#I’m a bastard with a shot gun and a bow and arrow

[vikvampir3]

Yk what’s really fucked up? I was more masculine before I realized I was trans. I’m short and I’m skinny and I’m gay and that makes me a fuckin twink according to everyone else. And yeah sure sometimes I love a cute skirt and makeup and yeah sure maybe I am but that also means I fucking had to bury the girl who did archery and wanted to be on American ninja warrior and was always called on for being strong. Boyfriends say it’s awkward when I’m curled around them with him as the little spoon. “It feels weird for you to be the big spoon” “woah this is weird let’s switch” you do realize just because I’m short and don’t work out anymore this doesn’t mean I’m just this little cute bottom who is the twinkiest of twinks. I just wish I were taller so that maybe for once in my fucking life I could be taken seriously

[blackseafoam]

Marked Part II

Part 1

A Bad Batch x Red Dead Redemption crossover AU (with illustrations :)

Word count: 1695

CW: Stuff you'd normally find in a western story. Swearing, smoking, gun touting, arrow wounds, horse jokes.

Two uneventful days went by for the Bad Batch Gang. They began to think the weird interaction in Valentine really was just that, nothing more.

“Why can’t I try a rifle?” Meggy kicked at a rock in her path.

“Because a rifle doesn’t work on small game.” Echo smirked, adjusting the shotgun in his elbow.. “There won’t be anything left of the critter. Plus, a bow is a great weapon. I’d have one too if I could.”

The youngest and oldest siblings picked their way quietly through the forest just north of camp. They’d managed to grab one squirrel all morning, but the forest was unusually quiet today. “Let’s head back, hopefully Crosshair had better luck.”

“No luck for you today, I’m afraid.” A strangers voice startled the pair as a towering figure stepped out from behind a tree. The blue-jacketed man from town. His revolver raised toward Echo.

Meggy froze, Echo raised his shotgun. “Stay away.”

“Don’t be a fool, we know that’s birdshot.” A scar-faced man appeared. Followed by three other armed men. “Just drop it.”

Echo let out a frustrated groan placed his shotgun on the dirt.

“Are you okay, kid?” one of the three goons asked, a young black man with a scarf.

“She’s exactly where she belongs.” Echo spat.

“Hey I wasn’t asking you!”

Meggy stood silently, still frozen.

“See? She’s terrified!” Another spoke up with a thick irish accent. “We outta blow your other arm off, kidnapper.”

“This is a misunderstanding, we saved-”

“Quiet!” The man in blue growled. “Walk back to camp, we’re gonna meet your friends. Sean, take the kid to the horses and wait for the signal.”

-

Arthur was somewhat relieved to see only two figures as he pushed his hostage into the kidnapper’s camp, but that only meant the remaining two were unaccounted for still. Theone with the red scarf was chopping firewood while the glasses-wearing one was grooming a horse on the farther end of camp.

“Hands up, drop the ax.” Arthur called from the edge of the clearing, gun still trained on the one-armed man’s back, using him as a shield. Lenny, John, and Javier fanned out on either side, weapons drawn.

“Weapons on the ground, or Lefty gets it. This is your only warning.” He put a hand on Echo’s shoulder and pulled him backward.

“Your knife too.” Lenny barked at Hunter.

With a nod from their leader the three gang members gathered the two new hostages.

-

Sean and Meggy watched the others disappear into the trees.

“Alright kid, let’s go. You’re safe now.” Sean beckoned the girl toward the horses where they were to wait for the signal. She did not follow. When the irishman turned around, her bow was trained on him.

“No, no. I’m here to save you kid. Meghan, right? We’re bringing you home!” He stammered.

“I am home.” She curled her lip, and let the arrow fly.

-

It had been ten whole minutes since Arthur had whistled for Sean to bring down the horses. “Where is that bastard?” Arthur said under his breath.

They had their hostages kneeling on the forest floor as Javier bound their hands. The trio eyed their captors with an intense vitriol but said nothing. It was abundantly obvious these were no run of the mill outlaws, these were battle-trained men. Arthur was not going to let his guard down.

Just then the sound of hoof steps came from behind. Sean led them from his steed, an arrow was embedded firmly in his thigh.

“Where’s the girl?!” Javier opened his arms in confusion.

“She got away!” Sean spat, grimacing and pressing on his thigh where the arrow shaft bounced with every stride of his mount.

“You gotta be kidding me, Sean. You had ONE job!” Arthur groaned.

“Goddamnit.” John cursed.

“She SHOT me!” Sean motioned to the arrow, as if no one had noticed it.

Arthur glanced at the hostages. Their intense, angry stares held a new smugness at the news that the girl had escaped. He drew a pained sigh. “Javier, Lenny, take these fellas to the sheriff in Valentine. Sean, John, ride with me we’re gonna find that girl.” He holstered his revolver and mounted up.

Sean nodded stiffly.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked in a low voice as he neared the horses.

“Not to worry, English, takes a lot more than one arrow to take out a Maguire.” He choked out.

“Leave it in, nothing we can do about it till we get back to camp.”

Sean’s positive demeanor wilted then, realizing he’d have to ride with an impaled thigh for another couple hours at the very least.

Javier and John mounted, guns still drawn, and walked Hunter, Echo, and Tech down the trail toward Valentine. The rest rode in the opposite direction.

-

Meggy ran like she had never run in her life. Her boots catching on branches almost took her out several times, but she didn’t let it slow her. Crosshair and Wrecker were somewhere out here, she had to warn them about what was going on.

“Meggy!” A raspy voice hissed out of nowhere.

Meggy stopped in her tracks. Confusion written on her face.

“Up here.”

Meggy looked up, Crosshair was perched high up in a Douglas Fir.

“Crosshair!” The girl said as loudly as she dared. “They took Echo!”

“I know, I saw the whole thing. Climb up here, they’re coming back.”

Meggy had never climbed a tree before, but she had to be brave. She clambered one branch at a time until she was a few levels below her brother, then decided it was enough.

“Where’s Wrecker?” She breathed hard from the exertion.

“I don’t know.”

As if on cue their brother appeared through the tree trunks below, striding back toward camp with an armful of game traps he’d retrieved.

“Psssst Wrecker!” Meggy hissed.

“He can’t hear you.” Crosshair threw a pine cone down toward his half-deaf brother’s head with pinpoint accuracy.

“OW!” Wrecker turned and looked up. “Hey! What are you two doing in a tree?!”

Meggy and Cross motioned him to be quiet and beckoned him up.

The three siblings balanced on their branches, the one Wrecker was on creaking concerningly. Holding their breath, they watched the bounty hunters searching for them in the forest below. Crosshair held his rifle ready to retaliate at the slightest glance in their direction, Meggy and Wrecker could do nothing but wait.

After several, slow, agonizing minutes, the men moved on.

“Who’s that?” Wrecker whispered.

“I don’t know but they have Echo!” Meggy tried to hold in a sob.

“We’ll get him back.” Wrecker growled. “Come on.” He started back down the tree.

“Stop. There are too many of them. We need a plan.” Crosshair hissed.

“Let’s go back to camp.” Wrecker suggested. “We’ll get Hunter and Tech and then get Echo.”

-

An hour of searching yielded no results, the bounty had fled. Arthur knew when the trail had run cold, and this one was ice.

“Don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last, English.” Sean gasped in pain for the twelfth time. It was time to give up. Even if they did find the bounty, Sean would be no help bringing them in, and he wasn’t confident with the marksman and the bruiser being the ones unaccounted for.

“John, get Sean home. I’ll meet the others in town.”

-

The cell in the Sheriff’s office reeked of must and the unwashed fabric of the thin mattress on the floor. Hunter, Tech, and Echo sat on the ground as far away from it as possible.

On their way in, Hunter had noticed Meggy’s bounty poster… her reward was more money than they ever would’ve imagined. Why all this fuss over one kid? Why couldn’t they just be left alone?

“The Van der Linde Gang.” Tech thoughtfully mumbled to himself.

“The Van der Linde Gang?” Echo scoffed. “What’s that?”

“I read about them in the paper, I have a hunch that’s who we’re dealing with.” Tech said softly, eyeing the deputy at the desk across the room.

“How do you know that?” Hunter whispered.

“The one calling the shots, I believe his name is Arthur Morgan, has a vicious reputation. He is one of Dutch Van der Linde’s right hand men.”

“Yeah he’s the one we ran in to in town.” Hunter said in a worried hush.

“QUIET IN THERE!” The Deputy scolded.

They fell silent for a few minutes.

“How long have we been here?” Echo whispered

Tech, the only one who wore a watch, checked it. “Four hours.”

Echo sighed.

“I SAID QUIET! Final warning.” The Deputy hit the table with his fist.

-

Wrecker, Crosshair, and Meggy ducked through the underbrush as quickly and quietly as possible. Stopping every so often to listen for their pursuers. When they arrived at camp they waited and watched for at least an hour, making sure the bounty hunters were not around.

“Is it safe yet?” Meggy dared a whisper.

“We need a plan, first.” Wrecker scratched his chin.

Crosshair’s uncanny stillness finally broke. “I’ll tack up Havoc. Wrecker and Meggy get Murray* on the wagon. We’ll go to town and carefully scope it out to see if we can figure out where they took them.”

(*Murray is Marauder’s nickname)

Meggy and Wrecker nodded and the troop finally stood from their hiding place. Meggy looked up at Crosshair, his brow was knotted with deep concern. She gently tugged on his sleeve. “We’re gonna find them, Crosshair, don’t worry.” She smiled.

The marksman nodded back but barely looked at her.

Soon enough they were on the road. Wrecker drove the wagon while crosshair took up the rear on his mount, and Meggy was relinquished to riding in an empty crate to stay out of sight. She jostled inside, now that the adrenaline had worn off the reality of the situation was beginning to set in. A few stray tears slid down her face. The universe had just given her a family and now it was trying to take it away. Maybe it really would’ve been better for everyone if she just stayed at that stupid school.

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 @omegafett99 @griffedeloup

Author’s note:

Hello beautiful readers! So many of you have given me such good ideas for this AU. This is a kind of “I’m making it up as I go” story with several solid story beats I’m working toward. That being said I’d love to hear more detail ideas for this crossover if you have them! And I will try to incorporate them in.

For example: someone suggested that Gonky be their disabled dog and I love that so much, I want to figure out how to ret con it in. Stuff like that.

Anyway thank you for reading and for all the enthusiasm!’ I read every single tag, reblog, and reply (multiple times).

[queer-irritator]

Stress Relief (Arthur Morgan x GN Reader)

Prompt: Reader stumbles upon an herbalist on a solo adventure and gets some useful information on a new plant that can aid a certain cowboy in relieving some stress.

Content warnings: Drug use, smoking, vomit, violence, hunting, peer pressure(??)

Takes place at Horseshoe Overlook, not proof read

Precedes Bloody Knuckles and Impure Thoughts

You’ve been running with the Van Der Linde gang for a little over a month. Hosea had caught you red-handed, trying to pick-pocket him. In your defense, he seemed like an easy target. An older, gentle looking man alone in a packed saloon? Usually things go off without a hitch. Luckily for you, Hosea was actually impressed by your skills, particularly with your innocence act when you got caught. You spent the night talking and drinking with him, swapping sob stories, and by sunrise you were following him back to a secluded camp on the outskirts of town. There was a mix of reactions from the rest of the gang, mostly you were welcomed, but a few members had their reservations about you, and some still do. When you drunkenly stumbled into camp following closely behind Hosea, you laid your eyes on the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen. Arthur Morgan. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the cowboy’s stunning beauty that made your stomach do flips, resulting in you emptying your guts in front of practically everybody. But you heard Arthur’s low, raspy chuckle for the first time.

“You alright there?” Arthur questioned you, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Oh yeah, I’m wonderful…” You replied, bracing yourself with a hand on a tree trunk. Your face was flushed red from a mixture of alcohol and embarrassment.

Luckily, since that first day you’ve redeemed yourself with most of the gang. Most importantly, you’ve redeemed yourself with Arthur. You tagged along for a homestead robbery and shot some bastard right between the eyes when he was on top of Arthur, choking him.

“Are you okay?” You called to Arthur, running over to him only a split second after discharging your gun.

Arthur shoved the corpse off of him and caught his breath, “I am now… Thanks to you.” he said, sitting up.

“Oh, it’s no big deal…” You tried to keep yourself cool and collected and slid your gun back into your holster.

“No big deal?” Arthur repeated your words as he looked up at you, his knee bent and his extended arm resting on his knee, “You saved my hide, that ain’t “no big deal” ‘round here.” He stood up with a slight grunt and gave you an approving slap on the back before walking over to his horse. “Yer alright, kid.”

You couldn’t hide the smile that crept onto your face. A weight you didn’t know you’ve been carrying around had been lifted. Getting Arthur’s approval of being part of the gang meant more than you thought it would.

Since then you started seeking out Arthur’s company more and more. You’ve developed a stronger bond with him, but have been careful to keep your attraction to the cowboy to yourself. You had a good friendship, and you didn’t want to screw it up.

Currently you were out hunting alone. You had a knack for getting perfect rabbit pelts with a bow Charles had given you. So far you got three rabbits, but you needed one more to have enough material to make a pillow cover. Plus, Pearson always appreciated the meat. You took out your binoculars and surveyed the field, looking for any rabbits in the distance. You spotted your final prey of the afternoon. Sliding off your horse quietly, you grabbed your bow and started to sneak up on the rabbit. You got into position and took aim, drawing your bow back. You let out your breath slowly and released your arrow, getting another pristine kill. You rushed over to grab the rabbit and stow it on your horse. Just as you were preparing to hop back on your horse to ride back to camp, a figure in the distance caught your eye.

You grabbed your pistol from your holster and started to approach a stranger a few hundred feet away.

“Hey there.” You greeted the stranger, cautious but not in a mood to spill more blood if it wasn’t necessary.

The stranger turned his head and gave you a wave, “Hello! Beautiful day out today, isn’t it?” He had a white horse with him that had bushels of herbs stowed on it.

You slid your gun back into its holster and got within a few feet of the man, “What’cha gathering?” You questioned, looking at the plants wrapped in burlap and sitting on the back of the horse, it looked the same as a patch of plants growing from the earth near the man.

“Some medicine.” The stranger bent down and picked a flower off the plant, “This plant does wonders for feelings of anxiety and stress!” He presented a funny looking green flower bud in his hand.

“Really?” You questioned him, inspecting the plant. You did have a lot of feelings of anxiety recently… “D’ya just eat it?”

“Oh, no no. This works best after it’s been dried. You smoke it, just like tobacco.” He explained to you. “Here, I have some ready to go!” Turning his back to you, he rummaged through a bag on his horse and handed you something that looked like a cigarette.

You took it from the man and inspected it and gave it a sniff. “It kinda smells funny.” You observed aloud.

“Ah, a small price to pay for the medicinal properties.” The man secured his goods on his horse and hopped up on it. “I should be going now, but I highly suggest setting aside a few hours when you smoke it. It can make you feel… funny.”

“Funny?” You looked up at the stranger, “Funny how?”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, but it’s also a good idea to have a friend or two around. Come find me if you need more!” The man commanded his horse to get going, leaving you slightly bewildered.

“Huh…” You carefully tucked away the cigarette and mounted your horse. On your ride back to camp, you thought of a particularly stressed cowboy that could use some medicine to help with that.

You arrived back at camp in the late afternoon. Camp was bustling with the women finishing up chores and Pearson putting the stew on the fire. You hitched your horse and grabbed your rabbits and slid the cigarette in your pocket.

“Got a present for you!” You called to Pearson, holding up the rabbits.

“You got perfect timing, kiddo.” Pearson praised you.

You laid down the rabbits on his workstation and got to work on skinning them. “You seen Arthur around today?” You questioned the cook.

“Saw him this morning… I think Dutch said something about him going into Valentine.” Pearson was always in earshot of whatever Dutch was hollering about, so he knew just about everything. “You sure spend a lot of time around him…” He hinted at you.

His comment made you whip your head towards him. “What are you talking about? I spend a normal amount of time with everyone..!” Your defensiveness was definitely not helping your case, and neither was a faint dusting of pink across your cheeks.

“Okay…” He dismissed you, not convinced by your shitty excuse.

You huffed slightly and collected your rabbit pelts and took them over to your tent and hung them up to dry.

Your tent was situated next to Lenny, he was one of the first members to make you feel comfortable and welcomed. You often had guard duty with him, and the two of you always end up slacking off and get a tongue lashing from Mrs. Grimshaw. Plus, your tent’s location gave you a great view of Arthur’s wagon. Right as you were about to start bitching and whining to Lenny about what Pearson had said, you heard the clap of horse hooves approaching camp. You turned your head to see Arthur, feeding his horse a snack and giving it a pat on the neck. Seeing Arthur lightened your mood by tenfold. You watched him as he exchanged a few words with Dutch and then headed over to his cot. Now that he was a bit closer, you noticed a bruise starting to form on his cheekbone and that he was covered in mud. You walked over to him just as he was sitting down.

“You okay, Arthur?” You asked him, concern laced in your voice.

He lifted his head slightly to meet your eyes, “Yeah, it’s nothing.” He always dismissed his own issues. Sure, maybe it was stupid to ask if he was okay when he clearly looked like shit, but you still had to ask. You looked him over now that you were standing only a few feet from him, he looked more tired than anything.

“Go get cleaned up, and I’ll wash your clothes.” You instructed him, you learned quickly that you need to insist he takes care of himself, or else he won’t do a damn thing for his health.

“Naw, really I’m fine.” He began to protest, slightly waving a hand in dismissal.

“Arthur.” You said sternly, giving him a glare. “Get your ass cleaned up, and I’m going to wash your clothes.” You instructed him once more.

Arthur furrowed his brows and met your glare for a few seconds before letting out a sigh and standing up, shrugging off his coat that was caked in mud. You gathered Arthur’s clothes, along with his boots and weapon holsters and headed off to the wash basin to get them clean. You kneeled down on the ground and began scrubbing his clothes clean. You lifted your head frequently to fixate on Arthur. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without 3 or more layers of clothes on. Arthur was slightly bent over at a barrel of water, washing his face in just his union suit. Other men around camp would often walk around in their union suit, especially early in the morning, but you never gave them a second glance. Arthur, however, was another story. He was quite more muscular than you had imagined, and his ass looked perfect. You tore your eyes away from Arthur and forced yourself to focus on getting his clothes and gear clean. You were definitely smoking that funky cigarette later, and dragging Arthur into your shenanigans as well.

A few hours later dinner had been eaten and much to your dismay, Arthur had changed into some real clothing. The sun had set not long ago and things were quieting down around camp. People were retiring to their tents, sitting around the fire, or getting ready to swap look-out shifts. You spotted Arthur smoking a cigarette, leaning on a tree at the edge of camp. You approached him, excited about the plans the man didn’t yet know he was getting roped into.

“Hey.” You greeted the cowboy nonchalantly. “Your clothes should be dry by morning.”

Arthur gave you a nod as he flicked the butt of his cigarette off to the side and blew out some smoke. “Thanks. Ya didn’t have to do all that.”

“I don’t mind.” You assured him. You looked up at the stars, trying to think of a plan if Arthur rejected your offer of smoking something a stranger gave you in the middle of the woods… Maybe you’ll leave that part out.

“Uhm, I got something for you- well, us. Something for us to share.” You glanced at him, becoming nervous all of a sudden.

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises? It my birthday or somethin’?” Arthur joked, making himself the punchline.

“I dunno, is it?” You chuckled softly.

Arthur shook his head with a smile playing on his lips, “Luckily, it ain’t.”

You reached in your pocket and took out the home-made joint you got earlier in the day. “I was out hunting earlier and I found some plants. Kinda like tobacco, but different.” You explained to him.

Arthur squinted his eyes slightly to get a better look at what you were holding. “Ya just picked some plant and made a cigarette outta it? Seems kinda… odd.” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn’t want to offend you, but this seemed idiotic.

“When you put it like that, you make it sound like I’m trying to kill ya.” You turned your body towards him, trying to seem more serious. “It’s not just some random plant though. It’s medicine that helps with stress. And you are the most stressed cowpoke I know.”

Arthur looked at you for a moment. He could tell this meant a lot to you, for some unknown reason. He glanced at the “cigarette” in your hand. He’s probably put worse in his body, “What the hell.” He states, taking the joint from you and lighting it with a match.

A smile spread across your face, glad that Arthur is letting himself relax a bit. You watched as Arthur inhaled the smoke. He suppressed a few coughs and blew out the smoke, knitting his eyebrows together at the strange taste.

“How is it?” You ask him, extending your hand toward him asking for him to share the smoke.

“See for yourself.” He passed the joint to you as he focused on not coughing like a kid trying to smoke for the first time. You brought the joint to your lips and inhaled, only to start coughing right away. “Jesus christ.” You shoved the joint back into Arthur's hand as you brought a hand to your mouth to cover your cough.

Arthur looked at you with a tinge of concern, “You sure this is safe?” He questioned you.

After taking a few deep breaths you had collected yourself, “Yeah… Yeah, I’m sure it’s fine…” You dismissed his concern. “Medicine isn’t always enjoyable, y’know.”

“I guess…” Arthur took another inhale of the joint, more prepared for the effects now. This time he only cleared his throat slightly before passing the joint back to you.

You decided to take two puffs this time, wanting the effects to start to kick in so you didn’t feel like such an idiot around Arthur anymore. Not used the smoking as much as the cowboy next to you, you still coughed a bit. You passed the joint back and forth a few more times.

“So, it’s just ‘sposed to make you… relaxed?” Arthur questioned, starting to think that this “medicine” was a sham.

“That’s what the guy told me.” You shrugged.

“Guy? What guy?” Arthur looked at you.

“Well… I was out hunting and there was this guy and he had these plants. And he said they help with stress and it might make you feel funny.” You confessed.

“Feel funny?” Arthur questioned you, glancing at the joint that was practically finished by now.

“Yeah…” You didn’t know why he was repeating everything you said. You snatched the joint from him and took the last drag of it.

Before Arthur could reprimand you for taking drugs from a strange man in the woods, a voice rang out from the other side of camp.

“God dammit, who the hell let a skunk in here?” John’s voice called out.

You froze, hearing John’s voice. You had forgotten that it wasn’t just you and Arthur alone outside. You sniffed the air, and then the joint, which did indeed smell similar to skunk. You tossed the butt over your shoulder quickly and glanced at Arthur, biting your lip to hold back a laugh.

Arthur was frozen as well, only his eyes shifted to meet your gaze. He had a dumbfounded look plastered on his face like he’d just been caught in the act of something deplorable. This caused a giggle to form in your throat. You put your hand over your mouth to try and keep quiet, unsure of why exactly you were trying to keep quiet.

John had wandered over to where the two of you were standing. “You guys seen a skunk ‘round here?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, you let a string of laughter escape your lips. Suddenly, you heard a low chuckle start to fill the air and you turned your head to see Arthur laughing as well. Of course this only caused you to laugh louder, you raised a finger to point at Arthur in surprise. You’d never heard him laugh like this before. Arthur placed a hand on his stomach and started to laugh properly now, not just a chuckle.

John was left baffled, “What the hell is wrong with the two of you?” he muttered more under his breath as he turned to leave you be.

Your laughter was booming now and your knees were starting to feel weak. You lightly slapped Arthur’s shoulder and pointed at John as he walked away, “He…he thought there was a skunk!” You wiped away some tears that were forming in the corner of your eyes.

Arthur’s laughter matched yours, surely the two of you were disturbing the entire camp by now. “What a jackass!” Arthur mocked John and placed a hand on your shoulder. Your face began to heat up, and both of your laughter began to die down.

You were down to letting out a laugh occasionally now as you looked up at Arthur, his features dimly illuminated by the moonlight and the lanterns around camp. He was absolutely gorgeous. He broke your trance when he spoke up, “Hey, are you hungry?”

You took a moment to tune into your body and hunger cues, but once you did your stomach growled, “Yes!” You gasped as you answered him, like he was a genius for figuring this information out. “We should go to Pearson’s wagon.” You proposed.

“I like that idea.” Arthur agreed with you, pushing his weight off the tree he had been leaning on and wandered over to Pearson’s wagon. He glanced around to make sure no one was around before rummaging through the wagon like a raccoon.

“Here.” He gave you some bread rolls, cheese, and apples.

“Ooooh.” You cooed at the haul Arthur had passed to you. “Let’s eat by the fire.” You began to wander to the fire pit before waiting around to hear his answer. “Yeah, okay, sure.” Arthur grabbed two beers from a crate nearby and joined you by the fire. He plopped himself down on a log, almost falling backwards.

