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lillian-lang · 3 years

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Zutarians, I need some help...

Happy Zutara week, y’all! I’m Lil.

I’ve been working on my fic for...awhile now, and I’m at the point where everything’s kind of turned into word salad. I’d like to finish this thing, soon, but I need editors - badly. So, if you’re one of those folks who can write. (And particularly if you can write Katara or Zuko’s voice really well.) Please, please take a look. Friendly feedback is welcome!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653406/chapters/62276836

And here’s an excerpt from a Zutara moment below the cut:

Katara looks out from high up in the north wing of the palace—reserved especially for the royal family and their guests. She can see across acres of bleak concrete pavement leading up to the palace gates and, behind them, the jagged volcano walls of the capital city rising in the distance. It isn’t a particularly comforting sight.

Fifty-six bacui berry, fifty-seven bacui berry, …she counts to herself. Until, finally, she reaches one hundred bacui berry, and turns away from the gray window, back towards Azula’s wide canopy bed. The princess’s mouth hangs open and a trickle of drool spills out, but otherwise, she looks better than she had an hour ago. Katara removes the last acupuncture needle from her wrist and places it onto a gauze pad, which she rolls up and hands to Zuko.

“These need to be sterilized in a white-hot flame for twenty minutes before they can be used again,” she instructs.

Zuko puts a hand up to the bundle. A flame appears at the center of his palm. “Do you want me to just—?”

“Sorry Zuko, but you’re not hot enough,” she says, without thinking.

The corners of his mouth flicker upward into the kind of smirk she hasn’t seen since his ponytail days. Spirits, he’s infuriating, she thinks—grateful that her skin is dark enough to hide a blush. She removes the rest of her supplies from Azula’s bedside and takes a seat by the window, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Zuko’s eyes lingering on the back of her neck. She forces herself to concentrate on the little vials and instruments in her hand, but it’s no good. Everything is in the wrong place. She’ll have to take it all out again and repack it later.

“Katara,” he says, coming up beside her at the window. “Did you ever read Love Amongst the Dragons?”

Katara shoots him a wry smile. “No,” she says. “Funnily enough, we didn’t have a lot of fire nation epics in our village library.”

“Azula made fun of me, but I always liked it.” He smiles a little to himself, then points, drawing Katara’s attention to a spot on the grim horizon. “Do you see that mountain, there? The one that curves?”

Katara shivers, drawing a little closer to Zuko. “The one that looks like a claw?” she asks.

He nods. “I know, it’s scary, isn’t it? If you believe the old story, it’s the claw of the great dragon, himself. It’s where the name of the district comes from — Kaa Garr. Great Dragon. And, right there where the mountain turns in on itself…” he moves his finger up the pane a little so Katara can see a black spot in the distance, “is the prison where I’m keeping my father.”

Katara lets out a little involuntary gasp and presses her fingers to her mouth. Zuko looks down at her, a wry glint in his eye. “If you thought my sister’s arrangements were bad,” he says, “you should see his.”

“I’m sorry,” is all she can think to say.

“Don’t be,” he shrugs. “You know my father isn’t exactly a nice guy. I didn’t get this scar on my face from a training accident, you know?”

“I know,” Katara says, reaching up to touch the edges of his burned skin with the practiced hands of a healer.

In truth, they had never really talked about how he’d gotten his scar, but Katara had heard rumors going all the way back to her time in the Fire Nation with Toph, Sokka, and Aang. Zuko allows her fingers to wander over his scar for a moment, tracing the lines and folds on the puckered skin. He gets lost for a minute in the phantom sensation—wondering if he’s only imagining the gentle pressure. It’s so tender and intimate that his breath catches in his chest for fear that a sharp exhale might disturb the delicate balance between them. But then Azula flops over in bed, bringing Zuko back to himself. He clears his throat, and Katara’s hand drops to her side.

“It just makes me wonder if I should be trying to help my father…you know…the way you’re helping Azula.”

Katara tries not to let her emotions show on her face. She does not believe for one second that Ozai is entitled to the same treatment as his daughter, but she also believes that, ultimately, the decision is Zuko’s to make.

“Do you think your father deserves a second chance?” She asks, trying to keep her voice even.

“No!” he shouts, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. “That’s the problem, I don’t think he deserves it! But I can’t figure out why. I mean, he not that different from my sister, is he? But, every day, I felt guilty about Azula, and every day I’m grateful that my father is still locked up!”

Katara watches as Zuko paces back and forth across the antique carpet, winding himself up. “Then you came, and I feel better about Azula—I really do, Katara—but now I’m suddenly guilty about my father. I’m the fire lord, shouldn’t I at least be fair?”

“Zuko,” Katara says, holding out an arm to stop his pacing, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but when was the last time you had a bath? Or slept in a real bed?”

He blinks down at her, “Uh, it might have been a few days. Why?”

“I think,” she says, using her most soothing voice, “that all these big questions can wait for a day or two while you rest.”

He looks skeptical, but Katara insists: “Look at you, Zuko, you’re exhausted. I’m not saying that it won’t be difficult, but I promise it will all seem better in the m-morning.” As she says it, she stifles a yawn, and Katara suddenly realizes that she, too, is exhausted.

Noticing this, Zuko takes the medicine bag from her hand and, after checking all of Azula’s locks, leads her down the hall to her room. It’s hard to tell with Zuko, but he seems excited about something. The corners of his mouth keep twitching up, like he’s trying to hide a smile. The whole of the third-floor hallway smells like fresh paint, even though the hallways look the same as they’ve always been. It makes Katara’s head swim. When they arrive at what she assumes will be her bedroom here in the Fire Nation, Zuko throws open the door for her, and Katara gasps.

The room is in the style of the Fire Nation—a wooden chest for clothes, a low-slung writing table, and an imposing four poster bed, but the details are all Water Tribe. The walls are covered with bright blue paper depicting life in the poles. The furniture handles are all solid, gleaming mother of pearl. The bed is strewn with gigantic, fluffy pelts that could only have come from the south pole.

“What do you think?” Zuko asks, studying her face. “Is it too much? I had rooms made up for the Earth Kingdom and the Air Nation, too. I don’t want you to think I’m abusing your culture, but I do want my guests to feel welcome here. I know the Fire Nation royal palace isn’t anybody’s favorite place.” He winces, thinking about the terrible stain of his father’s legacy.

Katara considers Zuko kindly. He’s hovering just outside the room—neither in nor out. She realizes that she’s never felt more warmly towards the young fire lord.

“You’re a lot like your uncle, you know that?” she says, after a minute.

Katara watches as his guarded features break into a genuine smile. “Thanks,” he says, running his fingers along the edge of the doorframe. “You know I was hoping you or your brother would be the first ones to use this room.”

“You’re lucky it’s me! Sokka would be jumping on the bed, already.”

Zuko laughs, and Katara grins with pride. It’s not easy making Zuko laugh.

“I didn’t even ask!” He says, eagerly. “How is Sokka? And Aang?”

Now it’s Katara’s turn to look guarded. “Sokka’s fine,” she says, trying to keep her voice neutral. “He’s angry because he can’t go to Ba Sing Se without Appa…” Then, anticipating Zuko’s next question, Katara explains everything in a rush: “Aang left for Omashu. He got a letter from Bumi saying that the city was unstable, and he left me and Sokka behind.”

Zuko’s reaction is not what Katara expects. His eyebrow furrows, and he lets out a troubled groan, so sharp and low that Katara can almost feel the reverberations in his chest. “Katara…Bumi is dead. He died about a week ago. Didn’t Aang tell you?”

“Oh,” is all Katara can manage. She plops herself down at the end of the bed and looks up at Zuko, dazed. “No, Aang hasn’t written to me since he left for Omashu.” The admission earns her a sharp sideways glance, but she doesn’t notice. She’s too wrapped up in thoughts of the Earth King.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he admits, lowering himself down beside her on the bed. “The Fire Nation has…informants…in Omashu, but I haven’t heard from them in a few days.” The way he hesitates before the word ‘informants’ makes Katara wonder if he is uncomfortable having spies in the Earth Kingdom. Zuko had always preferred fair-play and transparency, even at his own expense.

“But you have suspicions,” she presses him.

He nods. “To tell you the truth, I’m glad Sokka’s not in Ba Sing Se right now.”

“Why not?” Katara gasps, “It’s not unstable, too, is it?”

“No,” he says, resting his head against the bedpost and letting his eyelids droop. “At least none of my advisors seem to think it is. I’m the one who has an issue. And it’s only a feeling, Katara…”

“Because of Kai Kozu?” she asks.

Zuko’s snaps to attention so quickly that he sprains his neck. “Where did you hear that name?” he growls.

“Bumi wrote about him in his letter to Aang,” Katara explains.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Zuko says, rubbing the sprain. “Kai Kozu used to keep a pretty low profile. Barely anyone outside the Earth Kingdom had ever heard of him… But lately he’s been moving more and more into the public eye. I don’t like it. He’s already got power in Kyoshi and Chin. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had plans for Omashu and Ba Sing Se, too.”

“Oh no! Zuko!” Katara’s hand flies to the reassuring carvings on her mother’s necklace, and she traces them apprehensively. “What about Toph and Suki? What about your uncle? Isn’t he still in the city?”

“I did write to them,” Zuko shrugs. “I asked them to stay here in the palace, but Toph and Suki are out in the country somewhere. I can’t reach them.”

“And your uncle?”

“Uncle doesn’t want to leave his tea shop. And besides…” Zuko blushes brick red, “I think he might have a lady friend in the city. He’s acting like a love-sick teenager.”

Katara watches as Zuko drags his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” she asks.

“I am,” he admits.

Katara leans back into the mountain of fluffy pillows and soft white furs, and closes her eyes—too tired to care that Zuko is still watching her. She says a silent prayer for Toph, Suki, and Iroh in Ba Sing Se, and thanks every spirit she can name for her father’s stubbornness. At least she knows Sokka is safe in the Southern Water Tribe—far, far away from the Earth Kingdom capital…

As she drifts off into sleep, she reaches out to feel Zuko’s warm body beside her—his chest rising and falling evenly. She draws a little closer, and he opens his arms wide to make room for her. She pillows her head in the crook of his arm and breathes in a scent like something out of a dream. In fact, she thinks it must have been a dream, because when she wakes up in the night he is gone, and the spot where she imagined he had lain is awash with moonlight.

#zutara #zutara week #wip #y'all please help

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keeptheotherone · 3 years

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Mecation: Day 1

Thursday

I once read social media described as an indulgence of the fantasy that others are interested in the details of our lives. I’m indulging in that fantasy this week by blogging about my Mecation under the guise of travel blogging ;)

If you follow me in even the most casual way, you know I’m a nurse. While I’ve enjoyed the vast majority of my 23 years as such, I don’t recommend it during a pandemic. The last 18 months have been the second-worst mental health period of my life, demoted to that position not because of the mildness of my symptoms but simply because at 15 I didn’t have the experience or perspective to realize my life was not, in fact, ruined forever.

COVID increased my personal vulnerability as a high-risk patient and made my job immensely more difficult in countless ways both small and large, but the worst part of the pandemic for me (so far) is it took away all my coping mechanisms precisely when I needed them most. Massage, pedicures, dinner out with friends, travel ... all gone practically overnight. Pre-COVID I travelled all the time--home to my parents’, long weekends by myself (Mecation!), annual visits to BFFs, conferences, tourism, the beach, my birthday, writing trips, international trips ... I always had at least one trip in the works, usually one booked and one (or more!) in the planning stages.

When COVID started, all my close friends and family except for two lived out of state. One of those two was out of town but close enough to get together, but the other was a few hours’ drive away. I’m single and live alone; it was the most isolated I’ve ever been in my whole life.

With my bestest friends over 500 miles away, I still feel that way sometimes. I haven’t seen them in a year. If it weren’t for COVID, it would only be 7 or 8 months (I’ve gone every January or February since ... forever). Then again, if it weren’t for COVID, I wouldn’t have been there last September; one had been hospitalized and I needed to see she was all right with my own two eyeballs. I expect it will be at least another 7 or 8 months before we get together again, bringing the total to about 20 months. One year we saw each other 5 times in 9 months, our personal best since college.

I was alone on Christmas. Oh, I’ve spent December 25th on my own before; I’m a nurse. I’ve worked the night of the 24th or the 25th (or both), or whatever combination that didn’t leave enough time off to drive home. But I’ve never spent the Christmas season without my parents. Sometimes the week before, sometimes the week after, sometimes at my place instead of home, but always together. But last Christmas COVID was raging, the vaccines had just come out but were only available to first responders (I got mine on the 23rd), and my elderly parents didn’t feel safe to travel. So I spent Christmas without family.

Travel was not just a break from my daily routine and the stress of nursing; in many ways, the biggest benefit travel made to my mental and emotional health was giving me something to look forward to. Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” and ohhh, I was so heartsick last year! Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t visit my best friends of almost 25 years (more than half my life!). Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t lean on my dad or be hugged by my mom. Not being able to travel--and not knowing when I could travel--left this gaping hole in my future, and I had nothing to fill it with.

I tell you this not to throw a pity party but to explain the significance of the trip I’m on right now. It is only my third this year: my dad and I spent a week in the mountains in February (my depression and anxiety was so bad then that was treatment, not vacation), I took a friend to the beach over my birthday, and now I’m a couple hours from home at a nice spa hotel. (I’m not counting my nephew’s graduation, which was emotionally challenging for multiple reasons, or helping a friend move from Florida. Moving is never fun.)

I started planning this trip in the spring ... May, maybe? You know, after the vaccine rolled out to everyone and case counts were dropping and it looked like we were gonna lick this thing and have a quasi-normal summer by the Fourth of July (yes, I’m American. That date is a proper noun here.). I had switched jobs in November (don’t ask) and gone on mental health leave December 29th, so I felt I owed it to my unit to put in about six months of work before taking any significant time off, especially since I came back at 24 hours instead of 36. That meant September.

I knew what I wanted to do: 4 or 5 days at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. I’d been before and loved the freedom of not worrying about every little expenditure (what can I say, I’m cheap), and a few days of Vitamin Sea sounded perfect.

Then came Delta.

All right, maybe going out of the country isn’t the best idea, I thought. Don’t want to end up with expensive reservations and then your destination closes to Americans, or you make it to your chosen island but can’t get back home. But I didn’t want to fly (ugh, airports!), I didn’t want to drive (rest stops and restaurants and gas stations), and while I thought about taking the train, it didn’t seem much of an improvement (and maybe a downgrade) on flying.

Then a friend mentioned a sleeper car, and I thought yes! That could work! I’ve never been to New England, I want to go to Boston, that area of the country has low case rates and the highest vaccination rates, this has potential!

Then I looked at the CDC map. There were only four states that didn’t have high transmission at that time (early August, I think; I’d had to wait for confirmation that my time off had been approved): Michigan, Rhode Island, Maine, and New Hampshire. All four had substantial rates of transmission. Hardly ideal, but one thing I’ve learned this year is sometimes you have to make compromises to protect your mental health. It is true it doesn’t matter if you’re happy if you’re dead; it is also true it doesn’t matter if you’re safe if you want to kill yourself. (I’m not suicidal, I am receiving treatment, don’t anybody panic.)

So, now I’ve settled on Maine or New Hampshire by train via sleeper car (Michigan is too far for a 4-5 day trip and RI--meh). Well, as I got deeper into planning, turned out Maine or NH were awfully far too. Far enough I would have to overnight in a major city, which pretty much defeated the purpose of isolating in a sleeper car. Then I found out there were no sleeper cars on either train route.

So, now vacation is 5 weeks away and I’m back at square one. The Deep South, Texas, and Florida are imploding. Pediatric cases are rising--kids are sicker and make up a higher percentage of cases than they did last year. Scuttlebutt from my ICU colleagues is it’s bad--17/30 MICU beds are COVID and they’re all vented. SICU is being nicknamed “the ECMO unit.” The hospital has 18(!) ECMO machines and 12 are in use; the float nurse who tells us that didn’t even know we had 12 because she’s never seen that many in use at one time. Hospital-wide our numbers are equivalent to early February (we peaked in January). There were six--SIX--pediatric rapid responses in one day.

And I’m going to travel.

It’s a big deal ... a big accomplishment, really, because of what it says about how I’m successfully managing my anxiety. April 1 was the first time I’d been inside a grocery store in more than a year ... and that wasn’t my idea. It was late April or May before I was comfortable eating in restaurants, even with the falling case count at the time. I’m still not sure if I’m managing my anxiety or reacting to the pressure by going to the opposite extreme (I have a history of that), but I know I’m less stressed, less anxious, have fewer obsessive thoughts, fewer physical symptoms, and am learning to live with this disease.

So, here I sit at a marble-topped 5-foot-wide desk in my queen/queen hotel room at the end of a productive and enjoyable day. I slept in, completed the big goal of this weekend’s to-do list that I honestly thought would take several days, unpacked and organized my room (I arrived yesterday evening), reorganized my Favorites Bar and Bookmarks on my Mac, had an 80-minute aromatherapy massage, enjoyed a shower in the spa afterwards and even blow-dried my hair(!) before wandering around for a while to get the lay of the land and get some steps in (this place is huge!). Then I changed clothes and took myself out to dinner for my favorite food, Italian.

That’s me in the picture up top, all dressed up :) Actually, I probably look pretty normal to y’all; like most people with depression, my personal hygiene sunk to new lows in the last year and a half, and as a low-maintenance person to begin with, that’s saying a lot. I bought that necklace as a bridesmaid and am not sure I’ve worn it since; this spring was her 10th anniversary. Yesterday I took out the cat-shaped earrings Dad gave me for Christmas. (Yes, they were gross. Yes, I cleaned them. Yes, I’m wearing them again now.) Just wearing a nice top, fixing my hair (no ponytail or claw-clip bun, my staples), and adding jewelry was a big deal ... especially since “no one” was going to see me. I did it just for me, to make myself feel good. And I did. (That’s another small pleasure COVID took away from me--lip gloss. If I wore any makeup at all, it was lipstick or gloss. Utterly pointless when you’re masked whenever you’re in public.)

I took my laptop to dinner and edited a couple chapters of my new Charlie/Amy fic (previewed during #ktoo turns 10), ran a couple errands, and headed back to the hotel since I don’t like to be out late by myself in an unfamiliar city. Forgot I put my receipt envelope in the backseat pocket and reorganized the glove compartment looking for it, then gathered a bunch of returns into a bag in the trunk. Hung out writing in the lobby until my Mac threatened to die, came upstairs and tidied up, put on my jammies, and talked to you guys :)

#ktoo travels #covid coping #mental health #about ktoo #ktoo nurses #herself

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jae-daddy · 4 years

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magic (6)

draco malfoy fanfic

one / two / three / four/ five / seven

pairing: draco malfoy x reader genre: realty shifting, romance, clownshit plot: you were trying shifting realities for laughs when you end up trapped in harry potter universe with draco malfoy as your companion a/n: I am literally writing this for myself, and i love every second. i can’t wait for the next parts! hope y’all like it! <3 also this gif for part two lmao, imagine a little ghost you following behind him in complete sports merchwear <3

“I saw Cedric Diggory,” you told Draco as soon as he entered the room. You had been sitting there all afternoon waiting for him to return. You were about to explode waiting for him. Waiting to tell him what you knew, waiting to ask him questions, and waiting to come up with a plan to stop this horrible war before it even began.

“Well done,” Draco answered dryly. Your eyes followed him as he took off his robes, and walked across the room to his study table. He continued, sarcasitc and uninterested, “You have eyes, you can see. A great observation, muggle.”

“Draco,” you warned your voice heavy making him turn towards you. He sighed as he walked over, bringing out his enchanted little basket. He pulled out dinner for the both of you before settling on the armchair.

He didn’t say anything as he picked up his spoon. He rose an eyebrow a silent command for you to say whatever you were dying to.

A week ago, Draco and you had agreed to one hour of free walking time. You could leave the dorm on your own, and walk around the back entrance of the dungeon that was a well-kept secret that only the elite knew.

Lucky for the both of you, Draco Malfoy was the Prince of Slytherin.

So, as you sneaked out to your daily walk earlier today, you had hoped for the same emptiness. The same quiet mountains, the same whispering trees, and the same cold river water that you dipped your feet into. However, today was not the same.

You were almost out in the open when you heard laughter from the forest. It was too close to the opening, so you hid behind a boulder before peeking over to see who it was. You knew that the invisible potion and dark robe would be enough, but you still had to be careful.

However, when you saw a group of boys, you couldn’t move. Especially when your eyes landed on the boy who looked like sunshine trapped in a human boy. He laughed at something his friend said, and you watched him in his Hufflepuff jumper.

He was laughing. He was happy. He was alive.

You didn’t stay any longer. You rushed back to Draco’s dorm, your mind spinning with thoughts and questions, as you waited for Draco to come back.

“Cedric Diggory is alive,” you said the words, the dinner plate left untouched.

Draco stopped the spoon halfway, before staring at you confused, “Yes, he is.”

“He dies,” you tell Draco. His throat bobs nervously, but he masks it with confusion as he puts the plate down, giving you all his attention.

“Everybody dies,” he feigned disinterest. He pretended as if he doesn’t care what this bit of information meant. But you could see his face, you could see his eyes burning with curiosity as he leaned in closer.

“His death marks his He return.” You didn’t have to Draco who He is, he understood from the darkness in your voice. “But I don’t understand what is happening.”

You look at Draco, convinced that this was not Draco from the Goblet of Fire. This was certainly the last three movies Draco Malfoy, but the Goblet of Fire had not happened yet.

“He hasn’t returned yet, right?”

Draco shook his head, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

“Has the chamber of secrets been open?”

Draco nodded his head, “Three years ago.”

You groaned as you frustratedly ran your hands through your hair, “I don’t understand.”

This was Goblet of the Fire. The fire at the Qudditch World Cup, the dark lords sign. This was it, but why is it happening so late? What was wrong with the timeline?

“Has the Tri-lympics happened yet?” You asked your mind about to explode.

“No, but it’s meant to happen in a few months,” Draco answered, his voice serious. “The other schools will come in three months.”

“It happens on the last event of the games, Cedric and Harry go through some kind of portal, and He takes a physical form. Cedric Diggory returns dead, but Harry survives.”

