaded like that, but damned if he didn’t constantly remind her the option was there. 

The clatter of dishes and the bustle of their neighboring diners packing in and flattening their dress clothes momentarily interrupted him; a reminder that the sun had long set and not many remained in this fine establishment; and Arthur could never help but feel a little silly all dressed up and sitting pretty like he was. His cheeks pinked, a combination of bashfulness and champagne.