You giggled at his lack of balance, “Be careful.” you warned him as you ripped off a piece of bread and placed some cheese on it and ate it in one bite. Arthur popped open the beer bottles and took a long drink of one.

You grabbed an apple and took a large bite. “Oh my god.” You moaned at the taste of the fresh apple in your mouth. “Oh my god.” You repeated yourself, mouth full of unchewed apple, “You gotta try this.” You held up the apple to Arthur’s mouth, somehow ignoring the shade of pink his cheeks had turned.

Arthur placed his hand over yours and guided the apple to his mouth and took a bite. You had finally begun to chew the food in your mouth, “So good, right?” You asked.

Arthur nodded and took another long drink of his beer, trying to distract himself from the sound you had made and the feelings it stirred deep inside him.

“Mh, good idea.” You said when you saw the beer bottle. You snatched it up and took a drink from your own bottle. You handed Arthur a roll with a piece of cheese in the middle, and the two of you happily stuffed your face in silence for the next few minutes.

Once all the food was eaten, and you took the last swig of beer, a wash of tiredness rushed over you and you let out a yawn. You scooted closer to Arthur on the log you were both sitting on, close enough so the outside of your thighs were touching.

“ ‘M starting to get tired.” You announced.

Arthur looked down at you, “Ya wanna lay down?” He was starting to feel tired himself, especially after the day he had.

You nodded in reply, “Here.” You got up and grabbed a tarp and laid it down by the fire and also grabbed a blanket. “A bed!” You proudly presented your shotty excuse for a bed.

Arthur chuckled slightly, “Alright. Well, get in.” He stood up, getting ready to retire to his own bed.

“You’re coming with me.” You enlightened Arthur as you grabbed his hand and led him to the makeshift bed. You sat down and tugged him down with you.

“What’re you doing?” Arthur questioned you, looking down at his hand that was being held by yours.

“Goin’ to bed, silly.” You told him like it was obvious. You let go of Arthur’s hand and lightly pushed him down so he was laying. You scooted right up next to him and laid down as well. You rested your head on his chest and pulled the blanket over the both of you. You made yourself comfortable at Arthur’s side, draping your arm on his stomach and closed your eyes. “Goodnight, Arthur.” You said, already half asleep.

Arthur accepted his fate, too stoned to protest or think about the consequences of everyone in camp seeing him like this in the morning.

“G’night.” He replied to you, lazily placing a kiss to your head as if this had been his routine for the last 10 years, before drifting off to sleep.

You awoke to the sound of murmuring. You blinked away the sleep from your eyes and adjusted to the harsh light of the sun. An unfamiliar presence was pressed up against your back and you heard a soft snore. Once your eyes adjusted to the daylight, you could see some camp members gathered around you, with knowing looks on their faces.

“I told you they’d get it on!” Sean’s voice rang through your ears.

Suddenly, the events of last night flashed through your mind and your cheeks were quickly heating up.

“Arthur! Get the hell up.” Dutch said as his figure was towering over the two of you.

Arthur’s hand that had been lazily resting on your side suddenly gripped you and pulled you close as he jolted awake, “What the hell?” Arthur groaned as he was ripped away from a peaceful sleep.

You reluctantly wiggled yourself out of his grasp and sat up.

“There is work to be done.” Dutch stated. “We ALL,” he paused to give a glare to the crowd that had gathered to gawk at Arthur and you, “have work to do.”

With Dutch’s warning, the small crowd dispersed with a murmur. Arthur had gotten his bearings now and sat up with you, a blush creeping onto his cheeks as he put on his hat.

“Just gimme five goddamn minutes…” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. Arthur knew he would never hear the end of this.

[this-has-returned]

Dwarf Fortress x Deep Rock Galactic - Part 5

“I want to fight!” Urist protested.

Ulla scratched the back of her neck. “I dunno, lad... You’ve only watched the corporate training videos. It’s a helluva lot more intense once you’re in the tunnels, you know...”

“I’ve seen combat before,” Urist explained. “I’ve spilled blood! I’ve fought goblin hordes! I’ve even helped to take down a great beast ten times my own size, and there were only six other dwarves there with me! We only suffered three casualties!”

“Can you fire a gun?” Thorn asked as they approached. “Machine-carved jadiz, launched to lethal speeds with a nitra-magnite powder mix, ignited with a flint primer. Do you know how to aim and fire such a thing out of a gun, with the ability to kill?”

“The only part I understood was ‘flint’...” Urist admitted.

“For the love of...” muttered Thorn.

“I don’t understand the problem!” Urist spat. “Just give me a fine spear, and I’ll send those glyphids running back to their nests in no time!”

“A spear??” exclaimed Thorn, wide-eyed. “You expect us to hand your sorry arse over to the glyphid hordes with a bloody spear?!”

“Why not?” asked Donner, emerging from medical, freshly-showered and stark-naked. He walked over to one of the wardrobe dispensers to fetch a new outfit.

“’Why not’??” Ulla replied. “Donner, the lad wants to handle *modern* problems with *stone-age* solutions!!”

“Hold on,” the driller said, holding up a hand. “Technically, the spears that Urist has trained with would be been made of steel, at least; he’s mentioned steel before, so his people must have been at that level of technology, or higher.”

Urist nodded, confirming Donner’s assumptions. Ulla rolled her eyes.

“Right,” Thorn said, exasperated. “So what’s the latest thing you know, newbie? Spear? Bow and arrow? Crossbow? Musket? Revolver? Do you know what a clip or magazine is??”

“Well,” stammered Urist, “we had arch—”

“Also,” Donner interrupted, still naked, “he has the muscle memory and combat training of a speardwarf. He claims to have slain great beasts, with help. I say let him have a few rounds of glyphids, with a spear in hand. See what happens. Have someone with a gun nearby, just in case. Rock and Stone, and all that.”

Urist had hope in his eyes, and looked to Thorn and Ulla, like a child asking for approval.

Ulla wanted no part of this, and made a gesture to brush away the conversation as she walked back to the Abyss Bar.

Thorn mulled it over for a few seconds, though. “Feck it all. Sure. Let’s give the crazy bastard a spear, and I’ll join him on his first drop.”

“Wait, truly??” Urist said, filing with excitement. “This isn’t you pissing about, right??”

“Yes, I’m quite serious,” Thorn confirmed. “I’ll buy you ten rounds at the bar, if you manage to do a full drop without my guns. Hell, I’ll buy you five, if you kill any glyphid larger than a swarmer all by yourself, so long as you make it back to the space rig with minimal injury, regardless of how many shots I fire. It’s a deal.”

They and the newcomer shook hands on it. Urist was beside himself with eagerness, while Thorn was deadpan as usual.

“This is a reckless and irresponsible decision, gunner,” said Klaus’s voice over the intercom. “I’m not unlocking that drop pod, just so you can feed some hopeless traveler to the bugs. It would be an egregious waste of resources, for one thing.”

“Yeah,” Ulla added angrily, shouting from the bar. “Also, it would be bad, Thorn. You would feel bad. Sending new people on suicide missions is bad, you understand??”

Thorn crossed their arms. “Obviously we go with a hazard 1 drop. Donner said the Salt Pits should be clear, right? Besides, good ol’ Klaus had no fucking problems whatsoever sending me into a wave of bugs on my first training drop. Alone. You remember that, Klaus?”

The space rig was silent for a moment before Klaus responded: “Well, you lived, didn’t you? I told you that I had faith in your ability.”

“Sure,” said Thorn, “after you said your goodbyes, and killed the comm link. You only backpedaled after seismic calmed down, because everything else was dead, except me.”

Silence, again. Reiner emerged from his capsule room, and jogged over to his locker to retrieve something.

“Ugh, fine,” said Klaus. “There’s a spot in the Salt Pits that practically rates a zero on the hazard scale. If you go now, it should stay that way when you land. Next spike in bug activity is predicted to occur in 45 minutes. It’s a simple morkite run, in what could be the most boring cave system in all of Hoxxes.”

The scout eagerly came up to Urist with a metal spear in hand. “Take this, before you go! This baby is modified from a standard-issue pickaxe, but the spearhead is an authentic one that my great-great-great-grandmother used, way back in an old mountainhome! Real, original, dwarven steel!”

Urist couldn’t believe it. The entire spear was made of metal, and finely-crafted.

“It’s a family hierloom,” Reiner continued, “but it would mean a lot to me if someone like you would slay a glyphid with it. I think my ancestors would have loved to see it in action again, especially in traditionally-trained hands. I’m too used to guns and pickaxes, so it’s been collecting dust this whole time.”

“It’s perfect!” Urist said with awe, gently accepting the spear. He started with some careful movements, testing inertia, before moving up to full-force swings, causing the scout and gunner to take a few steps back. “It’s absolutely wonderful; you have my deepest thanks, Reiner! Truly! Rock and Stone!”

Check out the infopage!

[theyanderespecialist]

Strike With Obsession 1 (One shot/Mini Series) Striker X Marie OC (Yandere) (Helluva Boss)

(no one's pov)

"Oh Satan it is hot." An imp muttered as she got out of the van towards her Employee's parents

"Oh it's okay Marie, hey you look great in my old clothes."

"..I feel like I'm going to fuck my cousin who is also my brother." Marie muttered as she fanned herself.

"No Millie's right Miss. Y-You look..good."

"She looks hot Moxxie. Hot as fuck." Millie said as Marie winked.

"Oh come on keep talking like that and I'm sure we can find a hay Bush and mooxie can use those strong hands while I use mine--"

"Marie!" Moxxie said disapproving of her advances..in front of Millie's parents. The couple however were used to this..and had a plan to share her.

"Speaking of strong hands. Meet our newest help-- Striker! Get over here!" Millies dad yelled as a man came riding over on a stallion as Marie's eyes widen as she walked over...and shoved him off the horse.

"wha-I wouldn't--"

"oh yes so sweet aren't you? Yes you are- oh! Placing your nose on mine, so sweet!" Marie yelled.

She wrapped her arms around the horse as she squealed. (So horses place their noses on another horse or owner and share their breathe as a form of affection.) (Also all she cares about is the horse

"oh yeah, boss."

"HM?"

"That's striker. That's his horse you are molesting."

"I'm not molesting-that is- you could have used any word for the horse and you used- I know I said I love horses..but not like that."

"Hah! We're here because the prince is her boyfriend~" Millie said with an over enthusiastic tone..almost too enthusiastic.

"Yeah, Millie I love you and would pin you down, but I'm not above a cat fight with another woman. It's a casual on and off, quid pro quo relationship--wait..is he still wearing my harness?....eh thing never got any use anyway before him." She muttered

Striker was still staring and then he knew he had to put on his southern charm~

"well you must be the lady that's running this murder gig." "Yup." She said bit really paying attention to his as she fussed over Millie's hair, letting her hands linger on Millie before turning to Moxxie.

"You know I was surprised." He continued as Marie fixed Moxxie's bow tie, dragging a nail down his chest.

Crap. "Not many imps start a business..it's impressive." He threw out those words as she stopped and turned to him. Now he had her attention.

"Really? Well..heh..I mean I guess it is.." she said

"Darn right it is." I say. "No loans or other demons being your boss! It must be amazing!"

She perked up at that. "You know you lot should enter the pain games." "Games? I heard games." Marie said once more ignoring striker.

"Every harvest festival there's a competition to see who's the roughest, toughest bastard in wrath."

"Oh--"

"yeah, I wish I could compete."

"Millie ya know you get to carried away." Marie was not really paying attention. "Now you can cheer your boss on."

"Oh no. I'm amazing with a gun, I'm good with arrows, I can bend my body ways you can't imagine but..I'm not good with pain." Marie said.

"You two can root for me?"

"Aw Moxxie."

"Look at you Mox." The two girls let out a sigh.

"Yeah I don't think Thespian types like you will last long."

"I was born here too I so can!"

"Well then." Striker said glaring down at the imp. "Why don't you help me Wrestle that hog for dinner?"

"No problem."

"Oh Moxxie you're so brave." Marie said as Millie looked at him. As happy as she was seeing her husband trying to get in with her parents..she was concerned.

"You don't have to--"

"I do."

"We'll get em tiger! Hey you do it..I'll let you see me without this tiefront top..if you fail, I'm fucking your wife without you." She said as she pushed him in.

'theres no way, she's gonna see what a stupid wimp he is...maybe he'll die if I'm lucky.' Striker thought watching as Moxxie got a hold of the hog before being swung around, panting and sweating as Striker looked over only to see Marie Fanning herself.

"Millie you bagged a good one. Look at that jock. What a specimen..makes me get all excited."

He glared at moxie even more

I glare as I get in and kill the hog..only to see Marie holding Moxxie with Millie..she didn't even look?! I picked it up at least I can get some anger out on the carcass

(next day)

I stood in the crowd as Wally went on about the festival. "Holy--is that Wally? Yo. Mox, Mill, that's Wally. I worked with that southern bastard." She said as Stolas got on the sage as Marie waved to him before stopping herself.

She stopped. "Oh..that's awkward. I was waving to stol--ahem..stretching my arm-" she said laughing.

He blushes and starts up the show. I glare as the games start as I see Marie jump off the bleachers guess she couldn't help but join the action.

I began to climb the wall when she wrapped her tail around mine, using me as a boost to jump from me all the way to the other one as she smiled.

(oh god she's wholesome right now)

(that's actually kind of adorable just imagining her blissfully having fun..while Moxxie is dying.)

(XD yup)

She won that round the next one was up and I proove myself

I grabbed the rope as she seemed to get distracted before she grabbed her rope before she slipped as I looked down at her before tying her and pushing her down. Gently. She blushes darkly at this and squirms.

I quickly realized as my eyes widen letting go of the ropes as soon as they called it as she just got out of them easily. (She couldn't have gotten out..but..where's the fun in that) "you have this Mox!" She yelled suddenly.

The next was the rope tug as I could see her and Moxxie genuinely trying as I just tug the ripe as it snapped sending her back into me as Moxxie fell into the mud.

(I feel like he feels they have a connection)

(XD He probably does XD)

"I help her steady and smell her hair only for her to push me off and into the mud as she helps Moxxie out. That little twerp!

I see her hold him close to her chest as his face went red as I stopped realizing her shirt was open..the only thing covering her..was Moxxie.

(Timeskip)

"Well for the first year we have a tie! The winners are--"

"the winners are Striker!" That blue blood prince said. "and my darling sweet, loving Mar~"

"ugh say my name right you dick--"

"would you rather mistress?" He asked.

"Oh that's fucking worse, fine Mar." She said bit smiled waving to Millie and Moxxie

I growled I hated the bird fuck even more how dare he even think of touching her. That is when jeans down and kisses her I am going make him suffer!!!

Her face exploded in colour as the others gasp in shock as he pulled away and patted her head. And he pays her like a dog? However I noticed the smile on her face as she played with her hands. No. I ain't done yet.

I began to song however..she wasn't interested jumping off the stage as she walked over to Millie and Moxxie as she said something that made the two blush as she kissed both their cheeks and stroked them as she started to walk off with them.

When I had gotten back I see her laying on the ground with my horse as her legs kicked back and forth as I think her eyes were sparkling..and I don't mean that they were shining in a romantic way, they literally seemed to be shining as she watched him eat before getting up to help Millie as I walking inside when I notice my door opened.

"How did he get this?" I hear Mxxie say.

"Why don't you ask him?"

He turns around as I glare at him.

"Why do you have this? This can kill-"

"demon royalty?"

"Well yeah-"

"it could kill you."

"Yes!"

"Your wife"

"absolutely! That's why I-I'm relativity concerned about you having this..also the way you..did you smell my boss' hair?"

(okay good logical thing to be concerned about maybe not in a death situation but xD)

"She is mine and I will not let you take her from me, or that Blue blood fuck!" I snap and wrap my tail around him and slam him into the wall.

I began to choke until he smashed a table and ran to the door opening it as I managed to cover his mouth as he was losing consciousness before I was stabbed as I hiss as his wife jumped on my back as I smashed her into the wall and bring them to the basement as I glare.

"I'd kill y'all--"

"Moxxie! Millie! I need help! I think my bra hook is stuck! nevermind! I got it! Go back to whatever you two were doing!"

I smirked. "But you might be more useful to me alive" I say and lock them in. She will be mine no matter WHAT!

[feedmecookiesnow]

Winterhawk 5

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Bucky shakes his head, pointedly not looking at the twelve arrows stuck in the center of the downrange targets. Clint had shot the last three at once, like a fucking show-off, and Bucky had found it way more attractive than he really should’ve.

He shakes his head again. Focus.

“You are,” Clint says delightedly. “You’re jealous of my mad archery skills. Afraid I’m gonna take down your record?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t count, you’re using a different weapon—”

“It’s based on amount of targets and accuracy, not how they’re hit. That record’s mine.”

“No, it’s not—”

“JARVIS!” Clint calls. “What’s the obstacle course record?”

The polite voice echoes through the room. “The current record is two minutes, twenty-six seconds, with a target clearance rate of ninety-five percent.”

Clint grins at Bucky. “And who holds that record?”

“Currently, that record is held by Captain Rogers.”

“Ha, I told you—wait, what?”

Bucky stares up at the ceiling. “Steve? Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure,” JARVIS says, in a tone that Bucky privately thinks is way too sarcastic for a robot. “The record belongs to Captain Rogers.”

“That rotten bastard,” Clint says. “When the hell did he do that?”

“Now who’s jealous?” Bucky asks, and Clint makes a face at him before picking up his bow again.

“I’m not,” he says. “But I say we go beat the hell out of that, then make jokes about him being old and slow for the rest of the night. You in?”

Bucky grins. “I’m so in,” he says. “But you know I’m gonna kick your ass too, right?”

Clint snorts. “I’d like to see you fucking try.” But he’s grinning, a delighted look sparkling in his eye. “You’re on, other old man.”

“Set it up, JARVIS,” Bucky calls, and goes to pick up his gun.

[asterekmess]

S3A - E8

I’m realizing just how damn far behind I am on working on season 3, but I don’t wanna skip any episodes of the rewatch, so let’s get to it! Double time, double time!

Content warnings for discussion of cannibalism.

Forewarning, this one is a doozy, so be prepared to Read More:

Lesgo!:

First thing’s first, Derek has experience with those awful sound thingies? Can you imagine how freaked he must’ve been seeing Chris bring those out when they were tracking Boyd and Erica?

Also, Chris Argent has been hunting Derek one way or another since he was a child. Even BEFORE Kate. Why the hell do we have a Derek & Chris broness in the later seasons? This kind of shit doesn’t just go away. I can’t believe I forgot about it.

I love how awkward sweet bby Derek is trying to run through the trees and tripping on branches everywhere. It’s honestly so much more realistic for a teenager than just the crazy cgi stuff. Also, since we know Derek is comfortable in the woods, it really gives you a hint as to how truly messed up he is from fear right now. He’s off balance in a dozen ways.

DEREK HAS BEEN WATCHING PEOPLE DIE IN FRONT OF HIM SINCE HE WAS 15. I’m gonna CRY. If I wanna hurt myself even More, you could argue that the Random Beta (RB) got shot bc he stopped to talk to Derek. So...guilty minds would assume Derek has been watching people die because of him since 15. I hate everything.

PETER comin’ in clutch. Also, hilarious that they use that arrow catching move so much.

I almost like how they tried to make Gerard look younger by just having him wear a douchey leather jacket instead of the serious grandpa one he wears in S2. He swaggers over to the body of RB, and it’s hilarious.

Okay, what is this bullshit about “Bring them back alive, we go by the code?” If you were going by the code then you wouldn’t be fucking hunting them AT ALL. They’re innocent! Why the fuck are you ‘bringing them back’ in the first place? Chris, you piece of shit. This is supposed to demonstrate that you’ve always been a stickler for the code, but all it does is emphasize how little that code actually means. “We hunt those who hunt us.” Fuck off, you hunt anything you deem ‘dangerous’ and find excuses to kill them so you can feel righteous.

Gonna casually note that RB was shot in the Throat with an arrow, but bc of makeup necessities they moved the arrow down to his chest when he’s shown on the ground. It’s funny. :)

It’s seriously so hard to hate Peter, do the writers realize that? Like, yes, he did horrible shit and I’m not denying that, but when you show him running into the hunter-filled woods to save his nephew’s life at 24 years old, then hiding with him in a cellar for two fucking days when he could probably have escaped on his own, it’s hard to see him as a heartless bastard.

I’m almost afraid to find out why Cora knows the details. Can you imagine? She would’ve been, what, 9-10? Her big brother and uncle both go missing for two days after a hunt and she had to stay at home waiting for someone to say they’d found their bodies. God, the lives of the Hales are so fucked up.

The rain is really making the mood here.

I gotta say, I’m confused about this initial Cora-Stiles interaction. He goes on about everyone who’s died or nearly died, but then Cora assumes he wants Derek to do something about the deaths, and Stiles agrees? Except that Derek currently fits the COD that all the other sacrifices have hit. Missing for about two days. Everything Stiles has said implies that he’s worried Derek is also dead. I don’t get why they go with ‘I’m worried about the missing man that I’ve been helping for the last four months because I blame him for the Alphas even coming to town”?

One thing they got on point here is just how disgusting they made Gerard. The slime and the spitting and ugh *shudders* it’s just so gross.

I’m also...I think intrigued is the right word--that they shoved this whole story into the episode without ever addressing the fact that Derek IS missing and they should go looking for him or something. It starts with Stiles asking where the hell he is, but then everything else is about this past moment. Talk about going off on a tangent. I mean, I don’t blame them, but if I shoved this much character background into one chapter people would call me out for the infodump that it is.

Which is all this episode is. Info-dumped exposition. Here’s how werewolves were made. Here’s why Derek’s cranky. Here’s why Duke’s an asshole. Here’s why the Hales are ‘special’

Again, I don’t blame them. It’s just...a lot.

Just a tiny thing: Why do they both roll up their sleeves when Scott only has to touch Gerard’s hand?

It is also very hard to believe that either Allison or Scott are remotely good people when they’re both lying to everyone about Gerard’s existence.

*finger guns, bc now i have to use the tag* I think this is the longest I’ve ever gotten before using it.

Another thing: Why does Gerard make the gross noises like he’s in pain, when we know it doesn’t hurt to get the pain taken away from him? It certainly didn’t hurt that lady in the ER.

I know this is a weird thing to notice, but I find it interesting that Paige is wearing actual makeup. Not just the ‘natural’ look, but eyeshadow that’s visibly dark. *shrug*

Is she Actually playing the cello? The notes Don’t look like they match up with her bowing and fingerings.

HA that music cut in is fucking Hilarious. Derek turns around like he’s in a teen rom-com, with that casual “I never stop smiling all the way bc I’m the coolest guy around” grin and the music just WHAM. That’s right, Derek Hale used to be a JOCK. He didn’t used to be ‘a lot like Scott.’ He was a lot like JACKSON.

So, this group of cronies Derek has. What is that about? He’s gotta have that posse just like Jackson did in S1? Unnamed people to cackle at his jokes.

Paige’s face, right there? That is the SHIT for me. That’s not hidden attraction, that’s genuinely “What the fuck is my life, why are you so lame?” and I am LIVING for it.

Derek peacocking is also hilarious. Peacocking so hard he (THE WEREWOLF) didn’t notice that she’d left the hall, is even more so.

I hate to tell you this Paige, but THAT is where I could tell you liked him. Giving in to his bullshit offer was the first step, that look on your face when he said, “Hold on” was Blatant “Holy shit, my crush wants to talk to me” but then all you idiots did was make eye contact. Paige, if you’re trying to get the ball, try looking away from those pretty eyes, okay?

Derek, you always go too far. You can see Paige lose interest when she realizes that he’s not actually into Her, he’s into showing off.

OOOF, i guess they weren’t such good friends after all, cus’ they left when Paige did.

I also feel the need to point out Derek is WEARING A CHECKERED SHIRT. *inarticulate screaming* Everyone who makes jokes about him thinking plaid is disgusting owes me five bucks bc he CLEARLY didn’t think checkers/plaid were that bad when he was in high school.

I’ll admit...the instant sorry is like...really good. If they’d had him come in and be More of a dick and then end up together, I’d be a lot more bugged. But his First real introduction to her is an apology.

THEN he goes back to being a dick. But at least this time it’s not about him, he wants to know about Her.

And I LOVE the turnaround! THIS is flirting. THIS is cute teasing. She plays his game Back at him, shows her own skill and forces him to get on her level. Then he weasels out of it, but in a Cute Way.

If there’s one thing that I’m routinely impressed by in TW it’s the scoring. They’re Really good with music to fit the moods and the vibes of the whole episode. For instance, all the transition music in this episode is Cello, bc it’s about Paige.

