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jimmygibbsjrrr · 4 years ago

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I have a lot of thoughts about the Slaters

namely, I've been wonderin why the Fairfield Survivors got thrown off the boat in Death Toll

in this panel of The Sacrifice comic, Francis confirms the fates of three of the rescue vehicles:

Image ID:

A panel from The Sacrifice: Part 1. Francis is sat in the rescue vehicle from Blood Harvest, speaking to Louis. His dialogue is as follows:

"Louis, I hate to be the one to break this to ya, but we been heading to the safe zone four times now. Helicopter: crashed. Plane: crashed. Boat: kicked us out and left us to die."

/end ID

the chopper from No Mercy was confirmed crashed in Crash Course, and as for the plane from Dead Air, it was pretty easy to guess (and would have been confirmed in the cut campaign Dam It).

but the part about the boat? that's the Slaters' boat from Death Toll. this is the first time we learn this information.

so...why? what happened?

(more under the cut, ended up writing wayyyy more than I expected over these past few days and don't wanna clog people's dashes lol)

so. let's take a quick dive into the last chapter of Death Toll, to see what we can discern about the Slaters from their dialogue.

the rescue vehicle in Death Toll is a civilian boat, Saint Lidia II, owned by John and Amanda Slater, a married couple. Amanda is never heard in-game, but John's reactions to her can be heard over the radio.

the Slaters are explicitly looking for "anyone out there with firearms". John later adds that "once you get on this boat? Your job is keeping our asses alive". it appears that their motivation for saving the Survivors is selfish from the get-go.

this is undoubtedly true in Amanda's case, however, some of John's lines betray a more selfless attitude. he will berate Amanda for not "think[ing] about the little guy". he will ask, "So what, then? We leave 'em to die? I can't do that, Amanda." whilst Amanda is thinking purely of their own survival, John still feels compassionate towards his fellow survivors. despite this, he says that "I don't want our first act of kindness to be our last", acknowledging the conflict between his compassion and his self-preservation.

so. these are the Survivor's saviours in Death Toll. a conflicted married couple looking for bodyguards, offering to take the Survivors upriver to a military safe zone in exchange for protection.

as for why they get thrown off the boat...well, the easiest explanation would be Amanda.

but, stay with me here, because I think it's a little more complicated than that.

this boat? fulla tension. there's the obvious tension between the Slaters, who we've established seem to fight and disagree regularly. then there's the inevitable tension between them and the Survivors. I reckon Louis, with his generally positive and friendly attitude, wouldn't have much of a problem with them, might even attempt some friendly conversation or something. however, he's about the only one.

the comic fully establishes Bill as caring about nobody except the Fairfield Survivors - the most obvious evidence of this being the words he lives and dies by, "we look after our own". he isn't particularly interested in other people, unless they can help the group out. and he'd likely recognise the unstable and conditional nature of their rescue. while I'm sure he'd try and keep the peace, in any reasonable disagreement or fight Bill's likely to take his friends' side, and if anyone's getting thrown off the boat Bill is going with them. this goes for the whole group, to be honest; I don't think they'd want to split up at this point.

Francis hates boats, hates water, and can't swim, so (and I'm getting a little speculate-y here) would probably be in an even sourer mood than usual on the journey. being as abrasive as he is, plus this additional stress, it's fully possible he could piss off the Slaters enough to get himself (or all of them) thrown off the boat.

as for Zoey? well, I don't imagine a married couple who constantly argues is gonna sit well with her, considering her backstory. similarly to Francis, the situation they're in would make her far more stressed, making it more likely for her to lash out.

Amanda didn't want to save the Survivors in the first place, so while I think that John wouldn't throw them off the boat without reason, I reckon she could persuade him to throw them off if they 'caused trouble' - and they would get into an argument with her far easier than they would with John.

in short: yeah, I can see them getting thrown off the boat by the Slaters after some huge fight or disagreement. I think that's a reasonable interpretation of canon, and definitely an interesting concept.

...however, I do wonder if this tension would really be enough to destabilise their mutual need, after everything they went through to come together.

which is why I'm going to bring up The Last Stand!