Draco doesn’t say anything. His eyes on the fireplace, but his mind lost somewhere else. You follow his gaze and watch the orange and red flames dance on the darkened wood.

You let out a deep breath after a long moment.

“We’re going to have to do it,” you said, making Draco lift his gaze and meet your determined ones. “We have to stop him, in three months.”

Draco watched you for a few moments, before his relaxed. His smirk once again rose on his lips, as he gestured towards your dinner plate, “Eat up, muggle.”

You picked up the plate, hestiantly eating the first bite. Draco watched you, and once you were eating properly he dug into his food.

“There are seven horocruxes,” you told Draco as you took a bite of the bun. “We destroy those, and then we can get rid of Voldy.”

Draco snorted, as he bit back a smile, “It’s quite difficult to take you seriously when you refer the most powerful dark wizard, in the wizarding history, as Voldy.”

You just rolled your eyes at him, a smile tugging on your lips.

“Are you going to sleep here tonight or hide again?” You asked, smirking at the white-haired boy.

“Hide?” Draco snorted, his voice high with disbeiief. His eyes glared at you, as he continued to sneer with distaste. “Why would I hide? Especially from a filthy muggle like you.”

“Really?” You placed the empty plate on the table in front of you, as you gave him a sinister grin. “So, you’re sleeping here tonight?”

“I have no need to tell you when I sleep in my room.” He sneered at you, his jaws locking in annoyance.

“So you are?” You fought back a smile. There was something about raising Draco Malfoy’s temper that made you so delighted with yourself.

“Sod off, you bloody muggle,” Draco spat, with a flick of his wand, the dirty dishes disappeared. You watched him as he stomped into the bathroom, making you chuckle.

You were already in bed when you felt the other side dip.

You turned around and lay on your side as you watched him place pillows between the two of your bodies.

“I know you find it impossible to resist me,” Draco smirked at you, cocky and arrogant. “But if even a strand of your hair crosses this wall you are sleeping on the floor.”

You ignored him, watching him as he sighed falling back onto his pillow. He lay on his back watching the ceiling, before closing his eyes. You took in how dark his eyelashes were, despite his light soft hair. You took in the gentle slope of his nose, and the sharpness of his jaw. He was truly beautiful.

“I can feel you ogling me, muggle,” Draco muttered, his eyes remaining closed. You bit your lip, embarrassed.

“That’s some wishful thinking, Malfoy,” you shot back despite your burning cheeks.

“Goodnight, Malfoy.” You whispered before you fell asleep.

___________________

“Draco!” You groaned frustrated as you pulled the tie around your neck almost choking you. “I am sorry but my public education did not teach me how to tie a goddamn tie.”

Draco glared at you as he cuffed the buttons on his wrist. He let out an exhausted sigh as he walked over to you. He put his cold hands on yours stopping your fidgetting and reckless jerking.

You took away your shaking hands, as you watched Draco’s eyebrows furrow in concentration. You held your breath, as he hands slightly brushed against your shirt, as his fingertips momentarily brushed the exposed skin of your neck.

“How did you manage to do this, muggle,” Draco muttered under his breath, irritated. He leaned down before you could reply, his teeth on the knot of the tie as he tried to pull it free.

Your heart stopped beating, as you felt his nose lightly brush your neck. His warm breath kissing along your skin raising goosebumps. You bit your lip as you looked away from his shining blonde hair that begged for your fingers to run through them.

You wanted to feel his lips on your neck, feel his fingers wrap around your throat, as he made you moan his name.

Oh lord. You closed your eyes, as you bit your nails into your palm to control your hammering heart and flushing cheeks.

“Merlin, my hideous muggle pet,” Malfoy snorted as stood straight, pulling the knot free, before quickly doing it up perfectly. He set it high on your neck, almost making you choke. “You are more trouble than you are worth.”

You gasped before you shot him a glare, “You’ll have to try harder to kill me, Malfoy.”

“Oh, believe me, muggle,” he smirked back, his words playful, but the threat in them lingering with a sharp edge. “If I wanted you dead you wouldn’t be standing there.”

You rolled your eyes and you pulled the robe over yourself. You turned towards Draco who just clicked his tongue and turned towards the door.

“So, I was thinking last night,” you told him as you followed him. “I have a plan.”

_________________

“If you even for a second believe there is the slightest chance of me doing something so disgraceful, you are truly out of your mind, muggle,” Draco hissed as he walked through the empty halls of Hogwarts.

“Draco!” You pouted as you trailed behind him, his robe trailing on the ground as you followed behind him like a ghost. “We need to do this. We need her.”

“Not happening.” He replied curtly, purposefully walking into a crowded hallway so you’d stop bothering him.

“Draco, we need her,” you pleaded quietly, as walked closer to him. “I can’t remember all of them, we need her brains to figure this out.”

“Merlin’s magic, we do,” he spat under his breath. His face was completely covered in a sneer, but no one questioned it as he strutted down the hallways.

You saw a dark hallway and pulled Draco into before you almost walked past it. You grabbed him in, slamming him against the wall. You took a step closer to him, putting your hands out to trap him.

He peered down at you with surprise that melted into amusement as he took you in, looking up at him.

“Amused, Malfoy?” You quirked an eyebrow challengingly. You flicked your tongue at the corner of your lips before you snorting softly. “Do you think you have a choice?”

Draco’s eyes darkened, and in a flash, you were pressed against the old bricks of the castle.

You gulped as the ridges dug into you, as Draco pressed his body against yours. Your wrists clutched in his as he pushed them flush against the wall. You chest heaved as you watched his beautiful face smirk dangerously at you.

Draco dropped his face, his lips a breath away from yours. His dark eyes glistened as they flickered to your parted lips, before gazing into your startled eyes.

“Don’t,” he gritted, his warm minty breath falling over your lips, pulling your closer to him. His grip tightened on your wrist making you wince. His face coloured green with a hateful snarl as he whispered, “overestimate yourself, muggle.”

He let you go with a jerk, and you held your wrists before turning to him with fire in your eyes.

“You coward little toad!” You spat at him.

Draco just turned towards you with an evil smirk, “You ugly little oaf.”

You took in a deep breath, calming yourself, before following him once again.

“Can’t you please put your pride aside and just do this?” You sighed as you settled into the seat next to him. Draco ignored you and pulled out his textbooks, quill and papers. “This is for the whole of humanity.”

“I am sure that humanity did not need me to do anything in the past,” he muttered under his breath before turning to you. His piercing eyes so cold, they almost burnt you, “they already have Potter to be the saviour.”

You didn’t say anything and turned away from him.

He was right. In the past, in the way that the story goes, all he did was make mistakes. All he did was get trapped in choices he was too young to be making. He was trapped, he was a boy who didn’t have a choice.

But that’s not the case anymore.

“Malfoy,” you breathed after a long moment, “I need you to do this.”

Draco turned towards you. His eyes shining with something that you couldn’t understand, but just as quickly as it came, it vanished. “Go and butter up someone else, muggle.”

You rolled your eyes and turned towards the door as she walked in.

You needed Hermione to help you figure out what the Horcruxes were, where we could find and how to destroy them.

You had realised there was a very big and very human obstacle in doing that, but you were hoping to cross that bridge when it came.

What you needed now that you had a plan was a team.

You needed a team, starting with Hermione Granger. She was smart, intelligent, and hopefully had enough brains to do this without getting Harry Potter involved.

You shot Draco another glare who ignored you once again.

It didn’t take long for the professor to start the lesson, and you almost dozed off twice. And then in the middle of the lesson, a miracle happened.

“That is enough Miss Granger, detention,” the professor sneered. You were reminded of Snape, but it wasn’t him.

You frowned because if Snape had done the same thing, Harry would be chocking with how horrible and unfair of a teacher he was. The professor looked around annoyed, he looked done. He was probably having a very difficult day.

“Anyone else?” He gave a pointed look to every student.

This was your chance. You thanked all the Tiktoks you had seen and done what any boy in a rom-com teen movie would do. You pushed down Draco’s books making everyone turn towards him.

“Mr Malfoy?” The professor rose an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

Draco gawked at you wide-eyed. You nodded, telling him to go for it.

“Your outfit is rather awful,” Draco said, each word that felt him surprising him as much as everyone else.

“Mr Malfoy!” The Professor warned, his face turning red. “Minus ten points from Slytherin.”

You sighed, defeated.

And then, he boomed, “Detention!”

“Anyone else?!” He almost yelled, no one else said anything.

Draco sat down shooting you a glare.

You ignored him, turning towards a confused Hermione, with a giddy smile instead, “Perfect.”

#Draco #Draco Malfoy #Draco x y/n #draco x reader #harry potter #shifting realities #Draco fanfic #fanfic #smut #angst #Slytherin #magic #jaedaddy

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gaylotusthatexists · 4 years

Text

escaped

fandom: sanders sides

pairings: platonic analogical and moxiety, background logicality

prompt: trust issues

trigger warnings: injury mention, nightmares, panic attack, let me know if i need to add anything else

word count: 3310

a/n: this was requested by @skelevale and written for the @badthingshappenbingo! this was fun for me to write haha so thank u for the request, i hope that y’all enjoy ^^

ao3

Virgil spread out his wings and took flight, leaving the cave he'd used for shelter last night. What he hadn't expected to happen was for him to immediately tumble down the side of the mountain, hit several trees on the way down, and land on the hard floor, his entire body beginning to ache. That was weird - he'd been flying just fine the day before, what had-

Oh, shit. His eyes widened as he saw the state his wings were in. Feathers missing, a huge tear down one side, some feathers a little burnt around the edges. He supposed it was to be expected, after the trouble he had gotten into the day before, those army men trying to shoot him out of the sky. He just hadn't realised how bad it had been, hadn't had much time to check over before he collapsed and fell asleep.

He needed help, someone to fix this. But it wasn't as if he could easily find help. Unlike most injured people, he couldn't just walk into A&E, or go into a shop to buy bandages. No, no, that would only get him killed sooner. He needed to get out of this forest, find someplace safer. He knew there was a town on the other side of the forest, one that he'd seen a few times in the air, but he wasn't sure how accepting that place was. And he couldn't go back to where he came from, couldn't risk it.

He tried to fly again, but only managed to hover in the air for a few seconds before collapsing again, hitting his head on a rock below and very nearly screaming out in pain. He kept it in, though - he was well practised in the art of staying silent, even when he wanted nothing more than to shout out to the world. He rubbed the back of his head as he sat back up, and noticed blood staining his hand once he drew away. Well - that wasn't good.

His only hope was walking until he found some sort of safe place. Perhaps that town would be friendly - if it was, he'd be able to get some supplies and patch himself up, or even find someone to help him. The chances were low, but... it was worth a shot. He stood up and began to walk through the forest, his wings curling around his body as a sort of defence. A weak defence, really, considering about battered they were.

The town would have only been a fifteen minute fly away, but on foot he had no idea. He wasn't the fastest of walkers, not used to using his legs unless he absolutely had to. But perhaps fear could fuel him, the knowledge that there were people out to get him, and that if he didn't move quickly he could get caught.

His stomach rumbled and he instinctively wrapped his arms around his waist, eyes falling down to the floor. For a moment, he felt dizzy, his vision blurring, before he took a deep breath and continued moving forward, perhaps a little slower than before. When was the last time he'd eaten? Days seemed to blur together when he'd been on the run for so long, and it was difficult to find food in the wild that wouldn't kill him. There had been that kind couple he met near the last village, who'd given him some supplies before telling him to run. He'd been so, so grateful for that, but he'd ran out of that food a while ago, and it must have been almost a month since he'd been at the village.

Okay, okay. Just... a little rest. He moved over to the side of the path and sat down at the base of a tree, taking off his bag and taking in several deep breaths, holding his head in his hands. The pain was beginning to catch up with him, his dead wings weighing down on him. He took his bottle out of his bag and had a large gulp of water, which helped just a little.

Was it already nighttime? Looking up, he noticed the sky beginning to darken, the setting sun casting an orange glow over the forest. Perhaps he'd just woken up late - thinking about it, he had been pretty exhausted. Maybe a little nap now wouldn't hurt. He hadn't spotted anyone else on his travels, and those army men had their base on the other side of the forest. He curled up in his spot, closing his eyes for just a second, and was immediately swept into his dreams.

Bound in chains and drenched in sweat. People called his name - no, a number, he needed to remind himself that his name was Virgil, not whatever they called him. People called a number and he had to follow, knowing exactly what was about to happen, and knowing there was no way he could stop it.

It was always a blur, but he could remember the pain, as his feathers were stripped away and he cried and cried, trying to ignore the blood and his own screams. They ignored it, too, so why couldn't he?

And then darkness, thrown against the cold, hard floor, bound in chains again. A small room, enclosed, hardly enough space to stand, definitely not enough space to move. Not that he would be able to move anyway. And he' d cry, all the time. There was nothing much else to do.

A whisper, echoing through the dark, calling him, death beckoning closer, the alarm sounding, his head racing, blood dripping down his arms, and no one coming to save him.

Virgil woke up, trying to catch his breath, and wondering why there were tears falling down his cheeks. He didn't want this, didn't want to think about everything that had happened. He remembered what it was like, and knew he'd never go back, couldn't go back. He'd escaped now, he was free, he was...

A sound, further in the forest. A twig, snapping, and someone moving suddenly, hiding behind a tree. Virgil could hear them breathing, could hear them shuffling in place. They thought they were doing a good job of hiding, but Virgil could see their body behind the tree, their shadow on the ground. He wiped away his tears and tried his best to remain calm.

"Who's there?" he spoke out, cringing at how quiet and hoarse his voice was. It had been a while since he'd used his voice.

There was no response.

Virgil tried again. "I'm not afraid of you." Lie. "Just show yourself." Please don't. Please just leave.

The person behind the tree moved, slowly spinning around and facing Virgil with his hands in the air. He looked... friendly. Not wearing the uniform of anyone who would try to hurt Virgil, at least, unless he was in disguise, or just a general asshole. No, no, he just looked like a normal person, jeans and a shirt, glasses, a blue tie. And a knife, strapped around his belt. Virgil kept his eyes fixed on the knife, trying to control his fear.

The man slowly reached down for his knife and Virgil stiffened. But then, he threw the knife away, a few feet further along the path, and lowered his body so he was eye level with Virgil. "Are you okay?" he asked, softly, with genuine concern.

Virgil just stared at him, unsure what to make of him. He... didn't look like a threat, but he did have that knife, and there was no indication that he didn't have any more weapons. "Who do you work for?" he ended up asking, trying to stay as far away from him as possible until he knew he'd be able to trust him.

"I'm self-employed," the man replied. "I'm a scientist, conducting research in these woods."

Virgil's shoulders stiffened again at that. Scientists. He'd never met a scientist on his side before. He- He didn't want things to go back to the way they were, he-

"Don't worry," the man continued, "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help."

Virgil looked him up and down, trying to figure out if he was okay. He... wasn't displaying any signs of aggression, so...

"You're injured," the man stated. "I can help you. My husband is a doctor, I could take you to see him."

A doctor. Virgil hadn't had many good experiences with them either.

"Please, I just want to help. Are you- Are you with anyone else?"

Virgil shook his head.

"No, family? Friends?"

"I'm completely alone."

"You're... a child, though."

He wasn't a child. "I'm seventeen."

"That's still a child."

Virgil didn't reply. He wanted to run, get far, far away, but was afraid the man might try something to get him to stay. It was probably better to just comply, assess the situation as he went, and escape when he had an open opportunity.

"My name's Logan," the man introduced. "Can I ask what yours is?"

He stayed silent.

"Okay, that's fine." Logan rose up, standing tall and offering a hand. "Let me take you back to my house. My husband will be able to help you there."

Virgil stared at Logan's hand for a moment, before standing up himself, not needing Logan's help. He grabbed his bag and began to follow Logan through the forest, silently. At least he was going willingly at that moment, it wasn't as if Logan was forcing him. Perhaps that was a good sign. Or maybe Logan was just trying to build up a false sense of security.

Virgil's eyes followed the knife on the ground as they walked, waiting for Logan to retrieve it. He didn't, instead abandoning it on the forest floor. And when he looked back up at Logan, he was smiling, giving him a comforting look. This- This seemed okay. Logan wasn't trying to hurt him, not like everyone else did. His wings curled around his body again, shielding himself as he walked. He kept his eyes fixed on Logan.

"So," Logan said, after fifteen minutes or so of silence, "what are you doing in this forest?"

Virgil's eyes fell to the floor. "Couldn't fly. Got stuck."

"Ah. Where exactly were you heading before?"

Virgil shrugged.

"You... don't know?"

"Just away."

"Are you running from someone?"

"Do you have to ask so many questions?" Virgil snapped.

Logan seemed taken aback. "Sorry. I'm just curious. We don't really see a lot of winged teens wandering the forest."

"Yeah, well-" He shoved his hands in his pocket. "-it's not like I'm here by choice."

"Is there somewhere else you'd rather be?" After Virgil didn't respond, Logan added, "Surely you must have a home somewhere. Family, or something."

Virgil shook his head. "Nope. Like I said, I'm all alone." He kicked a rock on the ground, watching it bounce along the path.

Logan was quiet for a while longer, before he glanced over at Virgil again. "Are you hungry?"

"No." As if on cue, his stomach growled again. "Yes."

"Here." Logan handed him a small cereal bar, with writing he didn't understand on the wrapper. "It's not much, but it will keep you going."

Virgil twisted it around in his fingers, examining it to see if there was anything wrong, before opening it and taking a small bite. It wasn't the best thing he'd ever eaten, but didn't taste like it was poisoned either, and he hadn't eaten in a while so it was... welcome. He ate the whole thing in a matter of seconds, feeling just a little bit better. "Thank you."

"It's quite alright, uh-"

"Virgil."

"Virgil." Logan smiled. The tips of Virgil's mouth tilted up slightly, before he plastered on a frown again. He shoved his hands back in his pockets, fiddling with the empty wrapper as he walked.

Eventually, Logan came to a stop, by a small cottage in the middle of the forest, cosy and warm, the smell of pie drifting out the open window. Virgil swallowed, trying his best to force his stomach not to growl, as he didn't want to seem ungrateful for the food Logan had already given him. Virgil followed Logan into the house, scrunching up his wings to fit through the doorway.

"Patton!" Logan called, stepping further into the house, as Virgil loitered closer to the entrance, surveying his surroundings. The house looked nice enough, nothing like the place he'd previously 'lived' in. Pictures of Logan and an unfamiliar man were hung on the walls, and flowers were dotted around the rooms in little pots, adding a dash of colour. It looked nice, but Virgil still refused to lower his guard.

A man came out of the kitchen, eyes widening as he spotted Virgil. He looked to be kind enough as well, with curly hair and a round, freckle-dotted face, wearing a blue t-shirt tucked into a flowing skirt. Upon realising Virgil's condition, he rushed over, eyes immediately filled with sympathy.

"What happened?" the man - Patton, Virgil presumed - asked, as he looked around Virgil's body, getting way to close for comfort. Virgil couldn't help but move back, folding his arms and wings around his body protectively.

"This is Virgil," Logan introduced. "Found him in the forest."

"Oh, you poor kiddo." Patton stepped back, looking Virgil up and down. "C'mon, let's get you patched up." He moved further into the house and, after glancing at Logan and receiving a comforting nod, Virgil followed.

The three of them moved into the kitchen, and the smell of the pie from earlier only got more intense. Virgil tried his best not to stare at it as he sat down at the table at Patton's command. Patton got down on his knees and began to clean up some of Virgil's wounds, dapping a wet cloth on some of the cuts. It stung, just a little, and Virgil wasn't quite sure what to do, wasn't sure if he could trust Patton, but he sat there anyway, not able to think of an easy escape.

"What happened?" Patton asked, as he began to wrap some bandages around Virgil.

Virgil closed his eyes. "I don't- I don't want to talk about it."

Patton looked concerned, but didn't dig any further, which filled Virgil with relief. He continued to patch Virgil up until all the cuts had been wrapped in a bandage or given a plaster, before he moved around to his back and looked at his wings. Virgil turned his head and body slightly so he was still facing Patton, still trying his best to maintain a calm composure. When Patton touched his wings, Virgil couldn't help but flinch, move his wings back, stiffen his shoulders.

"Sorry!" Patton immediately apologised, now looking a little panicked. "Did that hurt?"

It hadn't hurt, not really, but...

"Is it okay if I touch them?" Patton asked, after Virgil's silence. "I just need to figure out the best way to fix them, but I can do it without touching if you'd prefer."

Virgil relaxed a little at that. "Don't. Please."

Patton nodded. "Okay." There was an extended period of silence as Patton moved around Virgil, humming every now and then. Virgil looked over at Logan across the room, who was looking at them with a curious expression. Virgil didn't know what to make of that, but everything in his mind screamed danger. He knew that was... unlikely, Logan had only been kind to him so far, but...

"Virgil, can I ask you a question?" Logan asked, breaking the silence.

Virgil blinked. "Uh..."

"How long have you been out here alone?"

Virgil's leg bounced up and down. "I- I don't know. Few months? Half a year?"

"Interesting. It's just-" Logan paused, considering Virgil for a second, before continuing anyway. "-I know someone, another scientist, who works in a... rehabilitation centre for people such as yourself, and they were telling me about how someone escaped five or so months ago, someone who... fits your description pretty well."

Virgil's whole body tensed up at that, his eyes widening in fear. Fuck. What if- What if Logan was that kind of scientist? What if he was going to hurt Virgil? What if he was going to send him back?

"R-Rehabilitation?" Virgil repeated, in hopes that maybe it was a different place. Wherever he had been stuck certainly wasn't to 'rehabilitate' him.

"Well, that's how they described it," Logan said. "I don't know the specifics of what they do. It's across the country, anyway, at least a few cities over. They seemed pretty concerned, though. Everyone is still looking for you - or, well, for whoever went missing."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Virgil could feel the panic building up inside him, his heart beginning to race, vision blurring as he stood up, moving away from the couple. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and Virgil just- He- "I need some air," he let out, quietly, before rushing back towards the door, our into the forest. Logan and Patton followed him - of fucking course they did, why wouldn't they, they're trying to kidnap me, send me back there, fuck - but halted in the doorway, as Virgil took off, shooting into the air. He cringed at the pain soaring up his back as he tried to move his wings, feathers falling to the ground and Virgil losing his balance very quickly. He fell back down to the floor, trying not to cry upon impact, and curled up into a ball, wrapping his wings around himself protectively, wishing that he could just disappear, or that Logan and Patton would just leave him alone, or that-

"Virgil," a voice said next to him, "breathe with me, okay?"