I hate agreeing with Gerard on Anything, but he makes a good point about the Dark Druid taking and killing someone else right alongside Deaton. Why would she take 4 people when she only needed three? She wouldn’t know that Deaton got a message out or that Scott would save Deaton. Plus the addition of the mountain ash circle is kind of weird, don’t you think?

Yah, I have no clue why your body is producing anything Either. You literally make no sense and you shouldn’t be alive. Period. Bringing you back was a lazy way to have someone who could be a sub-sub plot and hand out exposition and red herrings that are totally useless.

HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT GERARD? You weren’t There when Deucalion found out he could still see with his Alpha Eyes (Which makes no sense btw, he doesn’t have TWO sets of eyes???) and if you’d interacted with Deuc since then he’d have ripped you to shreds.

SERIOUSLY people, why the FUCK are we getting this information from Gerard when it makes WAY more sense for Deaton to tell them this? He was THERE for the whole thing!

I get that the point of the episode is supposed to be “Unreliable Narrators” (The whole show has an unreliable narrator.) but you had that covered with Peter’s story. You could’ve Instilled TRUST in Deaton by making a contrast and having Deaton TELL THEM THE TRUTH. Show the difference between reliable and unreliable. Gerard doesn’t need to be here!

Stiles, asking the real questions.

AND GETTING THE MOST BULLSHIT ANSWER IN THE UNIVERSE.

Could these writers GET any lazier? Put some fucking effort in and give us some information about Werewolves IN YOUR WEREWOLF TV SHOW.

What the fuck were Paige and Derek into that they knew where an abandoned distillery was when it wasn’t even in TOWN? And you’re telling me they left town every time they wanted to make out? Even worse, are you implying they had SEX in that distillery? And then trying to tell me that none of the fucking Alphas and their packs noticed the smell of Derek and his girlfriend all over the building?

...what...do people seriously not remember being teenagers? What the fuck Peter? In what fucking universe  is “one minute it’s ‘i hate you, don’t talk to me’ the next it’s frantic groping in any dark corner’ remotely accurate to real life?

Teenagers in the majority don’t DO that. I really fucking hate that all teenagers are made out to be like this. Like they’re “run by their hormones” and “everything is sex to you” STOP. Seriously, STOP. Saying shit like that completely negates the fact that Teenagers are Real fucking People. They’re not just buckets of hormones and sweat that need to be shaped into an adult. They’re fucking PEOPLE and reducing them to sex-crazed idiots is lazy and stupid.

Are you ALSO telling me that the hunters dragged RB’s DEad Body to an abandoned building, then strung the corpse up and cut it in half? AND that someone happened to go the abandoned building and found the body and called the cops, or that they MOVEd the two halves somewhere they would be found, Or that They were the ones to call and report the body?

Has teen wolf got even a Single brain cell?

ALSO, what the fuck is this timeline? Derek and Peter went missing for two days after RB was killed, but the packs don’t get together to discuss RB’s death until After Derek has run out of the building with Paige because he could smell blood from RB being hemisected. So, they waited at Least two days before talking to each other about RB’s death? And Derek apparently recovered Instantaneously from his two day nightmare and went right back to macking on his girlfriend and laughing freely the Day he was found? Or did they wait even longer? I’m so fucking confused!

Okay, you tell me that this place is their favorite makeout/groping spot, but they seriously just walk in the door and start kissing in the middle of the room? You guys didn’t bring some blankets and pillows here? You’re gonna stand there the whole time?

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU MAKING PETER A PERVERT? He was fucking watching his nephew make out with his girlfriend through the wall??? WHat is WRONG with you?

ALSO, Cora was alive and active in Derek’s life at that point. She wasn’t That young. She could easily point out that Peter being Derek’s best friend is total bullshit if it weren’t actually true. Which means Peter is telling the TRUTH here. Hell, she doesn’t call out his heartbeat for lies the entire time, and while they imply at the end of the episode that Really Good Liars can just force their heart to be steady while lying so they don’t get caught, that isn’t a thing for the entire rest of the show. Derek trusts KATE when she says she’s not lying. So the evidence actually points toward Peter telling the TRUTH in this entire episode.

THAT is accurate to teenagers. Using the word “like” and “liking” so many times in a conversation that it doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.

Paige...dude, I’m so torn. Like I’m glad you’re being honest with Derek about your worries, but also it’s a complete dick move to just Assume that he’s gonna bail? To say to his face that you Know he’s leaving you and you’re just waiting for it? Fucking rude.

Ennis...bro...how exactly did your Beta “Accidentally” kill a hunter? How would that happen?

AGAIN WITH THE TIMELINE. If the packs only CAME to beacon hills because of Ennis issue with the hunters, why was RB running through beacon hills when he was killed?

Also, side note: Where are all of these werewolves staying? Are they territorial so they like, all claimed different hotels to take over? Or do they not mind, and THAT’S why the Hale house is so big for such a small family? Because they had a ton of guest rooms for packs that visited to get that sweet, sweet Hale Wisdom?

I firmly believe that werewolves are clothing-optional people. Talia straight shifts into a naked human form in front of over a dozen other wolves.

Also, where the hell is the Hale pack here? Some random chick comes up and gives Talia a robe, but that person is standing with Deuc’s pack. So....what?

I’m so curious about the formation the wolves make when they hear Talia coming. Everybody backs away, except Deucalion. And they do this weird focus on his face as he watches her come in. And her eye contact is JUST with him.

OH GROSS. DID DEUC HAVE A THING FOR DEREK’S MOM????

I will admit that watching things with subtitles sometimes ruins the surprise. There’s that little pause before “I’m just a deputy” like it was supposed to be shocking to the audience, but the subtitle on Amazon Prime just Pops up right away and it kind of ruins the effect.

Here we go! The one piece of concrete information on “Packs” and “pack members” that we’re given in the whole fucking show. Word for Word. “Losing a member of your pack isn’t like losing family, it’s like you lose a limb.”

That is....severe. Now imagine that your entire family IS your pack. And losing almost every one of them. Is it any wonder that Cora, Peter, and Derek are so messed up? That they’re so dark and wounded looking?

I s2g sometimes Peter literally just sounds like he’s a self-insert for the writers. He explains shit that the writer’s are showing Really Badly as if to wave away the fact that the Ennis flashback is pretty much Completely unnecessary. “You just don’t understand my artistic genius, it’s never just a single moment, it’s a confluence of events. I have to show you all these random flashbacks because you need to understand why Derek is soaked in MANPAIN all the time. Which is totally relevant to the current plot bc....bc....bc ART (and also Tyler Hoechlin was busy so we could only get one shot of him for the entire episode)”

That is just the cutest shit oh my god. Derek listens to Paige’s music while he’s in class and doing homework. THAT is love, you realize? He doesn’t just deal with her dedication to her music, he loves it.

THat little wince when he says “Are you sure about that?” Paige knows he’s gonna screw with her.

THAT IS A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP. He gives her space! She likes studying during lunch so he Leaves her Alone. I LIKE IT.

What do you mean “Laura told you about the packs being here.” Derek KNOWS they’re here because he watched RB DIE IN THE WOODS. Seriously, I”M SO CONFUSED.

FUN FACT (that I might’ve already shared) Oak wood was liked by the Celts because it was really sturdy and hardy and bore food, but it wasn’t their favorite type of wood! Rowan was the favorite, and Irish pagan practitioners used to sleep in rowan trees so they could have prophetic dreams. After that, it was Hazelwood. :P

I...do not enjoy when they bring up the Celtic Druids. *Scuttles to get my textbook bc this is my nerd shit*

“We’re in a Nemeton” This is the correct wording, actually! A “Nemeton” isn’t a thing, it’s a “sacred meeting place” as Chris calls it. Go chris! Nemeton refers to the entire grove/area around the main tree.

I can’t speak to whether they chose a ‘Large, older tree in a grove” but it does make sense bc if we’re talking about Oaks they were a symbol of food and safety (acorns were a staple to Celtic diets) so choosing an older tree would not only look more impressive, but it would probably bear more acorns for the clan.

“It would represent the center of the world” *Puts on vine voice* THat is NOt Correct! The tree at the center of the Nemeton was called a “crann bethadh” or “Tree of Life” and it was essentially a Totem that marked the center of the tribe’s territory. It was not ‘the center of the world’ it was the center of THEIR world. Their land.

“There was a belief that cutting or harming the tree would cause serious problems for the surrounding villages” Not sure if ‘villages’ is the correct term for the era, but the rest of it sounds like a close mistranslation. See, in Ireland there were raids people would do against other clans where the SOLE PURPOSE was to destroy their crann bethadh, because it was demoralizing. It’s like graffiti-ing the front of a church. But technically, it WAS severely frowned upon to harm the tree in any way.

This is mostly because in most Celtic areas, Oak trees were considered symbols of the “Father of the Sky” or the “God of Thunder.” Of course you don’t wanna piss off Thunder man.

Also, you notice how I’m saying CELTS and not DRUIDS. It’s because DRUID isn’t a cultural label, it’s a SOCIAL CLASS. It’s like saying “The Educated”

Okay, back to the--OH WAIT. Before anyone gets any ideas, the blood on the crann bethadh isn’t human. Estonian Celts smeared animal blood on the tree roots as an assurance for rain and good harvests. This is the same concept as TONS of other religions, including Christianity. (Abraham was supposed to sacrifice his son, Isaac, to God, but God stopped him and had him sacrifice a Ram instead. So, Yes. Christians used to perform animal sacrifices.)

NOW back to the show.

THe fact that gerard doesn’t know this stuff implies that Chris is the nerd of the family.

I LIKE THIS. I hate that I like it bc it’s Gerard, but I LIKE IT. Gerard gets up from his wheelchair. He doesn’t need it All the Time.

I’ve never seen another show that bothered to have a wheelchair user who wasn’t wheelchair-bound, which is stupid because it’s Very Common for people using wheelchairs to not need them all the time.

though it does beg the question of why he’s sitting in a wheelchair when he’s in his own bedroom? Was he going somewhere? Or did he know he wouldn’t have enough chairs and didn’t want Allison or Scott to sit in his chair?

The story of Lycaon, who was considered a savage ruler of Arcadia and Zeus went to his house disguised as a human (this is v common in myth) to find out if he was batshit. Lycaon and his FIFTY SONS (he also had one daughter) wanted to know if the stranger was a human or a mortal, so they fed him human flesh in stew. Zeus flipped shit and blasted the room with thunderbolts, murdering all but one of Lycaon’s sons, and then turned Lycaon into a wolf.

So...this whole ‘myth of lycaon’ is totally fucked up when it didn’t need to be? Like, they didn’t NEED to change it to make it a messed up origin story of wolves. It already was.

There’s three major versions to choose from

Lycaon was a pius man who founded the city of Lycosura on Mount Lycaeus and used a child as a sacrifice to Zeus, thinking it would please him. Zeus flips shit and turns Lycaon into a wolf. FROM THEN ON; at every sacrifice made to zeus a man was transformed into a wolf and if he managed to restrain himself from eating human flesh for 8-9 years, he would be turned human again.

The same story as the first, except Lycaon Knew Zeus was in disguise and the child he fed him was Zeus’ own son, and it was revenge for seducing his only daughter Callisto.

If you want to make it match what you’ve already said about wolves in the show, they could’ve used the last one and it would’ve demonstrated how Ingrained the concept of vendetta/revenge is for wolves.

If you wanted to focus on the Turning Human part and working with Celtic Druids to learn to become werewolves, you could’ve used the second one.

there was no reason to add in the bullshit about Prometheus except as an excuse to make Deucalion look like he picked his name to be an asshole, which he fucking didn’t.

 I’m so sorry about all the classical shit (i’m really not) but I studied it in college and I can’t just let this bullshit stand.

I’ll give them a pass on the ‘the lesser known part’ bc it’s technically plausible for the wolves to have run north to the Celts and beg for help, And the Druids (those who’s education was specifically in magic, not all of them) were known for shapeshifting (though not usually into animals. They did that to Other people, not themselves)

I cannot believe this is so long, i’m so sorry.

But WHY tho, Cora? How is an Emissary supposed to keep you connected to humanity if No ONe KNows Who They Are?? How are they supposed to do their job??

Yeah, well now Deaton is a sour bitch who has a chip on his shoulder against the Hale pack so like...fuck his advice.

I will say though! Pre-fire Deaton doesn’t give me the heebies like post-fire Deaton. He’s much more clear about the advice he’s giving, and it’s actually helpful! He still has a dumb little anecdote/parable about the scorpion and the frog (which...in most circumstances I hate. It doesn’t even match what happens) but he gives Real Advice instead of vague asshole nonsense.

“I’m an Alpha, I never walk alone.” I have an inordinate affection for this line.

Paige is clearly some kinda bad bitch if she thought nothing of going to hang out in the school in the middle of the night with Derek.

Okay, but like...why would he attack Ennis like that if he was the one who asked him to bite Paige? And why is the moment played up “A fifteen-year-old boy against a giant” Derek was literally swatted to the side while Ennis walked out of the building. this wasn’t some big showdown.

If she’d already been bitten, why was Ennis still grabbing at her??

....seriously? Peter is literally right there? And no one noticed?

Again with the “Scott is a genius now” LIsten, bro, why the fuck would Scott know a sanskrit fable? If he Did know a story like that, it would be bc Deaton taught him. In which case he would know the FROG and the scorpion. Come on, guys.

OH MY GOD GERARD DOES IT TOO. GERARD, PETER, AND DEUC all have a CHRONIC case of verbal diarrhea when they’re trying to be intimidating.

I do NOT understand this warehouse scene. It’s a GAS gerard, if you stabbed yourself with some sort of...antidote or whatever it wouldn’t save you from the GAS you’re inhaling. At the very least you would be shouting like everyone else because it HURTS going in.

why did it take so long for Talia to come? It’s implied that Peter left to get her, so why did it take so long? Even PAST peter looks fucked up at seeing that Paige is dying, it’s not like he would wait.

I’ll be real, i get weepy so i’m skipping the actual death. Just know that it hurts me. Severely.

Y’all know how much I hate this ‘innocent life’ bullshit for blue eyes. It’s very True Alpha-y in that it’s impossible to pin down the specifics. What constitutes an ‘innocent life’? What constitutes taking it? With wolf claws? With a gun? What counts and what doesn’t count? Ugh.

Eyyy, so I’m exhausted and this is so long that my computer is fritzing. There are five minutes left and nothing happens in them at all. Just Scott pointing out the heartbeat thing and threatening to kill Gerard (so he’s still fine with murder at this point in time. Good to know). Stiles telling Cora that he doesn’t think Peter was telling the truth (which she would Know if he wasn’t) and that he’s gonna ask Derek about it (which we never got to see). And Deucalion murdering his own Beta (who, tbf, tried to kill him first. Which, again, what the fuck is up with Deaton’s office that wolves are able to rip each other apart in it, but it’s still ‘hard for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble.’ I’m just so confused

Final Thoughts: This episode actually had some interesting stuff in it, which is kind of sad considering there was no PLOT, just Exposition. I look forward to tweezing the bits out that I want and dumping the rest in the garbage where it belongs. Oh, and like I said, the music was on Point.

[theundercovermarvelfan]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 12

Whumtober Challenge  @whumptober2020

Day 12 I Think I’ve Broken Something Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust 

 “Does anyone have eyes on Barton?” 

“No, I can’t see him.”

“Barton, are you there, can you hear us?”

“Can someone get to him? Get to his last known location?” 

“I can get to him,” Bucky announced as he hoisted his sniper rifle up off the perch and then leveraged himself to his feet. “Watch your backs while I’m gone.” 

It was supposed to be an easy mission. But the phrase “easy mission” rarely lived up to expectations. They needed to take the leader of this weapons trafficking organization alive, because they needed information from him. The plan was for Steve, Tony and Thor to draw out the defenses, while Natasha and Clint snuck into the compound in order to capture the target. The first setback when Clint had found a way in, but Natasha had been spotted before she could follow. She was forced to retreat and leave Clint to go in alone. She had eventually come back around to the front of the compound to lend support to Steve and the others. 

Bucky was there for backup, the plan was for him to perch above the action with his sniper rifle and provide an aerial perspective on the situation. They were pretty sure they had cleared Hydra’s conditioning out of his brain, but until they could know for sure, Bucky preferred to stay away from the action. 

So much for that, Bucky thought dully as he ran through the woods. 

Clint had announced that he had the target and was exiting the compound… right before a yell -- of surprise or pain, it was hard to tell -- and then his comm. had cut out. Bucky figured he’d head to the back of the compound where Clint had initially entered and then go from there. 

As it turned out, it wasn’t difficult to find Clint. As soon as Bucky came around the back of the compound, he immediately saw the group of henchmen at the edge of the woods that surrounded the compound. Bucky dropped to a knee in order to brace his rifle, taking three hostiles out with three well placed shots. The group turned, forcing Bucky to run perpendicular to the group in order to dodge a flurry of bullets. 

As Bucky took cover behind some nearby trees, he was able to get a better look at what was going on. Clint was couched a few feet away from the group of hostiles, using another group of trees for his own cover. Something was wrong though. Bucky spotted Clint’s bow laying abandoned back near the compound. As Bucky’s eyes darted back toward where Clint was crouched, he was confused when he still saw arrows flying. If Clint didn’t have his bow then how…

Then he saw it. Clint would lean out from behind his cover in order to fling arrows like a knife-thrower, hitting his target with the same deadly accuracy that he did when he fired his bow. For a moment, Bucky could only blink and stare in amazement. But then he remembered himself, raising his rifle and picking off the hostiles one by one as Clint did the same. 

It was over in a matter of minutes. But as Bucky left his cover, he still kept his guard up, his rifle at the ready as he moved across the open space, keeping one eye on the building in case any other henchmen appeared. Thankfully, he was able to cross the space without incident as he ducked behind the trees where Clint was sheltering. 

“What happened?” Bucky asked before he really got a look at the scene he had come in on. His eyes widened. “Holy shit.” 

The first thing he saw was the startling amount of blood that soaked Clint’s left arm, which he held protectively across his chest, an arrow still held defensively in his right hand. His eyes were wide and he was panting for breath as he leaned his right shoulder up against a tree for support. 

Bucky was so distracted by Clint’s state, it took him a long minute to realize the second important thing… their target was tied up and unconscious just behind Clint. 

“Sorry, lost my comm. in the…” Clint waved the hand holding the arrow absently, “in the chaos.”

Bucky blinked. Did he really think the lost communication unit was the most concerning thing as he was sitting there dripping blood into the dirt underneath him? 

“Okay,” Bucky said slowly. “What happened to your arm?” 

Clint glanced down as if he had forgotten about the injury and winced when he glimpsed it. “Didn’t quite make it out clean. I think it’s broken.” 

Bucky sighed, quickly decided he wasn’t going to get anything more helpful from Clint right now. He put his hand up to his comm. “I found Barton and we’ve got the target.”

“Is Clint okay?” Natasha demanded. 

Bucky weighed his answer for a moment. “More or less,” he finally said. 

He heard Natasha’s sigh of exasperation over the line. 

“We’ve got the militia’s attention, so if any of us come to you guys they’ll likely follow,” Steve said, sounding a little short of breath. “Can you and Barton get to the RV point with the target?”

“Clint, think you can make it to the RV?” Bucky asked as he eyed him skeptically. 

“Yeah, just help me wrap this up,” Clint panted. 

Bucky wasn’t convinced, but it didn’t seem like they had any other choice. “We’ll meet you at the RV,” he said into his comm. 

Clint reached back and pulled out a roll of bandages that he kept in his quiver, holding it out to Bucky. Bucky glanced over his shoulder uneasily, not liking having to put his gun down and leave himself vulnerable. 

“Don’t worry… I’ve got your six,” Clint said with a smirk. 

Even with the assurance, Bucky felt uneasy as he set down his rifle and reached out and took the bandages. With his good hand free, Clint picked up the arrow again, his gaze shifted to look over Bucky’s shoulder. 

First aid wasn’t Bucky’s strong suit. This metal arm certainly wasn’t built for helping people. He carefully took Clint’s arm with his right hand -- the flesh and blood hand -- and didn’t miss the way that Clint grimaced.  

“Sorry,” Bucky murmured. 

“Not your fault,” Clint assured him with a pained smirk. 

As carefully as he could, Bucky wrapped the bandage around Clint’s left hand. He knew the bone would have to be reset later, for now they were just trying to stem the bleeding from the gashes. 

“Okay, now bandage the arm to my chest to keep it still,” Clint instructed. 

Clint hissed in pain as Bucky slowly bent his arm at the elbow so that his forearm could rest diagonally up across his chest. Then he used the rest of the roll of bandages to wrap around Clint’s entire torso in order to keep the arm in place. 

“You sure you can make it?” Bucky pressed. Clint seemed to have paled significantly in the last couple minutes. “I can get you back to the RV and then come back for this bastard.” He inclined his head toward the unconscious target. 

“No,” Clint said immediately. “We can’t leave him here, we don’t know that more of those assholes won’t come out this way and find him. If anything, you should take him and then come back for me.” 

“I’m not leaving you here like this,” Bucky snapped. 

Clint took an unsteady breath. “Looks like we’re all heading to the RV together then.” 

Bucky paused for another long moment, but he couldn’t think of any other options. “Yeah, okay. C’mon, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Bucky shifted over to their unconscious prisoner, reaching down and unceremoniously slinging the man over his shoulder. He stood up and then reached down with his right hand for Clint to grab and leverage himself up with. Clint groaned and swayed unsteady, and Bucky braced himself, ready to toss the man on his shoulder to the ground in order to catch Clint if he fell. But after a few uneasy breaths and then seemed to mentally steady himself.

“You good?” Bucky asked a little unsurely. 

Clint nodded… which would have been more believable if the motion hadn’t caused him to sway and Bucky had to reach out and steady him. Bucky shot him an incredulous look. 

“I’m fine,” Clint insisted. “C’mon, let’s go.”

They headed deeper into the woods, Clint falling in a step behind Bucky. Bucky mindfully kept his pace slower than what he would like, knowing that as much as he wanted to get as far away from this compound as quickly as he could, going too quickly was only going to wear Clint out more quickly.

“Stop it.”

Bucky sent Clint a surprised look at his sudden outburst a few minutes into their hike. “Stop what?” 

“Stop looking at me like I’m gonna… gonna drop dead at any moment,” Clint said, having to pause to gasp in a breath. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Then stop looking like you’re doing to drop dead at any moment.”

Clint opened his mouth to say something else, but then tripped and stumbled. Bucky flung out his hand in order to catch Clint, but unfortunately there wasn’t a way to do that without jarring Clint’s broken arm, causing Clint to cry out in pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Bucky said quickly. 

“Stop it, please stop apologizing,” Clint rasped even as he closed his eyes and braced himself against Bucky’s arm. “You’re helping me, not hurting me. Remember?”

Bucky snorted a laugh. “Guess I’m not used to being on this side of the moral line.”

“You’re doin’ fine, Buck,” Clint said with a smile. 

Bucky was taken back for a moment. “Thanks,” he said quietly. 

“Now, c’mon. Let’s get to the RV before… before I do drop dead.”

Thankfully, the rendezvous point wasn’t too much farther. They had left the Quinjet in a far clearing, Bruce hanging back in the jet as a last resort in case things went really south. It was a minor victory that it hadn’t gotten that bad. 

“Clint, what the hell did you do?” Bruce asked with exasperation as the group ascended the ramp up into the jet. 

“If it makes you feel any better, Doc…” Clint paused to take in a breath, swaying unsteadily as Bruce came and placed a hand on his back, carefully leading him over to the medical set up in the jet, “I don’t think I’m dying this time.” 

“Miracle of miracles,” Bruce laughed. He glanced over at Bucky as he secured their prisoner. “Thanks for getting him back here in one piece.”

For a moment, Bucky wasn’t sure how to react. He wasn’t used to this kind of gratitude, or even used to his presence making a situation better rather than worse. But finally, a small smile found its way to the former assassins lips. 

“You’re welcome.” 

[kateis-cakeis]

A Dramatic Retelling of L’Manberg’s History

Once upon a time there was a wonderful place called L’Manberg.

What would one day be nothing but a smoking crater waiting to be rebuilt into something else, something new… started out as a humble van on the outskirts of the Dream SMP’s occupied lands.

The Camarvan, the hto dog van, whatever you want to call it, stood proud on a sliver of land, amongst the grass and sand, with a crafting table sitting in front of it, and a land marked forever by a man of the name Wilbur.