Virgil peeked one eye open, noticing Logan close to him, counting on his fingers. For a while, Virgil just stared at him, vision slowly turning darker and darker, until he began to attempt to copy Logan's rhythm, breathing in and out, in and out, until he was calm again, until the world made an ounce more of sense. As Virgil slowly uncurled himself, still staying on the floor but sitting up and staring down at the dirt, Logan moved away.

"Are you alright, Virgil?" Logan eventually asked, crouching down so he was eye level with him. Virgil still refused to look Logan in the eye.

"No," Virgil admitted, wrapping his arms around his waist and hunching his shoulders.

"Are- Is it you? The one who ran away?"

Virgil's silence confirmed the answer as yes.

"And you... don't want to go back?" Logan guessed.

Virgil nodded.

"Did- Did they hurt you?"

Virgil was still for a moment, before he eventually nodded again. Logan reached out a hand towards Virgil, but Virgil just shuffled back, afraid. "Please- Please don't send me back there."

"I promise that we won't send you back," Logan said. "We can keep you safe here, okay? You can trust us."

Virgil gulped. "H-How?"

Logan blinked. "I... know it may be difficult to believe, or that you may find it hard to trust us after everything you've been through, but Patton and I are... good people. Or, we're trying to be. We won't hurt you, we promise. We just want to help. And- And if you want it, you can have a home here, okay?"

Virgil looked at Logan for a while, trying to blink away his tears. He had to admit that Logan had been nothing but kind to him, and... and if seemed safe, here.

"You can leave at any time, of course," Logan added. "Or leave now. Really, it's up to you. I just need to you know that the option is there."

After a while of consideration, Virgil slowly nodded. "Okay. Okay. Th-Thank you."

Logan smiled. "We have that pie inside to eat if you're still hungry."

Virgil's eyes lit up.

#bad things happen bingo #trust issues #thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #winged!virgil #tw injury mention #tw panic attack #tw nightmares #my fanfic #my writing

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blessedbucky · 4 years

Text

money power glory

pairing: skinny!steve x plus size!reader

summary: it’s 1921 and prohibition is in full swing. there’s an overwhelming demand for alcohol and steve, one of new york’s most notorious mobsters, wants to cash in. you and your product present the perfect opportunity

warnings: steve’s a mobster and reader is a bootlegger so obvious mentions of illegal activities, alcohol, oral (female receiving), squirting, daddy kink (if you squint really hard)

a/n: please be kind to me this is my first ever reader insert. anyway @gagmebucky said give me mobster!steve and my brain went HOLD MY FUCKING BEER. it’s mostly just me being a history buff and spiraling out of control with plot and having little smut. tagging @strawberrylovessebby and @angel-fire and @genderfluiddiscogay because they asked and i'm a weak bitch for them

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The very first time that Steve meets you, you’re on the back of a massive stallion. The enormous beast is barreling toward Steve and you don’t seem to be making any attempt at reigning the horse in to either make it slow down or move in another direction that’s not straight at him. Steve assumes this is a ploy your father’s come up with to intimidate him and Steve hasn’t gotten to where he is by tucking his tail between his legs and backing down in the face of danger and death. So, while his men curse and scramble around to the other side of the car that’s out of the way of your warpath, Steve straightens, squares his chin, and stands his ground.

Steve Rogers is one stubborn son of a bitch and if he’s going to be working with your family the way he wants to, it’s best you all know that now up front.

Your horse is probably about a foot away from Steve when you finally command it to stop. You’re dramatic and it one last show to intimidate Steve, you make the horse reel back on its hindlegs, kicking up dirt and neighing so loud it echoes. The animal’s hot breath fans out across Steve’s face for a moment before you tug at the reins, make a noise, and the horse dutifully turns to the side allowing Steve a better look at you.

Down here, hidden away in the slopes and hills of the Appalachian Mountains, you’re the opposite of the women that try to flock to the sides of Steve and his men. You’ve kept your hair long, going against the modern fashion. There’s a bandana around your head, keeping your hair out of your face. There’s sweat on your brow and smudges of dirt on your plump cheeks. Even dressed in your dirtied work overalls, he can see you’re all curves—wide hips, thick thighs, soft stomach, plush ass, and he could wax poetry about your oh-so-generous chest.

Steve’s bullheaded, but he’s not stupid. Atop your horse, staring down at him with a raised brow, he’ll admit that you’re the most gorgeous woman he’s ever met. And…he has to unfortunately also admit to himself that you’re off-limits. He really can’t drop the ball on a potentially lucrative business deal by fucking a partner’s daughter.

Steve thinks you’ve both sized each other up enough, so he breaks the silence with a polite, “Ma’am.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Mister Rogers,” you reply with your southern drawl. Your voice is also sickly sweet. “I hope the trip wasn’t too hard on all y’all.” I hope the trip wasn’t too hard on a skinny little thing like you, you don’t say but Steve hears all the same.

Steve shoots you the same grin he wears when he’s smashing men’s skulls in. You’re a fighter. As much a hellion as that horse you’re riding. Guess Bucky’s been right all these years, saying Steve gets his rocks off on danger.

“Girl,” your father’s voice booms. He’s in a matching pair of overalls, a pitchfork over his shoulder, storming toward you and Steve. “Lord, you’ve got your momma rolling in her grave, treating guests this way,” your father scolds and you duck your head like a proper, chastised southern belle. Your father can’t see the mischievous twinkle in your eye, though. “The hell’d you get that horse out for? You want to break your neck? He ain’t trained enough. Go put that horse back in the barn, wash up, get started on supper, and then you’ll meet this fella you asked to come down here.”

“Yes, daddy.” Steve’s eyes glaze over at hearing the word daddy leave those sinfully beautiful lips of yours. He’s thinking with his dick too much to completely process your father’s words and their meaning. His eyes are still locked on you as you dismount the horse. You flash Steve a smile, dangerously sharp, and he thinks he might be in love.

When you’ve disappeared into a nearby barn, your father claps Steve on the shoulder. “Aw, hell, I’m sorry, Rogers. I swear that girl’s got manners. She’s probably tired. We’ve been workin’ all day to get this corn picked. Way she was making it sound, you got here faster than she thought you would.” He gives Steve a slap on the back now. “Well, go on inside and make yourself comfortable. She’ll talk details with yah over supper.”

Steve blinks, confused. “Sir?”

Your father gives Steve a shit-eating grin. “Ain’t you heard, Rogers? You’ll be talking to my girl. She’s the one that handles the business. All I do is go up in them there woods, sit around with my buddies, drinking while we wait for the moonshine to cook. She sets up all the deals, handles the bookkeeping—” your father pauses and innocently asks, “Didn’t she say all this in them letters she’s been writing?”

No. No, you did not and your father knows that. It looks like troublemaking runs in your blood.

You’re waiting for Steve on the porch—face washed clean, dirt scrubbed away from your hands, bandana stripped from your hair that’s now pulled back with a white ribbon, and wearing in a simple yet pretty cornflower blue dress. You hold the door open, stepping to the side, still smiling at Steve in that predatory way. “Why don’t you come on in the kitchen and we’ll talk business while I’m cooking?”

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A year ago, in 1920, Steve had watched the high and mighty people clamor out onto the streets of New York to pour out and smash their bottles of liquor on the ground. It’d marked the official start to Prohibition and all Steve could think about during the whole spectacle was potential.

Of course, it wasn’t Steve and his crew alone who tried to cash in on the overwhelming demand for booze that was declared illegal. People are always going to get their hands on what they want. There have been tales of men who pass out miniature stills that allow people to make their own gin right there in their homes. Bathtub gin, he hears it’s called. You scoff and turn your nose up at the mention of it and call it exactly what it is—rotgut. You and your father are craftsmen in the art of alcohol. You give people what they want. Quality.

Slowly but surely, you’ve been working to spread your family’s name around. You explain to Steve that your father has been making moonshine since you were a child to make extra cash on the side. When your mother unexpectedly passed, he decided you were old enough to learn how to do it yourself. But like any small-town girl, you want more.

“And once Prohibition hit, cousin, business was a-booming,” you cheekily remark.

Steve wants to come to the rescue. He wants to make you a partner. You’ve got a high-class product that people will scramble to get their hands on. It’s not that watered-down shit he’s had to swallow down at speakeasies. He’ll pay to bring your business to New York. That, you argue, is not as easy as he makes it out to be, and shit goes downhill from there.

You and Steve spend hours arguing. Steve thinks you’re just wanting to be difficult for the sake of being difficult, but you bring up a lot of fair points. Stacking up problems that Steve assures can be tackled with enough money. There’s a reason you and all the other bootleggers are stranded where you are—you need good, dry corn. The hard waters of Kentucky, rich with limestone and other minerals, make the process of making moonshine easier. What about the copper stills you need? Plain steel just won’t do for you.

It’s getting late in the night. You and Steve are both red-faced and as spitting mad as you were at the start. Your father had left you two alone hours ago, shaking his head and snickering, knowing you can handle your own. “Jesus Christ,” you snarl suddenly after staring out the window at the nighttime skies. You stomp over to grab his upper arm. “Keep running your mouth, I don’t care, but you’re gonna have to do it while I’m working.”

By working, you mean speeding through the dark and winding roads of Appalachia in your pride and joy, a Ford car, with a crate of mason jars between you two. Before it gets hot, you explain that local coppers have been trying and failing for years to catch your father in the act. Steve knows the cops don’t think a little thing who looks and talks as sweet as you could possibly be the brains behind the operation. The cops show up on your tail and you cackle before you put on the speed. Steve forgets all about his anger, watching you drive like a maniac under the moonlight, wind whipping your hair around your face. With his backroom deals, greasing the hands of cops with money, he’d forgotten the thrill of this. The chase.

You swerve off the road, parking your car on a little remote trail the cops obviously have no idea about. You both watch as the cops speed away, chasing nothing but a ghost. Well, with how expertly you’ve been driving, they’ve been chasing ghosts all night long. After you both come down from the adrenaline high, you say, “I don’t think this’ll work, Steve. I want it to, but…it ain’t a good move. It’ll be more trouble than it’s all worth.” And you sound genuinely upset about that.

Steve’s not ready to let a woman like you slip out of his fingers just yet. “Why don’t you come up to New York with me?”

You scoff. It’s a bitter sound. “I’m not some blushing virgin that you can get one over on. I know good and damn well what a kept woman is and that ain’t the life for me. I won’t lay around in your bed and spread my legs for you while you take over what I’ve worked hard at building my whole life.”

Steve slides a little closer to you and pushes some hair behind your ear. The late hour makes him brave…or stupid, if he’s been reading your signals wrong. “Sweetheart, I’d love nothing more than to have you in my bed.” You turn your head toward him and he can feel your burning glare more than he can see it in the moonlight. “But that’s not what I meant. I didn’t lie when I said I wanted you as a partner. I want you to come to New York and see what I have and what I can do.”

“I know this may be hard for a city boy like you to believe, but not everything is better in the city.”

“I can show you a few things we do better in the city,” Steve suggests lowly.

Slowly, you turn your head and your nose brushes past his. He can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips. “You usually this friendly with your partners?”

“My best friends, Bucky and Sam, they’ve both fucked me a few times over the years. You’ll learn this fast, honey, but I may have a thing for pretty people that can put me in my place.” He wants to pretend he didn’t hear the hitch in your breath. He leans back and gives you some space. Oh, well. He’s not going to lie about who he is. “You can tell me to fuck off.”

“I think we need to talk about your business practices there, Rogers. I was buried between Minnie Dean’s legs and you don’t see me giving her the recipe to daddy’s moonshine.” Steve breaks out into a fit of quiet laughter. You try to be serious, but you instantly cave and giggle along with him. It really is a beautiful sound.

“You win,” you breathe out after the two of you have gotten control of yourselves. “I’ll go with you. I can bring some corn. You can get a copper still. We’ll see what we can do with the water up there.” You reach out, playfully tap his cheek once, but your hand lingers on his skin. “Get out of the car, Brooklyn. Let’s see what you got.”

Steve lures you out of the car and into the cool autumn night. You two don’t stray very far. Steve leads you around to the front of the car and presses you down against the hood. He tugs at that pretty little ribbon in your hair and you sigh so beautifully when he runs his hand through your locks. Your hair fans out across the steel, glinting in the moonlight.

Pretty words won’t work on you, but you look like a fucking angel. Then, finally, he’s leaning down and kissing you. It doesn’t surprise him your kisses are biting, stinging, a warning that you’re as dangerous as him. Here you are, looking like an angel, but you’re so obviously a serpent underneath the surface. Father Donahue would have some words about a woman like you. Lucifer, a fallen angel, the vile snake come to lead a lamb astray. Steve hasn’t been an innocent lamb in a long time, though.

His mouth drops down to nip at the delicate skin of your neck and you tilt your head back, baring your throat. “Minnie Dean ever return the favor?”

“That asshole brother she’s got came too close for comfort and spooked her off.” You chuckle dryly. “If what you really wanna know if anyone’s ever had their mouth on me down there, answer’s no. I’d hate to suffocate someone with my thighs and have ‘em die on me before I get mine.”

Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, isn’t that a fucking crime? On one hand, yeah, he’s going to be puffing up with pride after tonight because he’s the first person to ever get a taste of that sweetness between your thighs. On the other hand, he wants to kill the people who haven’t treated you like the treasure you are. “Even if you could do something like that, I think I’d still die the happiest man in the world.”

Then, Steve sinks down to his knees in front of you. He carefully settles his hands on your calves and you hiss at the touch of his icy fingers on your flesh. It’s a common complaint. He’ll let your skin warm him up. He slides his hands up your legs, teasingly slow, and begins pushing the fabric of your dress up and out of the way the higher he goes. Steve greedily takes it all in, watching and touching all this smooth, soft skin that’s slowly revealed to him.

Being a good, helpful girl, you take the bunched fabric of your dress from Steve, clutching it tightly in one hand. Your other hand fists in Steve’s hair when he tugs your panties down your legs. He pats one of your thighs and guides you to drape it over his shoulder, giving him more room to play, and he sucks a bruise onto your skin. He takes a deep breath, catching the heady scent of your sex, and he groans.

Steve spreads the lips of your pussy, getting his first taste of you when he places a soft kiss to your clit and his lips tingle. It’s a tease, but it has you sucking in a sharp breath and it’s got him reaching down to press the heel of his hand against his hard cock. He drops his head down a little lower, grinning at the little squeak you give when his nose bumps at your clit. It’s too dark to see, a shame. Teasingly, he presses his thumb against your hole and you squirm restlessly. He replaces his thumb with the flat of his tongue and he moans because you’re so sweet. Sweet and tangy.

Steve slides his tongue up, through your folds, moving right back to that bundle of nerves. It breaks your silence and you moan lowly, sound echoing in the darkness. It only spurs Steve on and he proceeds to devour you. Feasts upon your pussy, cherishing and savoring it almost the same way he used to do with those rare pieces of fruit Bucky would steal when he and Steve were poor, starving kids. His eyes roam up the wide expanse of your body, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your back arches off the car the closer you get to the edge.

Never let it be said that Steve Rogers isn’t a man of his word. You wanted to see what he’s got and he’ll fucking show you what he can do with his mouth. He eases your trembling thigh back down so you’re on steady ground, braces a forearm against your midsection, nurses at your clit, and slides two fingers inside your soaking pussy. He crooks them, searching until he presses against that ridged area.

“Steve!” You slap a hand down on the hood of your car. Your other hand is about to tear a chunk of his scalp out with the grip you’ve got on his hair. “Sweet fucking Lord.” His lips curl deviously. “Steve—oh, God bless—it’s so good. Steve, I—oh, Jesus fucking Christ!”

Steve starts rubbing furiously at that spot inside you, firm and steady pressure. He matches the pace with his tongue, circling and lapping at your clit. You scream when you reach your peak, entire body convulsing, and Steve quickly lowers his head. He moans like a whore when your come squirts into his waiting mouth. He can’t catch it all, though, and the rest soaks your thighs, the front of Steve’s shirt, and your panties. And, fuck, he’s already a mess, anyway. So, he shoves a hand down the front of his pants, takes himself in hand, and furiously strokes until he’s coming himself, coating his hand in thick, sticky white.

Steve makes sure to keep his hands on you, even as he stumbles to his feet. You’re still shaking all over, trying to catch your breath, furiously blinking the stars out of your eyes—or so his ego hopes. “I hope you know how to drive,” you whisper hoarsely. “Because you’re the only way we’re getting home now.”

“And that’s how we do it in the city,” Steve teases.

“Shut the fuck up and help me back in the car.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

You’re perched on the edge of Steve’s desk. He watches as you take small, careful sips of the moonshine. After a few minutes of rolling the product around on your tongue, you sigh dramatically and turn to look out the window at the looming Brooklyn Bridge with a pinched expression. “It still ain’t Kentucky water,” you grumble. He waits until you reluctantly add, “But it’ll do.”

A smirk plays at Steve’s lips. “Want me to remind you of how I celebrate a new partner?”

#what even are tags #my writing #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #plus size reader #steve rogers x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert

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swan--writes · 4 years

Text

Bath Time

(I was listening to the live version of Cherry Wine by Hozier while writing this.)

Alrighty y’all, here’s part two! This one is a bit shorter than part one, but I kind of don’t mind it. Part one can be found here.

Warnings: references to sex, non-sexual nudity, kissing

You didn’t always hate your job, but when you did, you goddamn despised it. There was the day your computer glitched out and you lost a full day of work. The day your coworker had passed an angry customer off to you, and you had to sit at your desk through lunch to talk him down. Of course, you would never forget the day your current boss had first taken over her managerial office. Sheer and utter chaos. She had learned quickly, but dear Christ had that first day been rough.

Today took the cake. Your office had a managers’ meeting. Normally you liked your boss, and you knew some of the other managers. Having every manager in the district in the same building had been excessive though, and you needed to find a way to relax. Your legs were burning and your shoulders were tense – you had been running around all day, carrying redundant messages to ungrateful people and trying your best to prevent fires from starting and putting out the ones that did.

When you got home, Beetlejuice was still gone. He had left on Wednesday night for some Netherworld business that you had already forgotten the details of. Frankly, you weren’t sure you wanted to know. The demon had said he would be back on Friday evening, and so far he had never been late. For all his many…many faults, Beetlejuice was always punctual. Unfortunately, some of those faults made it difficult to relax and de-stress.

If you told Beetlejuice that you needed both of those things, you knew what he would suggest, and that if you took him up on it you wouldn’t leave your bedroom all weekend. Tempting as that idea was, you did have some errands and at least one project to take care of that weekend. Besides, you had sweat through your shirt and your sweater by the time you got home. You knew you needed a shower, but the thought of standing for that long was overwhelming. What you really wanted was a bath.

Without waiting for Beetlejuice, you walked into your bathroom. Your old roommate thought you were being overindulgent when you bought your bathtub, but the house was in your name so to hell with it. It was a large tub, with a black exterior and a shiny white interior. You undressed, wrapped yourself in a towel, and dug through your designated Bath Drawer. There were scented epsom salts, dried flowers, some half-empty bottles of bath soap, and a few tightly bound scrolls from your pre-demon boyfriend days. (God, he was your boyfriend. Would you ever get over that?) (Doubtful.) Come to think of it, maybe he should join you.

Ever since you had introduced Beetlejuice to showers, the demon had been obsessed. This was probably a good thing, considering how easily he got dirty. Beetlejuice couldn’t really feel pain and he still enjoyed body horror and bio-exorcisms and dramatically impaling himself on the gate surrounding your house for your entertainment. He would regularly emerge from the woods near your home covered in God knows what, and you had a sneaking suspicion that at least part of the reason he did it was so he would have an excuse to take a shower. It didn’t hurt that he usually needed your help getting all that mud and dead-guy blood and whatever else off of him. Maybe he would enjoy a bath.

After a few moments of carefully considering the contents of your Bath Drawer, you picked out an orange vanilla scented soap and starting filling the bathtub with water as hot as you could stand. You would be in this bath for a long, long time. While it was filling, you lit a few candles and turned out the lights. The bathroom was still bright enough that you could navigate it easily. Already, you could feel some of the tension leaving you.

So when Beetlejuice knocked on the bathroom door, you jumped.

“Honey, I’m home.” The door remained closed, but his voice was definitely in the room with you. Despite the jump scare, you couldn’t be annoyed. It was very him. You liked things that were very him. “Whatcha up to in there, sweet cheeks?”

“Beetlejuice, have you ever taken a bath?”

You heard him falter. “What?”

Not answering, you got up from your kneeling position beside the tub and opened the bathroom door. He had been leaning on the other side of the door, and when you opened it, he didn’t move. Now leaning on air, Beetlejuice frowned at you curiously. Thankfully, he wasn’t too dirty. No need to hose him down outside before letting him into your citrusy bathwater.

“Come on.” You took his strong, steady hand and gently pulled him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t about to refuse you when you were right in front of him wearing nothing but a towel, and he came with you easily. “I’ve had a long day, I thought this might be a good way to relax. And since you love showers so much…”

By now there was a small mountain of bubbles floating on the water. You shut off the faucet and stuck your arm into the bath to swirl the foam around more evenly. When you turned back to look at Beetlejuice, he was staring wide-eyed at the tub.

“Is that soap foam?” You nodded, knowing he couldn’t smell it too well but glad that he still seemed able to appreciate it. His eyes lit up. There was a closeness between the two of you. His pale skin shone in the dim light, and the candles softened his demonic features. In the low light, his hair looked soft and his skin looked warm. With the wonder on his face, Beetlejuice almost looked human. You smiled absently. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“You’ve never scared someone in a bath before?”