What started out as a simple quest to confiscate brewing stands and any potions drugs in order to create rising demand to reap the rewards, became something so much more. Perhaps even unbelievable to all those involved at the time.

It occurred shortly after the Disc War, this. And when a man of the law, Sapnap, realised that Wilbur and his accomplice, a child, Tommy, were actually making drugs in the Camarvan, Sapnap cracked down on them. Killing Tommy on the spot.

Henceforth, a dream was formed. Of a place where men could go and emancipate the tyranny of their rulers. A place where they could make drugs in their Camarvan in peace. With tilled ground that was sacred, with walls being built to protect them, their values bold and strong. Even nature was to protected on their land.

Tubbo, Tommy’s best friend, joined their cause. Eret too, a man who would later take their great walls and build them even taller, even better. And finally, Fundy, Wilbur’s son, the person who was to be kept safe within their walls.

A place called L’Manberg, with a Camarvan in the middle, and Blackstone walls with yellow and black concrete protecting them.

But their peace did not last long, as in the very moment Wilbur wrote their Declaration of Independance, a book was delivered by Dream, the leader of the Dream SMP. The Declaration of War.

From that point onwards, L’Manberg would never be the same.

After hours of planning, of farming resources, the day of the war came. TNT cannons had been set around L’Manberg. Tommy was shot dead on the doorstep of the Camarvan. And the old Wilbur Soot was finally given armour to protect him.

You see, L’Manberg had another value. They did not fight wars with weapons or armour, they fought them with their words. Words that would never be valued by tyrants, and so the five of them had no choice but to fight.

Wilbur put Tommy in charge of their small army, and they went forth from tower to tower, arrows fired from both sides. Until… Dream’s people retreated, their arrows unable to go high enough to reach those who were firing upon them.

Eret… had a backup plan. To go home, and to go to his secret room, filled with weapons and armour, to at least give them all another chance. They went underground, sneaking along the floors to avoid detection.

All was well.

Until they made it to the room. All the chests were labelled, all were empty. A button lay in the middle of the room, and as Eret pressed it, the walls opened up and every single one of them was slain.

‘Down with the revolution, boys!’

Eret had betrayed.

With Tommy left angry, Wilbur left shocked, and Tubbo and Fundy unable to provide any supplies nor words, it was all coming to a close very quickly.

With one final stand at the entrance of L’Manberg, a single TNT block was placed. ‘Independence or death’. And in that moment, the TNT was lit, and with arrogance, Wilbur told his people to stand back, to avoid it hurting them. Little did they know that L’Manberg had been rigged, and now… the Camarvan and part of their land had been left in ruins.

Wilbur grabbed the Declaration of Independance, and Tommy led them down into a secret hole he had made in the event of an escape. Right to a room of obsidian, to keep them safe. ‘Any last words?’.

Tommy shouted at Dream, screamed, asking for a battle. A 1v1, half a heart, bow and arrows. And so they went to the path down by a river, and made their stand. Wilbur counted down. ‘Ten paces, fire!’. And Tommy died once again, felled by an arrow.

The deal? If Tommy lost, L’Manberg’s independence was over. If Dream lost, L’Manberg would have its independence.

Hopeless… broken… exhausted… The people of L’Manberg returned home, but Tommy did not go with them, not yet at least.

And then… he returned, with their independence. Confused and lost, his fellows asked what had happened. How could this be? But Tommy had given Dream something that he dearly wanted, from a past war won. His discs.

He gave it all up for everything he believed in.

A new era was born, with the people of L’Manberg free. Eret was now the King of the Dream SMP, having betrayed his fellows for the promise of the title, land, and power. Wilbur refused to call him King.

In time, more joined them, and they lived well… for a while. Their flag was built, and houses were constructed outside the walls. All… was fine, great even.

Until the elections.

Wilbur sort more power, he wanted to create a one party system, assigning Tommy as his Vice President. With no one else on the ballot, they would surely win, and gain more power in their lands. But through arrogance, they spoke of their plans to Quackity, and quickly, he disagreed, putting himself down on the ballot.

After all, Wilbur was a threat to their democracy. ‘A single party? Are you kidding me?’.

With Quackity on the ballot and GeorgeNotFound as his Vice President, the die was cast. Wilbur and Tommy as POG2020, Quackity and George as SWAG2020. Two parties. But that didn’t last for long.

Fundy kept flipping between sides, hurting his father greatly, thus beginning a long conflict between Wilbur and his son. Eventually, Fundy formed COCONUT2020, and another name was forced by the people onto the ballot.

But that was not the end, as Wilbur’s endorsement, Jschlatt, did what could not be predicted. He ran for president too. And after a long night of death, after Schlatt got his hands on an axe and a gun, Schlatt too was put on the ballot and it was sent out to the people.

A day and two hundred thousand votes later, the results were announced. Fundy had committed voter fraud, and thus only got a small percentage of the vote, 9%, rather than the thousands he had hacked. Schlatt got 16%, SWAG2020 got 30%, and POG2020 got 45%. By all means, Wilbur and Tommy had won, they had retained control of their country but… it was not so simple.

As, on the night of the election, Quackity made a deal with Schlatt to pool their votes, no matter what. With that combined, they had 46% of the vote. They… had won.

Schlatt proceeded to make a speech. His first decree, ‘as the president of L’Manberg, the emperor!’, was to revoke Wilbur’s and Tommy’s citizenship. They were exiled from the very country they had created with their blood, sweat, and tears.

They ran through the forest, even further into lands unexplored and untamed by the Dream SMP. They dug into the land, blocking up the door with dirt. And… they mined into the rock, finding not one but two ravines! This… would be their new home.

Pogtopia.

Soon, Technoblade joined, a warring man, and a retired potato farmer. He was happy to join Pogtopia, because it was them against the world, against a tyrannical government! ‘Did someone say rebellion?’.

Tubbo, Secretary of State, was kept by Schlatt, but he was no loyal subject. He was a spy for Pogtopia. Fundy, who tore down the walls in front of his father, ‘the walls I built to keep him safe’, who burnt down the flag, ‘Fundy, you bastard!’, was not on Schlatt’s side either, but was instead keeping a detailed diary of his condition to one day show to his fellows, to show to his father in Pogtopia.

A festival… The Red Festival, if you will. A celebration of democracy. Only a couple of weeks after the election.

Tubbo built all the decorations. He wrote a speech, there were plans. So… so many plans.

Wilbur… only a week before, when the festival was announced… had realised something. He was the villain. He was trying to fight for something back that wasn’t his, not anymore, he had lost the election. His nation was far behind him.

‘Dream, I want to be your vessel’. There was one thing he could do. Killing Schlatt wouldn’t solve anything, he would just be replaced by Quackity, which could have been worse, and George was in line after that. Nothing would change. And if they took it back by force, they lost too. There was no way of winning–

Except… to blow it all up. Destroying it was a win in Wilbur’s eyes, because ‘I say, if we can’t have Manberg, no one! No one can have Manberg’.

The plan was set. Dream gave Wilbur the TNT and soon, the festival arrived. While Wilbur and Tommy hadn’t been invited, Techno was, and he was prepared with a crossbow and fireworks.

The festival was going well, until Tubbo’s speech. ‘Tubbo, I know what you’ve been up to’. The jig was up, Schlatt knew Tubbo was a spy for Pogtopia. Everything made sense! The tunnels that had been dug, him walking off during great events!

Techno was brought up to the stage, asked to take Tubbo out. Cracking due to mild peer pressure and the threat of twenty people slaying him if he disobeyed… ‘Tubbo, I’m sorry’. And with two firework rocket blasts, Tubbo, Quackity, and Schlatt lay dead.

Wilbur ran off to his room, to his button, to his TNT. Tommy threw a pearl, tried to attack Techno, failed, and stood where Tubbo had died, yelling his name. Techno, crazed with his power, turned on the audience and fired upon them, killing many. Voices in his head screaming, ‘Blood for the Blood God!’.

Unable to find the button, Wilbur ran home. L’Manberg got to live another day. Everyone returned to Pogtopia, a shaken Tubbo, an angered Tommy, a peer pressured Techno, and a blindsided Wilbur. Niki came to join them too, shaken up by the festival and by the revelation of TNT under Manberg.

Crazed by the idea to make Tommy and Techno fight – for his own entertainment – Wilbur created a pit. ‘It stays in the pit’. Techno won the fist fight against Tommy, repeating that their differences, that the anger stayed in the pit, not to be spoken about outside it.

‘The only universal language is violence’.

The TNT was an ever living threat, brought up by Wilbur at any given opportunity. He was going to blow it up. He was! The day after the festival, he took Quackity and Tommy to his room, L’Manberg’s anthem scribbled on the walls, alongside a button that was right in the middle.

He did not set it off that day. Quackity and Tommy pleaded, and it was agreed that Plan A would come first.

A meeting would be set up with Schlatt and they would end it there. If it went wrong, Plan B, Plan Bomb, would come into effect.

And soon, the meeting occurred. Quackity had written a building permit to trick Schlatt into signing Manberg over to him. It was all going so well, until Schlatt revealed that he knew the truth. That Manberg had been rigged with TNT. He claimed to have taken it, claimed to have put it under Pogtopia, but that was neither here nor there, as Wilbur went to the room while Tommy and Quackity were trying to trap Schlatt in the woods.

Suddenly scared to where exactly Wilbur was, they shouted and screamed, yelling out, trying to find where Wilbur had gone.

And Wilbur… pressed the button. Yet no hiss followed, the TNT was indeed gone. Panicked, he told Tommy and Quackity not to touch any buttons in Pogtopia, which had been filled with the things as a prank by Fundy.

When Wilbur returned home, he realised someone running through their tunnels, ‘It could be my traitor son!’. Fundy finally revealed what he had been doing this whole time, showing Wilbur his diary. Finally, they had their people back from Schlatt.

But the worst was yet to come. Dream joined, telling them that Schlatt had given him something, that he would be on his side henceforth, and finally, that there was a traitor within their ranks. Everyone pleaded their innocence, and trust was broken, but not enough to stop the incoming war.

The 16th of November. A month to the day after the festival.

For the next 10 days, people farmed on both sides. Netherite was acquired, enchantments were gotten, weapons were crafted, and Wilbur mined a double chest worth of sand.

The TNT plot was still in effect, except now, he needed more. Dream would get him the gunpowder, the TNT was assured.

Then… the day came.

It was just like the first war, with double the people. Except there was one notable difference… this was no freedom fighting revolution, this was a coup. Schlatt was a democratically elected leader, not individuals fighting for their independence.

Pogtopia and its allies went running in, firing upon Schlatt and his people. Mainly his people, as Schlatt went missing. They fought and fought, until Dream spoke up, asking to talk to Wilbur. Echoes to the past once again. Wilbur shouted out to his people, asking them to put their weapons down. Yet, he claimed he had no power over them. Still, they did so, and Dream led them into the ruins of the Camarvan (never rebuilt to its former glory after it had been blown up).

Schlatt was in the centre… dying. But not without arguing with Quackity and Fundy before his… time. At one point, it seemed as if Wilbur was going to stab him, or that Tommy was going to shoot him dead, but no… he simply died of a presumed heart attack or a stroke.

With their enemy gone, and Dream surrendering because Schlatt was an idiot, the war was won! The rebellion won! It had worked! Even though the odds were against them at first, they managed to come out on top.

Wilbur called on Tommy to be President, but instead, as he gave a speech, he rejected it. He was not done, not until he had his discs. So he called on Wilbur, and while he mentioned that the new obsidian flag had to be brought down, he declared that Techno had taught him something, that government was not the way to go, so Wilbur… called on Tubbo.

Tubbo would be the new President of L’Manberg. He gave a great speech, everything was going so well. They had won, it was over, it was finally over.

But Wilbur pulled away, claiming that he’d be right back. He climbed out of L’Manberg’s borders and went over the hill, into his room. The button room, with the anthem on the walls. ‘That there was a special place. There was’.

He was finally there. It was his moment… to finally press the button.

Then Philza walked into the room. ‘What are you doing?’. But while Phil, Wilbur’s dad, had a conversation with him, Phil’s mere presence alerted Techno to his side of the plan. He was the traitor, along with Wilbur. He killed Tubbo with his fireworks once again, and went off to kill Tommy too, alongside Dream.

Meanwhile, in the button room, Phil pleaded with Wilbur. But… his son was too far gone. It was time, he had been here too many times before, he had to do it now. He talked about what Eret had once said, a long time ago… ‘It was never meant to be’. And the button was finally pressed.

The hiss came.

Then the explosions followed.

Phil stared out in horror at the crater before them, the button room now an open window into the chaos caused by the TNT. Crystals were placed by Dream to cause more damage, and Techno went off to complete his part of the plan, trying his best to get his speech out with no interruption.

Wilbur triumphant, threw his sword over to Phil, asking him, begging him to kill him. But this was no sad set of words, it was just a man who wanted to be killed because the people wanted him to die. So the crowd watched. ‘You’re my son!’. Phil turned and killed him, and Wilbur began his long walk back to L’Manberg, warning Phil of the withers that were about to be spawned.  

Techno finished his speech, and two withers were spawned, destroying much more of the land. More TNT was set off, and L’Manberg was left in even more of a state.

‘I’ve won! We’ve won! Me and Technoblade’.

Wilbur left. The withers were killed. Tubbo proclaimed he would rebuild. And new members joined the lands of the Dream SMP.

L’Manberg wasn’t ended by the TNT, but the TNT did end another era of its life.

Who knows if it will retain that name. Who knows if it will ever truly be rebuilt into anything at all.

But what is known is that Schlatt’s Manberg died. Wilbur’s L’Manberg is long gone. And Tubbo’s L’Manberg is just the beginning.

It’s just the beginning.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

He’s Nothing Like His Brother

Characters: Loki Laufeyson x bodyguard!Reader, minor characters

Word Count: 2,906

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, blow job, kind of fluff?

Summary: You’re Loki’s bodyguard, tasked to protect the youngest Prince of Asgard. You go wheverver he goes, and you make sure he’s safe at all costs, ven if you have to open fire in the middle of a crowd to do it. Loki is arrogant, manipulative, smug-face, and expects women to fall to their knees in front of him. One day, you’re alone with him inside a limo, and the tension is thick. There’s only one way to fix that, and that means one of you are going to be on your knees...

Squares Filled: royaly for my second card for @avengersbingo​ // enemies to lovers for my first card for avengersbingo // it takes one to know one for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo // testicle fondling for @mcukinkbingo

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! This is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

The limo ride is silent since there is nothing to speak about. As soon as the royal princes were old enough to go to public events, the King of Asgard required each of them to have at least one bodyguard with them at all times whenever they left the castle. Your family comes from a long line of assassins and bodyguards, so they picked you to be with one of the princes. You are close together in age, so the King thought you would better connect with him.

Oh how he was so wrong.

Loki is one of the most selfish and arrogant people you have ever met—and you’ve met all of Asgard. He throws a tantrum whenever he doesn’t get his way, he plays all kinds of sick jokes on you, he always manages to be late for every single event you drag him to, and he can’t ever seem to keep it in his pants. At least once a night, you have to pull him away from some Asgardian woman that he deems will be his toy for the night.

He doesn’t want to stay in bed at night, you see him wandering the castle at random times, and you’re always the one to take down his pranks against all the staff and his family. He’s just so mischievous and greedy that you can’t fathom why anyone would like him as much as he says they do.

Sometimes you think you’d be better off if you’d gotten stuck with Thor. He’s not much better, but at least he’s polite about it. There are a ton of people in your family, yet, they picked you for the job. It’s not all bad, as much as it pains you to admit. There are times where Loki is thoughtful and careful around you, but that’s only when you find him sitting in the library alone. He’s most himself when he’s reading, and you’re thankful for those rare times.

This is not one of those times.

Out of all the times you’ve escorted Loki around Asgard, this is one of the most docile times. There have been times where you put your life in front of his even though the bastard doesn’t deserve it. Though, if anything were to happen to him while on your watch, the King and Queen would have your head. There have been a few times where you needed to use lethal weapons, and you remember them quite clearly.

The first time is when you and Loki were first seen out in public together. You’re not sure who was firing at you or why they were doing it, but if you had to guess, it’ll be because of an angry ex-lover. Loki seems to have a lot more of those than actually fucking enemies.

“I’ll have you back in the castle in no time. You don’t trust me?” you ask with a scoff.

“No.”

“As your fucking bodyguard, that hurts. The Queen requested that we get you some new suits, and I can’t do that if you’re not with me. We need to have you fitted. Now shut the fuck up and pretend like you don’t want to kill yourself.”

“You know, as my bodyguard, you shouldn’t talk to me that way. I can have you arrested for it.”

“Go right ahead. We’ll see who wants to put up with your arrogant ass when I leave,” you scoff.

You know Loki won’t do shit about you for two reasons: One, he likes the challenge of someone talking back to him and calling him out on his shit. It’s a change from everyone else fawning over him or walking on eggshells around him. Two, he realizes no one else will want to be with him. You’ve been with him for so long that it’ll just be a pain in his ass to get to know someone else. He doesn’t realize it, but you know him better than anyone else on fucking Asgard.

You two walk in comfortable silence. He’s almost likable when he’s not running his mouth. Every single person that you two pass just stares at you as they bow for the prince. You don’t pay any attention to them as they don’t mean anything to you. You see the place where you’re meant to do the dress fitting when you hear it.

You hear it before you see it.

The whoosh of the arrow as it races toward Loki. He’s not paying any attention to his immediate surroundings for he is absorbing all the attention from every female that he passes. Unfortunately for them, you’re on high alert. All those training sessions you’ve had with your family taught you to be stealth, have threat reflexes, and to never trust anyone. The arrow whizzes through the air, and you wait for the exact moment before reaching for it.

Loki doesn’t even see the arrow since he’s so busy talking to some female Asgardians, but you’re ready for it. You grab the arrow right before it hits Loki, and the woman screams when she sees this. Loki turns his head to you just as you take out the gun holstered to your side. Knowing the general direction where the arrow came from, and calculating the speed and angle it came at him, you’re able to determine exactly where the assassin is. With precise aim, you pull the trigger twice, alerting everyone what is going on. The second bullet hits the man, and he falls from wherever he’s hiding.

“Come on, Prince,” you sneer. “We got a fitting to go to.”

The second time when you had to kill someone in order to protect the arrogant prince is when the King and Queen were hosting their annual ball at the castle. It’s where one night of the year, people from all backgrounds are able to attend a ball and celebrate a successful year in the kingdom. Well, one particular year, that wasn't a good thing.

Instead of joining the party down below, you’re high above in one of the secret rooms closed off to the public. You’re watching everyone below having fun, especially Loki. The way he sweeps every woman off their feet is something that makes you want to barf. He thinks that just because he winks at them, tells them how pretty and special they are, and gives them even a lick of attention, they will fall to their knees in front of him. It bugs you how much he manipulates to get what he wants. Sometimes, you think he would do so much better if he were like his brother.

Loki dances with his fourth woman of the night, and you canvas the area for potential threats. There are a few suspicious people lingering around, but they aren’t suspicious enough to warrant immediate action. You’re about to give yourself a water break when you see it. An older man walks in wearing a black suit and tie. He opens his jacket to reveal a gun. His eyes are set on Loki, and you take immediate action.

You’re ready to aim and fire, and you don’t hesitate to take the shot. The man goes down, and panic breaks out. Screams are heard and people run, but you have one clear goal in mind.

“Saunders! Marcus! Head to the east wall! We’ve got a break in,” you say into your ear piece.

You rush down to the party in search of Loki. Thor has his own security as well as the King and Queen, so you have only the youngest prince to worry about.

“Loki! Let’s go!” you yell and grab his hand.

Being Loki’s personal bodyguard, and you’re not going to lie here, is eventful. While it is always chaotic, there is never a dull moment. Sometimes you want to strangle him in his sleep, but that’s a personal issue. One of your girlfriends thinks that you have a crush on him, that you're jealous of the girls he talks to. You’ve called her out on her bullshit before because you absolutely do not have a crush on him.

Would you have a crush on him if you dreaded going anywhere with him? Do you have a crush on the way his clothes fit to form his body? Do you have a crush on how blue his eyes are? Yes! No! Shut the fuck up and do your job. If Loki knew the kind of things that went on inside your mind whenever you looked at him, he would be on another level.

“What are you thinking?” Loki asks with his hands clasped in front of him.

“Excuse me?” you ask.

“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes. Now I could just look inside your mind, but I feel that would be a violation of privacy.”

“Thanks for your thoughtfulness,” you say sarcastically.

Loki remains silent which is kind of out of character for him. He just sits there and closes his eyes as if he’s thinking or resting. Loki never does this because he loves bugging you too much. You frown and watch him for a few seconds before speaking.

“Loki what the hell are you doing?”

“My oh my, Y/N. Such naughty thoughts for someone you claim to hate,” he smirks devilishly.

“Stay out of my fucking mind, Loki,” you glare.

“How can I when I now know you’ve been wanting to s—”

“Okay, Loki, stop it.”

“Stop what? You’re the one that’s been denying what you truly want. All I’m saying is… I’m right here.”

“Excuse me?” you ask with your eyebrows raised.

“Why deny what’s right in front of you? We’re an hour away from where we need to be. That’s all I’m saying,” he shrugs.

You’re not sure how it happened, just that you know you were seated in your own seat for a minute and now you’re on his lap. Your fingers thread through his silky hair, and your lips mash against his. His hands grip your waist so tightly that you know there will be bruises even underneath your clothes. Loki is the kind of man to take charge even if you are on top.

His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, but he doesn’t wait for you to open up. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and you moan in appreciation. He’s from an icy planet, but his kisses are hot. Being the God of Lies, he has a silver tongue, and you can taste the lies right off it.

There is no time to waste, and it’s not like you’re here for anything else. You move your hips against his own, and you can feel his erection poke into your clothes center. He may not be as big as Thor (you accidentally saw his cock, and that’s a story for another day), but he is definitely big.

“Let me please you,” you whisper against his lips.

“I’m all yours darling,” he drawls.

You smirk and pull your lips from his only to attach them to his jaw. He’s got ice cold skin, but the heat coming from your mouth is enough to warm his body. You leave a trail of small kisses down his neck until you try to find the one spot that will melt his insides.

“Good luck trying to find it. Many have tried, all have failed,” he chuckles.

That only encourages you to keep searching. Your tongue licks wet stripes across his skin, marking your path for later. You get to the bottom of his neck where it meets his shoulder, and you unintentionally bite down on his skin. He tenses, surprised and shocked you actually found it, but he hopes that if he doesn’t say anything, then you won’t know you found it. However, you know exactly what his body is telling you, so there is no point beating around the bush. You suck the skin into your mouth and nibble on it, sure to break the blood vessels beneath it.

He doesn’t make a sound, but his cock grows beneath you, so you know he enjoys it. Once you’re sure you left a mark, you pull away and kiss up to his ear. You give one lick on the shell before whispering to him.

“I found it,” you smirk.

All you get in response is a grunt, and that’s your cue to start heading south.

“You think you’re so slick, huh? Let’s see how you do wrapped around my cock,” he suggests.

“I can’t think of anything better,” you retort.

You slide off his lap and onto the floor of the limo. Your hands are already at his belt buckle, but he’s already using his magic on himself. In a soft gold shimmer, he is stark naked for you. Damn, people don’t realize just how lean and toned he actually is. Whenever he’s standing next to his mountain of a brother, it’s hard to tell just how strong Loki is. He’s pale as fuck, but that makes him more attractive.

His cock stands at attention for you, and despite his milky skin, the tip is raging red as a dollop of his come is dripping down the side. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you don’t waste any more time. You wrap your fingers around the base and lean down to press a kiss on his tip. His hand immediately goes to your hair and fists it. He gently but firmly lowers your head down, but you don’t deny his need. Your mouth envelopes his cock, and you press your tongue to the underside as you take him fully. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag lightly.

He shifts down just a little so his feet are firmly planted on either side of you. He takes this opportunity to thrust into your mouth, and you slack your jaw wider so he can move freely.

“Fuck, you look absolutely stunning,” he moans.

All you can do is moan in response, and it sends vibrations through his whole body. His thrusts get deeper but less often, which can only mean he’s either looking for more stimulation, or he just needs a tighter fit.

To stimulate him further, and to help him reach his end, you reach down and cup his balls. He jerks as soon as your hand makes contact, but you don’t back away. Instead, you grip him more firmly and begin to fondle them. His thrusts become sloppy, and you know he’s nearing his end. You give one hard squeeze, and he comes undone.