“Usually I’m scaring them out of a bath.” You took his hand and kissed it, then unwrapped your towel. There was a rack beside your bathtub and, ignoring Beetlejuice’s stare, you hung the towel from the rack and stepped into the tub. You sighed at the heat of the water and lowered yourself into it gently, but you didn’t lean against the edge. When you looked up at your demon boyfriend again, he was fidgeting, apparently speechless. Though the wonder was still firmly in place in his expression, he also seemed nervous. “Uh…” Beetlejuice pointed to the water, then to himself. “…can I come in too?”

Did he think you were going to say no?

Your brow creased in sympathy, but you fought to keep your expression open. If you shut down, even a little, he might feel rejected. You thought about giving him a speech about how you always accepted him, or about how he should feel totally welcome in your home. You could tell him how much you cared for him and how you loved spending time with him. How you wanted to give him all the human experiences you could. How you could always make a space for him. All of those things were true.

But all of those things, you realized, could wait. This didn’t have to be a teaching moment when you could just show him that you cared. For now, a nod and a small smile were enough. The joy that spread across his face was worth it.

Beetlejuice shrugged out of his jacket immediately. You watched him take off his tie and unbutton his shirt. He didn’t give you a show – didn’t even offer. It was endearing in more ways than one. Beetlejuice removed his striped button-down and his undershirt. The candlelight rolled around the lovely slope of his pale shoulders. It struck you, not for the first time, that despite being dead, this demon was so much more than a lump of cold flesh. Though you felt it when you cuddled him, and you felt it during sex, there was something about the lighting and the warmth of the bathroom that belied his intensity. Beetlejuice’s movements were so smooth and his skin seemed to glow and the reality of him surrounded your heart like so much comforting water and soft light and warmth.

When Beetlejuice slipped into the bath behind you, you shifted into his arms without hesitation. He leaned against the back of the tub and you rested your back against his beautifully soft stomach, your shoulders falling against his accommodating chest. He wrapped one cozy arm around you and kissed your ear. His other hand dove into the foam, stretching and squeezing experimentally. He made piles of bubbles and flicked them. You smiled and tilted your head, craning your neck so you could kiss his chin, nosing at his scruff once you had. Beetlejuice moved his head down just a bit so you could reach his lips. Once you were satisfied that you had kissed him enough for now, you turned back to face forward and fully relaxed into him. You really had missed him while he was gone.

It was still for a minute. Then, you felt Beetlejuice’s free hand tugging at the elastic in your hair. He didn’t ask and you didn’t say anything. You simply leaned your head forward just enough for him to pull the elastic free. You felt his fingers chasing it away before returning to your scalp. His other arm held you secure, not stroking or exploring. He just held you. The last of the tension left your body with the tangles he was combing out of your hair.

Buy Me a Coffee?

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gardeningintrests · 3 years

Text

Earth is space Australia- weather and seasons part 1 because i need sleep

what do the Aliens think about our weather conditions? what do they think about seasons? most importantly, can they withstand the pressure the weather gives them? if I'm sure enough, weather changes will make the Alien go crazy, i think that they can adapt seasons but not quite sure about he weather, and it only become an issue when climate change is hitting us in the ass as well.

so I kind of think that maybe the Aliens Home Planet usually is like a setting that is permanent, so once they came to Earth to either study us Terrans or just observe the life of average humans.

so here is the...… story I might be writing about how Aliens might react to weathers and seasons on Earth. This story might be long though. so hold your weird human appendages hands and lets settle it!

and a lot of ssssss so I'm writing with red lines underneath words.

“Whatssss isessstes like in syour HomeWorld?” Audrie an on board Snake-Like Alien asked a nearby Human-Eugene who is currently packing up to have a small vacation on Earth with other humans since its almost Christmas and about time to go home.

“oh you wanna know?” “Audrie wantsses tsu know how Terransss livee in such weird Planet.”

it just so happens that Kallos, the Dragon-Like Alien passed by.

“how bout we go find out? I mean, Miss Audrie has ancestors at Earth called Snakes right??” said Kallos with a huge grin on his face.

Audrie turned her head 180 degrees and looked Kallos dead in the eye. Human-Eugene didn't even bother as Audrie scolded Kallos about how her species is fairly different from the so called “snakes” on Earth.

Okay so for people who wants to know the difference, here:

Audrie’s kind is known as Pythons ( Reticulated Python, go ask Google for more info) they are 10 times larger than an average snake (or Reticulated Python whatever suits you) and due to its large size, its difficult for the Pythons to move fast or strangle its enemies, they are a bit more “fat” so moving into small places and close rooms are just what they NOT needed. their head is like a snake head (well obviously) and they have more teeth then normal snakes. Pythons don't need to hibernate, they just eat to refill their energy or smth.

the commander was doing usual patrol, as he saw...the Snake and Dragon, beside them is a very uncomfortable Human packing his bag preparing to land in a few hours. and due to the great work attitude Human-Eugene has given off since ‘pick-up’ (what they call it when they recruit new crew members) xe had to go and help a bit

“what's with all this noise, officer’s?” three of them immediately frozen in place as they heard the commanders voice.

“oh, uh.. Audrie wasss tellingz sstupids Kallosss here how Audrie’ss kind are different from Terransss Earth ssnakesss!” “im sorry okay? sheesh..”

thank the lord Captain has stopped them both. thought Eugene.

for a moment, Eugene suddenly jolted upwards. there was something rattling behind him, he turned to find Audrie’s tail poked him and he asked what Audrie wanted which to she responded with:

“Isss Terranz going to tell Audrie about how Earth iz like?”

due to the fact that the commander was there and Eugene didn't want to disappoint anybody in front of the commander so he said yes. but he would only show her after he is don't packing his stuff.

“which Galaxy Station are we going to stop at next?” asked Eugene. apparently, Spaceships need refilling with energy like how cars on Earth needs to refill oil. and like longgg rides when were travelling to far placing of the country, we need to stop at Rest Areas. but the Galactic Space Travel Traffic Alliance had made their Rest Area a bit more...Interesting than our normal Rest Areas.

they have a lot of activities to participate at the Rest Area, that also serves as a gas station for Spaceships but how bout calling them Energy Refill station instead. you must be asking, why is there like a whole sort of activities that kind of serve as a amusement park in the middle of space and most importantly at a Rest Area?

(note: i have no fucking idea what the Rest Stop at Rural Highways is called and i searched it on google and it seems that its called a Rest Area)

well Spaceships require a large amount of energy that can be found in decomposing bodies or waste of Aliens, so its kind of like a waste reducing order(????) so the Galaxy ends up too much waste produced.

at the next 3 hours, they are gonna be stopping at that specific Rest Area and then Human-Eugene has everything planned to tell the Crew members of his ship about Earth, he somehow got the other 3 Humans involved and they are now currently laughing like kids planning on stealing some candy from a drawer their mother stored all the candies in at the cafeteria.

the Aliens who have passed by are terrified.

finally they reached their destination. they first went to get some supplies restocked, and check in for a Stay-Overnight-Pod(something like a hotel but for Space travelers) their energy restocking is in line after the first 2 get theirs energies restocked and they cant sleep at the ship because its gon have a power shut down for cooling and safe travel.

they all had separate rooms except the Humans, they somehow can sleep together in one room without being worried about a sudden ambush of their own species(Aliens tend to loose their self control at some times and can end up hurting their crew)

when they unloaded their stuff, they headed to the main lobby which the meet up.

“are you all ready?” Human-Eugene said to all the Aliens of his Crew.

note: there are only three kinds of Alien Species on Eugens ship, and all of their Species names are all according to their own Scientific names

Snake-Like Species {Pythons}

Dragon-Like Species { Draco Vulgaris }(D.V.)

Plant-Like Species {Plantae}

there is currently 15 aboard on the ship, 4 humans, 5 Plantae’s, 3Pyhtons and 2 D.V.’s

the ship name is MoonShine(because of the metal they used to build this ship are the ones from Wellioan (Plantae Species metal) that somehow shine under the moons( yes i know moonshine is a poison but its interesting aye?)

(i feel like i am giving you all a lesson about science and animals rather then letting y’all read a story)

everyone or everylien (get it? oml so cringe xd) basically every Alien on board on MoonShine had heard the news about the Humans bringing them to a places where they can physically experience the weathers of Earth.

“so considering your question about Earth, Audrie. Us humans have planned that we would show you the basics first : weather.” most of them got confused. what is weather?? is it a natural habitat of a fauna on earth? is it a name of one of the highly respected humans?? oh how curious were they but little did they know...what whole bs are weathers.

they reach a place, its a weird circular room. soon one of the humans, Human-Heloise noticed the confused looks of their crewmates. Heloise told Eugene and then they ask the most obvious question.

“you do not know what a weather is, am i right?” said all of the Humans at once that spooked the already confused Aliens. “-sigh- welp, guess we have a huge explanation to do”

~after explaining cuz im LAZY AS FAK~

“and that's about it!” said Human-Eugene with a proud looking face because for once he does not need google to help him explain everything and he can do it themselves.

“SO YOUR SAYING- THAT THERE ARE WATER FALLING DOWN FROM THE SKY CALLED RYAN-” “its rain-” “THEN IF THE RAIN IS TOO HEAVY ITS GONNA CAUSE FLOODING AND THEN THERES ELECTRICITY COMMING FROM THE SKY CALLED THINDER-” “no its called thund-” “AND THEN THERES WHEN DAYS HAVE NO CLIDS-” “clouds-” “ AND ENDS UP HEATING OVER 40!!! 40 DEGRESS CELCIUS HIGH!! THATS HALFWAY BOILING-”

the humans are a bit stressed at this point, their crew are from outside Planets ofc...

after a good 20 minutes of calming down, the Humans start to proceed the show their fellow friends what its like to experience those so called “weathers’

first was...Average Day, simple and straight foward. like many of the planets permanent setting. the Aliens seem to have gotten fascinated by the beautiful view of flower fields and high mountains. then moving on to cities and villages.

(note this device they are using is kind of like VR but you don't need the headset and it feels like your really there)

second was...Rainy day, normal raining and the windy blows. they are standing at the balcony of some sort of...home? the Aliens did not pay attention to their surroundings, they were enjoying the breeze of the wind and the sounds of the pouring rain. its somewhat peaceful for them.

but then suddenly.... something clicked...

no one really realize it but something broke, but it didn't matter.

now for this third one

its midnight wtf, i will be continuing these tomorrow, i need sleep

#humans are weird human are space orcs Earth is space australia

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marveloussupernerd · 4 years

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you would match me with a character from Mystic Messenger and Marvel? I have no gender preference so go hog wild. My form is pinned to my blog so I hope it wont be too inconvenient for you. I just find that humans have a tendency to be more complicated than 500 characters so it is difficult to accurately represent myself within those limitations. Thank you in advance, dear!

No problem!! Sorry this took a while but I hope you like it!!!!

Mysme

I ship you with 707!

I just finally reached the clarity that his real name is a spoiler for ppl that like they get upset if they find out so uh, I’m correcting that now lmaoo

Well you’re about as tall as him

Until you wear your boots

Then you’re taller

I know sometimes that bruises men’s egos but it literally does not affect him at all

Except when you’re walking too fast he whines that you need to slow down because your legs are longer than his

The first time he saw your resting face it kinda freaked him out

What did he do wrong? The two of you were just watching tv. Did you not like the way he had his arm around you?

Now that he knows that’s just how you look he doesn’t worry about it

He teases Yoosung by using it to his advantage

“Yoosung I think you pissed her off. Oh my goodness! Didn’t you know!? She can’t stand the color purple. Gives her bad memories. You’ve probably scarred her for life”

And then Yoosung is apologizing to you and you have no idea why

It’s Seven’s way of messing with both of you

The first time he tried to make his move by putting his arm around you and you flinched, he almost cried

No literally

He just... he hadn’t realized it was a thing to dislike it like that

Respects it so much

But he wants hugs so bad :( someone needs to hug this poor boy

So when you eventually invite him over and cuddle up to him during a very late movie night?

His heart jumps in his chest

He tries to tell you that you don’t have to!! He understands how it makes you feel weird and it’s okay; he likes you so so much and respects you a lot

But secretly he looks forward to whenever you want to cuddle with him; the rarity of it makes it even more special

707 is the king of witty comebacks

The first time the RFA sees the two of you bantering with each other they think you’re fighting? Because you’re both so passionate about being better and wittier than the other

You laugh about their confused faces later that night

He’s an over the top flirt too

Tries to woo you with ridiculous romantic gestures

He’s literally a theater kid too you cannot convince me otherwise I was a theater kid as well so I know

Literally every romantic gesture in a romcom? He does it

Of course he expects a reaction out of you but. You. Never. Budge.

Not even after he stole the microphone during the latest RFA party to confess to you that he was carrying your child

Which made NO SENSE

He’s not allowed microphones anymore. Or stages.

When you tell him you’re asexual he’s so respectful (as always)

You literally don’t have to do anything like that if you don’t want to

He’s more than happy with your cute lil domesticated life together

Okay this is off topic but I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO TRY AERIAL SILKS

When he first sees your bruises he FLIPS

did someone hurt you? Who? He’ll hack into their computer, give them hell

The first time he sees you perform... wow

YOU’RE SO COOL AND GRACEFUL AND ELEGANT

he wants to try it and literally begs on hands and knees for you to teach him

He’s bad at it. Learns he’s afraid of heights too

But he tries to watch you perform as often as possible

Noticed you don’t give out compliments often

So it’s his job to come up with a creative new compliment to give you every single day

It ranges anywhere from “I like your shirt” to “you’re so beautiful” to “I admire that you’re able to parallel park my babies.”

Please help him with procrastination

You literally will not hang out with him if he has work to do

He pouts and whines, but ultimately gets his work done

You’ve really helped out his work and his work schedule

He literally hates parties and clubs and bars

Much prefers taking you out at night to look at the stars

If you’ll let him, he’ll drive you to a secluded place in the mountains so that you can see them better

After reassuring you 800 times that he isn’t gonna murder you (you weren’t worried, but he was afraid you thought he would)

He likes to watch murder mystery movies with you

It’s really just a contest to find out who guesses it right first

But after he kept losing he changed it to how ridiculous of a motive he could describe and how close to correct it may be

“She said she has a twin right? Well her eye color is different from her photos. How do we know they didn’t grab the twin on accident? Or the twin isn’t pretending to be her or something”

HOW could he have guessed that

Sigh this is rlly inspired by me bc I did this exact thing and guessed the plot twist

Overall, he’s just really respectful of you. Drinks respect women juice 24/7. Loves complimenting you and spending time with you and never letting you forget how amazing you are.

Marvel

I ship you with Loki!

The Seven one was kinda easy

Prob because there aren’t that many mystic messenger characters

But BOY I struggled here

Until I thought of Loki, I hadn’t even considered him at first (my sister brought him up, as she helps me come up with who to match ppl with)

And YES

He was first drawn to you by how elegantly you carried yourself

Most Midgardians just kind of, slouched through the day

But you stood with impeccable posture, resting most of the weight on your toes. He thought you were some form of royalty at first

And then he saw you perform hoo boy

Okay first of all he definitely had no idea what was happening for a majority of the show

But he kinda liked you and so when you invited him to go he was THERE

Couldn’t stop complimenting you. He thought you were elegant before oh wow

He’s literally not intimidated by you at all, think of all the people he’s had to meet and BS he’s had to deal with

You’re touch-adverse? That’s fine by him

Honestly he doesn’t like cuddling or anything like that himself. Blame it on his childhood or something idc

He will throw insults right back at you. In fact, he usually doesn’t hold back

Okay they’re never inherently mean but I don’t know they may be kinda questionable

He wouldn’t insult you if he knew you couldn’t handle it

He is NOT very flirty

And by that I mean he will not flirt. Like he just cannot

He still gets lowkey pouty when you flirt with other people, but he can’t blame you. It’s not like he does a good job showering you with that sort of attention and compliments himself

But he does give you attention in other ways

He likes to sit with you, watching as you bake or write or something. He finds it very relaxing

In those moments, that’s when he lets the compliments run wild, talking about how you’re so talented and he likes how you look when you’re concentrated

These moments are the softest he gets. He doesn’t like showing this vulnerable side around anyone else

HAHA can you PLEASE go knife throwing together

You’re both very competitive about it

You know that scene from brave where she shoots her arrow THROUGH another arrow!?

That’s all I can picture but with knives

Homeboy is doing 0 archery with you 0 horseback riding he doesn’t trust those disgusting creatures and archery makes him think of dealing with Clint

He makes fun of you when you see a moth

Like does not let it go

“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything. You’re afraid of this little creature? It doesn’t even know up from down,” he chuckles, pointing at the moth flying around and hitting walls recklessly

Needless to say though he takes care of it for you

He throws an Asgardian party just so he can show you off

Thor’s girlfriend was very unimpressive but you!? You’re so charming to everyone

He really just wants to brag about it to his brother, and you know this full well and let him do so

Y’all like to read together before bed

By reading together I mean sitting on the same couch reading your own books

When you yelp when you’re surprised???

What happened to your poker face?

As much as he wants to find different opportunities to jump out at you and make you squeal, he refrains himself from doing so

It makes the moments when you do freak out much more entertaining

I’d say you’ve very on par with Loki; you have a lot of things in common and a similar approach to life in general

#marvel #mystic messenger #mysme #matchup

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sign-from-god-complex · 5 years

Text

Effort for Effort’s Sake

Summary: Logan is struggling and Roman wants to help.

Pairing: Ambiguous logince.

Warnings: General negative thoughts/anxiety and crying.

A/N: Gosh, it’s been a little hard to get writing done recently, but I’m trying my best!!! Hope y’all enjoy this one; it’s probably the most direct projection I’ve done onto a character to date, honestly. It’s hurt/comfort (as usual) so although it’s a little angsty I promise it’s not as bad as it may sound, hahah.

Tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun

——————————————————

Logan tapped his pen against the notebook in front of him—once, twice—attempting to find a good place to begin. The blank page was staring back at him, almost mocking him for his lack of progress and Logan resisted the urge to simply give up. He tapped again—once, twice.

His next assignment for his English class was due in less than a week’s time and though he'd been thinking about it for equally as long Logan had yet to actually accomplish anything, merely throwing away ideas and trying not to panic as the deadline drew ever nearer.

He set down the pen with a sigh, resting his head in his hands and running them through his hair.

He knew he was intelligent—his whole life he had been told that by every adult who had ever viewed his work—so why were things proving to be so difficult all of a sudden? For years things had been getting harder and harder. Logan was struggling to keep up with assignments, he was finding it hard to pay attention to lessons, and though he knew the material it seemed as if there was some sort of barrier preventing him from putting it on paper with any sort of coherency. He knew he had to complete the assignment—he didn't have time to be messing around—but he just... couldn't.

Slamming the notebook shut, Logan rose from his desk, reminding himself to breathe as calmly as possible despite the instinct to do otherwise.

Gods, he already wanted to take a break and he'd barely been at this for 15 minutes. He wanted to say it was just a bad day and he'd get it finished tomorrow but it wasn't true. He knew it wasn't true. Every day was a bad day now. Nothing was going to get done when he was feeling like this and he rarely seemed to stop feeling like this so nothing was going to get done. Just another incomplete assignment to go towards his quickly declining grades; all because he couldn't seem to start! It was-

There was a knock. Quick, enthusiastic and potentially a little bit annoying—Roman. Logan unclenched his fists though clenched his jaw, breathing in slowly and opening the door to Roman's excited rambling as he pushed himself into the room.

"You have no idea what happened to me today! It was absolutely ridiculous! I swear even I wouldn't have-" Roman cut himself off, suddenly looking alarmingly contrite. "I'm sorry, were you working? I... shouldn't have interrupted."

"No. Roman, I wasn't working. I should be working, but I was not."

The words came out more bitter and frustrated than he had intended them to, and Roman's facial expression shifted into worry.

"What does that mean, specs?" Roman asked, voice softer than Logan had ever expected him to be able to be, "You don't strike me as the kind of person who procrastinates. Is it just a bad day?"

Logan sighed, rubbing at his forehead. How could he explain to Roman how every basic task seemed to take an insurmountable amount of effort? How could he explain the way he had begun to panic at merely the thought of his responsibilities, no matter how simple or routine they seemed to be? How could he explain the way he could feel himself spiralling with no real way to prevent it until he finally hit the ground? He couldn't.

He couldn't.

"No, it was just-" He could feel tears welling up in his eyes and took a moment to attempt to stifle them, blinking rapidly in the hopes of keeping them at bay. "Um... I was-" His voice broke and Logan felt his cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. He should not be getting so emotional; he needed to get himself together.

Roman's face was openly concerned at this point, with just an edge of fear. Logan didn't blame him, he certainly didn't cry often. And he was crying—despite his best efforts tears were slipping out from behind his glasses, trailing down his cheeks and dripping onto the collar of his shirt. It was messy and uncomfortable and the way Roman was looking at him, with so much care and affection broke the final strand keeping Logan together.

He sobbed—once, harsh and sudden—and Roman was in front of him in an instant, hands hovering over Logan's shoulders as he struggled to think of what he could do to help. Logan's breathing was shaky but there, stuttering in between muffled cries, hand held in front of his mouth to keep as silent as possible—though he wasn't entirely sure to what end.

"I'm sorry, I-" Logan's voice was thick and he hated it. He hated feeling so out of control, so completely uncertain and unaccomplished. He was smart, he was disciplined, he was... falling apart at the seams, knowing no way to hold himself together.

Roman shushed him, his face stricken and Logan's breath hitched. He wanted to crawl into a small space and hide, cry to himself and the darkness until he awoke in the morning, unconcerned with the previous evening's events until it became an issue once again. It was an unhealthy cycle, Logan knew that, but he was struggling to find other ways to cope.

"Can I touch you?" Roman's words were soft but infused with a sense of urgency that Logan wasn't going to claim was entirely unwarranted. The regular panic and discomfort that came from that suggestion didn't come, so Logan nodded and in an instant Roman's hands were gripping his upper arms. It was a pressure, warm and grounding and Logan made a noise of which the origin or explanation he wasn't entirely sure.

He was pulled to the ground—steady guiding hands and gentle touches—and against Roman's chest. He was solid underneath Logan and he could hear his heart beat—once, twice—a constant noise to ground him and keep him here. There was a hand running through his hair and Logan only had a moment to feel embarrassed at how greasy his hair likely was before the movement soothed his thoughts.