He throws his head back and lets out a loud grunt as his load shoots into you. It hits the back of your throat, and you try your best to swallow it down. His grip on your hair loosens until he is no longer touching you. You swallow every last drop before popping off him.

“Mmm, I didn’t know you’d taste that good,” you grin.

“I bet you taste better,” he smirks and pulls you up.

“I’d rather feel you stretch me out,” you whisper seductively. “Think you can handle another round?”

“Darling, you have no idea what I can handle,” he smirks, and uses his magic to shimmer away your clothes.

You’re already wet and ready for him, so you when he slides inside you, it’s very smooth. You’ve never been with a man like him before. He fits perfectly, and you have a hard time believing that you’ve never done this before.

He holds you close to his body, and with his feet planted firmly on the ground, he starts thrusting up into you at a high speed. You toss your head back and let out a loud moan, but he doesn’t seem to care. His pace is brutal, but you’re more focused on the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Fuck! Loki!” you cry.

He doesn’t want all of Asgard knowing what he’s doing to you, so he grips the sides of your face to bring you into a kiss. His lips are bruising, but you like the thought of him marking you up however he wants to.

“Are you going to come for me… pet?” he asks.

The use of the pet name is what brings you over the edge. You don’t even give him any warning before you release all over him, and he holds you to his body tightly. There isn’t any time to do another round, so he forces himself to calm down since he’s got a lot more stamina than you even realize.

With one deep thrust, he moans as he shoots his load into you. He’s never been with a woman that makes him feel the way he does. He really needs to keep you. Maybe you being his bodyguard isn’t such a bad thing.

Once you two are spent, you get off him with shaky legs. Loki uses his magic to replace your clothes as well as fix both of your hairs.

“Why haven’t we don’t that before?” you chuckle breathlessly.

“Because you’re stupid,” he smirks.

“Takes one to know one,” you retort. “From now on, I’m the only woman you use. Got it?”

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for, my dear.”

“I think I do. I get you, don’t I?”

“You do.”

“Then that’s enough for me,” you chuckle. “Just don’t let anyone compare you to your brother because you are not your brother.”

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[sternbagel]

I’ve been a little stuck on some of my other projects so I decided to flesh out another thing about my RDR OC that’s been sitting in my head for some time.

Notes: set in October 1898

TW: canon-typical violence, period-typical racism, probably incorrect translations Spanish phrases, very little editing

Companion to this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winter is on its way. She feels it, icy tendrils creeping into the October air as it whips around her, through the brush and the trees. It’s worse here, up in the westernmost part of the Grizzlies, where the many rocky cliffs provide little to no buffer against the high winds. No snow has fallen yet, too early in the season. But even when it does, it’ll continue to weigh heavy on bare branches long after the lowlands have begun to bloom again. 

She’ll return to lower altitude soon, ride out the worst of the winter somewhere warmer, like New Austin, maybe. Visit some friends, maybe. Take a break, definitely. But first, she has to finish the business that brought her up here in the first place. 

“There you are.”

Behind her, a horse snorts, impatient. She knows what’s coming, been through this enough times. The horse doesn’t enjoy the extra weight placed on her rump during the ride back to the sheriff’s, but she does appreciate the extra sugar cubes and apples she gets afterwards. And the nice, fresh stable she gets bedded down in that night while her rider gets a room at the closest hotel. It’s only ever one night before they’re back in the wilderness. Sometimes staying just outside town, but for that one night, they live in as much luxury as the area allows.

“Easy, Moonbay,” she whispers, standing up from the frozen tracks in the dirt. “Let’s go get him.”

She mounts the dapple black Thoroughbred and combs her fingers soothingly through her white mane. Her legs squeeze Moonbay’s sides three times, urging her into an easy canter. The mare’s got long strides, meaning it isn’t long before they come up on the rider’s target: a nasty piece of work she’s been tracking for three days. He’s only worth fifty dollars, one of the cheaper bounties she’s been after in the last seven years, but once she read that he killed a mother and two children while robbing their small homestead, she’d set off immediately. 

He’s riding with three other men, but she’s not worried. She’s faced far worse odds before and come out with only a few new scars. She just hopes she doesn’t kill the bastard by accident. Giving them shit while listening to them squirm and curse her out on the long ride back is the best part.

She pulls Moonbay to a stop and pats her neck before dismounting, not bothering with hitching her before crouching and continuing forward. Moonbay’s a brave horse, and even when the gunfight startles her, she doesn’t wander too far off, always returning shortly after the firing stops, with or without being whistled for. 

The men have stopped at the roadside, one of them standing amongst the trees to take a piss. She’ll deal with that one first. Removing the bow from its place over her shoulder a few moments later when she’s creeped close enough, she nocks the arrow and makes her slow, silent approach. He’s whistling some tune, completely oblivious to her presence.

One, two, three deep breaths, she peeks around the side of the tree acting as her cover, and draws back the string. A fourth breath leaves her lungs, and the arrow flies. The string flicks against the few strands of her black hair that have come loose from the braid, and she blows them out of her face at the same time the body thunks against the leaf-covered ground.

“Jim? You smack your head again? Dumb bastard.”

They’ll discover her soon enough, so she throws the bow back over her shoulder and reaches for her two LeMat revolvers. Her thumbs run over the AT engraved in the grips of both of them as she waits, still concealed by the trunk.

“Jim? The hell—” He stops once he sees the body, arrow embedded in the temple. “What the hell—Carl, Clyde, we got a problem!”

The echo of her revolver immediately follows the man’s exclamation. He, too, falls to the ground to never get back up. She stands quickly and rushes towards the shouts from the other two men at the road. Emerging from the treeline, she spots both of them. Both of their guns are raised, but they’re facing the wrong direction. Clyde, the actual bounty, is atop his horse. If he doesn’t fire at her after she kills his lackey, he’ll surely take off. So she aims one gun at the horse’s feet—not to hit it, just to spook it into hopefully bucking Clyde off—and the other at the lackey’s head. She pulls each trigger at the same time. The lackey’s death is instant, but the horse doesn’t spook quite as much as she thought it would. The other three horses, however, do, bolting off in different directions while voicing their sudden fear.

She’s quick with her guns, but not quick enough. Once her shots are fired, Clyde turns in his saddle and fires off a shot of his own. She can’t raise her guns to threaten him before a bullet whizzes into and then out of her left arm. The gun in her hand clatters to the ground.

Retaliation is swift on her end, as she lets out a swear of “¡Chingado!” while firing off a shot at his shoulder. Anger and pain tear through her, along with the thought, If I kill him, I kill him. She’ll have to visit a doctor now, so a quiet ride back might not be so disappointing at all.

It doesn’t kill him, but it does knock him back off his horse, who then takes off with a scream. 

Oh, ahora quieres cooperar.

The gun she’s still holding is holstered before being replaced with the lasso attached to her hip as she strides purposefully to where he’s landed in the dirt. Her left arm screams and throbs with the pain, and she faintly registers the blood rolling down and off of her hand, but she has work to do. The man rolls around, pulling his knees up under him to attempt to stand up, looking frantically for his own dropped gun. His heels are just digging into the ground and he’s almost stood back up when her lasso tightens around his torso. A hard yank, and he’s stumbling towards her before landing on his back again.

“Bitch!” he spits. 

She keeps the rope taut as she approaches. “Heard that one before.”

“Greaser cunt! Fuck you!”

Baring her teeth and sucking in a furious breath, she yanks the rope again. He grunts painfully and she halts her approach, his head in easy kicking distance. “Better watch your mouth, asshole, or you’ll be headin’ back to the sheriff’s as a corpse.”

A devious grin that she does not like spreads across his face then. “Only place I’m headin’ is out of here, after I finish with your corpse, that is.”

The rope instantly becomes slack and in a swift movement—swifter than she figured he’d be able to move after being shot in the shoulder and thrown off a horse—he stands up, charging at her with a knife drawn in his right hand. He’s smart enough to come at her left side, but she’s also smart enough to throw her right side forward. There’s not enough strength in her left arm to be able to fend off the knife, so she reaches for it with her right arm instead. Her left fist collides with his stomach, though it’s not much help, only forcing out a quiet grunt and leaving a bloody fist print on his jacket. Then she grabs his left wrist with her own; two weakened arms wrestling with each other. He sneers as they struggle, and it only makes her madder. 

Anger in most situations actually helps her, gives her some clarity and more power behind her movements. In this one, however, it proves to be a detriment. Rather than use the rest of her body to throw him into the ground and wrench the knife away before grabbing her own, or her gun, she reaches for her knife with her bloody hand. It’s enough of an opening for Clyde to yank his arm back, away from their bodies. Her fist is still clenched around his wrist, so she’s pulled off balance. Wrapping his weakened left arm tightly around her neck and pulling his back flush against his chest is a task, as she’s not going down without a fight, and she’s stronger than she looks. She hasn’t let go of the wrist holding the knife, but while having the tables turned on her, he was able to position the knife less than a foot from her head. The rising pressure around her throat forces her to choose between the immediate danger of the knife or trying to loosen his arm with hers, still throbbing and leaking blood.

Her knife is sheathed on her right side, and the gun that belongs in her left holster is laying uselessly on the ground, far out of reach.

Fuck.

He opens his mouth to say something, no doubt some terrible snark or string of curses at her, but at the same time, they notice the wagon caravan come into view. 

Thankfully, he seems just as surprised as her, so it’s not his backup. Plus, he swears, “Shit,” under his breath and in her ear as he continues to struggle with freeing his hand from her grip. 

There are two riders in front of the first wagon, and neither of them look happy about the scene they’ve stumbled upon. The white man is in a brown leather coat barely hiding his burly frame with a worn black leather hat sitting atop his head, a few strands of dirty blonde hair peeking out from underneath. His dark bay Andalusian stamps its feet underneath him, smelling the blood, but doesn’t move otherwise as he dismounts swiftly, carefully. The other man to his left also dismounts his gray Appaloosa, who only snorts and throws her head, not moving either. He’s brawny as well, though his shoulders are broader, and he’s wearing a thick hooded black sweatshirt, no hat. She thinks he might be mixed race, black and Indian, maybe, long raven hair tied into a loose ponytail similar to how some of the Navajo men she’d met years ago wore theirs, but skin much darker than them. Closer to Josephine’s, she thinks a split second later, along with I need to write her when I get out of this.

Both men approach slowly as Clyde flashes the knife in his hand. He struggles to push the knife closer to her face, but she keeps it still, muscles whining with the strain.

“Easy, partner,” the one in the brown coat says calmly, accent something close to a southwestern if she had to guess, holding his hands out and away from his guns. There’s an underlying threat in his tone. “Let her go, and we’ll let you go.”

There’s very little in this world that she hates more than being a damsel in distress and being used as a bargaining chip or hostage. If he lets her go before she frees herself, there’s no way in hell she’s not shooting the bastard right in the face. 

She bares her teeth again and spares a glance at the other man. He’s already watching her like a hawk with deep, perceptive brown eyes, and shakes his head subtly as if he knows what she’s about to do. 

“And why should I trust you bastards?” Clyde asks with a sneer.

Slowly, so as to not alert Clyde, she shifts her weight onto her left leg. Then, once satisfied that she’s anchored enough, she makes her move. Throwing her right foot back quickly, she tucks it behind his ankle and kicks forward, throwing him off balance this time. Her left hand joins her right and she pulls his arm downward, her shoulder digging into his chest as she throws him to the ground, hard. The dirt beneath her boots shudders with the impact and she hears the breath leave his lungs. In a swift move, one she’s practiced many times for moments such as these, she reaches for her right holstered gun with her left, pulling the hammer back before it’s left the holster, then shoots him in the face, point blank, before he’s able to even begin trying to scramble to his feet.

A beat passes while she pants and slowly holsters her gun. “Fucking bastard,” she says between pants.

“Huh,” Brown Coat breathes. He grabs his gun belt, suddenly the picture of a relaxed cowboy. “Nice move.”

She looks at him, nodding silently, before turning to grab her discarded gun and lasso. She whistles loudly for Moonbay.

“Ma’am,” the other man says, taking a cautious step forward. Only when she looks at him, brows raised, does he continue, voice deep and baritone. Soothing, in a way. “Can we ask what that was about?”

At first she doesn’t answer, just regards them warily. They are dangerous, that much is apparent in the way they carry themselves, the way they dress, and the weapons they carry. But they don’t seem to present her much danger at the moment. The threat in Brown Coat’s voice was gone when he spoke. Nothing but worry, confusion, and intrigue show on either of their faces. So she relaxes. A little. “His head’s worth fifty bucks.”

Black Sweater chuckles lightly and Brown Coat opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by two other voices as they come up beside the men. The first belongs to a much older white man with deep lines but bright perceptive eyes, the second to a white woman in a plain dress, blue eyed, her black hair pulled into a high and tight bun. 

“Arthur, Charles, you two okay?”

“What happened?” 

Brown Coat turns to them and holds up a calming hand. “Everyone’s okay. ‘Sides the bounty she was after.”

The woman perks up once she lays eyes on the other. “Oh, hey, you been shot.” She sounds genuinely worried. About what exactly is unclear.

“Ma’am, you should go see a doctor about that,” the older man says gently.

“I will,” she replies with a one-shoulder shrug. “Gotta collect my money first.”

As if on cue, Moonbay appears in the treeline with a soft nicker. Once she sees the other people, she stops, ears flicking forward and nostrils flaring curiously.

Black Sweater takes another few steps forward, hands still raised harmlessly. “It won’t be easy to get him back by yourself.”

She can tell he means no offense, but it still pulls her lips into a slight frown. “No, but I’ll do it.” Then her mouth twists into something uncomfortable as a memory surfaces, but she quickly plunges it back under and pulls her face back into a neutral expression. 

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

A strange offer, from people she doesn’t know. It must show on her face, because the woman speaks up again.

“We’ve got some space in our wagons, and we can get ya stable until you get to the doctor.” The woman motions back to the wagon caravan, and it’s then that she notices the other four wagons and riders, hanging back at a reasonable distance but watching with interest. “And Arthur can stow your bounty on his horse.”

Brown Coat looks at her sharply. There’s no malice in his voice or face, rather amusement and surprise. “Why you volunteerin’ me, Abigail?”

“Why not?” she shoots back with a teasing smile. “You got experience takin’ bounties in, don’t’cha?”

“That’s true, but—”

“Just stow her on my horse, Moonbay,” she interrupts the two. She doesn’t notice that her mount has stepped closer, so she startles when the mare nudges her good shoulder, expecting a treat or checking up on her. Or both. “Hey, bonita.” As she reaches up to stroke Moonbay’s nose, a sudden wave of exhaustion rolls over her. The fight hadn’t been long or particularly bloody, but it’s been a long three days and the numbness in her arm is starting to fade away post-battle. Meaning all the pain will start to register, and she has no medicine that’ll ease the pain nearly enough. And this bullet wound is bleeding more than usual. 

“Okay,” Black Sweater—Charles, if she heard the name right—agrees, taking more steps forward until he’s at Clyde’s body. “Think she’ll be okay next to a wagon, or you want one of us to lead her?”

“I didn’t agree to go with you.”

Nobody seems convinced by her tone. 

“You don’t wanna bleed out on the way there, do ya?” Arthur asks.

She frowns more at that, like a petulant child. They’re right. They know it, she knows it. And something tells her that these people won’t bring her any harm. That their offer of help is genuine. She can’t deny that getting her wound tended to while sitting comfortably in the back of a wagon doesn’t sound enticing.

“Come on,” Arthur waves her forward before making a move to go to one of the other wagons. “I’ll go speak to Dutch. Uh, what’s your name, anyhow, ma’am?”

For the first time in a long time, her real name worms its way to the tip of her tongue. She quickly bites it back. Why, why now? Not that the name would mean anything to them, but still. It’s a part of her past she keeps locked away for a reason. These strangers have no business knowing her business. So she takes a deep breath, watching them for a moment, before relaxing her shoulders and nodding. 

“Alberta Taylor.”

“Well,” Abigail says, holding out her hands, “I’m Abigail Roberts. Come on, Alberta Taylor. Let’s get you taken care of.”

She nods again. “Just Al is fine.” Then she turns and announces over her shoulder, “Best one of you lead her. Moonbay, esta bien, hermosa. Buena niña.” 

Moonbay throws her head up once, snorts, then lowers her head as Charles approaches. She still seems a bit wary, but doesn’t flinch under his gentle touch and soft words. Satisfied that she’ll behave, Al turns back to Abigail, who is leading her past the first wagon. She’s uncomfortable with the many sets of eyes now on her, but ignores that feeling and the pain.

Besides, after they get her to the doctor, she’ll likely never see these people again. So she can stomach this unease for the time being. 

[zuffer-weird-girl]

May I request where Haru mom is out of prison I guess. Like she try to take Haru back till she sees overhaul s/o with the kids along with haru. This is where she goes with her plan and try to stalk them. Surprisingly haru mom took Overhaul s/o and Haru and things got ugly. So kaito and kin run back home and tell them what happen. I'll let you decide how things end n.n

Jesus Christ you want TWO KILLING MACHINES in here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could won a trophy at your abilities of maintaining three kids from the yakusa as perfect little angels... even if sometimes they weren't.

Especially the two older ones... Kaito and Haru.

Both being the exact same copies as your husband and Kurono it was quite difficult to control them, but miracles existed. Because these two adored you.

Today you offered to look after them while Chisaki and Kurono were dealing with some things. Both seemed to be hesitant about it, but they were really too busy to argue.

Especially Hari, since he was a single parent and didn't exactly have anyone to take care of his daughter while busy...

Kai of course had to send a body guard, his paranoia was too strong, to accompany you and the kids to the park... a park.

You honestly were already used to it but still bothered it sometimes...

"Look mommy there is a playground on there!" Kaito pointed while Kin gasped in awe.

"Can we go? Can we go?" Your little girl tugged on your shirt, begging with golden shiny eyes.

"Alright. Go have fun!" You exclaimed before you noticed that Haru hadn't moved a muscle. "Ne Haru-chan? Not going?"

"Uh.. yeah is just that... I wanted to talk with you for a moment mrs Chisaki."

You looked in concern at the girl but nodded anyways, looking at the guard and calling for him, asking if he could look at your kids for a moment.

"Its a pleasure looking at Overhaul's kids madam." The guy bowed before following two dark brow haired little deviants.

"So?" Ýou crouched up to be in eye level with her and smiled "What's on your head?"

"N-Nothing much!" She waved her hands before smiling shyly "Is just that I've been thinking on asking something. Kaito is always calling my dad his uncle... so is fair if I want to call you a aunt?"

"... sweety you can call me whatever you want and I would be grateful." You said normally making her giggle.

Seing her reaction was rare but extremely worth it, after all that she's been through, you couldn't budge it. Only fell a extreme pity and concern for Kurono...

"So there are you." A woman voice spoked and those grey eyes of Haru went wide in horror, looking at the figurine behind you.

You took a peak behind you and all of your body tensed at seing the so familiar woman that tormented Kurono's and the intere yakusa's lifes for months... you remember the rage and disgust on your husband's face at having to deal with 'Chrono's mess' as he referred.

You got up quickly and stayed in front of Haru.

"May I help you miss?" You asked coldly whiel she only scoffed.

"I'm here for my daughter bitch. Go bother someone else." Haru gasped before blurting out what she shouldn't have.

"You don't have the right to speak with boss's wife like that!" She placed her hands on her mouth immediately and looked up at you apologetically.

"Ah." The woman cooed darkly before extending her hand threateningly "So I am getting what I had fought for in the end at last... how much will that husband of yours and that arrow haired man bastard will pay to have you two back?"

She used her quirk on both you and Haru and before you could black out you yelled at the kids to run, to get their Chrono and Overhaul... even despite having Haru on your side.

You heard yells before you completly blacked out...

Not this again...

~

"So they're finally going leave us at peace." Chrono sighed in relief as he lowered his mask down amwhile Chisaki checked numbly his phone.

No messages... weird. He told you to send at least one.

"Is my daughter ok?" Chrono asked while looking at his childhood friend, hidding his concern.

Before he could even answer the yells and cries of both his kids startled both of them, Chisaki immediately looking and noticing your absence.

"DAD! IT HAPPENED! " Kaito cried while holding a hysterical crying Kin in his arms.

"What happened?" He growled before kneeling on the ground while Chrono widened his eyes in horror at seing the desperates pleas of forgiveness of the precept.

"THERE WAS A WOMAN THAT TOOK MOMMY AND HARU AWAY!" Kaito cried desperately.

Chrono swore he almost broked his gun with his deadly grip while Kai's eyes went dark as his vision went red.

"... you two go to your rooms and stay in there. Irinaka or Nemoto will be soon on there." He said, calm but still his wrath was evident on his voice. "Now. Kaito, it's a order."

The kid nodded, trying to not just wail in tears like.his three years old sister was doing it.

"M-Mastwr I am deeply sor-"

"I gave you one job. And you failed miserably..." he growled in the most powerful and threatening voice, making the guys shiver in fear.

Chisaki and Kurono walked past him while Kai mumbled angrily that he would deal with him later.

Not many minutes he received a call, demanding some money for the rescue. Chrono eyes went dark as he clenched his jaw in pure hatred at recognizing the voice.

"Count the seconds wrench." Was what Chisaki told her before ending the call, and grabbing his jacket while stepping out of the house with a fuming Hari behind him.

"Please tell me I am allowed to beat the shit out of that prostitute." Chrono growled while placing his mask back on and adjusting his gun.

"Do what you wish." He said, no caring that his gloves were already overhauled.

~

"I guess he only uses you for fucking, isn't that right missy?" She said while lifting her nose up in arrogance.

"Can you watch your vocabulary at leas?" You groaned while trying to calm down the little white haired girl "It's your own daughter in here for Christ's sake. Don't you have a heart?"

The woman laughed bitterly nefore standing uo from her chair and acting her quirk.

"This little shit, was the only thing that could grant me a better future, even if I never loved that men, he was quite good on his experiences and it was even a sweetheart but please-!" She laughed while pointing at you "We are only seeking for one thing to have those two as company right friend? Their power, their money... their glory."

You scoffed "Is this what is all about? Jesus Christ dont ever compare me with you. You're sick."

You cringed whem you noticed that you had used the exact same words as your husband but shrugged off shortly after... it was true after all.

"You think you're soo powerful and the naddest bitch of them all just because you were lucky to get the leader, right?" She grabbed one knife close to her and started to walk towards you "Tic toc for that husband and friend of his."

"... I woild actually recommend.that you didn't did that. For your own good actually." You said suddenly, making the woman laugh in sarcasm.

"Or what? I know you're quirkless so you can't exactly do mu-" she yelped before dodging one arrow coming at her upper arm.

"I warned you." You sighed before you felt the ground trembling as a wave of concrete threw you in the air while Haru on the other.

You yelped at first but immediately relaxed at falling to those comforting arms you were so used to by now.

"Angel, you're okay?" He whispered close to your ear, not even once daring to let go or ease up his hold on you.

The woman tried to grab Haru but ghis time she was shoted on the shoulder as well as a arrow sucefully cutted her left cheek, lefting her like a statue, falling miserably to the ground.

"HARU!" Chrono shouted as he went to his daughter and holded her close to his chest.

"Papa I'm so sorry!" She whimpered on his white hoddie as she cling to him "It was my fault! I told her that mrs (Y/N) was the boss's wife a-and she got the upper hand on-"

"Its not your damn fault ok? You weren't the one who asked for tjis to happen." He picked her up and walked towards you and Kai... not before stopping by a few centimeters away from the woman and whispering to his daughter to cover her ears.

"I shot you with the longest one..." he growled , staring at her dead in the eyes "Not satisfied with the prison? Congrats, because now you will just bleed until you die in this fucking basement." He walked towards you two, Chisaki letting you down bit still holding onto your waist.

"Take her outside for a bit for me? It will not take much." You looked aprehensive at him before looking at your husband.

In his face sayed absolutely nothing, only in his eyes that you could so well read it, was hinted the extreme rage, hatred and the 'I want this person to suffer until they're dead', while he slowly nodded and pushed you with his hand on your lower back outside.

You immediately covered Haru's ears while Chisaki covres yours when the sounds of a gun were echoed.

Hari got out shortly after and thanked both you and Chisaki before scooping his daughter up in his arms.

"No longer she will haunt us flower. That's for sure." He whispered to her after waiting for you two to go in the front.

You felt Kai's eyes on you, checking for any possible injuries but you only assured him with a sweet 'thank you' as you leaned your head against his chest.

You knew that by the way he didn't scoffed heartily at you but instead enveloped his arms to put you close, you weren't getting out of the Shie Hassaikai's house without his AND HIS ONLY company...