His tears slowed in the wake of Roman's actions, Logan managing to distract his mind from his failings by instead focusing on the soft warmth Roman was providing, thinking solely on the repetitive motions and the rise and fall of Roman's chest with each breath. He breathed in turn—once, twice.

"I, um..." His voice was croaky as he spoke up and even the wake of everything that Roman had just seen, Logan felt a flash of shame. "I want to apologise, I-"

"No, none of that, specs," Roman interrupted—the words were kind and the movements continued, so Logan simply took another breath as Roman continued, "You're allowed to be upset, you're allowed to show your emotions and you're most certainly allowed to receive comfort when you aren't feeling your best.

"Now—" Roman gently pushed him away, the comforting acts ceasing and Logan couldn't ignore the way the entire room seemed to stutter—"I need you to tell me what's wrong, Lo. Cause I want to help you, but I won't be able to do that unless you talk to me. You don't have to do it right now if you don't feel up to it, but I... worry about you." He paused, his eyes warm with an emotion Logan couldn't quite identify. "I want you to be happy."

Logan nodded distantly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, brow drawn. There was a moment of silence.

"Everything is so... hard, Roman."

Roman seemed surprised by the admission, but Logan pushed on. "I can read an Agatha Christie book just fine but the second I have to write a single word it feels as if my entire body is turning itself inside out to get out of it. I understand the importance of the chores roster and I want so badly to assist you and the others in keeping our apartment clean and taken care of, but every week I feel a physical weight in my stomach dragging me down and every single task is like climbing a mountain.

"It's like that feeling of effort it takes to get up and take a shower but for every single action and Roman, I don't know what to do anymore." He glanced up at Roman then, eyes wet but tears unshed. Roman's expression was... sad—empathetic and loving. "I was aware that being an adult was going to be difficult, it's brought up routinely at this age, but this is not that. This... cannot be that, I cannot let it be that, because I cannot do this—not the ways things are going right now."

Roman drew him back into his chest abruptly, one arm wrapped firmly around his waist, the other pressing Logan's head into the crook of his neck. It only lasted a moment, before Roman inhaled deeply and let go. His smile was weak and sort of strained as he regarded Logan but it was present nonetheless.

"Alright. Things sound overwhelming right now, yeah? Do you think you're up to going to the student health centre at school?"

It had crossed his mind, but at the same time that feeling of effort extended to getting himself help, and he wasn't sure he could be trusted to ever actually do it.

"If... you accompany me," Logan mused, "Yes. I think I would be able to do that."

Roman looked slightly shocked at Logan's declaration but recovered quickly. "I would be happy to, Logan, but uh… are you sure you wouldn't rather have one of the others...?"

He shook his head decisively. "I would prefer the others not know about this."

"But-"

"Please." Logan felt the desperation filter into his words involuntarily and Roman exhaled softly. "Just for now. If anything does come of the trip to the student health facility I will inform them then, but I need a little bit of time."

"Of course," Roman murmured, "I didn’t mean to push you."

There was silence for a while, Logan intimately aware of how close the two of them were, but not particularly making any moves to do anything about it.

He could hear voices downstairs, so he assumed the others had arrived home at some point and dinner was in the process of being cooked—a reminder that the world was going on around their quiet little bubble, and they did have to get up. The idea was abhorrent, twisting his insides into knots, but Logan made an effort. He gathered himself up from the ground with a slow inhale, bringing Roman to his feet beside him with an offered hand and a tug.

"Would you..." Logan trailed off for a moment, unsure of himself but wanting to lift the heavy atmosphere that had settled over the two of them. "You were in the process of telling me a story as you arrived in my room this evening. Do you wish to continue it?"

Instantly, Roman lit up and with it, Logan felt the tension in the room dissipate slightly. He could catch a few tossed phrases as Roman began to speak rather rapidly, humming along to rhetorical questions and looking appropriately amused when Roman detailed the encounter he had been so excited to share. He let himself smile softly.

Yes, things were overwhelming right now but he had Roman now and that was, at least, a start. He was going to make an effort to cope better and with any luck, things were soon going to be okay.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #platonic logince #queerplatonic logince #the choice is yours #lo can write

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artisticestheticreads · 5 years

Text

The Heat of Trinidad (1)

A/N: IT’S M’BAKU SATURDAY!!!!!! This is the official first chapter of my very first M’Baku series. In this chapter, the leaders of Wakanda are sent to various locations to help make the world a better place. M’Baku is sent to a place way different from home but sees a vision for sore eyes. I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

WARNING: none..yet

SONG RECOMMENDATION: Ola by Olatunji

It was a breezy, sunny day in Wakanda and in the Royal Palace, all the council members were in attendance. The Dora Milage stood in a neat, precise along with the Jabari Tribe. King T’Challa was on his throne with his ambassador and Prince of Wakanda, N’Jadaka, to his left and the Great Lord himself, M’Baku, to his right. M’Baku had no choice but to wear clothing supplied to him by the Wakandian seamstresses, to respect the elders. He sat there in a chocolate tone sweater, matching slacks and shoes made by Shuri herself. “Now, as I have said before, we need to help supply our brothers and sisters all over the world which is why the WPS will assign an agent into each and every part of major police departments to teach those dumb idiots how to actually protect and serve...for everyone”, N’Jadaka said as he stood with a hologram in front of him as he wore an all-black attire like M’Baku but his sleeves were rolled up and accents of gold throughout the shirt and loafers.

T’Challa nodded, still seated and said “thank you, Prince N’Jadaka. Very good work.” N’Jadaka nodded and sat as T’Challa stood. “Council, as the King of our country, I will be assigning each official here to each part of the world to talk to each president, royal figure or whoever is in charge. Then in a few months, I will be going to the UN to finalize everything.” T’Challa looked around before looking at M’Baku who seemed bored out his mind. His heavy legs swung back and forth, wide apart and his arms rested on each armrest of his wooden chair. T’Challa stood with his hands behind his back and said “Lord M’Baku, would you like to proceed with plans?” When T’Challa sat, M’Baku watched him. He took a deep breath and sat up slightly, hands folded before standing.

“Alright then, while we are gone the Queen Mother will be in charge until T’Challa is back. My tribe will stay behind to protect while the Dora Milage except for Oya will be with each one of us. Of course, the warriors will be back after flying us out. We have been randomly assigned to a different party in the world. According to Brother T’Challa, we will be there for a few months as we watch our assigned areas. He thinks it will be better if we get to know them as much as we can and report back to him the process of our agent’s work; before and after.” He slouched back into his seat and tilted his head towards the king. “Ah, well then. Princess Shuri has randomly selected through her database of each area and paired with each of us. She had no say so. Is this correct”, T’Challa said and Shuri nodded as she stood.

“Each of our results will be transmitted from my lab to our beads telling us where we are headed off to tomorrow afternoon. Each one of our ships will be disguised as aircraft from each place so we won’t cause any unwanted attention. No need pack because since we have all your measurements, you will have supplied you all with everything you need. We won’t know where we will be until we are on our flights”, she said before sitting. T’Challa’s arms lied beside him when he asked “any questions”. He didn’t even get to finish because M’Baku interrupted. “With all due respect, why on Earth do we all need to go?” T’Challa looked at N’Jadaka and the prince explained “if T’Challa, Shuri and I all went alone it would take almost eight months to go to every part of the world. We need to help our fellow brothas and sistas fast before we become extinct.”

M’Baku said “alright but why can’t we know where we are going now and why do we have to wait until we are onboard to know where we are going? I thought your ‘technology’ is ‘perfect’ and ‘efficient.” Shuri said “well since there is so many of us, the system might take a little longer. But no worries, the system also has matched each of us where it thinks we will fit best.” The meeting went on until M’Baku stood in front of the window; T’Calla and Erik walked to his opposite sides. “Looks like you not up for helping us out, brotha”, N’Jadaka noticed. M’Baku folded his arms and said “the last time we tried to help the world, half of the world was almost dusted. We should have stayed to ourselves.” T’Challa placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and said “well, you did help in the battle, brother. You provided Queen Mother a helping hand and did what you could.”

M’Baku still stood there in thoughts as his brothers continued to talk. M’Baku hated change, he wasn’t sure why. He just did. That very night, he sat in his dining area alone eating dinner, all alone as usual. Being so, he was comfortable doing so. Once he was done with dinner, he showered and lied in bed in the nude as the cool mountain air kissed his skin, causing him to sleep. The next morning, a knock on his door woke him up. He stood from his bed and wrapped a towel around his waist before making his way. The knocking stopped once he opened the door to see one of the Dora Milaje and a member of the WPS, N’Jabu. N’Jabu was about twenty-four years of age, 6′1 and around 230 lbs. “Morning, Lord M’Baku. The Royal Family has given us your clothing for departure” the young man said handing him a wooden box. “We leave in an hour. We will be on the aircraft waiting.”

With that, they left M’Baku to get dressed. Once he was back by his bed, he opened the box; it made him raise his brow, unamused. Meanwhile, T’Challa was in an all-black suit with a grey tie and black dress shoes outside the rides. Shuri was in orange camouflage pants with a black tank, jean jacket and skater shoes on his left. N’Jadaka wore a navy blue hoodie, jeans and Adidas Superstars with his dreads braided and grill in. M’Baku walked out and Shuri turned to greet him. “Good morning, Great Gorilla Brother.” T’Challa turned along with N’Jadaka who put his shades on. “Goddamn, that shirt is bright as hell, bruh.” Shuri laughed as she raised her beads up recording everything. “Peter and MJ have to see this.” M’Baku was in a bright red wife-beater with a pair of black swim trunks on and sandals.; his face serious and aggravated.

“I do not find this funny. Not. At. All”, he walked towards them and looked down at Shuri, who still recorded. “Where in colonizer hell are we all going? I need to know why I am dressed like this.” N’Jadaka said “well, my results came in last night. I’m going to LA, again” with his hands in pockets. “Yeah, mine came in too. I will be in New York City with Nyla. She’s already there so yeah. And I might even get to hang with Peter and the crew as well”, Shuri said. “And, I and Okoye will be in Washington”, said T’Challa as Okoye stood behind in an all-black suit like the Secret Service. “Well, mine has not come in at all and I am highly disturbed.” Shuri rolled her eyes before signaling before going to her flight. M’Baku looked around at all the officials who bored and saw all the ridiculous clothing.

Soon everyone boarded and buckled in. N’Jabu wore something similar to him and Laya wore a pilot uniform. M’Baku rubbed his temples as he sat still waiting for his results. “Lord M’Baku. Please prepare for take-off”, Laya said over the intercom and they were off. M’Baku sat back in his seat trying to look over at the window but found it difficult since he sat in the middle of the ship. N’Jabu sat in the corner reading in M’Baku’s eyes sight on the right. “What are you reading over there, young man”, he asked and his agent looked up. “Our manual for assisting the officiants, Lord M’Baku. Agent Nyla Miller wants to make sure we do our job correctly, sir.” M’Baku nodded and said “carry on” before he leaned on his right hand.

Once he started to fall in a deep slumber, he heard his beads beep a few times. The lights flashed and generated as the ship changed to a plane aircraft and M’baku stood up, still watching and moving to the window seat available. Finally, the words were readable and his eyes squinted until he looked outside.”Trinidad and Tobago”, he said to himself. He looked to the view below and saw how clear it looked. The water was an ombre of teal, blue and aqua. The trees stood tall and so green he couldn't believe it. The plane landed on a private landing strip of the Piarco International Airport. Once they were safely down, the pilot announced “we have landed in bright and sunny Trinidad and Tobago. Good luck on your months here, Lord M’Baku and N’Jabu”; M’Baku did not want to leave that plane.

When N’Jabu and M’Baku left the plane, a short, older woman with a light complexion stood with a group of men, both secret service and to help with luggage. She wore a navy print skirt suit and her braids up and away from her face. “Hello, gentleman. I am Paula-Mae Weekes, the president of the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago. Welcome to our country, Lord M’Baku, and Agent N’Jabu.” She held out her hand to be shaken and they took it. “Lord M’ Baku, you and the Agent you have brought will be staying at one of the best-gated communities you have to offer. You both will have separate housing to yourselves for your stay.”

“Thank you, President Weekes. It is a pleasure to be sent here instead of the US and having to meet their ‘president’.” She softly smiled and said “yes. I bet it is. Now, let us drop you off so you can get used to the country and all we have to offer.” The men began to pack their things in the car and as the President gave them a tour, M’Baku all the murals around town. “I see you like art. Every mural is done by one of this country’s best artists, Rae, and the youth’s art group. You may see them around from time to time.”

“Rae, I like that. Strong name. Very good. Very good.”

They soon arrived to see a one-story yellow home with white roofing a nice cut green grass. There were shrubs around with a garden of yellow dandelions next to the entrance. M’Baku looked around to see everything so bright and lively; he saw the change and despised it but kept a poker face. “Okay, the front home will be for the Lord and the back home is all yours, N’Jabu.” N’Jabu bowed his head to the president and they thanked her before she left. M’Baku walked into his new for the next few months and saw the dark-toned kitchen that was completely different from the outside. The tile was an onyx marble against the oak hardwood island and countertop. He checked the cupboards to see red and white dishes already washed and stacked.

The drawers below had plenty of silverware for a family of five and tools for baking and cooking all alike. He walked around to find the study, very calming and nature-filled with ferns in every corner of the room. The bathroom had an earthy tone as well with wasabi shade on the walls and accents of brown and gold essentials around. When he went into the bathroom where all his luggage was, he walked into see a cream wall color surrounding him but what caught his eyes was the bed. It was a tall canopy with sheer, cream drapes around it. The bed itself looked like it can hold three of him and he gave a side smirk.

His kimono beads lit golden shade which indicated that N’Jadaka was calling. “Hello, brother N’Jadaka. How is Los Angeles so far”, he asked settling in the plush sheets. “Ah, man. Just like what I remember. So, I see ya made it. Where did they send you?”

“Trinidad and Tobago.”

“Ah, man. That’s way different than the mountains, big man. Ya think you can handle it?” M’Baku stood at the back window looking out to see the big tall trees and a pool in the pavement. “I can manage”, he responded with a smirk. He decided to sleep the entire day and get to know Trinidad better the next. He showered after his call with the Prince and lied in the nude, falling asleep like he usually did.

The next morning, his eyes open to the curtains blowing inwards. The air was humid yet relaxed him. He slowly stood, every muscle at attention and stretched his limbs. Making his way to the bathroom, the Lord looked into his closet to see a buttondown shirt with various colors and beige shorts. He rolled his eyes but decided to just get it over with. After his morning routine, he dressed up and realized that the shirt looked like too much; he unbuttoned it to show off his body. He looked into the mirror to see the outfit and was impressed, didn’t look too bad but who was he kidding. He is M’Baku, he makes everything look good.

He slipped on the shoes Shuri gifted him to match any outfit by simply scanning the garment and matching it; the pair changed to a red tone. He looked over to the vanity and saw a wooden box. The note was in Xhosa but he read it in English. “Can’t have you lookin’ like anyone else. Thank me later. -The Prince of all Princes.” He rolled his eyes as he opened the box and saw a gold, thin chain with an ankh dangling from it. His eyebrow rose and he held it in his hand. He placed the jewelry on saw that it actually made his copper skin shimmer and pop.

He decided to walk into town where President Weekes gave them a tour. He walked amongst the many of people. Whether they were short or tall, plump or skinny, light or dark, the all looked they belonged on the island. He walked over to a mural of Mother Nature with an afro and tending to animals. He had to admit it was an impressive piece of art. Once he looked around the corner, he saw a group of children in baggy clothing, covered in paint walking somewhere. He went back to looking at Mother Nature when he heard the most beautiful voice ever. Her voice was so soft and her accent was so soothing. “Okay, children. I loved all the colors each one of ye has chosen’. What do ya tink we should call it, eh?” All the little hands went up and she looked to see who to chose. She saw a lighter complexion child and chose her. “I tink we should call it, um, ‘Aura’.” The older 5′10 woman looked to the painting and said “Aura? Mandy, that is beautiful.”

“Mine was better, Miss Rae”, a little boy spoke up and she placed her hand on her wide hips. “Is dat right? And what was the name you came up with, hm, Randal?” The liitle boy shrugged and said “colors”; the group laughed and Miss Rae shook her head, smiling. “Silly boy. Maybe next time. I guess that will do for today, everyone. Go ahead to the bus and they will take ye back to the center while I clean up. See ye all tomorrow.” She waved to the class as the driver navigated them on the bus and drove off. She stood alone with her arms folded stepping away from the piece.

Rae wore a pair of jean overalls that had the straps down, a mustard yellow turtleneck muscle tee and her Converse were covered in paint, legs as well. She took a tiny paintbrush from her deep pockets and dipped in the black paint before climbing the on to the ladder. M’Baku walked slowly to her, just watching. Her skin was bronze, golden like the most desired treasure known to man. Her bone structure was so precise with a slight extra chin underneath. The apple of her cheeks was so adorable and raised when she smiled slightly. With her hair pulled pack into a low bun, he can observe her features more. He walked to stand behind her, noticing the slight sag of her heavy breasts. As he stood behind her, he noticed the thickness of her thighs, the fluffiness of her bottom and the slight jiggle in her arms.

When he looked up to see her painting, he met her dark orbs and she looked down at him. The sun above cast a halo around her head. “Can I help ye”, she asked and he stood frozen. She placed her brush behind her ear and stepped down to look at him. “Hello, sir. Are ye lost or someting?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am. I just saw you were painting and jus thought I watch you work. It is very beautiful.” She nodded and looked him up and down. “Tank you. I’m Raelyn but everyone calls me Rae”. She held out her hand to be shaken and he did so. “My name is-” She held her hand up and said “I know who ye are. Ye are Lord M’Baku of Wakanda.” He looked to her and said “how did you know that?”

“I do watch TV, Sir M’Baku. The president announced it last week.”

“So, how come people are not all over me? I’m used to people doing as such.” She looked around and said “maybe because ye look like one of us. Ye could easily just be another islander. That should be a good thing. Ye don’t unwanted attention.” He looked to her with a slight shrug. “Well, since ye want to watch do ye mind holding the ladda fuh me”, she asked as she climbed back up and he placed his arms to secure it more with his foot. “What are you doing to the painting if you don't mind me asking?”

“I’m usin’ black paint to outline what the kids did to make their colors pop more. It makes it look cleaner and more polished. I do this to every mural they create then it becomes a whole picture.” He watched as she continued and something in his gut asked why is she so beautiful? “So, Miss Rae, you work at the youth center? What is that like?” She looked down as she still painted and said “I love art. I love kids so it’s a dream to do this. Molding their minds to become bright and wise individuals.” And she loves children and art, just the perfect woman. “Your partner must be very proud.”

“If that is ya way of asking if I am attached to someone, I am not.”

“Oh really? Why?”

She looked back to him as she stepped down and said “ye know. For a ‘Lord’, ya ask a lot of questions” with a tilt of her head and squinted eyes. “I am a very curious person. I like to know how things work.”

“Well, curiosity killed the cat.”

“Maybe I care like any other person, Lady Rae.” She turned to clean up and retract her ladder before stepping to him. “Ya know, M’Baku. My mudda has always told me that there is a difference between caring and being nosey.” She started to walk to her black pick up truck, packing everything inside as he watched. “How can I see you, again? I mean when can I see you again?” She turned to him with a straight face and said “don’t worry. Ye will find me, only if it’s meant to be.” She walked over to her driver’s side, honked her horn once and drove off. He looked over to the painting to see she had painted a woman with her hands out to her hands out and eyes to the sky. He wondered how can she be this extraordinary then said to himself “I need to see her again.”

*𝒯𝒜𝒢𝒢𝐸𝒟 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸𝒮*

@muse-of-mbaku

@im5ftbutmythroat66

@chaneajoyyy

@melanin-samii

@theunsweetenedtruth

@doux-ciel

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#M'Baku #m'baku x reader #m'baku x oc #m'baku series #The Heat of Trinidad series #bp fandom #bp fanfic #artisticestheticreads

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jo-the-schmo · 5 years

Text

Red, Dead, Reflections Ch.2

Chapter 1

A/N: Finally! Chapter 2! Remember how I kept saying I was trying to get to a certain part and that’s why it was taking so long? Well, I decided to keep that until the next chapter because it was taking so long and I was already pushing a hefty word count as is. Also, the writing in this chapter isn’t as good as chapter 1 and I’m sorry about that. I’ll do my best to make chapter 3 more enjoyable. I tried really hard with this one but it just didn’t stick. It happens to all of us. I hope you still like it, though!

Word count: 9,150 (I’m so sorry)

Warnings: Blood, animal death, explicit language, mentions of racism (not expanded, I’m white, I don’t want to be disrespectful)

Summary: At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (eventual) choose your own adventure.

Tags!: @zoilalove213 @eccentricc-catt

A/N pt.2: THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO LIKED CHAPTER 1! Special thanks to those who wanted to be tagged and those who gave me nice reviews, I love you guys so much! I’m also super sorry that this chapter is mostly character introductions and being on the mountain. I promise you’ll get off this mountain soon! I refuse to have y’all still up there at any point during chapter 4. Hopefully that’ll make up for this gross writing. If the read more function still isn’t working, I’m gonna break Tumblr in half.

Edit: Holy shit I’m a moron, I forgot to add the title omg I’m a fucking moron

Keep Your Eyes On The Prize

Warmth enraptured your being, wrapping around you. Your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you saw was a fire a few feet away from you. That and the pile of blankets on top of you would explain the all-consuming heat. Where am I now? You heard a light patter coming towards you. You threw the blankets off to ready yourself, worried it could be someone trying to get the upper hand on you. You were surprised to see a small figure with dark hair, who had frozen himself in place. It was a little boy. You raised your hand to surrender.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You took a deep breath, you lowered your arms when he resumed his approach.

“Don’t worry, I’m not scared.” He hopped up to sit next to you. It just occurred to you that you had been laying on a cot. “Uncle Arthur says you’re a friend, so I wanted to watch out for you.” So that wasn’t a dream.

“Oh, well that’s very nice of you. What’s your name, buddy?” You took on a softer tone, it made you sound more feminine, but you weren’t worried about that.