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Instead of Eagle Flies, reader is the one who gets shot and Arthur tells her this, “ Don’t die on me– Please. ” After killing Cornwall. Reader survives though but isn't allowed to fight with the boys for awhile.

Okay this one made me mad because of the ending. Why couldn’t we see this ending in the game?! Rockstar, you robbed us! 

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Warnings: blood, violence, swearing (but Tuberculosis? What’s that?) 

Hell. That’s where you’re at right now. You’re running along a boardwalk over the black, flaming ground, accompanied by Sadie Adler. She’s closely followed by Arthur Morgan and you three run along the path, closer to the main building of the oil factory. Up ahead are at least a dozen men, factory workers and army men, shooting at you. The three of you return fire. Mixed among them are a few members of your gang and some Wapiti warriors. 

The three of you finally leave the boardwalk and land on solid ground. Out of a door on the right, the Wapiti chief’s son Eagle Flies gets pinned by an army soldier. Arthur shoots him, giving Eagle Flies the chance to throw the dying man off. 

“Arthur! You came!” he says. It’s clear by his voice he’s relieved. 

���Course. Now come on, we ain’t outta the woods yet,” Arthur replies. 

You’re given about five seconds before a new wave of army men rounds the corner and begins shooting. As they’re taken down, Sadie screams. 

“Move up!” 

You and the others do now that you’re joined by Charles, Javier, Bill, John and Dutch. You make your way up towards the tracks where a train sits, always keeping an eye on Arthur. Of course, you’re worried about everyone’s survival. Despite how bad things have gotten in the gang, they’re still your family. Arthur’s as strong as ever, but he’s still just a man and you know from experience how easily a man can die when hit with a bullet. You can’t afford to lose him to one. He is your husband, after all. 

As the gang gets closer to the train, a door on one of the boxcars slides open. More army soldiers hop out firing, and then a gatling gun comes into view. A man grabs the handles and begins firing. You and the others take cover as quickly as you can, but you see two Wapiti warriors fall. 

“Arthur!” you scream over the roar of the gun. “Take him out!” 

Arthur hears you and nods, aiming around the corner of the building he’s hiding behind. Being the best shot, he’s the best chance of killing this bastard. You fire at the soldier handling the gun, successfully attracting his attention to you. It only takes a second before you see the telltale ribbon of blood fly into the air and the silence of the gun to know Arthur’s done the job. You let out your breath and continue on with the others, advancing upon the factory. 

This whole thing is a nightmare. You understand Eagle Flies’s fury behind this attack, but why the hell aren’t you and the others turning around and running away now that you know he’s alive and capable of doing so? Dutch keeps encouraging everyone to go on, to secure this place. You’ve no doubt he’s got some ulterior motive behind this whole thing. Why wouldn’t he? This whole time, he’s been stringing the Indians along, using their feud with the army for his own gain, and he’s made things twice as bad in the process. You’ve gotten extremely infuriated with his behavior in the past few weeks. The only reason you and Arthur have stayed so long is because you want to get as many out alive as you can. 

The gang’s in the main area just around the oil factory within the fences, taking down more of the army. Eagle Flies and Paytah run past you, taking down three soldiers with their bows and arrows. You see Arthur kneel down and shoot a man in the neck. Just as you’re aiming at another man, you get knocked onto the ground by something heavy. 

“Y/N!” you hear Arthur scream as you struggle against the thing holding you down. Turning around, you see it’s a soldier who tackled you. He’s got you pinned in such a way you can’t pull your pistol or knife out to get him off you. He grits his teeth and points a revolver at your face, clicking the hammer down. 

Suddenly the man’s thrown off you. Arthur’s picked him up by the collar and shoves his long knife into the man’s belly. He gurgles and collapses next to you. Arthur takes your hand and lifts you up. Despite being surrounded by gunfire, he checks to see you’re okay. You fend him off quickly and return to the fight. 

After a few more moments, the last few soldiers left standing flee into the hills and forests surrounding the factory. Dutch calls to everyone, making sure the gang’s alright. Surprisingly, no one was killed. The same cannot be said for the Wapiti, who have suffered heavy losses from this attack. You feel a surge of sorrow as Eagle Flies and Paytah wander, checking on the bodies of those who had been their friends, seeing if any of them lived. 

Dutch calls Arthur to his side and the two go into the building to retrieve railroad bonds. So that’s why Dutch pursued for so long. Of course he didn’t give a damn about the Indians. He merely used their attack as an excuse to steal the bonds. You feel a sharp flood of anger towards him and you go into the factory, wanting to give him a piece of your mind. 

You get into the building and find yourself alone. You’re not entirely sure where Arthur and Dutch went, but you see, out the large open door leading to the train tracks, more army soldiers approaching. Leading them is a familiar figure: Colonel Favours, the piece of shit spear-heading the movement and violence against the Wapiti. 

You start firing at the squad approaching you, but they fire back, forcing you to take cover behind some crates. They quickly advance and start going past you and into the factory. You’re worried, Arthur’s still in there. You just hope he and Dutch heard the gunshots and know to get out quickly. 

You hear them rushing past inside the factory and then something loud bursts and hisses, followed by Arthur’s yell. 

“Dutch!” you hear him scream. By his voice, you instantly know he’s in trouble. You shoot the last man you’ve been fighting with and run inside to find a soldier’s pinned Arthur to the ground. Dutch is nowhere to be seen. You quickly shoot the soldier and rush over to help Arthur up. 

Just as you reach him, you hear footsteps behind you. When you turn, you feel something slap you hard against the face and then a blinding pain in your abdomen. It knocks you off your feet and Arthur screams your name. 

You look up and see Colonel Favours standing above you, his gun pointed at your head. Just as he’s about to pull the trigger, his temple explodes in a cloud of blood, the air wrenched by the shot of a gun. He collapses near your feet and you clutch a hand over the spot on your abdomen that feels like it’s been set on fire. Pulling your hand away, you see it covered in blood. 

“Oh Goddamnit, Y/N!” Arthur growls as he runs over to your side and looks at your wound. Your breathing is sharp and fast. You’re scared. You’ve been shot before, but it was in your upper arm and far from lethal. This is different. You know how quickly people can die from a gunshot to the gut. 

“Arthur!” you whimper. 

“Shhh, shhhh, I got ya,” he says. He picks you up slowly, apologizing over and over again as you cry out in pain. He carries you towards the door bridal style. 

“That was damn stupid, sweetheart,” he grunts. “You shouldn’t have done that!” 

“I couldn’t let him kill you,” you say, tears leaking from your eyes. 

He rushes to the door and kicks it open, stepping out onto the platform. On the ground, Dutch and the others are mounting up. Arthur grits his teeth and glares at Dutch. 

“You. You walked away!” 

“I did no such thing,” Dutch says. 

Arthur is about to argue, but Charles rushes over. “Shot’s bad, Arthur. We need to get her somewhere and yank that bullet out.” 

Dutch hollers at the others to return to camp, but Charles, John and Sadie stay behind with Arthur, who’s still holding you. Eagle Flies runs over. 

“Bring her to my father, Arthur. We must move quickly.” 

By this point, the shock is beginning to set in. Your heart’s pumping hard and you’re starting to shiver. Arthur sets you down on your feet and strips off his coat, draping it over you. He calls his horse over and he and Charles lift you into the saddle. You cry out in pain and Arthur apologizes again. He gets in the saddle behind you. 

The group begins riding towards Wapiti. You try focusing on the conversation they’re having, anything in order to ignore the pain from your wound. You try to stay calm, knowing that the more you panic, the quicker you’ll bleed out. 

Arthur keeps a firm grip on you while directing his horse. He mutters in your ear to hold on. 

“I don’t want any of the money from those bonds,” Charles says. “Too much blood on them.” 

“I agree. Eagle Flies, I’m sorry about this. About all this. Dutch used you just like he used the rest of us. We’re nothin’ but angry pawns in his game.” 

Eagle Flies thanks Arthur for all his help, despite how things ended. “I’m just sorry it was Y/N to pay the ultimate price.” 

Arthur becomes furious at this. “Dutch had a chance to get me out. He saw I was in trouble and he walked away. If Y/N hadn’t been there, I’d be dead now!” 

“That seems to be what he does now,” John says. “No one matters anymore, everyone’s expendable.” 

“Let’s just get her there quickly, she ain’t got much time left,” Sadie says from the back. 

Arthur kicks his horse into a faster gallop, despite it causing more pain. Arthur whispers in your ear again, begging you to stay with him. You grip his hand as hard as you can, but he doesn’t like how weak it is. 

The horses slow to a trot as they enter the tribe. Many of the members stop and stare hard at you and the intruders, but then their eyes soften when they see Eagle Flies and Paytah. Eagle Flies dismounts his horse and rushes to his father’s tipi. Rains Fall comes out as Arthur dismounts and pulls you into his arms. At this point, you don’t have much energy left to even groan in pain. 

“Bring her inside. We will do what we can,” Rains Fall says to Arthur. 

 You’re carried into the tipi and set down near the fire. Another man enters the tent, one you’ve seen in the tribe during your previous visits, but never met. He’s introduced as Snow Owl. He inspects you quickly. 

“The bullet must be removed immediately.” He has in his hand a small sack of tools. He pulls out a pair of thin tongs and holds them above the fire, sterilizing them. He removes them and waits for them to cool. 

Charles says that he wants to help the Wapiti begin moving as it will likely only be hours before the army comes here to retaliate for the earlier attack. Sadie stays by your side and Arthur holds your hand still. 

“Arthur, will you come with me to camp?” John says. “I want to get Jack and Abigail. Think our time with the gang is done.” 

Arthur sighs. He doesn’t want to leave you now but he’s so enraged by what Dutch did he wants to tell him exactly what he thinks about him. “Sure. Best be quick though.” 

“Arthur?” you whimper, your voice weak. 

He leans down and kisses you softly. “I’ll be back before you know it, darlin’. Just… don’t die on me. Please. I need ya.” He kisses your head, cupping your cheek. You want to beg him to stay with you, that you’re scared, but you’re so weak you can’t get the words out. Arthur gets up and heads out with John. You want to cry. 

Snow Owl inspects the tongs and deems them cool enough to use on you. He instructs Sadie and Eagle Flies to hold you down. Sadie grabs your legs while Eagle Flies pins your shoulders down. Your heart begins to beat fast as Snow Owl gently pulls your shirt and the hem of your chemise out from under your pants and lifts them enough to see your wound. 

Despite your fear of the pain you’re about to be in, you hear a soft song being sung by Rains Fall. There are no words, just a tune, but you feel oddly comforted. Until Snow Owl dips the tongs down and goes into your wound. Your eyes widen, your vision sparking and your entire body’s on fire. A guttural scream forces its way out of your throat and you start to cringe your body, trying to get away from the pain. You’re writhing so much that Paytah has to jump in and help hold you down. 

The pain’s too much, your vision begins fogging. You feel something tugging at your abdomen and look down, the pain becoming less. Snow Owl is holding up the tongs, a bullet held in between them. You take in a deep breath and then you're pulled into a world of darkness. 

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

You’ve no idea what time it is, if it’s night or day, or how long it’s been since you were shot. Your senses slowly begin waking up. First is your hearing, you hear the crackling of a fire, the soft sound of someone breathing. It sounds familiar. Next is your smell detecting the hint of pine and leather. It smells comforting, like home. Last to return is touch. You’re lying in a slightly elevated position, your neck and head propped up on something soft and warm. Something gently strokes across your forehead in a repetitive motion. There’s a dull but constant ache in your belly. 

The memories of everything that’s happened come back. You recall watching Arthur, struggling beneath a soldier until you shot him, which resulted in you getting shot too. You remember the painful ride to Wapiti and Arthur leaving you at the moment when you wanted him there the most. 

You take in a deep breath, and the thing rubbing your forehead moves down to your cheek. Your eyes begin to open and the first thing you see is Arthur looking down at you, a soft smile on his lips. He sighs in relief. 

“Hey, sweetheart. You’re okay.” 

You find your head’s in his lap and the thing rubbing your forehead is his thumb. You smile back in return and try lifting your hand to grab his, but it feels like your arm’s made out of metal and is now too heavy for you to lift. 

Arthur asks if you’re thirsty and you nod. He gently lifts you up into a sitting position and pulls you into his lap. You settle into his chest, ignoring the burn in your abdomen. You’re shivering a little, feeling cold. Arthur rustles through his satchel and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. He uncorks it and helps you have a few sips. When you’re done, he notices how you’re shaking. He grabs his dark green shotgun coat and drapes it over you. Between the coat and his body, you quickly warm up. He kisses your head softly. 

“You in a lot of pain, sweetheart?” 

“It’s not horrible,” you mumble into his shirt. His arms fold tighter around you. “When… when are we going back to the gang?” 

You’re surprised you’re not back in Beaver Hollow now, and that you can’t hear the squawking of Grimshaw now. All you can hear is the fire and birds singing outside the tent. Sure, you and Arthur had discussed potentially leaving the gang when things started to get really bad, but it just hadn’t happened. 

“We’re, uh, we’re not, sweetheart. John and I got Abigail and Jack and I told Dutch that I’m done giving him everything and getting nothing in return. He almost made me lose you. I’ve lost a lot of things because of this life, but I won’t lose you. Not if I can help it.” 

He settles a hand over your head and you manage to drape an arm around his waist. “Good. I was starting to think we wouldn’t get out alive with how things were getting.” 

“That was my thought too, and I ain’t willin’ to risk my life no more for the spoutings of a mad man. Not anymore.”

You sigh, nuzzling into his chest. With his scent flooding into your nose, the whiskey in your belly and the warmth of his body, it doesn’t take long to fall asleep again. 

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

Over the next few weeks, Arthur keeps an extremely protective watch over you. The first week was tough since you really couldn’t move much, but you needed to be moved to a more secure place. Arthur and John had their belongings from the gang, but you were all essentially living in tents. It wasn’t an ideal environment for Jack and Abigail wanted a proper home for her family. Sadie was willing to go anywhere with your group, and Charles had stayed to help the Wapiti. 

Eventually John stumbled upon a cabin large enough to house at least you, Arthur and his family. Sadie was happy to camp outside for the time being, so you were moved there. 

Arthur was extremely protective of you. Of course, he’s always been but it’s tripled in your condition. He confines you as much as he can to the bed you share on the ground level of the cabin (John, Abigail and Jack sleep in a bed in the loft). You quickly grow tired of it and Arthur relents to letting you go sit outside by the fire, but never leaving sight of the cabin. 

You can tell he’s struggling with the sudden change of your lifestyle. It’s been a long time since he didn’t have to worry about jobs to do. Of course, he and John take a few risks to go and rob in order to get the money they’ve lost. It makes Abigail furious as she knows the best way to properly leave the gang is to get a new lifestyle.

It weighs heavy on all your minds that Dutch and Micah could very well come looking for you all. It sounds like they put up quite a fight when John and Arthur announced they were leaving. Dutch always said the gang wasn’t like a prison camp, that anyone was free to leave when they wanted to, but he took John and Arthur’s leaving as personal. Arthur retorted that Dutch denying he left Arthur to die was personal, which only made him more angry and more determined to keep his boys in the gang. 

Fear that the remaining members of the gang will find you forces your group to abandon the cabin and continue heading west in search of a safer place to live. The Pinkertons are no longer a threat as their main target is Dutch and they know he’s in the east. Arthur didn’t want to move you, fearing you’re not strong enough, but Abigail was determined to keep moving, wanting to keep her boy safe. You convinced Arthur you could ride to a new location, that you were strong enough and he finally relented, though he was almost a pest with how much he tried to make sure you weren’t in any pain. 

It’s been weeks now since you left the gang and you’re mostly healed. You and Arthur live alone in a cabin just east of Strawberry and north of the Upper Montana River. The house sits on a slight ridge, which gives your backyard a stunning view of the river and Great Plains beyond. 

John, Abigail and Jack no longer accompany you. It was decided a few weeks back that you’d be harder to track by lawmen and Dutch if you separated. Sadie went her own separate way as well, stating she might try her hand at bounty hunting. Those goodbyes were the worst in your life and you miss them all dearly, but you’re not unhappy. 

You and Arthur are building a good life out here in this cabin. He happily gave up life as an outlaw, working as a rancher. He sells his drawings on the side and makes surprisingly good money with them. You take up writing as a hobby and get a job in Strawberry working in the post office. You and Arthur make enough money to live a comfortable life. 

Occasionally you receive word from John or Sadie, who both promised to keep in touch (under aliases of course). About a year after abandoning the gang, John sends word that Abigail left him and, in order to try and win her back, he bought a plot of land called Beecher’s Hope.

“Don’t know why John would want that piece of garbage,” Arthur said. “Nothin’ but dirt and dead grass.” 

John’s letter went on to say that he and Sadie were doing some bounty hunting work in order to pay for the land (in a legal fashion) and asked if you and Arthur would be interested in helping him to build a house. You were, so you headed on down to help John put his house up and it turned out he had Uncle and Charles with him. 

You stand now near the campfire on Beecher’s Hope. The house is partially built, at least the exterior structure is up. It’s night and no one is working now. Uncle is showing Charles some dancing moves, which he doesn’t seem to appreciate. John and Arthur watch, drinking beer. You walk up to Arthur and loop your arm through his, leaning your head on his arm. He winds his arm behind you and kisses your head. 

You’re hoping all this effort on John’s part will get him his family back. Otherwise all this work and time will be for nothing, but you still have had a great time. It’s been nice to reunite with so many old friends. You wish you could bump into the other girls, even old Grimshaw. 

Of Dutch and Micah, you have heard little. A few months after fleeing the gang, you heard rumors they headed north, got trapped by Pinkertons and then disappeared. There’s been some speculation they may have headed back down this way, but you’ve heard nothing substantial. Even so, they’re likely any worry to you. 

You look up into the star-speckled sky. You’re content in this moment. You’ve never loved Arthur more than you do now and you’ve never been this happy. Of all the things you suffered through with living in the gang, you’d happily do them all over again if you knew they’d wind up here. 

[pandastern]

Gravity (Bakugou x OC)

Part 7: A Soldier’s Strength

Bakugou x Vigilante!OC

Warnings: angst, explicit language, violence

Word count: 3488

Genre: enemies to lovers ; angst ; romance, slow burn

When a new student makes an entrance, Bakugou has a real bad feeling. There is something about this girl that just doesnt feel right. From the flaming hair to the calculating glint in her green eyes, everything about her just pisses him off.

Little does he know that his fate is intertwined with the person he despises so much, defining his future path in a way he would have never expected.

“That should be all of them,” Kirishima said, wiping the sweat off his brow as the last of the villains that had attacked them fell unconscious to the ground.

“For now, anyway,” Bakugou growled.

After their attack on the portal villain had gone awry, they’d been sent here, straight into the middle of a group of waiting villains.Bakugou and Kirishima had fought hard and managed to overpower them, though even Bakugou couldn’t deny that it had taken a good chunk of energy out of him. His arms hurt from using his quirk so vigorously. He was well aware that they needed to be careful with their strength. God only knew how many more of those villains were around. Not to mention that wispy bastard. 

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” said Kirishima. “I’m guessing since we’re still here, the others must be inside the USJ. Now that we’re finished here, we should try and find them. They probably need our help, especially since we’re the reason we ended up in this mess. If we hadn’t attacked that portal guy, Thirteen could have just sucked him up... Yo, Bakubro, are you listening?”

Bakugou was, in fact, not listening. His mind was running over the events leading up to this fight. After their failed attack, the black clouds of the portal had engulfed them and dragged them away. He remembered clearly how the wispy villain’s tendrils had wrapped around Artemis’s body, whisking her away by herself.

He looked around. The five villains that had waited for him and Kirishima were still down on the floor. What if Artemis had had to face similar odds? Bakugou could feel his own exhaustion clawing at him, and Kirishima didn’t seem to be much better off. Even though the villains hadn’t exactly been the strongest, it was the amount of them that they had to keep on eye on. Shit. If Artemis really was alone, this could mean serious trouble for her. The image of her face popped up in his head and something in him tensed. Would she be okay?

He shook his head. Of course she’d be okay. As angry as the memory made him, Artemis had wiped the fucking floor with him in their fight. That girl was a force to be reckoned with. Of course she was okay. She had to be.

Unease rose within his stomach. Why was he even worried about her? Perhaps he felt responsible for her in a way, since anything that happened to her now would be indirectly his fault. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Bakugou shook his head. No, Artemis would be fine. She was strong and fierce. Not that he cared, obviously.

The sound of a bullet hissing through the air past his ear and hitting the wall just inches away from Kirishima’s face ripped him out of his train of thought. Hearing his classmate yelp in surprise, he whipped around, ready to blast the next enemy to kingdom come. He spotted a man dressed in black leather gear in the broken window of the rundown room they were trapped in. The barrel of a gun pointed directly at his face. Shit. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, making his skin prickle. He may be fast, but not faster than a fucking gun! No use in stalling his attack. He needed to hurry. He raised his gauntlet hand and got ready to fire.

With a slam, the door burst open and something sharp hissed into the room. A long ice arrow buried itself into the gunman’s left shoulder. The momentum of the shot knocked the villain off his feet with a pained cry.

Bakugou’s red eyes flickered to the direction from where the arrow had come.

Artemis stood in the doorway, swirling water bow in hand, a wild look in her eyes that sent a shiver down his spine.

For a moment, silence fell over the room as Bakugou’s brain tried to process what had just happened. He realised that she’d shot that man without so much as a hesitation to save them. 

“Whoa, Artemis! Are you okay?” Kirishima’s voice pulled him back to the present.

Kirishima was already on the way to the door. He caught Artemis just before her knees buckled and she sank down to the ground.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, pushing his hands off her.

“Artemis, you’re… you’re covered in blood,” Kirishima gasped as he looked her over.

Bakugou stepped closer, taking a closer look at her. Kirishima was right. Artemis had several blood splatters across her PE uniform. Her clothes were ripped in several places and bruises covered her skin. He noticed a particularly nasty cut on her cheek and right upper arm.

Artemis pushed Kirishima off her again and rose to her feet. “Don’t shit yourself, Kirishima. It’s not my blood.”

“Is that supposed to calm me down? What the hell happened?”

“Villains. Would you rather it be my blood?” Artemis snapped at him.

“Wha- Of course not!” Kirishima gasped.

Bakugou stayed in the background as he observed the situation. A surprising wave of relief washed over him. Artemis was fine. She couldn’t be that bad, considering how she was yapping about again. A few bruises and cuts didn’t usually kill anyone, right? But something about that wild look in her eyes was… alarming.

Ignoring Kirishima’s protests, Artemis walked over to one of the villains lying on the ground and poked them with her foot.

“They’re out cold,” Bakugou growled, crossing his arms. “I made sure of that.”

Instead of answering, Artemis closed her eyes and kept still for several seconds. A familiar anger bubbled up in Bakugou’s gut. He really didn’t like being ignored. “Oi! I said-” he barked, but Artemis held up a hand to stop him. “I can see that,” she said before looking up. “Kirishima, help me out.”

“S-sure.”

She started to strip off her PE jacket. What in the hell was she doing now, Bakugou thought. There were no snide undertones, no cockyness in her voice anymore. Just clear-cut seriousness, like a veteran soldier emerging from his latest battle.

“What exactly are we doing?” Kirishima asked as he helped Artemis put her jacket onto one of the unconscious villains.

“There’s someone on the roof of the building next to us. I want to check something,” she replied.

“And how would you know if someone is on the roof? You came from the back, genius!” Bakugou protested. “Have you got an x-ray vision quirk now, too?”

“No, you idiot. I sensed him,” Artemis replied.

“Sensed him? How?”

Artemis sighed deeply, as if she were having to explain something simple to a child. God, he hated it when she got like this. How the fuck was he supposed to know what kind of stealth wizard magic she had?

“My quirk, Bakugou,” Artemis replied calmly. “I can manipulate and sense water molecules. That means I can read heartbeats. My quirk picks up on water molecules in a person’s blood and can read how fast it’s circulating by the pressure of the heartbeat”

Silence fell as both boys tried to process what she’d just dropped on them.

“Wait, hold on.” Kirishima laughed nervously. “So, what you’re saying is that… you can feel how fast water moves through the body by the pressure of the heart?”

“Exactly that. There’s someone on the roof and their heartbeat is slow and steady. In other words, they’re pretty confident of their position. And since it’s unlikely for one of our classmates to be this calm, I’m pretty sure whoever that person is, they’re bad news.”