“Jack Marston. My momma’s been helping to take care of you. Her and Uncle Hosea. They said your name was James?”

“Yes, sir.” You smiled. You thought it better to be safe and keep up the act.

“Uncle Dutch wants to say hi to you now that you’re awake. I can take you to him.” He jumped up, he seemed to be excited that someone new was around You conceded and pried yourself from the cot. Your chest ached. I’ll have to loosen this band again soon, no more sleeping in this thing. Your wig felt askew, so you quickly moved it back in place before the two of exited the room. You left the cabin with Jack, he led you to another one close by. You passed by a woman with long brunette hair who sent you a curious glance. Jack grabbed your hand and pulled you through the door, there was a parade of men all around.

“Ah, it seems our young gentle-friend has awoken from his slumber.” Dutch announced, everyone looked in your direction. No matter how tough you were, a group of this many people would intimidate you. You recognized Arthur and Micah on opposite sides of the room. Jack tugged on your arm again, prompting you to take a few cautious steps into the herd of questioning eyes.

“Is one of you Hosea by chance?” You asked, already slightly out of breath. You still felt exhausted, and your head was killing you. An older man with a stripped scarf stepped forward, a warm smile on his face.

“That would be me, young man.” You weakly gripped his shoulder, partly for a support and partly to show appreciation.

“Jack told me you were one of the people to take care of me, thank you.” His smile widened.

“Oh, it was no trouble, young man.” He looked over at Dutch. “You were right, Dutch. Boy’s got good manners.”

“I told ya you’d like him!” He bellowed humorously. “Young Jack, could you please help Mr. West over here by me?” Jack nodded, ushering you over to the man in the dense black coat. Dutch wrapped an arm around your shoulder to keep you steady, but it was also so that he could present you to the crowd of men in front of you. “Now, gentlemen. This here is James West. He’s a fellow from California who’ lost his way. But make no mistakes, Mr. Morgan and I have both seen the carnage this boy can cause with just his bare hands. We believe that he was captured by those nasty O’Driscolls and took quite the beating because of it. Unfortunately for both us and poor James here, it seems that the injuries he sustained have given him some memory loss.” Memory loss? “He couldn’t even believe what year it was. But he is coherent enough to remember his name and state of residence.” He looked over at you. “Now young man, we know this could be difficult, but you could you try and tell us the last thing you recall.”

These people were insane, or at least you thought they were. You wouldn’t know until you got off this mountain and found some other people, which was clearly not happening any time soon. For now, this was your situation. You were stuck on some mountain in the middle of who-knows-where with bunch of people who thought the year was 1899 and that you were some man who experienced enough blunt-force head trauma to get some mild amnesia. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds you, so you made an executive decision. Play along until you can get to safety.

“I was…with my friends.” These people were willing to kill, so there was no way crime bothered them any. “We were robbing a bank, it went wrong.” You recalled the image of Eli, Austin, and Miguel running away from the scene. “I got hit…and that’s all I remember.” The only parts you were excluding were the fact that you were shot multiple times and that it was 2019.

“Robbing a bank, huh?” You peaked his interest. “So, you’re an outlaw then, Mr. West.”

“You could call me that, I suppose.”

“Can you shoot?” Micah chimed.

“Oh, I can more than shoot, pal.” This guy rubbed you the wrong way, and you could see a sort of look of approval from Arthur after you said that.

“Wonderful! That means you may repay us for our kindness. I don’t have all the details worked out yet, but I’ll call for you when the time comes. For now, I’d like for you to get situated among our presence. Go on now, introduce yourself to everyone.” Dutch gave a firm pat on the back, your chest tightened. Gasping for air, you checked around the room. There was a room with a door nearby, you stumbled inside, hearing the suspicious whispers of the men behind you hushed by the closing of the door.

You pressed your back against the wood to keep it shut, stripping out of your jacket and shirt. Your ribs ached while you fumbled around. Eventually, you were able to unwind the band almost fully, the long appendages hanging loosely around your form with your left arm holding the rest of it in place. Your whole chest felt like it was on fire.

“This is what you get for leaving it on, idiot.” You whispered to yourself. You weren’t sure what you were going to do. There were a bunch of people out there waiting for you to come out and you were trapping yourself inside with your secret. “I just need a minute…shit, that hurts.”

You saw your reflection in the window across from you. Well, sort of. It was more like a clouded outline. But you could see the shift in color where the band had been wrapped. Your skin was raw. You could also see two bruises that blended into each other on your forehead, and a dark one on the bridge of your nose. That guy really got you. You pushed yourself off the door, already wincing from the anticipation of needing to bind your chest again. You readjusted and began to wrap. Not so tight this time. You would just be walking around today, there shouldn’t be an issue of it staying in place. You finally managed to get it mostly back together and went to pick up your shirt when you heard the door knob turning. You scrambled to the ground, throwing your jacket over your back. You were surprised to only see Hosea walk in and shut the door behind him. The look in his eyes was knowing and curious. You stood to your feet, arms invisible from underneath the jacket. He looked at your shirt on the ground.

“It seems my suspicions were correct. You aren’t being entirely honest with us, James.” His tone wasn’t worrying, but you thought you’d better explain yourself, fast.

“I’m so sorry, it wasn’t my intention to-“

“Don’t worry about it, son.” He interrupted, leaving you confused. You turned around, using your hand to clasp the jacket closed, hiding yourself from view.

“What?”

“I’ve met many folks in my life, young man. I won’t ask what your situation is, I don’t believe that’s my place yet. But I won’t speak a word of this, just a secret between us.” You breathed a sigh of relief, at least you knew now that one of these men was decent.

“Thank you, Hosea. I really appreciate this, you have no idea.”

“I think I can get some of the picture.” He smiled. “You’re an outlaw, sonny. An outlaw is whoever they want to be.” He turned back towards the door. “Now I’m supposed to be in here checking on you, making sure you aren’t up to anything.”

“That’s fair.” You chuckled.

“So, I have to stay in here with you until you’re ready, but I’ll give you your privacy, don’t worry.” You were thankful that one of these people may be able to keep you on everyone’s good side.

“That’s very kind of you, I can’t thank you enough for this.” You made sure to hurry up and get your shirt and jacket back on. You fixed two of the pins for your wig while you were at it. You were glad Hosea seemed smart enough, you wouldn’t take his kindness for granted, no matter how crazy these people seemed. But you had to be more careful. This wasn’t a time for everyone to be finding out you were not only lying, but the vast list of other things wrong with your situation. The further you could separate yourself from what you had gotten up to the better. These men were killers, but they weren’t you.

“Are you ready, James?” Hosea asked.

“Yes, is everyone still out there?”

“I believe only Dutch and Arthur stayed behind. Arthur and I are supposed to introduce you to everyone.” You nodded, he opened to door and you followed him out to where Dutch and Arthur were talking.

“Ah, thank goodness! What came over you, friend?” Dutch questioned.

“I believe we pushed him too far with the questions, Dutch. He lost his head for a moment.” Hosea excused.

“Yes, I’m sorry for that rude exit. Not sure what happened entirely.” You tried to reassure.

“I see, perhaps we should let the boy rest a bit longer.”

“Thank you, sir, but there’s no need. I don’t wanna be a bother, the least I could do is help around, be of some use.” Now was the time to suck up. You had to repay your debt to him and gain his trust. He liked your answer. He was clearly the leader of the group, and from the few interactions you’d had, you could tell they were tight knit. If you wanted to get off this mountain and not end up like those men at the cabin, you’d have to play into their hand.

“That’s a good man right there, I think we struck luck with this one!” He gestured between Arthur and Hosea. “Could you two show him around, we want him to get acquainted with everyone in camp before we get any further.” They agreed and led you back outside.

“Okay, Hosea, where should we start first?” Arthur asked, fixing his gloves.

“Well, I have some business to discuss with Miss Grimshaw, so I would prefer we find her first.”

“Will Jack’s mom be there? He said she was looking out for me too and I’d like to thank her personally for that.”

“She may be, but we are sure to run into her soon, so don’t fret.” Hosea said. Your group walked trudged through the snow to get to a wooden cabin. You saw mostly women inside, including the brunette who looked at you earlier and Mrs. Adler.

“Fine weather we’re having, ladies.” Arthur joked.

“Yeah, real funny.” A blonde woman rolled her eyes.

“It was. Anyhow, this here is James West. I know y’all have been real curious about him.” You followed their lead and walked over to the group of women. An older woman came forward with her hands on her hips.

“This here is Miss Grimshaw, James. You best respect her, Dutch may want to think we’re his people but we’re really hers.” Hosea’s eyes wrinkled at his own humor.

“Of course, thank you for showing me kindness, Miss Grimshaw.” You made sure to sound serious. You weren’t planning on disrespecting anyone, let alone someone who seemed so important. She cracked a grin and pinched your cheeks. You almost squeaked in surprise, but you managed to hold it in.

“Boy’s got a prettier face than you, Arthur! How old are ya?” She teased.

“23, Miss, that is if my memory serves.”

“Ah, we got ourselves a young one! He’ll be able to do some mighty fine work once he’s back in order. You be sure to repay our kindness, ya got that, young man?”

“With pleasure, Miss. I always repay my debts.” That was certainly true in most cases.

“You also best be careful-“ She grabbed the edge of your jacket and yanked you closer. She lowered her voice in your ear. “Don’t try anything with my girls, ya hear? If I find out you’ve been disrespectful to any of them, my face will be the last thing you see.” She let go to gauge your reaction.

“Of course, Miss Grimshaw. I would never dream of overstepping my bounds. You have my word.” You bowed your head at her as a sign of honest intentions. Her smile returned.

“Fantastic!” She hooked her arm around yours and lead you closer to the women. “I’ll introduce you then.” She pointed to the blonde with the whole body eyeroll. “The smart mouth is Karen Jones.”

“Howdy.” She waved. Next to her was a red head.

“That one’s Molly O’Shea.” Miss Grimshaw looked at the woman with warm, dark skin in a yellow skirt. “That’s Tilly Jackson, don’t let her sweet talk ya.”

“Hello.” Tilly said with energy in very voice. It suddenly dawned on you that these people were surprisingly less racist than to be expected out of anyone who thinks it’s 1899. You felt lucky for that one. It would tear you up to discover that anyone was being treated badly. These guys may have lost their minds, but intolerance wasn’t something that you tolerated. Especially after everything in your life.

“That’s Mary-Beth.” She pointed out the brunette from outside, she smiled sweetly up at you.

“Nice to meet you.” She went back to writing after hitting you with that same glance from earlier. The last woman looked up from what she was doing, she was wearing a black hood over her head. “Abigail Marston, she’s my hardest worker.” You recognized the name.

“Are you Jack’s, mother?” You asked.

“Yes, I am.” You carefully stepped over and kneeled down to the level she was sitting at.

“He told me you were one of the people to take care of me while I was out, I wanted to thank you personally for your generosity.” You bowed your head and stood up. “Thank you, Mrs. Marston.”

“Well ain’t you just the definition of a gentleman.” Arthur was clearly trying to tease you, boys were usually like that.

“Don’t get anywhere in life without being kind to those who are kind to you.”

“Fair enough.” You were glad he agreed. You turned your attention back to the women.

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my name is James West, by the way. I know Arthur already said that, but I try my best to be polite.” Try is the operative word here. Karen whispered to Mary-Beth and Tilly.

“Arthur, take James over to meet the boys and make a good second-impression. I have to speak to Miss Grimshaw for a moment on matters of housing. I’ll meet you over there.” Hosea said as he pulled Miss Grimshaw aside. Arthur lazily waved you over and you made sure not to delay this. You looked back at the group as you walked.

“Thank you for your time, it was nice to meet all of you.” Arthur let you walk out first. The wind hit you like a truck. Arthur held your shoulder to keep you in place and make sure you wouldn’t blow away.

“Ya alright there, partner?” You steadied yourself, he released his grip.

“Yeah, I’m good. Not used to this kind of cold. Thanks for the help.”

“Everyone went back to their cabin after your episode.” The two of you marched toward the cabin you had woken up in. There was muffled yet loud conversation happening inside. The second the door opened, everyone got quiet. “Hello again, gentlemen.” The room sounded with a few ‘hey Arthur’s before going back down again, everyone was locking eyes on you. It wasn’t a good idea to hide behind Arthur and let him do the talking, they’d prefer you explain yourself.

“Hello everyone.” You stepped around the bulky blue coat, throwing yourself into the spotlight. “My head was unwell back there, I apologize for that. My name is James West, I’d like to help you in anyway I can. I’d hate to mooch off of your hospitality.” They seemed to approve of your answers so far.

“Well don’t be shy, ya idiots, introduce yourself, shake the boy’s hand or somethin’.” Arthur really did have no filter, huh? The first person to approach you was a man wearing a giant black hat and an equally frightening mustache. He took your hand in an eager handshake, which surprised you to say the least.

“Reverend Swanson, Orville Swanson.” Ah, a holy man, a bit ironic for the situation, isn’t it? You coughed and got your voice back into place.

“Good to meet ya, Reverend.” You pushed past him and put yourself in the center of 3 men who were sitting near each other. The youngest one stood up first. He looked to be around your age but definitely younger, which made you kinda mad that everyone was acting like you were so young. That told you they were trying to prove a point.

“Lenny Summers, nice meeting ya.” You gave him a firm handshake. You felt surprisingly comfortable with him, since he was about your age, time to lighten the mood.

“Summers? Don’t’cha mean Winters?” You pointed at the window that was mostly boarded up but showed some of the snow outside through the cracks. He held in some kind of sound, only a little creak escaping. You considered that to be a win in Y/N’s a Comedy Master, Volume VI. The other two squinted there eyes, but you could tell they were hiding their amusement. Lenny sat down, the man with very interesting facial hair stood up. It didn’t look bad on him, you were just confused as to what you’d classify it as for a second. If anything, the hat was what threw you off the most. It suddenly dawned on you that a lot of these guys would look better without their hats. You paused that thought for a moment.

“Javier Escuella. Pleasure.” He smirked.

“It’s good to meet you, Javier.” His handshake was not as hesitant as Lenny’s was by comparison, but it was fairly quick. The last man in the semi-circle stood. And he was a giant. You had seen him earlier but for some reason his height and just overall existence didn’t hit you until that moment. He had the longest hair of anyone in the room. Maybe you’d be able to get out of wearing the wig over time. With some lying, obviously. You held your hand out to him first.

“James, it’s nice to meet you.” His handshake was unexpectedly gentle.

“Charles, Charles Smith.” His voice was also softer than you’d have predicted. You supposed he didn’t need to compensate for presence so there wasn’t a point in being loud. You could tell right off the bat that he was a quiet type, but you were used to that from Miguel, so it didn’t matter much. You turned away to face the 3 other men on the other side of the room. You already knew the blonde one.

“Micah, right?” You asked. You didn’t particularly want to get near him, but you conceded and held your hand out. He squeezed your hand just a little too hard, you did the same in return, and a little too much energy was put into it. He was still mad about your first encounter with him in the cabin. “Good to finally get a proper introduction.”

“Yeah, right.” You made the mental note that he was for sure an asshole and to watch out for him. A different man grabbed your attention, he didn’t seem pleased.

“My name is Simon Pearson, I’m the cook around here, and with you and that new woman hanging about, you better be helping enough to get your share.” You remember Arthur mentioning him. You shook his hand with both of yours to signify peacemaking.

“Of course, sir. I’ll do more than my share. I’m always willing to help.” You were aware that a lot of the things you were saying were repetitive, but that was usually how mass introductions went. A man with a very full beard was the last one at the moment. “Hello, I’m James West.”

“Bill.” He answered simply. Okay, not in the talking mood right now. Got it. You heard Arthur’s voice again.

“John’s out of commission at the moment, we won’t be worried about that dumbass.” You heard a familiar patter on the floor coming in your direction.

“James!” Jack rammed into your leg before you got a chance to react. He almost knocked you off balance.

“Woah, hey there, buddy.” You knelt down in front of him to get on his level. “What have you been up to? On patrol?” He seemed to be the only kid here, that’s gotta be stressful on him.

“Yeah! Been waiting outside Papa’s room since you’re awake now.” He informed.

“Wow, strong and vigilant? You’re a real power house there, little man.” You balled your hands into fists and lightly bopped him on the chest, one with each hand. “Pow, pow!” You exaggerated onomatopoeically. You could tell this was more interaction than he was used to. You were more than happy to brighten his mood.

“Uncle Dutch says you’re a good fighter.”

“Uncle Dutch would be right, gotta hit ’em with that one-two!” You hit him two more times, a wide smile on his face. He mimicked the way you blocked your face with your hands. His small fist gingerly punched your forearm. “Come on! You can do better than that, buddy!” You stood up, bouncing and shifting your weight between your feet. He tried to do the same, but it came out more as an awkward skip-in-place. “See? You’re a natural, little dude! A little practice and you could pin all of us.” He hit your knee a couple times, making little ‘psh’ sounds when he did.

“Will you teach me?” He was elated, you weren’t sure how long you’d be with them, but it seemed like you’d be up here for a while. Might as well, it also might win you bonus points with the others. But in all honesty, you weren’t thinking about that much.

“Sure thing, buddy.” He was really happy for that answer. “But…” He paused. You swooped down and picked him up, resting him on your shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Lesson number one, never let your opponent take you off guard, or something unexpected might happen.” You were suddenly very aware that you weren’t alone in the room. You got so distracted by Jack that you forgot that you were in a room full of people. Jack squirmed around, laughing with the kind of energy you’d expect from a kid without child interaction and stuck on a recluse mountain with a bunch of sad-sack adults.

“Uncle Arthur! Javier!” He took a breath between fits of giggles. “You’re upside down!”

“Alright, little dude.” You made sure to be gentle as you set him back down to his feet. “I’ll teach some more later, okay?” You looked over, everyone was staring at you with varying looks about them Confusions, amusement, conjecture. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, how could any of you say no to this face?” You ruffled Jack’s hair. “That’s an objectively sweet face that you can’t say no to.”

“I don’t know ‘bout sweet, but he’s rambunctious that’s for sure.” Arthur commented with the knowing nods of several men as their response. You crossed your arms as Jack ran off to do something else.

“How long have you all been stuck up here?”

“A few days,” Charles started, “A few bad days at that.”

“We’re running low on supplies, food most importantly.” Pearson added. “I haven’t been able to do my job properly since we got up here, ever since Blackwater.” Blackwater? You wanted to ask, but the look on everyone’s faces told you you’d be overstepping your bounds. You decided to go a different direction.

“I know we’re in the middle of winter, but there’s gotta be animals, yeah?”

“Everyone I’ve sent out as come up empty-handed.”

“No, James is right. There’s game on this mountain, we just aren’t finding it.” Charles gestured to his wrapped hand. “And this certainly isn’t making me feel better about it. I’m going hunting.” He stood and walked over to a corner where some things were sitting.

“Yer hand’s burnt, you won’t be able to shoot.” Arthur’s accent slurred. Charles was about to say something, but you cut him off.

“Yeah, and? His hands don’t need to work for tracking. Just send someone else up there with him who can kill.”

“That’s a great idea! You and Arthur can go with him!” Pearson sassed, “That man’s been irritable with nothing to do.” Arthur grumbled in response.

“I’d be more than happy to help,” You really wanted to get back in your element. All this social work was more Austin and Gina’s speed. “but I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be.”

“You ever been hunting?” Charles went and handed a bow to Arthur.

“Something like that.”

“That’s better than nothing in my opinion. Come on, you can borrow one of the others’ horses.” Someone walked in.

“You can take mine. Silver Dollar should be pretty tame for you.” It was Hosea.

“Meet us there my ass, old man.” The blue-clad cowboy mocked.

“Apologies, got a bit held up with preparations. Charles, Arthur, bring back something good and make sure the kid gets the hang of things.” Hhhhhh, Hosea you’re really nice, but please don’t call me kid. Now wasn’t the time for corrections, you could do that later. They agreed and motioned for you to follow them outside.

The window was starting to slow down, which was more than welcome in your opinion. The snow crunched lightly, the way it does when multiple people have already walked on it. You missed California’s ridiculous heat. Despite the air being cold though, it was much easier to breathe than that smog. Your eyes burned from the sun reflecting off the plush snow. This is fucking blinding, how can any of you see ever? The three of you approached what was, basically to you, a herd of horses. They mounted their horses on silence, you approached a grey one.

“I’m going to assume this is Silver Dollar?” Arthur nodded to confirm your suspicions. You pulled yourself up and adjusted. Alright, just a group of guys going huntin’, just a couple of dudes, some good’ol’boys…how do I make this thing go? You looked up to try and learn through observation. Okay, I’ll just…give him a little- you lightly tapped your heel against the side of the horse, he came to a trot, following behind Charles. Don’t show any fear, they can sense it. Just be chill and respect the animal, and he’ll do the same for you. You at least would hope that for the time being.

Charles and Arthur picked up the pace, so you followed suit, not nearly as fast, but you were at least keeping up. There was a gaping silence that didn’t bother you. It finally gave you a chance to take in your surroundings. To say that the scenery was breathtaking would be an understatement. You weren’t sure if you had seen anything more beautiful in your entire life. Why had you never gone this far out? It seemed like a good a place as any to hide away, other than the blizzards. Charles broke that silence all too soon.

“What did you mean earlier? About hunting.” He clarified. You recalled your answer from earlier.

“Yeah, I was wonderin’ ‘bout that.” Arthur added. You tried to think of a way to phrase this without giving too much away.

“It wasn’t so much hunting as it was scavenging at that point. Can’t hunt something that’s already dead. Tracks and all.”

“Scavengin’?”

“Times were…desperate.” You decided to leave it at that for the time being.

“Have you ever tracked a deer?” Charles asked.

“Not a deer, but if you point some out to me, I should be able to find it pretty easily.”

“Good, we’ll need 2. You and Arthur get one each.” It wasn’t long before you passed through a stream and then came upon a clearing where Charles told you two to slow down. You followed in his example when he dismounted. “We’ll need to continue on foot from here.” He pointed at a trail of imprints in the ground. “Think you can find that?”