The gears in Bakugou’s head had already started turning. It made sense. Blood was essentially water, after all. He remembered how Artemis had drawn the moisture out of the vegetation around them as they’d fought, how the grass and plants had turned to dust, dried up and dead. A shiver ran down his spine. Was she able to do that with everything? Plants and the air was one thing, but what about animals and...  people?

As quick as that thought entered his mind, he pushed it away. No. Who did he think Artemis was? Jesus, or something? No way. While she wasn’t someone to be taken lightly, she certainly wasn’t that strong. UA wouldn’t let someone that dangerous loose among them, would they?

Bakugou watched as Kirishima helped Artemis dress the villain in her uniform jacket and drag him towards the door.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” he asked in a gruff tone.

Kirishima just shrugged. So, Crazy Eyes hadn’t told him anything, either? How annoying. 

“Don’t pout, Bakugou. You’ll see soon enough,” Artemis grumbled before turning back to Kirishima again. “On three, throw him outside the door.”

Kirishima frowned in confusion. Bakugou’s fingers itched for his quirk. Even injured, she still had the strength to look down on him. To think that he’d been worried for her safety just a moment ago…

“The body should be visible from the roof there,” Artemis said.

Bakugou watched as Kirishima shrugged and followed along. A slight suspicion started to grow inside him. Was she gonna use that villain as bait? Begrudgingly. he had to admit that this wasn’t the worst plan he’d ever heard of.

Artemis grunted as she helped Kirishima pick up the body. Bakugou narrowed his eyes. Had she just flinched, or had he imagined it? With a groan, he stepped closer and pulled her off the villain.

“Hey!” she protested, but he ignored her and took her place.

“Just fucking admit that youre tired, woman! You’re gonna kill yourself like that,” he grumbled.

He sensed Kirishima raise his eyebrow, but one glare made him look away quickly. He wasn’t doing this because he cared. Of course he didn’t care. He was doing this because should Artemis overexert herself, he’d be the one who’d have to protect her and that was absolutely not on the goddamn table. 

Bakugou took a deep breath to steady himself. Giving Kirishima a nod, they counted to three and threw.

The body of the villain, clad in Artemis’s PE jacket, hadn’t even hit the ground before a gunshot echoed through the air. The bullet pierced the villain through the neck. Bakugou’s blood froze. Looking over to Kirishima, he could see him pale as well. 

“Tch.” The sound of a tongue clicking in annoyance made him whip around.

Artemis stood unfazed, her brows furrowed as if she’d just encountered a minor inconvenience in her plans. How was she not scared? There were people out to fucking kill them. With bullets!

And here she was, acting like this was just a normal, everyday situation. 

“Of course it would be a sniper.”

“You knew,” Bakugou said flatly. “How did you know?”

Directing her attention back to him, Artemis crossed her arms and took a deep breath.

“I didn’t know, but I had a suspicion,” she replied in a calm voice that sent shivers down his spine. “No one in combat is that calm on a roof during a battle. In my experience, it’s usually snipers.”

“Your experience?” kirishima asked, his voice laced with disbelief. “What the hell did they teach you at that school in Europe? That’s crazy!”

That seemed to catch her off guard a little bit. Artemis shook her head and crossed her arms. “Let’s just say my education was… thorough.”

Thorough, huh? Bakugou could tell that wasn’t entirely the truth. Again, Artemis was hiding something, being vague with who she was. It irked him to the point where he just wanted to grab and shake her.

“So, what exactly are we gonna do now?” Kirishima asked. “I mean, I can be bulletproof for a period of time, but I don’t think I’d be able to shield both of you to get out of here.”

“Just point me in the direction of that sniper and I’ll blast him right off,” Bakugou growled, cracking his knuckles.

“You’d both be dead before you could even reach them,” Artemis interjected.

God, Bakugou hated it when she was right. He turned towards her, eyes narrowing. “What do you propose, then? You seem to have something cooking in that freaky brain of yours.”

For a moment, Artemis froze in place, as if he had managed to catch her off guard.

“Well…” she started tugging at her bottom lip, a habit he’d noticed she did whenever she was deep in thought. “I may have a plan, but I’m not sure either of you is gonna like it.”

“Just spit it out, man,” Kirishima said, flashing her a toothy grin.

“Fine. Kirishima, I need you to get out that door and distract the sniper. Meanwhile, Bakugou and I will take the stairs up to the second level.” Her eyes set on Bakugou with an intensity that froze him in place. “I need you to blast yourself into the air while holding me. If I get high enough to take a clear shot, I can take out the enemy without us having to engage in any further combat.”

“You want me to do what?” Bakugou scoffed. “Carry you? What if you miss? You’d leave us open for attack, not to mention give our location away to any other villains in the area.”

“I don’t miss,” Artemis deadpanned. “I never miss. I know this plan isn’t optimal, but it’s the only possible way to get us out of here. I need…”

Bakugous eyes widened as she stepped closer and grabbed him by the wrist. He could clearly feel the trembling of her fingers. “I know you hate me, but just this once, please… trust me.”

Trust her? Was she joking? Every second word that came out of her mouth was a lie! Bakugou was ready to go off on her, when the look on her face made him stop. This girl looked nothing like the calculating soldier he’d seen when she’d first entered the class. Artemis almost looked… vulnerable and human.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Let’s do this.”

He gave Kirishima a nod and waited until Artemis had explained the precise details and timings of her plan before taking the lead up the stairs. He cursed himself for not taking both of his gauntlets to the dome, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

When they reached the second floor, Bakugou opened the window and climbed onto the sill. He held out his hand to Artemis.

“Are you going to be okay? You only have one shot.” Her face was so pale. She really was running on fumes. But he couldn’t let that stop him if he wanted to live. He couldn’t help but feel respect for her for willing to push herself that far.

Taking his hand, Artemis let herself be pulled against him. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna miss. Just blast yourself up and throw me up as high as you can. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Her determination was unbroken, and Bakugou hated that he liked that about her. Taking a deep breath, he waited until he heard Kirishima’s loud voice taunting the villain on the roof and the sound of bullets ricocheting off his hardened skin before jumping. Using as much force as he could possibly muster, Bakugou blasted himself upward with Artemis clinging to him.

“Now, throw me!” Artemis shouted in his ear. He shifted, placing his hands beneath her foot, and launched her as high as he could.

Bakugou watched as her small body twisted in the air, water collecting around her hands to form her bow. She took aim and shot. The loud  thud of an arrow successfully hitting its target echoed through the area. Then she fell.

Quickly blasting upward again, Bakugou caught her in his arms. Now falling together with her, he prepared to lessen the fall with his quirk, but before he could gather his energy, water started to draw towards them and encased them in a bubble.

The moment their bodies hit the ground, the bubble burst, taking most of the blunt force of the impact. Bakugou rolled onto his back, coughing. The landing had knocked the air out of him.

“Well, I gotta say, that went better than expected.” Kirishima’s voice called out to him.

He was right, Bakugou thought. He almost couldn’t believe it himself. He got back onto his feet and looked for Artemis, who’d been unusually quiet since the landing.

Artemis lay on the ground, curled up, writhing slightly. His stomach dropped.

“Artemis!” Bakugou knelt beside her, grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

“I’m fine,” she hissed, her breaths ragged.

Clearly, that was a lie. So, she’d taken a bigger hit than he’d suspected at first. “You’re not. You’re close to collapsing! For fuck’s sake, Artemis, you should have-”

She grabbed his arm with a strength he hadn’t expected, shoved him off and forced herself to her feet again. Was she trying to kill herself? 

“I can still fight! Don’t worry about me. We need to get to the others. The rest isn’t important,” she snapped.

White hot anger bubbled up Bakugou’s gut, setting his veins on fire. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re done! Look at you. If you keep this up, you’re going to fucking die! You won’t be able to help anyone,” he roared.

How could a single girl be so stubborn? Didn’t she care about her own life? Just earlier on the bus, she’d been so arrogant about being a liability in a fight and now here she was! God, he just wanted to smack her.

But before he could snap at her and vent his own anger, a huge explosion made the whole USJ tremble in its foundations.

“What the hell was that?” Kirishima gasped as finally he caught up with them. “There must be a huge fight going on.”

“We need to help them.” Artemis gritted her teeth and started walking.

“No, you dont!”

Bakugou jumped to his feet and went after her with big strides. Enough was enough. He wasn’t about to let her push herself to a point where she’d lose her life through her own stubbornness. If he had to grab her and knock some sense into that thick skull of hers, so help him God, he would.

Artemis had put quite a lot of distance between them when she started to wobble. Bakugou noticed the dangerous sway in her step and sped up, catching her just before her knees buckled.

“Fucking told you, dumbass,” he hissed.

He pulled her into his lap, alarmed at just how hot her skin felt.

“No… I need to…” she mumbled, her speech becoming slightly slurred.

“The fuck do you mean, you need to? You can’t do shit like this! You’ve done enough,” he growled.

A strange wetness spread across her back, soaking through her black shirt and seeping into Bakugou’s glove. Confused, he pulled her closer, his free hand pulling up her shirt to expose the area.

What he saw turned his blood to ice and made his anger simmer down to fear.

There was a deep wound on her back, just below her kidney. The flesh around it had turned an unnatural greenish blue tint. The weaker Artemis grew, the more blood seemed to seep through.

“What the…” he whispered in horror.

When had this happened, and why hadn’t she said anything? How had she just now started bleeding?

“F-fuck,” Artemis whispered weakly, her eyes becoming glassy. “A villain… stabbed me. I held it in… I think… poison.”

Bakugou stared down at her in disbelief. “Held it in? How did you… How the fuck did you even fight with that?”

“Quirk… I controlled my own blood flow.” She coughed weakly. “I had to. It was either fight… or die.”

Artemis struggled in his arms, trying to get up again, but he pushed his arm under her legs and picked her up, putting a stop to her struggles. He needed to get her to the teachers. She was dying. Even he could tell that much.

“Shut the fuck up,” he barked and started walking, Kirishima trailing after him.

Every few steps, he looked down at her, making sure she was still awake. Fear made his head pound. More and more blood leaked from her, soaking his clothes and leaving a trail of droplets.

“You stupid woman,” he growled. “Why didn’t you say anything? You’re fucking dying, goddamnit.”

Why was it that she looked so small and broken in his arms? As if all her walls had finally crumbled.

“I’m… sorry,” Artemis whispered, barely audible. “Thank you… for trusting me. No-one has ever…”

Her voice trailed off and her head fell back. Artemis had lost consciousness.

“Shit! Fucking hell, Artemis, dont you dare!”

In that moment, more shots echoed through the USJ and the loud scream of Present Mic told him that help was here at last. His steps picked up the pace. He needed to get her to the teachers. Now.

[morallygreyprompts]

Bad Things Happen Bingo 2.0 #25 - BINGO!

Shot with an Arrow:

Whumper: Hero Whumpee: Villain Caretaker: Henchman, (And a mysterious Civilian)

All together now: BINGO!! We’re done for another year. Over the next few days yours just gonna get multiple one-liners, since I’m away in Rome and won’t have time and will be roped into playing poker. Sort’ve fearing for my life, but it should be all good.

So here you are, one last oof for BTHB.

Henchman had to cover Villain’s mouth to stop them from screaming in pain, again. Hero’s arrow had wedged itself deep into Villain’s thigh perhaps five or ten minutes ago now. But they were trying to hide from them, and that meant staying quiet. When Villain’s arm had accidentally hit off the shaft, that made it very difficult. Henchman didn’t dare let go until Villain fell back against the wall they were leaning on, panting for and looking too worn out to speak.

Henchman patted their shoulder reassuringly. They weren’t sure how they were meant to get out of there without Hero finding them. Villain couldn’t walk, certainly not silently. Hero was pacing, searching, they knew the two outlaws were nearby. Henchman needed to think of a plan and think of it fast.

They heard shuffling behind them, so slight, so quiet they almost missed it. Henchman turned and aimed their gun, the stranger was already so much closer than Henchman had expected. Damn, they could sneak! Henchman wasn’t sure what to do, it wasn’t Hero, they weren’t attacking, but…

“Show yourselves!” Hero suddenly shouted, so much closer than last time. In the faint light, Henchman could see their Shadow. They were above them, so painfully close with their bow in their hand, loaded with a deadly arrow. Henchman had already lost one close friend to that weapon. They couldn’t afford to lose Villain too. The stranger put a finger up to their lips. “The arrow is poisoned. If you want the antidote, you’ll have to come and get it,” Hero continued.

Henchman looked in the direction of Hero’s shadow, and back to the stranger, their face was hidden by a big hood and mask, a bandana from what Henchman could make out in the dark.

There was a long, tense wait until Hero turned around and walked away. Henchman released a breath they hadn’t realised they’d been holding. 

The stranger made a gesture of peace and came closer. Villain noticed them but made no signal for Henchman to attack. Henchman watched with extreme caution as they came closer, took a single glimpse at Villian’s leg and whispered. “Come with me.”

They took out a knife and Henchman raised their gun. The stranger shook their head and approached the arrow, they cut the wooden shaft close to the skin, Villain groaned as they carefully snapped it.

They pocketed the knife and gestured again for Henchman to follow. Villain tried to get to their feet, but they were in great pain. Henchman had to help them up. The stranger led the way. Henchman had no idea where they were taking them. They didn’t know this area, and they hadn’t been able to find an exit, not with Villain in the state they were, and they were getting worse.

The stranger brought them to a dead-end, and Henchman could feel the panic rising in their chest, until they crouched down and lifted up a large rug and started to lift a large piece of the stone floor. They flicked their head, as though to say come and help me then, idiot. They lowered Villain back down to the floor, noting how they were getting less responsive.

They lifted up the fake floor and the two wordlessly worked together to move Villain closer. Henchman climbed down first, ready to take Villain off the stranger, they managed, but Villain groaned loudly.

“I know you’re here somewhere!” Hero bellowed.

The stranger skillfully moved the rug and the tile back into their original place, climbing into this mysterious tunnel, it was just as baffling as the rest of this situation.

“Who are you?” Henchman dared to whisper.

“Call me [Civilian]. We should hurry, your friend doesn’t have long.”

The two of them worked together to hurry down a hallway and to a clean, well ventilated, room.

“Lie them down on the bed,” Civilian ordered. Henchman did so, staying close to Villain’s side. They were sweating profusely.

Civilian returned with a bowl of water, bandages, medicines, and their knife.

“Keep them still and quiet, this is going to hurt, and they aren’t going to appreciate it,” Civilian said, holding the knife over an already lit candle.

Henchman lay across Villain’s body with care, with a hand ready to cover Villain’s mouth. Villain almost at once started writhing and screaming. Henchman glanced back to see Civilian carefully using the blade to cut the skin further and using that extra space to carefully pry the arrowhead out. Villain kept screaming and fighting, and if Henchman wasn’t able to see what they were doing, they’d have said Civilian was trying to hack their leg off.

“Barbed,” Civilian hissed. “I knew it. That bastard!”

Henchman eased up in pinning Villain down, trying to reassure them. Civilian got up and poured out a small cup of medicine. “Have them drink this, this next part might sting, but not as much. Try to relax, [Villain].”

Henchman sat Villain up and brought the cup up to their lips. “Come on, boss, almost done.”

Villain tried to throw themselves forward in pain when Civilian started cleaning the wound, Henchman guessed applying some sort of medicine as they did. They were lucky they didn’t spill the little cup. Henchman pushed them back against the back of the bed with one arm. “Drink, come on, stay strong for me. Just a little longer, then you can rest.”

Villain was already beyond exhausted. Henchman tentatively held the back fo their head and encouraged them to drink. Villain groaned but managed to take it in small sips, occasionally wincing as Civilian worked.

“Why are you helping us?” Villain croaked, “You know who. who I am.”

Civilian shrugged, “I know you, but that really isn’t an issue. I hate [Hero], and you’re my best chance of killing them. I keep you alive, you get rid of them, everyone’s happy.”

“But why?” Villain pressed, even weak as they were, they stared hard.

Civilian smirked behind their bandana, Henchman could tell by their eyes. Those eyes… they were familiar. Civilian pulled the cloth away. “They killed someone I loved, that we all cared about, and they deserve to pay.”

Henchman’s face dropped in alarm. “[Sidekick]’s [relative]? I... I thought [Hero] had killed you too...”

Civilian shook their head. “Surprise,” they said quietly. “Please, help me bandage [Villain]’s leg and then we can leave them to rest. We can talk about this later.”

Like my stuff and want to support what I do? Then maybe consider buying me a Kofi? Ko-fi.com/morallygrey

[ring-my-dang-doo]

I’m just as illiterate as Abigail but decided to write a goofy fanfic? Sorry in advance for littering this site with Micah smut 🤷🏼‍♀️☺️

Tw: sex, fighting, kidnap, lack of syntax and grammar, Micah.

Word count: 7384 (hefty)

“Fuck!” The girl spat bitterly into the frigid air, her bow was in her right hand and the elk that she had just shot was way over a hundred metres away with one of her arrows still lodged in its shoulder. She was about eight miles from home already and was very reluctant to move further away on her new horse, he was trying his best, she could tell but he’d get spooked by elk and up and bolt for no reason at all with the girl still on his back, holding on for dear life.

She thought about her cupboards back at the cabin, she’d ran out of any salted meats and she couldn’t leave the mountains in this weather. Pressing on, further through the mountains, she found herself struggling to find any type of life, there was no elk, no deer, not even a moose in the white abyss. There wasn’t even a chance that she could track anything as the snow just continued to cover any type of track, not that she knew much about that anyway. She put her head down, despite wearing a balaclava to shield herself from the bitter cold, her eyes were streaming and needed that extra protection, her horse rode on for another few minutes, while she rested.

She heard it before she saw it. She sat up as straight as an arrow on her saddle and immediately locked eyes with it, it was a bighorn ram. Almost as soon as they had time to register each other, he darted away.

The girl nudged the horse slightly with the heel of her boot, he took off galloping. The girl drew an arrow from her quiver that rested on her hip and set it on the nook of her bow, she pulled the arrow back and waited for the right moment to arrive.

As her horse began to tire, so did her arm, she knew it was now or never and released the arrow. It hit the ram and she gasped in relief when the creature didn’t get up again.

The girl was soon to dismount and scrambled over to the fresh corpse.

As she went to reach for her hunting knife, a gunshot rang out in the air, it was as clear as a bell and it made every part of her seize up- she was frozen there for a second, incredibly similar to the ram that had been stood before her a few moments prior, she refused to have the same fate as the sheep though, that wasn’t even an option. She began to back away slowly from the corpse, her father always told her to, in these types of situations, just put your hands up and comply and so she began to back away from the carcass and shuffle closer and closer to her horse, who was bucking and whinnying.

Then, once again, seemingly out of nowhere, there was another gunshot, she saw it hit the snow this time and it landed about two feet in front of her. The horse reared and immediately took off running, if the person on the other end of the rifle wanted to kill her, then they would have already and so she continued to hold her hands up and wished to disappear into her hood, her breath was unsteady and she felt extremely exposed.

Three horses made their way down from Mount Hagen, they kicked up a trail of powdery snow behind them and made their way over towards her. They must have been the men that shot at her, they certainly didn’t look too friendly and so she quietly prayed under her breath, hoping that she wouldn’t die and that this was all one big case of mistaken identity.

The men approached and she continued to hold her hands up, her bow was stowed on her horse and so other than her hunting knife, she had absolutely nothing to defend herself with if anything were to happen. “You fucking idiot” she cursed to herself, too quiet for them to hear.

They all dismounted their horses and made their way over, there was a tall man with dark hair that hung by his crooked cheekbones, a slightly shorter, skinny man with thinning hair and last to dismount his horse was a medium build man with shoulder length blonde hair and a handle-bar moustache, each of the men wore hats, casting a shadow across each of their faces.

“It’s good to finally meet ya, ya bastard” The short man growled, he spat on the ground in front of her, “I’m gonna enjoy this!”

Before the girl could even apologise, the man grabbed her by her shoulders and threw her to the snowy ground, he began bombarding her with punches. Was she being robbed? The girl grabbed one of the stray jabs and punched him back, she got him right in his hooked nose and he backed away, groaning and clutching his face. The girl scrambled to her feet and stood waiting for the next attempt at a fight.

“You’re gonna regret that, you son of a bitch!” He growled, the punch she threw wasn’t enough to make his nose bleed, but it did give her a minute to get her bearings, everything that her daddy taught her about compliance in these situations had gone entirely out of the window.

While she got ready for the skinny man to continue the fight, she glanced at the other two men, the taller one seemed ready to get involved, he was very tense, while the blonde one was standing with his hands on his either side of his hips, clutching his belt with a stupid grin on his face,

“Punch that half-pint bastard, Cleet!” He yelled.

The man, who she assumed was ‘Cleet’ started towards her, the girl quickly removed her gloves and threw them in the snow beside her, hoping that she’d pack a better punch without the soft leather to pad her already soft fists, and it worked.

As soon as he tried to strike her, she slapped him with her backhand. Which caused a stir in the blonde man who was watching from the distance, “You hit like a little bitch!” He sneered, Cleet didn’t think so, his cheek immediately turning red from the smack and quickly made up for it by socking the girl straight in the jaw. She felt tears pricking her eyes slightly, getting punched was definitely as unpleasant as she remembered.

The girl realised that there was no way that she was going to win this fight with her slapping him to death, although the thought did amuse her slightly when it really shouldn’t have, so instead she waited for him to get ready to punch and she tackled him, he immediately fell to the floor with a grunt and she pummelled his face with punches.

The punches were not regular punches, they were erratic, hammer-fisted blows to his entire face.

She’d totally forgotten about the men behind her, when she suddenly felt a strong blow to the back of her skull, she lurched forward and staggered to her feet, stepping on Cleet. She turned around and concluded that the taller man had kicked her in the back of the head. It seemed as though Cleet wasn’t getting back up and his friend decided to step in instead, it was apparent that the blond man was steering clear from any of this.

The man towered over her, there was no way that she could win this fairly.

The girl quickly reached into her knife sheath and pulled out her hunting knife, before swiping furiously at him, cutting a sizeable slice into his cheek. The man cried out in pain.

“Micah, gimme your knife.” He grunted, the girl backed down slightly, contemplating turning around and sprinting away, but then realised that it was a ridiculous plan because these men had horses and guns.

The blond man, who she assumed was Micah scoffed slightly, “You can’t even handle a man half your height? What the hell is wrong with you? I’ll finish it myself.”

‘Man?! What a pair of clowns’ she thought, still clutching her knife with white knuckles. The taller man fell back whilst the louder, blond man stepped towards her.

“You ain’t so tough, half-pint” He snarled, flipping and catching his knife. She scowled at him, ready to cut him whenever he wanted to advance. Then, he ran at her, it was so quick she had no clue what to do, she stood upright with her legs apart to steady her balance and tried to counter whatever he threw at her.

He took a few swings at her with the knife, all of which she managed to get away from.

As she readied her knife to sink it into his right side, he brought his foot up and kicked her, right in between the legs, she grunted slightly, it was a very hard kick- it hurt a lot but any man would have been incapacitated by the blow. Micah looked down at her, wide eyed by her lack of any reaction,

“What the hell?” He cried, she took the opportunity to try to take the knife off of him. She grabbed his hand and began trying to pry it open to get him to drop it, he refused and got around the back of her, he scooped his arms under her shoulders and held her close to him, restraining her from any sort of movements, she struggled in his grip and she kicked and grunted but he was not letting go, she stopped struggling and lay her head back, it fell against Micah’s chest, she was much shorter than him, there was no way she could get out of this hold without being killed.

“Joe, come finish this bastard off.” He ordered, waving his knife around, the taller man sauntered over, he had a stupid grin on his face and he snatched Micah’s knife.

“He cut my face up, Micah. Where am I getting this bastard first?” Joe spat. Micah chuckled darkly in her ear and went to place a hand on the left side of her chest, her face burned red under the wool balaclava that she was wearing, as instead of the flat pectoral he was expecting, he instead clutched her left breast.

“Right he-“ he paused for a minute “what in the hell?!”

Joe stopped in his tracks as Micah let the girl go and threw her down on her back it knocked the air out of her and she sputtered slightly. Micah was quick to straddle her,

“What the hell is going on here?” He muttered under his breath, he brought his hand up to her hood and yanked it down and then peeled off her balaclava.

The apples of her cheeks became rosy with the sudden exposure to the cold and her breathing became shallow as he laid eyes on her, properly. He had a look about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, something cruel and plotting.

As soon as the blond man had taken her balaclava off, his eyes had lit up, the way that her hair painted the snow behind her head like a halo, the way that her eyes burned with anger and frustration and how her lips were so full and inviting.