“Yeah, no problem.” You followed along it, just walking for a few steps to make an assessment. “She definitely isn’t far. The snow is deep, and the tracks are undisturbed.” You had never been out looking for food in the snow, but it seemed easier than dry ass California. You stopped to look ahead, listened closely. You could hear another part of the stream you passed earlier. Animals get thirsty too. “Alright, get down low, don’t wanna make too much noise.” Arthur seemed reluctant, but Charles was pleased with your competence. It was odd to slink around in broad daylight, but there was no helping it. You saw one in the distance.

“Arthur, ready yourself.” Charles took the lead now, inching the group a few feet closer. It was a buck. But there did seem to be a few others scattered about. If y’all were quick, this should only take a few more minutes.

“This is probably a good time to remind you both that I’ve never used a bow for hunting or anything like that, so maybe Arthur should handle this one.” You whispered.

“Don’t worry, they’ll scatter once Arthur shoots. We’ll have to track them a bit further. Shouldn’t take long, though.” You were crouched down in between the two of them, Arthur was lining up his shot. “Aim for the neck.” It was only a moment later that you a quick, air splitting sound. The buck fell to the ground. The rest of the deer, having heard him collapse, scattered themselves about just as Charles said they would. “Okay, go ahead and haul that one. James and I will keep going to save us a few minutes.”

“You got it.” He sighed, standing upright and walking over to the now dead animal after handing you the bow with a few arrows in its quiver. Now separated, you and Charles continued to skulk about. Most of them ran upstream, so that was your best guess on where to go. Luckily, Charles was still leading, and you were satisfied to see he took the same direction you were taking. A doe was in the distance, you could already see her heavy breathing from running when Charles had you stop.

“Okay, draw your bow.” You slid the arrow weakly into place. “Don’t over extend the string, but don’t be too free with it either.” You tried to do what he said, Your dominant hand held the arrow in place, the other gripped the wooden curve. You drew back. “A little more.”

“Like this?” You corrected yourself.

“Yes, but don’t fire yet.” His hand reached forward, grasping at the base of the bow just under where yours was located. You let him guide your aim to the side. He stopped moving but kept his position.

“Now?”

“Take a deep breath.” Inhale. “Release when you breathe out.” Exhale.

You let loose. The arrow flew through and made the doe squeal and fall to her side. The rest of the group fled. Leaving the body behind. You mentally high-fived yourself. Hell yeah!

“You did a good job. Come on, it’s time to collect.” Both of you stood, roaming towards the carcass.

“Thank you for your patience.” You replied with a smirk. You’d like to say the sight of something dead was what made you feel sick, but it was the blood. You chose to believe it was the way the color popped against the pure snow. The way it looked like cherry cough syrup or Kool-Aid left a terribly familiar taste at the back of your throat. But you decided not to show hesitation. Weakness will show more of you than any words people can claw from you. The words rang in your head. You pulled the arrow out of its windpipe.

“I’ll carry it back to horses.”

“But your hand-“

“I don’t need one hand to use the other’s arm.” His tone was more relaxed than it had been before, less formal. He hefted the body and carried it over his shoulder. “Come, Arthur’s bringing over the horses.” And he was. Arthur was a little over five yards away. You were surprised by how little time you all spent doing this. With both deer slumped on the back of Charles and Arthur’s horses, you started the ride back to camp. I’m kinda getting the hang of this. It’s kinda like driving a living motorcycle, but it can go slow without cruising.

It seems you spoke too soon, as a sudden howl in the distance caused Silver Dollar to buck you off. Your back hit the ground, Arthur hopped down. He held the reins of his horse to make sure they wouldn’t run off. You hurried to your feet.

“Arthur-“

“I know, I’ll handle it.”

“I’ll lead the horses a little a ways while you deal with them.” Charles took Arthur’s reins and then turned to look at you. “James, you-“ The barking was getting louder, grey spikes of fur were sprinting towards your group. You knew there was no way you could get back on and start moving in time.

“Go on ahead, I’ll be fine!” Besides, this was your field of expertise in one way. Hunting wasn’t your strong-suit, but defense sure as hell was. You darted off to the side, swinging your jacket off, raising the shoulders as far as your arms could reach while running. You let out a loud scream as one approached you, not out of fear, but to make it fear you. It still charged toward you with less ferocity. You managed to kick it in the side and ran, side-stepping your way to Arthur. A shot rang out, one of the three wolves fell over, dead. The other flanked and clamped its maw on Arthur’s arm. His gun fell to the ground. You rolled to grab it.

You pulled the hammer back and fired at the beast the second Arthur was able to force himself free. Pull back, turn. You used your opposite hand to grab your wrist and steady your arm. One last shot pounded just as the wolf you had kicked was about to pounce. Arthur clutched onto his right arm, bloody holes blotting through. You picked up your jacket and shook the snow off before sliding it back on.

“You’re a good shot, boy. I know who’s getting a gun as soon as we get off this damn mountain.” He laughed, ignoring the pain that should be in his arm.

“I make it a habit of having one, so yeah.” You flipped the revolver in your hand, handle facing Arthur. He took it and tipped his hat to you.

“Thank’ya, Mr. West.”

“It’s no trouble. You probably could’ve handled them, you aren’t the damsel type.” Charles trotted back over with Silver Dollar and whatever horse Arthur was riding trailing behind him.

“You two handled that quickly.”

“You mean James handled that quickly. All I went and did was get my arm bit.”

“One outta three ain’t bad.” You retorted.

“Y’know I knew someone who died from getting bit.”

“You’re not gonna die from a little wolf bite, Arthur.” Charles sighed.

“But you don’t know that!” Arthur was surprisingly funny for someone who looks so sad. Then again, it shouldn’t be that shocking to you. Charles snorted but did not give further response. You and Arthur got back on the saddles and began the journey to their camp.

“You’ll be fine as long as that thing didn’t have rabies. Just keep it clean and dry for the time being.”

“They call me Rabid Morgan.” Arthur stared into the distance.

“They say you can see his red eyes from a mile away.” Charles joined.

“Rabid Man Morgan, the shredder of limbs, no matter whomst they belong.” You let a chuckle slip.

“Dutch and Hosea are gonna think you’re dying if they hear all this talk.” His long hair shook in motion with his head.

“All the more reason to keep talkin’ if ya ask me.”

“Well, I’m calling you that from now on. I’m never going to explain what it means.” You warned.

“Perfect.” You had barely noticed how close to the camp you’d gotten. Good conversation makes for easy travel, you supposed. Pearson was the first to greet you at his station.

“Sounds like a bunch of gossiping milkmaids are invading the camp.”

“Never heard of laughter, Mr. Pearson?” You teased. You were aware you were acting a bit too comfortable, but this would give you a good idea of where to draw the line.

“Not that I recall. You bring anything useful for me?” You slid off the side and took initiative of hoisting the doe onto your shoulders. It was heavier than you expected, but you were able to get it into the open area Pearson directed you towards. Albeit, you didn’t do it as gracefully as Charles had or how Arthur was doing it now, but you did it, nonetheless.

“Ever skinned a de-“ Charles was interrupted,

“WEST YOU SACK OF SHIT!” by the obnoxious wailing of a blonde idiot. Micah was stomping his way through the snow, eyes burning into you. You squinted in distrust of the situation. By the time he was two feet from you, you’d expected him to slow down.

“What do you want Mi-“ But he didn’t. He shoved you back, making you hit a cleared part of Pearson’s desk. He pulled you forward by the collar of your jacket and the center of your shirt.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are gettin’ special privileges around here, but ya best watch yerself and how you carry. I got my eye on you.” He was trying to assert his fragile dominance over you.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, dickhead. But if you don’t get your filthy paws off of me in the next two seconds, I’m gonna make sure we have matching bruises.” You wrinkled your nose.

“Micah, put the poor boy down right now!” You heard Dutch’s voice coming closer but didn’t break eye contact with Micah. He threw you further onto the table before turning away from you.

“You seriously trust this runt, Dutch? Look at him. Maggot’s got lies smeared all over his face.”

“And you’ve got brown smeared all over your nose, back up.” You practically vaulted off the table, using your forearm and pressure to Micah’s chest to force him back.

“The god damn kid get’s his own space but not any of the others who been here longer? Here I am having to-“

“Don’t call me kid, ever again. Unless you want a broken neck.” Nothing got to you more than that, especially when someone was using it the way he was. Your stare was enough to pierce skin. Arthur grabbed Micah’s shoulder.

“And I’d thank you kindly to not even try and finish that sentence. We already heard you whine earlier. The way I see it, yer at least two against one right now, and that ain’t even including everyone here that would beat you the first chance they got. I don’t care how tough you think you are, those aren’t good odds. So, I suggest you shut that trap of a mouth you have.” His voice was low, there seemed to be some history behind that response, but you couldn’t think about that too much right now. Micah shook away his touch, pushing past Dutch and Charles, he mumbled something to himself as he stormed off. You could feel the pressure of your jaw clenching and your nails digging into your palm.

You paced about, narrowly avoiding the deer corpses around you. Remember to breathe, Y/N. You can’t pass out again. Control yourself. You’re alright. No point in getting mad over the stupid, you’ll scream all day. You wanted to destroy something. You couldn’t stand people like him, it ripped at your gut like a beast starving for your insides. You took a few deep breaths before pacifying yourself enough to address the men around you.

“Forgive me, gentlemen. That situation was a bit too tense for me to bear.” You tried to resist the urge to pull at your hair, considering it wasn’t your hair.

“You reacted better than most people would, nothing to apologize for.” Arthur was steadfast in watching Micah leave. Dutch stepped forward and held you still with both hands just under the joint of your shoulder. He had to bend down a bit to get at eye level with you.

“He can be rough around the edges, but you’ll get used to him. I can see that fire in your eyes, boy. There ain’t nothing wrong with it, but I’d like you to hold that fire close for a few hours more.” He sounded like Austin, which was simultaneously comforting and nerve-wracking. He traded glances with the two men you had rode back with but staying in the same position. “While you boys were gone, I had some of the others ride out to scour the area, and we’ve struck gold.” He stood up straight, still holding onto you. “The O’Driscolls have a camp a little a ways from here. Mrs. Adler informed me of some of the talk that was happening in her house, and apparently there was word of a train.”

“A train?” You questioned.

“That’s right, young man. We need money.” Doesn’t everybody? “I only send my best men for these jobs, but I wanna see how good you really are, Mr. West.”

“Oh, he’s good. Even Arthur was impressed.” Charles elbowed Arthur’s arm.

“That true, son?”

“I saw him kill two wolves today. Only used a bullet for each. Hit ‘em both right here-“ He tapped the middle of his forehead with index finger. “-so, yeah, I’d wager he’s pretty good.” A grin stretched across Dutch’s face.

“Fantastic, let’s hope your as good at shootin’ O’Driscolls as you are at shootin’ wild animals.” He gave you an affirming pat on the bicep. “Ah hell, who am I kiddin’? They’re the same thing.” He turned to walk out, calling back to all of you before being out of earshot. “Ill see you gentlemen in the morning, we leave at 10 o’clock!” The excitement was clear in his speech.

This place was weird. These people were fucking weird. The more you stayed here, the more convincing these people seemed. What the hell was their deal? They acted like normal people, not like cultists or anything. How did they think it was 1899? It would make sense if they’d been on the mountain for years, but they just got here not too long ago. It gave you a headache just thinking about it. You needed to ask more questions without seeming eager to leave.

“Sorry about Micah, he’s like that with almost everyone.” Charles’s voice broke your thoughts.

“I’m fine. He’s lucky Dutch stepped in. I don’t let anyone push me around.” Anymore.

“You’re on edge. There’s not much to do up here but work. You can help Arthur skin the pelts. Might help distract you.” He suggested, pulling what looked like a hunting knife from his belt. You took it reluctantly, knowing you’d need something to do to keep yourself from losing it. You got down on one knee, waiting to follow Arthur’s lead. Time to talk.

“How far are we from Blackwater?” You pretended to know what that place was.

“Not far enough if you ask me.” Pearson complained. “Then again, we left a lot down there.”

“Like food?” Arthur muttered.

“A comedian as always, Mr. Morgan.” Pearson was not amused.

“What happened to you guys over there?” They were hushed by that question for a second.

“I don’t think any of us are entirely sure.” Charles contemplated for a moment. “But now we’re wanted. Every last one of us. We won’t be able to go back for some time.” His eyes met yours, halting the slide of the blade. “I hope that doesn’t interfere with you staying with us for the time being.” You were sad that you weren’t bothered by this, not in the slightest. People being hunted didn’t even phase you.

“I’d be a hypocrite if I let it.” You sighed, you let your guard slip. “I’ve been on the run since I was 19. This doesn’t change anything.” You immediately caught your mistake. Shit. No, it’s fine. They still don’t know who I am. I’m fine. But something suddenly struck you. How could these people be on the run from the law if they thought it was the 19th century?

“What got you?” Arthur asked. It floored you mentally, no one had ever asked you that question. Mostly because you never told anyone who didn’t already know. It wasn’t something you exactly go around flaunting. Him and Charles could see the alarm in your expression.

“Just…” How do you say it? “I made some bad choices.” You don’t. You hurried to finish the carving, wanting to get out of the conversation as fast as possible. You could tell they wanted to press but, lucky for you, decided against it. You rolled the fur up and hooked the cadaver onto a bare wall next to Arthur’s. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You kept your head down as you walked away.

This wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. You had to think of a way to get back to the others. Where would you go once you got off the mountain? What would even happen when the others got off? There was no way they could avoid cities. You could hardly believe their entire reality hadn’t broken already. Blackwater had to be a town or something. And they were running from the law. The more you heard and thought, the more it didn’t add up. You got lost in that pensive side of yourself.

Something hit your chest, well, someone. You saw the book fall before the girl. It was the brunette you met earlier, you thought Mary-Beth was her name. She was quiet when she fell initially, but as she leaned forward on her elbows, she let out a grunt of pain. You snapped out of your trance and quickly bent closer to her, holding out your hand.

“I’m so sorry, miss.” She took your hand, the back of hers facing up to the sky. You pulled her up halfway and used your other hand to press the space between her shoulder blades. You did this to avoid pulling her too hard as helped her back to her feet. Once she was balanced, you let go and snatched her book from the snow. Fortunately, it fell cover side down. “I should have been looking where I was going. Are you alright?”

“I’m alright, thank you, Mr. West.” She took the book as you presented it to her. “I should’ve been paying attention too.” Her eyes squinted, inspecting you closely, like she was trying to figure something out.

“Well, I’m still sorry.” Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. You took a step back and turned away.

“Wait!” She grabbed your wrist. “Hosea wanted us to let you know Miss Grimshaw set up a space for you.” You looked back at her.

“A space?”

“Yes! He told us about how common it is for people in your condition to episodes, especially in their sleep. So, he had us make something for privacy.” Seems a few of your questions were answered.

“Is that what Micah was upset about earlier?”

“Yes, I’m sorry about him. He doesn’t know when to keep himself in check most of the time.” She pulled you toward the cabin you had been placed in. When you walked in, Bill and Javier were the only ones in the main room. You attention immediately went to what looked like a make shift tent at the right end of the room. It looked like what would happen if you split a tent in half and let it rest against a wall. Or like something a few kids would make, not in terms of quality but rather conceptually. It was very well done by blanket fort standards.

“Wow, Mary-Beth, that looks really nice.” You did appreciate the effort genuinely. You reminded yourself to thank Hosea for saving you some trouble. “How many of you worked on this?”

“It was mostly Tilly, Karen, and I. I wasn’t sure if you were much or a writer, but I left an extra pencil and a few sheets of paper to keep yourself entertained.”

“Thank you so much, this is very nice of all of you to do for me.” You smiled at her. “Be sure to let me know if there’s anything you need, I’d feel bad if I didn’t repay you all in some way.” Your request tickled her fancy.

“You sound kinda like Arthur.”

“That a good thing?”

“Yes, I’d reckon so.” Her expression was tender and thoughtful. “I’ll let the girls know you appreciate our hard work. Hosea said you should rest to not create any more discomfort.” She pivoted back towards the door. “Oh! And be sure to eat something in the morning. No telling when the last time you ate was…Actually, I’ll see if I can drop any off to you when it’s ready.”

“You don’t need to do that, you all have done-“

“Nonsense! I’m surprised you were well enough to go out in the condition Dutch said you were in. ‘Sides, y’all are going out again tomorrow, right?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“But nothing! You go and rest right now, young man!” You couldn’t tell if she was older than you, but she sure didn’t look it. Regardless, you conceded.

“Yes, ma’am.” She left you to your own devices, Javier and Bill were focusing on their own activities. You took it upon yourself to crawl into the makeshift tent. It was wide enough for the cot you woke up on. The blanket making the fake wall and roof was high enough for you to sit on the cot but not much else. It was a good thing that’s all you’d need.

You sat down in the middle, letting the blanket curtain to hide you from everyone else. Taking off your coat and lifting up your shirt, you felt joy well up in your chest, joy mixed with a stiff pain. Even with it barely being able to stay up, it was still painful to keep the fabric wrapped around you. You could feel your skin rejoice as you removed it. Once the manila colored cloth was all unbound and sitting on your lap, you let your shirt fall back down. You decided to hide it under the cot for the time being. You were surprised to find a canteen and the items Mary-Beth had mentioned earlier. Thankfully, the contents of the canteen was water, which you happily swigged. You laid back on the cot. This was the first time you’d gotten conscious alone time.

Okay, time to figure this out. I was shot 6 times. I should be dead. But somehow, I ended up on a mountain in winter. I was trapped in a barn and rescued by these guys who think it’s 1899. What’s weird is that Mrs. Adler didn’t object to that, even though she was introduced to everyone the same night I was. None of this is adding up…

You massaged your temples.

If I’m gonna start thinking crazy, I might as well go all out right now. I’m either dead or I traveled back in time. And either way, I can’t do anything about it. Death is inescapable and time isn’t tangible, it isn’t even real. I’ll have to take this one goal at a time… Damnit!

You wanted to cry. Not because you felt sorry for yourself, but for them. Miguel, Eli, what would they do without you? You knew Austin would be fine, and Gina would have the others for support. But Eli and Miguel relied on you to a certain extent. You were their glue. That’s one of the reasons you never left, even though you should have. You should have left a long time ago. There was no way to tell them you were okay, or at least as okay as you could be.

No! There’s no way that’s the answer. I can’t believe it…not yet. You didn’t allow yourself the indulgence of shedding tears. You had to be strong until you could get back to them. You just had to figure out what was happening. But there was no way you’d be learning anything new from these people. You couldn’t get out of this place without their help. You were a lot of things, but you weren’t a defeatist. Going out without a plan in this kind of temperature was a death sentence if you weren’t already dead. You didn’t want to be stupid and take that kind of risk.

If I play along, I might have a chance.

And that’s all I need.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #arthur morgan #charles smith #javier escuella #lenny summers #sadie adler #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #tilly jackson #mary-beth gaskill #abigail marston #john marston #karen jones #bill williamson #micah bell #micah's a bitch

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a-fluffer-nutter · 6 years

Text

Five More Tries

A/N - My dudes, this was my favorite fic ever to write! I hope y’all love it as much as I do! I just had to do some Game Grumps content because there is so little for them and I am in the biggest fan mood ever. I hope y’all enjoy, Love y’all!!!

Word Count: 1,546

“I hate this stupid game,” Vicious words spoken under breath, the man leaned forward on the couch, spine a perfect crescent. Everyone knows leaning forward when you are playing videogames helps you focus more.

“Do you want me to look up the walkthrough?” Another person spoke from the opposite end of the couch, running his hand through messy curls. Microphones surrounded both men, needing to catch every word uttered to every small squeak from the couch springs. Even the smallest details were crucial when filming a show on YouTube.

“I don’t need any stupid walkthrough,” Bitter anger entangled his words before letting out a long sigh, pushing back his straight, long hair behind his ear. “This game is just so fucking stupid.”

“Just like the last game we played on here?” Voice peppered with a firm statement and a question, a hint of amusement sprinkled on top. “I’m sure the Lovelies are enjoying you fall off this mountain over and over again.”

“More than I a-Damn it!” The blond-haired character with an obnoxiously unique name fell to its death once again. “This game is so stupid!”

“Wanna put it on pause until we get through this part?”

“I can do it, Dan,” Arin snapped, scratching his dull nails into his scalp, seething at this game, knowing the viewers were going to laugh at him once the video is published. Dan leaned into the arm of the couch, raising his brow. He knew Arin never meant anything he said when he was raging at a game, and frankly he always thought it was funny. The grump had his name for a reason.

“Five more tries,” Dan stated, crossing his arms over his chest, “then we’ll hit pause if you don’t get it.”

“Fine,” Arin muttered, mashing the buttons on the controller. The harder you press, the better the action turns out to be in game, everyone knows that.

“And that’s four,” Dan let out a short laugh into his mic, Arin’s raging scream overtaking most of the audio. “Have you tried jumping over the boulders yet?”

“Yes, Dan,” Sharp tone through gritted teeth, pupils narrowed as he didn’t even look over at his friend. “That’s what I keep trying to do.”

“Maybe go around them, then?” Another scream over took Dan’s statement, another short laugh. “Three.”

“I know how to count, Dan,” His voice seemed to be permanently loud and upset, eyes still glued to the vibrantly colored screen. “Michael Jackson taught me how to do it in ‘ABC.’”

“Oh, thank goodness you had the best teacher,” Dan said after a bout of contagious laughter. His bright laugh provoked an idea to form in Arin’s head, something not too difficult to act upon in his current state.

“Two,” Arin muttered to himself as Dan announced it loud and proud to their soon-to-be audience. Arin’s expression softened, kind of wanting to kill his character again, a faint curling of the corner of his mouth flickered on his face.

“One!” Dan announced, bouncing slightly in seat, though stopped with a furrow of his brow. Why had Arin stopped being so pissed off? Stopped being a grump? “You doing okay there, Arin?”

“Just peachy, Dan,” Arin held up three fingered ‘okay’ sign, eyes still glued to the screen with a false intensity. His tone had gone flat, which made Dan start to worry, his head tilting slightly to the side. Arin would sometimes get so angry that he would go silent, which was kind of scary to be around, and it didn’t really make for a good show, though they always had Barry to work his magic.