“Look at what we have here, Joe.” Micah purred, he put a hand to her cheek, her skin was soft to the touch, like a flesh coloured velvet and a small trail of blood was leaking from her right nostril. Joe’s ugly head came into frame, and he sneered at her,

“He’s a girl?!”

Micah glared at him, “Yeah she is, a mighty fine looking one, too. Women are different to men, Joe. They’re much easier to get information out of”

The girl scowled at him, she’d play along with his stupid games, for compliance sake.

The golden haired man acknowledged her look of disgust and smirked ever so slightly,

“I’m sorry, Miss. What’re you doing all the way out here?” He asked in a tone so nice it came across as sour. He wasn’t going to believe anything she said, either way.

“I was out here hunting.” She squeaked, “I killed a bighorn, it’s over there.”

He shook his head and shushed her,

“If you were hunting bighorn, you’d need a horse and a gun. You don’t have either.”

She felt her blood boil in frustration,

“This bighorn is right over there and you shot at my horse, he ran away!”

Micah shook his blond head,

“Now now, missy, don’t raise your voice. As far as me and joe here are concerned, you’re a dirty Pinkerton, you only came here to spy on us, you’re gonna have to come back with us. Joe, go grab that bighorn!”

He saw her shoot the bighorn, after all, he was the one to take the shot at her horse, originally he did think that she was a Pinkerton but this did all add up to him.

Joe walked away from them and out of the girl’s line of sight. Micah grabbed a slack piece of rope that hung from his waist and pulled it straight, he maintained eye contact with the girl while he did so, “Now look, you’re coming back with us and I don’t want a fight from you, or else you’ll end up like the bighorn, do you understand?”

The girl took a deep breath in and thought about the compliant approach that she’d need to take, how that was the only way she’d be able to escape from this situation.

“Yes sir.” She breathed, the man barked with laughter, making the girl jump and he began tying her wrists together,

“I like that. I like that a lot.”

The binds on her wrists were tight, so tight that they sort of burned, when he was finished he stood up, scooped her up over his shoulder and began to walk back in the direction that he came from, she looked up at Joe who was a few feet behind them and was carrying her ram carcass,

“What’re we doing about Cleet?”

Micah suddenly leaned forward and the girl was back on her feet again, he gestured towards the horse and she scrambled to get on, which was proving difficult without the use of both her arms but she managed.

“Wake him up, we don’t have time to be loitering” he barked, “Me and the woman are heading back to camp, I’ll meet you and Cleet back there.”

Joe stowed the ram and sighed, a visible gash in his face from the fight that had broken out a few minutes prior.

Before the girl even had time to think about where he was taking her, the horse began to gallop away, she wobbled slightly as his riding was erratic but she steadied herself and he carried on.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” His tone had entirely changed since he’d realised that she was in fact a woman. She paused for a moment, she can’t say she felt comfortable with handing this man her name but at the same time she had to comply to get out of here and she knew that this man was not very patient and so she lied. It was a stupid lie, not a very believable one but it didn’t register to the girl how stupid it was until it left her mouth.

“I don’t have one.”

She cursed herself, internally but to her surprise, the man seemed indifferent,

“I’ve got a few names in mind for ya.”

“So, lamb-chop, your cute little ass was out huntin’ all damn day? Why didn’t your big, strong husband go do it for you, instead?” Micah’s speech was slurred, he had a slight pink glow to his cheeks and he reeked of bourbon and cigarettes.

The girl scowled at the back of his head, hoping that somehow she’d get through his dense skull,

“Look Mister, I don’t have a husband, I live out here alone!”

The words tumbled from her lips and she immediately wished that she could put them back, she couldn’t be certain but she was sure that she felt Micah chuckle slightly. The girl had no idea where they were, the thick blanket of snow totally knocked any bearings that the girl had. The girl straightened her back up and checked over Micah’s shoulder, a camp stood. There were three wooden buildings that stood a few hundred yards before them and a campfire, “It’s been a while since the boys in camp have seen a lady, I hope for your sake that they behave.”

The girl shuddered, there were more of these men? It had never even crossed her mind that men as toxic as this could congregate in such large groups.

Micah hitched his horse in camp, she’d elicited no reaction as of yet from the men gathered around a larger campfire. Micah helped her off the horse and led her over towards the campfire by the binds between her wrists. There were about a dozen men shivering around the fire, 24 sets of teeth chattering away in unison. The girl wanted to turn around and sprint away from the scene, one million and one scenarios running through her head.

A few heads turned as the pair approached the glow of the burning wood and Micah paraded her around the outside of the campfire, “Don’t any of you even think about touching her, she’s nobody’s business.”

He pulled the girl over to an unused hitching post behind the fire and pushed her back against the post. The pair stood inches away from each other for an awkward moment of silence and she finally got a good look at him, her eyes glazed every part of his face- he was oddly good looking, despite his loud mouth and his bad attitude. Micah’s eyes were like nothing she’d ever seen before, they reminded her so much of the frozen lake near her cabin, they were pleasant to look at but the contact their eyes had was terrifying, she felt that if she stared any longer that she’d crash through the ice and drown. His face was pale but he had a consistent pink glow to the tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks, in fact if she wasn’t in this situation, she could see herself being quite infatuated with him.

He must have picked up on her staring and furrowed his brows at her, “What do you want? You look scared stiff” His voice was cold and mocking and she retorted by quickly tearing her eyes away from his features. Micah chuckled slightly, placing a gloved hand on her covered shoulder and caressing it ever so slightly,

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I have that effect on most women.”

Micah’s idea of flirting was interrupted by a shout from the other side of camp, he looked over his shoulder at the commotion and then looked back at her,

“Looks like Cleet’s back and he don’t look too happy, sweetheart.”

The girl had hoped she’d killed him, honestly but alas here he was, trudging angrily through the snow towards the pair.

“Where is she, Micah?!” He growled, his hands balled into fists. Micah removed his hand from her shoulder, leaving a warm print of where he had been and stood in front of her, turning to face Cleet head-on.

“Cleet, go sleep it off, you backed her into a corner, she’s a fine woman.” The flattery in his voice was almost cringeworthy however he continued to shield her from Cleet, who had poked his head over Micah’s shoulder to get a better look at her,

“You’d better watch yourself, you stupid little bitch.” His voice was a sharp hiss that made her try to back off slightly, but he soon gave up and angrily huffed over to the fire. Micah turned back around to the girl who stood with her back pressed against the hitching post,

“Look.” He started, nothing he said sounded authentic to her, it all sounded so disingenuous and taunting, “We ain’t good men, we’re bad people and honestly, the Pinkertons showing up is not something I want to happen right now. If you’re honest about you just hunting, then the Pinkertons shouldn’t show up and you can go free tomorrow morning.”

The girl processed what he said and nodded,

“Yes sir, thank you.” Micah brought his hand up and squeezed the girl’s cheeks in between his thumb and forefinger,

“You’d better not be crooked, Girl because I wouldn’t take any pleasure from putting a bullet between those eyes.” He spoke in a purr, his accent a sultry drawl, he produced a knife from his sheath and to her surprise cut her ties, “Now come drink with us, the boys won’t bite!”

The girl sat beside Micah at the campfire, the evening was creeping up on them, the sky had turned from a stone grey to a warm orange colour. The girl sat and stared at the sun setting below the horizon, maybe this would be the last sunset she’d ever see. The girl felt a cold pressure against her thigh, she turned her head to Micah who had a slight smirk on his lips and a bottle of whisky resting on her thigh, “Drink up, sweetheart. It’s good whiskey!”

The girl took the bottle from him and brought it to her lips, the contents didn’t go down too well, it was a harsh taste that made her grimace. As she handed the bottle back to Micah, Cleet and Joe sat on the logs opposite them.

“You boys doin ok?” Micah queried, the girl felt all confidence built with Micah crumble as soon as they’d sat and she shifted her view away from any particular person and to the snowy ground.

Joe grunted in affirmation, whereas Cleet piped up, “I’m fucking freezing, Micah. My face aches, thanks to that little whore and I’m stuck in this frozen shithole.” Micah had to admit, he’d never seen Cleet so heated up in the entire time he’d known the man and he turned his attention to the girl, she kicked the snow beneath her feet, seemingly indifferent to the cold as she found refuge in her warm, sheepskin coat that was as sexy as a potato sack. Micah kicked her gently in the shin, not to hurt her, just to get her attention.

“Take your coat off.” He barked, the girl was quick to protest but was cut off by Micah, “You hurt Cleet pretty bad, least you can do is lend him your coat!”

Reluctantly, she began to unbutton it, she felt the silent, judgemental gazes from the rest of the camp as she slipped it off her shoulders and held it out towards Cleet, who quite happily took the coat and wrapped it around his slender frame. Micah wasn’t looking at Cleet, he was much more invested in the girl, she wore a frilly chemise that carelessly slipped off of her shoulders as her arms wound around herself in a futile attempt to protect herself from the cold, he’d cupped a generous handful of her full chest while the pair were scuffling, however he had no idea that she was so well formed. Micah shook the bottle in the girl’s direction and she was hasty to get another burning shot down her throat.

“It’s nice to see a docile young woman like yourself put away her liquor like it’s nobody’s business” His voice back to the same sickly sweet tone. The girl shrugged and offered him back the bottle. The blonde haired man was drunk, he swayed from side to side on the log, wrapping his arm around the girl’s waist and shuffling slightly over towards her.

The girl felt Micah edge closer and she didn’t mind it, the whiskey had warmed her cheeks and brought a dizzying veil over her vision but the rest of her was cold and Micah was an extra source of heat for her. Joe put down his bottle and groaned at the display,

“I’m sorry Micah, this doesn’t seem safe.” It was the most she had heard him say, her head raised slightly to look at him talk, but Micah had already cut in,

“What doesn’t seem safe?” He slurred, tightening his grip around the girl. Joe exhaled through his nose, the girl could tell that he really didn’t like any confrontation between himself and Micah,

“She doesn’t wanna be here, you’re all over her right now but what’s to say that she won’t just run away?” He was totally right, that’s what the girl wanted to do.

“She ain’t gonna run, Joe. Look at her, she’s a scared little lamb, if you stand within a foot of her you can hear her fluttering little heart in that... superb chest”

“I understand that she’s meek, but I really don’t think we can just let her drink with us. She’s probably a Pinkerton.” Joe was far more cautious than she’d first thought, she thought that there wasn’t much going on behind his dead eyes, but turns out there was a whole lot of paranoia.

“She’ll do exactly what I tell her to, Joe. As I said, she’s a lamb”

Micah got up real close to her, the closer he got, the more she turned her head to get away from him, he gripped her face in his hands and turned her head to face him,

“And you know exactly what that makes me, don’t you little girl? I’m a god damn lion and you are nothing more than a lamb. Is that understood?”

The total change in behaviour towards her straightened her back up, his words were replaying in her head over and over, she was prey to this man, “uhuh” she grunted in compliance.

He tutted and gripped her thigh in his other hand, “I thought you knew better than that, sweetheart... Say it again, properly.”

“Yes sir.”

Micah exhaled, a smile playing on his lips, he loosened his grip of the girls waist and took another swig of whiskey, men on the other side of camp had begun to head off to their lodgings one by one, eventually it was just gonna be her and Micah and the thought of that terrified her. Micah handed her the bottle,

“Wrap your lips around that, lamb chop or else the cold will get to ya”

There was a small amount left in the bottom of the bottle that she finished off, letting the empty bottle drop to the snow. Micah chuckled slightly, “I’ll go get us another one, don’t you worry your pretty little head, lamb chop.”

Micah managed to pry his hand from her waist and stumble away towards the cabins, leaving the girl alone, aside from the two rat-men opposite her. She wasn’t looking, but she heard the footsteps approach from opposite her, when the feet came into her view, she saw the fur trim of her coat, it was Cleet.

He sat down beside her, where Micah had just been and she reluctantly looked up at him,

“It’s a shame you had to go and punch me.” He hissed. The girl furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side,

“What do you mean? You would have killed me”

Cleet scoffed, “I was just roughing you up a bit”

The girl shook her head. She could have died and yet he was acting as though nothing was ever wrong.

“I was!” He assured, “If I’d have known you were a... Lady, I’d have never.”

She squinted her eyes at him, the alcohol must have been giving her some kind of a second wind as she laughed in his face, it wasn’t the type of laugh you would do in the company of a friend, it was a scornful cackle.

“I’m serious! You obviously don’t like Micah so stop being a bitch and come and drink with me, instead!” He was trying to flirt, the desperation was painful to watch and she found herself not wanting to laugh, but feeling herself getting angrier, her blood began to boil and she finally managed to spit her words out,

“I may not like Micah, but at least he’s not a leech like you, you’re a total parasite, you can’t fight, you can’t flirt and you sure as hell wouldn’t be alive without Micah because I’d have broken your skull open back there without him.” Cleet huffed out a laugh in disbelief and stood up, he walked back to Joe in silence and she thought that was going to be the end of it, that is before Cleet pulled out his revolver and pointed it in the direction of the girl.

“Ok, I can’t flirt, I can’t fight but I’ll tell you what, I’ll do more than a good job when I’m cleaning the pieces of your skull out of the snow.” The girl honestly thought that that was going to be it, she was going to die on Mount Hagen, that was until she felt an arm snake around her waist and the strong smell of bourbon filled her nose.

“Cleet... How disrespectful.” Micah breathed it right down her neck, goosebumps instantly littered her arms, “You’d draw on an unarmed girl?”

Cleet’s face contorted into an angry bunch and he spat into the snow.

“You best watch where you step, girl.” Cleet pointed his gun at her for a few seconds more before returning it to his holster and storming off. Micah moved his hand up and clutched her bare arm.

“You’re freezing. Too bad you didn’t bring a coat.” He hissed, his eyes glistening as though chaotic fireworks were going off behind them, she met his tease with a small smile and took the bottle of bourbon from him. Joe shot Micah a steely look and shook his head before making a swift exit in the same direction as Cleet. Micah found himself grinning at the scene that his men had made, he gestured back to the makeshift bench that the pair were just sat at. The girl didn’t budge, he turned his attention from the campfire back to the woman in his grip, she was staring at him once again, he’d notice her do this once before, her brows were knitted together and her cheeks and nose were dusted with a rosey tint.

“What’s the matter, lamb chop?” He tightened his grip on her waist and felt her scoot slightly closer in an attempt to escape his crushing hold.

“I’m freezing, can we not go somewhere warmer?”

Micah chuckled deeply and licked his lips, before leaning into the girl and trying to get as close to a whisper as possible:

“Are you implying that you wanna come back to my room?”

The girl narrowed her eyes at the blonde man and smiled slightly,

“If it’ll get me out of the cold, then I suppose I am.”

Micah felt a small chill up his spine and noticed his hands becoming clammy, he often felt the need to make a scene in order to hide such weaknesses, but showed restraint for a reason that even he wasn’t too sure about. “Come on then, lambchop.”

The pair trudged through the snow, around the campfire towards the large cabin. Thoughts of freedom ran through the girl’s head, while Micah drowned in thoughts of anxiety. He knew that his quarters was no place for a lady, his bed was unkempt, he’d have been better off asking to use Joe’s camp, not that he’d have allowed him to.

He did the honours of opening the door for the girl, he pushed her indoors, swiftly and followed her in, bolting it behind her.

It was the first time in a while that she had been free from Micah’s arm around her and so she gingerly approached the beds to the left.

“Which one’s yours?” She queried, turning to look at her captor. He was removing his leather coat with his back to her, upon asking the question she watched him flinch and he glanced at her over his shoulder, his anxiety was apparent. He plucked the hat from his head and threw it on the impromptu table in the centre of the room, this also housed a hunting knife and a book of “the American inferno” by Evelyn Miller, this caught the girl off guard, he didn’t strike her as a philosopher.

Micah pointed to the far bed and the girl made her way over. She snatched up the canvas bedroll and wrapped it around her bare arms. She was looking at her boots, but she could hear him sauntering over and felt the weight shift on the bed. She looked up at the man who now sat beside her, he wasn’t hiding beneath the shadow of his hat and she found herself strangely charmed, his hair wasn’t the honey-blonde that she’d taken it for, although she was sure that it once was, it was a sweptback greying-blonde, matching his moustache. As she admired his facial hair, she noticed a deep scar on his chin.

“Where’d you get that scar?” It was the alcohol talking, she didn’t often ask people about their scars or where they got them, but the words found themselves falling out of her mouth. He brought his hand up to his jaw and ran his thumb along the damaged tissue,

“Where’d you learn to ask annoying questions?”

The girl scoffed and took a swig of bourbon.

“Same place you learned to shave” The girl watched his face contort into a scowl, before smiling and placing a hand on his knee, “I’m kidding.”

His shoulders dropped and he faked a laugh,

“Very good, Lamb chop.”

She tightened her hold on his leg and drank some more bourbon,

“I’m not a Pinkerton.” She offered him back the bottle and he gladly took it, a smirk hidden beneath his facial hair.

“I can believe that, but it’s late, I couldn’t have a girl like yourself getting lost in the snow....” his tone made her hair stand on end, he leaned in close to her ear, his breath was heavy and his moustache tickled her soft cheek as he gently trailed off in a drunken drawl “...There’s a lot of men out there who’d do terrible things to you.” The girl found herself smirking, her chemise fell from its shelf on her left shoulder with help from Micah’s groping hands. Micah pulled away from her ear, his eyes were narrow and his gaze was fixed on her own. Despite his offensive exterior, she felt herself gravitating towards him, she knew exactly why he was making her stay, he had a one track mind. His lips collided with hers, her lips were so plump and soft in comparison to his, his rough facial hair catching her upper-lip, slightly. He tugged at her wrist, guiding her hand down to his crotch. The girl was inexperienced, although this wasn’t her first time, the thought of touching a man in such a lewd area made her cheeks burn. She rubbed him through his jeans and she felt him stir beneath the fabric, and he ran both of his hands up her legs under her chemise, working his way up. The fingers of his left hand dug fiercely into her hips, while his right hand played with what he was there for.

As soon as he pressed his thumb against the small knot of nerves, a small parcel of shock escaped her throat and developed into a moan. His lack of awareness as to how rough he was being shocked her more than anything else. He smirked, his eyes twinkling with malevolence,

“You like that, don’t you, lamb?” His thumb began to move: cruel, torturous movements, the girl’s eyes were wide and her mouth was agape at his unrefined technique, he was thrilled with her expression- what was once a shy girl he had turned into a dripping-wet mess. With his thumb still in place, he ran his middle finger down until he found the opening, she was saturated, Micah’s unbearably rough method somehow worked. Denied of her orgasm, Micah ripped his hand away from her sex and began hurriedly unbuckling his jeans, as though he was under some time of time constraint, his jeans dropped as far as his knees would allow them too before he awkwardly shuffled them down his shins, the only sounds were the faint noise of the camp outside, a rustling of fabric and Micah’s heavy breathing.

By the time he was finished drunkenly battling with his pants, he was stood up, he let out a loud sigh and looked at the girl, who was eagerly awaiting his return. He crawled up the bed, a hand on either side of her, their faces parallel to each other, his mane of gold and silver hung from his head. His hand was busy fumbling down below his belt, his arm moving in an erratic way as he prepared himself.

“I’m ready for you, princess.” He was breathless already and as he pulled her chemise down and grabbed her breast, she took note of how clammy his hands were. Micah cursed himself mentally, the girl was bored and he could tell, her eyelids grew heavy and his window was very slowly closing.

Without warning, he slid the tip of his member up her entrance, the warm, welcoming wetness of it felt like a Utopia next to the tundra that they were stuck in. He looked down at her, with eyes full of lust and her lip bitten, she waited in sheer anticipation for him to slowly ease his way into her entrance, there wasn’t much light from the near-extinguished lantern, but the little that there was showed him all he needed to see, her breasts were soft and her nipples erect from a combination of arousal and sheer cold. Micah looked directly into her eyes, his gaze almost as cold as outside and he suddenly thrust his entire length into her.

Instinctively she cried out, it was one of the most arousing and beautiful symphonies that he’d ever heard in his life, the way that her walls clung to him snuggly, with every thrust it felt like she was pushing him out and he loved every moment of this struggle. He carried on forcing his way through, with every thrust she felt her insides cry out. Micah’s thrusts were anything but regular, these were strong, painful and unpredictable rams that hit her deep. Micah grunted as he carried on, he’d developed a sheen on his forehead, she could just about see his face in this low light, his pale blue irises contrasted with the dark circles that stained the skin around his strangely pretty eyes.

“Like what you see, lamb chop?” The blond huffed rhetorically, between breaths. His thrusts were getting stronger and deeper now and his breaths were shallow grunts that alchemized into dreamy clouds of fog due to the harsh weather.

Her head spun and with every thrust of his, she felt a strange sensation deep within her, an odd numbness, similar to pins and needles but far less painful, her short breaths had slowly but surely gotten louder and turned into little moans. Micah leaned in closer to her and chuckled quietly, “You’re close, lamb chop.”

He cupped his left hand on her corresponding breast and wrapped his right hand around her throat, his deep, unpredictable pushes had turned into quick jabs, each one hitting her deeply. At this rate, he was forcing the moans from between her lips, the numbness was ringing out throughout her entire womanhood now, every nerve ending singing at the mercy of Micah’s length and then it was upon her: like nothing she’d ever felt before, she just about managed to cry out a strained “Micah” despite his grip on her throat, before her legs began to twitch and her walls collapsed around Micah’s shaft.

Micah released his grip from her delicate throat and raised his hand to her face, he cupped the girl’s cheek and bit his lower lip, slightly swollen from the chill,

“There’s a good little lamb, but don’t forget, I’ve still gotta finish, too.”

The girl nodded, “Yes sir.” She whimpered, she was being overstimulated and toyed with, his thrust was still strong and ruthless and he loved seeing the pathetic, helpless little look on her face as he continued to stir up her insides. Micah groaned deeply, she began to claw at the blankets beneath her, he was unsure if she was writhing or drowning in pleasure, but he knew that he loved it.

Moans began spilling out, desperate, pleading moans, they sounded intoxicated with pleasure as the writhing mess before him began to clutch at what she could of Micah, the girl weaved her fingers into his greying hair and Micah, in turn brought his face closer to her own.

“You alright there, lamb chop?” His voice a hiss, he knew exactly how good this must have felt for her, he just wanted to hear it for himself, her eyes latched to his and he felt his heart flutter slightly, like he’d ever admit it; her eyelids were heavy, she parted her lips slightly and her eyes quickly fell, despite everything he was doing to her, she was still shy. Then she spoke, quiet as a mouse, she breathed:

“Like nothing I’ve ever felt...” As soon as he heard it, he pushed his lips up against her own. The kiss wasn’t an ounce passionate, it was cold and lustful, his teeth lingered on her lower lip and he bit down reasonably hard, coaxing a muffled sound from within the girl.

His thrusts had become harder, slower and more deliberate, he was close and he wanted to savour every moment that he spent inside of her, as he pushed deeper and harder, he’d find himself trying to hold back the curses from under his breath. As he felt himself reaching the end of his tether, he gripped a handful of the girl’s hair which was greeted with a small Yelp,

“Now, missy. I’m gonna use you for what you’re good for.” He purred, his voice a total drawl, “You’re gonna take my seed, Lamb chop and you’re gonna take it like a good girl.” She went to protest, but all that managed to escape was a moan: a back arching, feminine moan that made the hair on the back of Micah’s neck stand on end and managed to push him over the edge.

Micah’s release wasn’t anywhere near as audible as the girl’s was, but the small growl he summoned behind his gritted teeth was just as real to her, his release was more than either of them could have expected, it immediately spilled out of her and dripped onto the bedroll beneath her. Micah, although out of breath and very drunk, sat back to see what he’d done and almost immediately a smile tugged at his lips,

“And they said Arthur was the artist of the gang...” He scoffed, before laying down next to the girl,

“Who the hell is Arthur?” She pressed, a smile on her face to match his, Micah shook his head as if to say ‘forget about it’.

His chest was far too inviting to her and so she rolled over and rested her head on the right side of his chest, he was warm and strangely comforting which was unexpected. The girl looked up at him and he smirked slightly, eyes not leaving her’s, “You’re such a good, obedient girl, lamb chop…” he breathed, putting his hand up against her head and holding her close to his chest, “and to think that I was just gonna kill you and rob you.”

The girl’s blood ran cold at the thought of it, Micah laughed it off once more and then yawned loudly.

“You’ve really took it out of me, lamb chop” He said, groggily, it honestly surprised the girl how quickly he managed to get to sleep, it was almost instantaneous, but there she was stuck, truly a lamb in the arms of a lion, a snoring, drunk, old lion.