The room was near silent as the character finally slipped back off the platform Arin had never seemed to get past. Arin yelled out a loud curse, tossing the controller onto the floor, though he didn’t really mean it. Dan curled into himself just a little, letting out a string of happy laughs, scrunching up his nose just a bit. Wide grin on his face, Arin watched Dan try to compose himself, his thin shoulders bouncing.

“Alright,” Dan rubbed his hands together, glancing over Arin’s head to the door, “We’ll be back in a moment. Let’s pause-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Arin said, lunging toward a shocked Dan, toppling him onto his back, head laying on the arm of the couch. “You don’t get to do this huge count down and make fun of me. Now, I’ll really give you something to laugh about.”

“Wait,” Dan nearly screamed out the words, as he felt Arin curl his fingers into his thin waist. He was a giggling mess in no time, Arin’s nails teasing the skin just above his hips, walking his fingers up to a particularly sensitive area just below his ribs. “Stop!”

“Aw, what’s wrong Danny?” Devious fingers digging between ribs, going up and down his ribcage. Legs kicking desperately, Arin bounced slightly with each movement, Dan’s feet pounding against the couch cushions. Dan’s giggles grew sharper as Arin’s fingers grew closer and closer to his belly, a small area exposed as his shirt rose up from the frenetic thrashing. Fingers paused, hovering over the sensitive area, Arin soaked in the marvelous sound of Dan’s uncontrollable stream of bright giggles, possessing the ability to light up any mood. “I’m not even touching you! Why are you laughing?”

“I fucking hate you,” Dan could barely say, eyes narrowing in on the slowly descending fingers, completely forgetting he could still move his arms. Arin, however, remembered that he could. It was a very quick motion, one that Dan didn’t really process until the act had been done. Arin grabbed both of Dan’s wrists and slipped them under his knees, sitting on them to keep them still, and keep them apart from his torso. Then, he went back to work. “Arin!”

“Yes, Danny?” Arin let out a laugh himself as Dan screamed, all ten fingers digging into his belly, thumbs teasing the small area just around his navel, but not yet going in for the kill. Full fledged laughter poured from his upturned lips, Dan laid his head back on the arm of the couch, his messy hair shielding his eyes from the onslaught. A mess of intangible word flowed, trying to bark out curses at Arin. “I can’t understand you. Try not laughing.”

“Ahaharin! Don’t!” Dan squealed, bucking hard as Arin suddenly switched tactics, flinging his hands under Dan’s arms, and scribbling around the exposed skin from under Dan’s short sleeves. “Ohohoho my god! Stop!”

“I think you just said, ‘don’t stop,’ didn’t you?” Arin teased, wearing a wide grin that nearly matched Dan’s. The teasing caused Dan’s laughter to spike, his red face growing another shade darker. He had twisted and turned so much that he briefly freed himself, pushing himself back, head hanging off the couch as his torso became propped up on the arm of the couch, jutting it closer to Arin. Legs still firmly pinned, Dan had put himself in a dire predicament as Arin brought his fingers down to tease an incredibly sensitive spot on his lower back that only he knew about. “Fuck, Danny. You could’ve just told me you wanted me to tickle your tummy more.”

“Sweet Jesus, Arin, don’t you fucking-” Dan was immediately cut off by his own hysteria as Arin blew a giant raspberry onto his fully exposed belly, causing him to scream. Scream loud enough that the mics started to act out.

The mics.

“Arin! We have an episode to do!” Dan was able to say past his loud laughter and the sound of Arin’s lips puffing air onto his belly, the hair of Arin’s beard shaking with each raspberry, sending Dan up the wall, which wasn’t helped by Arin’s long hair grazing lightly against the rest of his belly. With another raspberry, Dan let out another scream and pulled himself upright as Arin sat back up. Dan grabbed Arin by the hair, resting his forehead on Arin’s chest. “Stop. Please.”

“If you insist,” Arin laughed, running his hand over Dan’s hair. He glanced over at the door, wide smile. “Hey, Barry. Cut this part out. Danny might kill me if we leave it in.”

“Or I’ll kill you anyways,” Dan let out a quiet snort as he looked up at Arin, eyes full of fire. “No mercy, Big Cat.”

“Danny!” Arin squealed as Dan’s fingers dug into his ribs, the sensations overtaking his mind just enough to knock him back onto the couch, reversing the situation. Danny loomed overhead, hosting a wide, mischievous smile.

“You might wanna take this part out too,” Dan let out a laugh before digging right into Arin’s belly, eliciting loud, high pitched laughter.

Barry decided to run the episode just how it was, giving the Lovelies a delightful forty-minute episode of the duo forgetting about everything else, just tickling the living shit out of the other person. Barry told them about the uncut episode, but he forgot to leave out the fact that the face cams had been going the entire time. Arin and Dan didn’t find out until receiving hundreds of messages on each of their social media accounts. Needless to say, Barry quickly found himself at their mercy only hours after the video was published.

#game grumps #tickle fic #ticklish!dan #ticklish!arin #rose writes

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marauder--harder · 7 years

Text

Methods of Torture- A Remus Lupin Imagine (Part 2 of The Torturous Year)

A/N: Guess who’s back bitches! Yep, I finally got my shit together and wrote the next installment for y’all. It is a doozy. Over 3.5 k words here. I don’t know what happened, and it honestly isn’t perfect but I am just too excited that I don’t want to tweak it any longer. So sorry if it is kind of choppy in some areas. I also wanted to thank you all for being so patient with me. I hope to keep writing every day, although I am moving into my dorm in 2 days so we’ll see. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

Previous Installments: The Torturous Year. (Part 1)

Throughout the next few weeks after your return to Hogwarts, you tried to get control over yourself. It was a battle that you were determined to win because ‘no, you do not like him and even if you did, this needed to stop.’

So you did your best to ignore the spike of your heart rate whenever his arm brushed against yours in the halls, or how your hands grew clammy whenever he would lock eyes with you in the late hours of the night. Although, dear Godric did he make things difficult for you. The boy had methods of torture lined up for you, in every detail of his body.

You learned quickly that he had also spent most of the summer abroad in France. He had a brief summer fling with a local muggle girl there, which no you were totally not jealous of. James teased his friend often about how great this French girl must have been to instill confidence in their now resident lover boy. You ignored the new found nickname for him, and the thought of a young, pretty, maybe slightly older French girl wrapped around Remus. Instead you focused on asking him about the other aspects of his time in France, like the mountains and the muggle shops. You asked him in great detail about Paris, and if it really was as amazing as every muggle book described. Luckily however, Remus, nor any of the others, didn’t notice that he had to repeat his adventures in France to you a couple of days after he had told the boys on the train. Where your brain was when he mentioned it the first time, you were hoping not to think about.

Although, over time you couldn’t help but realize that whatever happened in France with his fling must have been quite a trip for Remus to come back looking and acting the way he did. He was definitely not the same boy who left the Hogwarts Express with you just three months ago. All the boys had noticed his change too, as it tended to be a subject of teasing for Remus.

When Remus walked into Divination and had to duck, he earned the brief nickname of ‘Jolly Green Giant’ from Lily. The others not understanding and Lily having to explain the tale only made his teasing that much worse. You had noticed that his cheeks had dusted an attractive shade of pink, highlighting his newly found freckles.

James had also taken to the habit of using Remus whenever he was trying to get something from someone. For the longest time Peter was used as the way to weasel their way out of numerous detentions with his soft features and nervous, could-do-no-wrong look. However, this year the boys made Prefect Remus try because “Moony, I swear with your sparkling eyes and innocent smile, nobody can say no to you.” And it worked too. Remus tended to get them off the hook more than any other year that Peter tried. Whether it was smiling innocently at teachers or accidentally charming both female and male students, Remus got good at wiggling his way out of punishments for the whole lot.

The most notable thing about Remus’ change was his newfound strength. You didn’t notice it at first, maybe a few months after you had started the school year. By now you had been able to find a way to suppress your blushing and rapid heartbeat around the young boy, until one afternoon after Charms.

Professor Flitwick had asked Remus to help him with moving some boxes around after class and without hesitation he lifted them, moving them across the room. You watched with the rest of your friends, and a few other swooning girls, his biceps strain under his uniform and his jaw tense when his hands slipped slightly. It was only after he returned did you realize that your mouth was hanging open slightly, actually gaping at the ease in which he moved the heavy boxes.

“You know mate,” James had started, clapping Remus on the back lightly, “I know you want to show off and everything, but I think Flitwick meant that you were to use magic for that.”

Remus just continued to pack up his stuff, ducking his head to try and avoid the obvious blush travelling up his neck, across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears.

“Oh, sod off. I didn’t think about it. It wasn’t that big of a deal. They were just a couple of boxes with some textbooks in them.”

James laughed and pointed across the room, near the door, where a few girls had stayed behind to watch Remus’ show. “Tell that to your fans.”

Remus’ brows rose in slight astonishment and grew more red.

The rest of the group, still teasing him slightly, started to make their way out of the class; and when you hopped off your stool you noticed with a shameful amount of embarrassment that your legs were actually shaking slightly.

You stood there, absolutely mortified. The rest seemed to notice your absence and turned in confusion.

“You coming, Y/N?”

You cleared your throat and nodded, willing yourself to control your own body when you took a step. Your knee strained slightly, but held and you breathed out a small sigh, thanking all the gods you could think of. You truly didn’t understand what your issue was this year, as you kept telling yourself that Remus was still the same boy you had been with for the past six years. You needed to get a grip.

Once you fell back in place with the others, Sirius noticed the slightest flush in your cheeks. Leaning in closer, he grinned and whispered, “need a big, strong Moony to carry you there, love?”

He laughed when you tripped over your own shoe and stumbled slightly.

Thankfully for you, you had ceased to notice anything more about Remus for the next few weeks—until after the full moon.

It was during your visit the morning after his transformation. You had made it a habit for almost a year now to see that he was safe a few hours after sunrise each month. The boys would be in bed, resting after their long night when you’d sneak into the Hospital Wing. For the first few months Madam Pomfrey kicked you out, constantly scolding you about not letting Remus get his well needed healing time; but after your persistent nagging and repeated sneaking, she let you stay.

Most of the time Remus would be asleep, although there were many of mornings where he’d swear up and down that he wasn’t even tired and wanted to talk to you. The two of you would talk, filling him in lightly on the classes that he missed. Yet, after a few hours you would always notice that his eyes would begin to droop as he fought to stay awake. That’s when you decided that you would read to him.

“I’m not trying to get you to sleep, Moony, I promise!” You’d insist.

He’d smile tiredly and roll his eyes, both of you knowing full well that it was exactly what you were trying to do. “Okay, Y/N, then you better choose a good book.”

And you did, reading to him every morning, the two of you would go through book after book. Sometimes it would be muggle novels, other times astronomy books or magical stories. It got to a point, where both of you would almost look forward to the morning after each full moon. It was some sort of twisted comfort that you got in each other’s company.

This month, you decided to surprise Moony. bringing him his favorite muggle book, first edition; a gift that took months of searching and saving up for. Yet, when you pulled back the curtain to his bed, you stilled and dropped the present with a slight thud.

“Remus,” you whispered, as you watched Madam Pomfrey continue to wrap his bare chest to dress his wounds. He had a long gash from his left shoulder, across his collarbone, down to where you presumed would be his navel, as he was covered in a white dressing that wrapped around the lower part of his torso. You took in the many scars across his chest and arms, and quickly felt the stinging prick of tears behind your eyes.

At the sound of your voice, both Remus and Pomfrey turned toward you. Remus’ eyes quickly averted yours as his cheeks grew red with embarrassment. Madam Pomfrey, however, turned so she shielded him from you slightly, before standing taller.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” she started, snapping your eyes from Remus’ form and turning to the now slightly red faced woman in front of you. “I do recall saying many of times that you may visit Mr. Lupin each month after I have given him a thorough inspection and deemed him suitable for visitors. Don’t you?”

You slowly nodded as you tried to focus on what the older nurse was scolding you for, and not the growing concern you had for Remus. The scars on his chest ranged from looking red and angry to a ghostly white, which contrasted greatly against his newly tanned skin tone. His skin that looked smooth and soft, compared to the rough scars and his gash that quickly formed a deep pit in your stomach.

“Well then, Ms. Y/L/N, I would think that you should wait outside until I tell you otherwise?”

You blinked once, then twice, and shook yourself back into reality. “Yes, uh,” you stammered, suddenly embarrassed for the scene you were causing and the amount of discomfort you knew Remus was in, “I’m sorry Remus, I-I’ll just be waiting in your office Madam.” Without a response from either of them, you turned and rushed to her office as quickly as you could.

Once there, you stopped and closed your eyes, willing yourself to think about anything else besides Remus. You’ve seen him after the full moon for nearly a year now; this by far not being the worst that he has been. You recalled the moon that Remus had fractured his wrist in two places, or when he got the scar that is now a faint white line across this bridge of his nose.

Yet, when you saw Remus sitting there, you couldn’t help but feel the deep pit in your stomach grow. The way his shoulders tensed when he realized you were there, and how his muscles twitched under the hands of his caretaker made you feel equal parts concerned and flustered.

After what felt like an eternity, Madam Pomfrey finally returned, looking slightly tired and relieved. She made no acknowledgement to you, just turned and started tidying up her office space.

“So,” you started, “is he usually like that when he comes in?”

The question made her still, and look up at you. For a few moments neither of you said anything, just staring at one another. Madam Pomfrey studied you for a long while, before smiling ever so slightly.

“You seem to care for Mr. Lupin quite a bit, Ms. Y/L/N. He is very lucky to have a friend like you.”

You shrugged, looking down at the floor. “He has the rest of the boys too. It’s not just me that cares about him.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded, her smile growing. “This is true, my dear. Yet, I haven’t seen the boys come in here every morning just after sunrise to see him, now do I?”

You shook your head, thinking to yourself that you wish you could do half as much as the boys do for Remus. “You never answered my question.”

Slowly her smile faded, and she took in a deep breath. “There are months where he has come in much worse condition than this. However, it seemed as if the strength in which he injured himself has increased; and with the maturity that he has hit this past holiday,” she trailed off, and you couldn’t help the faint blush that rose to your cheeks at the mention of his change. “I am afraid that the full moons are going to be a lot more difficult for Mr. Lupin in the future.”

You nodded; and sighed, feeling your heart break for Remus. "Thank you, for being honest with me. May I see him now?”

Madam Pomfrey nodded, resuming her cleaning of her desk. “Yes, you may. Although, I must remind you that he does need his rest so please keep your visit short.”

Turning, you walked to her door and paused, your hand still on the handle. “Madam Pomfrey?” You asked, and she stilled again, turning towards you.

“Yes, dear?”

“It’s easy, isn’t it?”

The older woman furrowed her brows in confusion, “I beg your pardon, but what’s easy?”

You smiled softly, “Caring about him. You don’t even notice it, when you first start to. You just, sort of, do. He’s a very easy boy to care about.” You turned, looking away from his curtain, back to the older woman. “Don’t you think?”

A smile that you have never seen graced Madam Pomfrey’s face, and you briefly noticed how pretty she was in her growing age. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N, that I do.”

With another nod and a smile, you turned and walked over to Remus’ bed. You cleared your throat loudly before peaking your head through.

“Is it safe?” you asked, eyes closed and grin wide.

Remus rolled his eyes and smirked, “I think it just might be.”

“Might be? Well, who am I to enter a fair gentleman’s chamber without knowing that he is properly covered?” You teased, opening one eye and looking around before dramatically whispering. “I may just be attacked by his dragon nurse.”

Remus laughed heartily, throwing his head back as you stepped in. “Just get in here, my knight in shining armor.”

Picking up the book you had once dropped on the floor, you smiled and waved it in his sight. “I am here to rescue you, after all.”

Remus’ eyes widened, his smile dropping along with his jaw as you handed over the book. “This is my favorite! Please tell me you’ve read this before.”

You smiled, and shook your head, “I haven’t but maybe you could read it to me this time. Now that you have a copy. I hope you don’t mind, actually. It’s a first edition, totally legit. And I know Christmas isn’t for another few weeks but I thought that it would be a good idea to give it to you now, because we always do the book thing. Maybe I should have waited…”

Remus just simply laughed, harder and harder until he was wincing and clutching his stomach. “Calm down, love.” he wheezed and you instantly found yourself fighting yet another blush. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Anytime, Moony.”

There were a few moments of silence between you before Remus broke it, saying, “well, let’s get you educated on the best book you will ever read, eh?” He shifted slightly, trying to sit up and quickly winced in pain.

You reached out, lightly pushing him back onto the pillows. “Easy there. I don’t want you busting that open and having dragon Pomfrey come yell at me.”

Remus sighed and looked up at you sadly. “How am I supposed to read to you then?”

Taking the book from his hand gently, you gave him a playfully wry look. “I thought you liked my voices?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, staring up at the white ceiling above him. A strange look passed over his face, all teasing gone.

“That’s not what I meant.”

You knew that the full moons were always a difficult time for the boy and this time around, you could feel the frustration and defeat rolling off of him in waves.

“Hey,” your hand slowly traced down his arm, to rest on top of his hand before giving it a gentle squeeze. “You can read it to me some other time. Right now, we can just talk; or you could get some rest—”

“No—” he cut you off, and you could feel his hand tense into a fist underneath your hand. “Please, don’t go.”

You smiled and pulled up a chair to sit in, before resting your hand back on top of his. “Then let’s talk.” There was a pause, where you glanced down towards his bandage. Madam Pomfrey’s words replayed in your head, over and over again; and you began wondering about how he fared each full moon. Over the months you had stayed with him, you tried not to ask much about his condition in fear of upsetting him. Although, finally seeing the severity of his wounds first hand, your mouth seemed to catch up with your mind before you had any thought to stop it.

“Does it—does it hurt much?”

Remus sighed gently, before shaking his head, “no, not really.” After a few moments he added, “you know this isn’t really what I had in mind when I meant ‘talk.’”

Paying his half teasing no mind, you pressed on, “do you usually get that hurt and I just don’t see it?”

It was as if your brain had lost all connection with its filter, as you asked question after question. You barely even registered the shameful prick of tears as they welled in your eyes. “I mean, how could I not have ever noticed? You always seemed so fine; exhausted and a bit beat up, but fine. A-And this isn’t fine, you know, like that has to be painful. Have you just been hiding it? Because, the marauders and I, we’re your friends; you don’t have to hide that stuff from us.” Suddenly you paused, and furrowed your brow slightly, still staring at his torso. More tears welled in your eyes, and you feebly fought them back.

“Of course, maybe the boys always knew about it. They are with you after all, so it only makes sense that they know; but that means that you’d be hiding it from me. Which technically you have every right to; you don’t owe me anything, let alone information about the thing you hate most. But I would have thought that we were close enough...

“And how long exactly are you in pain after? I mean, you usually come back to class a few days after the full moon; but that doesn’t mean anything. You’d totally be the type to come back even if you were in pain. You’re not in pain, are you?”

Brows furrowed and head tilted, Remus looked at you. “Hey,” your eyes finally met his, tearing away from the white of his bandage to meet the green of his eyes. “I’m okay, Y/N, really. See?” He took your hand in his and pulled it up to press lightly against his bandage. You felt the steady thrum of his heart under the wrappings, and tried to match your shaky breathing to it.

Neither of you said anything for minutes, as you closed your eyes while trying to calm yourself. Remus stared at you, however, a small smile on his face as he realized the depth of which you cared for others.

He didn’t see this side of you often, and he recalled that the last time you got this worked up over someone was when Sirius had broken his collarbone after a nasty fall during quidditch last term. You had screamed at him for a solid three minutes straight before storming off, tears in your eyes. He also noted that this was one of the only times he had ever seen you cry. Presumably you probably cried over Sirius’ broken bones but left after Sirius tried joking that you were going soft on them.

After a few minutes, you slowly opened your eyes to find Remus staring at you intently. You felt your cheeks grow hot under his gaze and feebly tried to hide your embarrassment at your outburst. “So,” you started, clearing your throat and sniffing twice, ignoring the obvious fact that you had just been crying. “You’re fine? Like, this isn’t a normal thing?”

Remus couldn’t help but smile slightly and squeeze your hand gently, “I’m fine. I’ve seen worse, but if you want me to be honest I have a feeling that the wolf is getting stronger. There will probably be a lot more moons like this, but nothing I can’t handle.”

You frowned slightly, yet couldn’t help but remember what Madam Pomfrey had said. It wasn’t just the wolf that got stronger, nor it a shock that he got this hurt, if the sudden toned muscle in his human form was anything to go by.

“Well,” he chuckled, trying, and failing to hide his grin, “I didn’t realize there was much of a change, Y/N.”

You paled and looked up at his now grinning form, watching his eyes dance with what you could imagine was only boyish pride. You groaned softly and took in a deep breath, covering your face with your hands.

“Please don’t tell me I said that out loud.”

Remus only answered with more laughter that made your cheeks flame even further. Picking up his book, you smacked his leg with it lightly, earning a slight yelp from the werewolf laying next to you.

“Just for that, I’m reading this book on my own.”

His laughter stopped abruptly and gaped at you, “hey! That’s my gift!”

“Yes, it is; but, I think you may just have to wait for Christmas for it now. You’re not being a very good boy.”

Fighting another grin, he cleared his throat, “are you saying I’ve been naughty?”

Eyes widened and another three smacks landed on his thigh, punctuated by each word. “Remus John Lupin!”

“Sorry, sorry! Is this my spanking?” Laughter could be heard now from both young teens until it was interrupted by a very angry nurse, scolding the two for causing a ruckus in her infirmary. Turning to you, she explained that no amount of caring will jeopardize the healing of her patient, so you had to leave.

Nodding your head, you turned to Remus and leaned in, whispering in his ear, “trust me, Moony, you don’t want to see the spankings I give actual naughty boys. Merry Christmas.”

You set the book on his lap gently, before pulling away and gathering up the rest of your things. As you left, you smirked, thinking about the amusing blush left on Remus’ cheeks and how maybe you could torture Remus just as much as he tortures you.

Torturer: 0

Tortured: 1

Tag List: (if you’d like to be tagged, let me know!)

@gondorgirl01 , @dare-to-dream-about-1d

#remus x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus imagine #marauders imagine #marauders era #harry potter imagine #the torturous year #remus lupin #kay writes #finally

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