I gotta quickly address something before this segment: yeah, I'm totally aware this campaign isn't canon. this evidence works with the fact that it exists in an 'alternate timeline'. also, I am missing a few citations for this section - if anyone can provide them I'd really appreciate it, but just a disclaimer that I currently can't prove some of the things the wiki claims members of the Last Stand Community Update Team have said. here and here are the wiki pages where I got this information. in short - the above explanation is simpler and more canon compliant, the conclusion I draw at the end of this post is backed by shakier evidence but I believe is more interesting, and you can make of all that what you will.

allegedly, members of the Last Stand Community Update Team confirmed a strongly-suspected fan theory about The Last Stand: that it branches off from Death Toll in some way, in a non-canon alternative timeline. as well as this, they allegedly confirmed that in this alternative timeline, the Survivors still end up in Newburg for Dead Air. even without the confirmation, this remains a solid fan theory, due to the constant references to Riverside and re-use of many of Death Toll's assets.

who rescues the Survivors in The Last Stand? John Slater. no Amanda - just John. despite her lack of voice actress, if she was still present John would give some indication of this at some point. it can be speculated that whatever happened to her contributed to the lack of rescue at the boathouse that forced the Survivors to take an alternative route. either way, he ends up at the lighthouse when the Survivors call for rescue, alone, and picks them up.

and then later...throws them off the boat. into Newburg.

what reason would John have to do that? without Amanda, surely he wouldn't have that push, as he wanted to rescue the Survivors for multiple reasons in the first place. without his constant arguments with Amanda, Zoey wouldn't be nearly as stressed. and between the three of them I'm sure the other Fairfield Survivors would stop Francis from pissing John off enough to get them thrown off the boat. in short, less Amanda = less tension, and no reason for the Survivors getting chucked off the boat.

...right?

I'd like to remind you that a symptom of the Infection is paranoia.

what if, in both The Last Stand and Death Toll, John and Amanda are infected by the Survivors on the way to the military safe zone? after all, the virus is confirmed to occasionally be airborne, and I doubt two civilians have completely effective, sustained protection against that. likely the only reason they hadn't already been Infected is because they got out on the water early on in the pandemic, and hadn't come into contact with anyone else since. it's unlikely that one of them is immune, and even more unlikely that they're both immune (especially considering those with XX chromosomes may be genetically less likely to be carriers). wouldn't Francis have mentioned it if their rescuers turned or were obviously Infected? yes, but it's possible that the airborne strain works slower as well, meaning that the Survivors are thrown off of the boat after the symptoms kick in but before the Slaters fully turn. even Church Guy had at least an hour from being Infected to turning, and he was bitten. Newburg isn't too far from where the Survivors are rescued in Death Toll anyway (the burning city in the background of the finale is Newburg), so the Survivors clearly didn't last long on the boat anyway. as a result, the Survivors wouldn't realise it was the Infection intensifying the Slaters' paranoia - they'd just think the Slaters were being dicks. Francis also explicitly mentions that they were "left to die", implying negativity or even hostility from the Slaters as the Survivors were being thrown off.

so yeah. that's why I think they got thrown off of the boat in Death Toll - a combination of the intense tension between the two parties, and the Slaters falling victim to Infection-induced paranoia. but an explanation minus the Infection is equally as plausible. it all depends on what you find most interesting, I suppose, and both feel like they fit pretty well into the world.

lord this is a long chunk o text. I know most fandoms prefer art and fanfic over this sorta thing, so please let me know in replies or something if you're interested in more stuff like this. also if any of this makes sense because I like to ramble.

oh and if you'd like to use any of my interpretations in fanworks like art or fic, I'd love to see it :)

#l4d #l4d2 #left 4 dead #left 4 dead 2 #jrrrambles #not gonna tag any characters #because I mention a ton #and I don't think the Slaters have tags #i spent way too much time on this </3

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avintagekiss24 · 5 years ago

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Hot for teacher [4] > Bucky Barnes

PAIRING; Dark!Professor!Bucky Barnes x black!reader, Dark!Peter Parker x black!reader

WORD COUNT; 7,973

WARNINGS; Age difference, teacher/student dynamics, spanking, smut, sex, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, mention of blood, slight praise kink, slight crying kink?, overstimulation

SUMMARY; A friend comes to your defense and Bucky finally gives in.

NOTE; Gif credit goes to @/fluturojdallandyshia! I wanna say/reiterate that Cher, reader, and Peter are in their senior/last year of school AND they are all 18 years old. I had a “late” birthday (May), so I turned 18 three weeks before I graduated. My brother had an early birthday (September), so he turned 18 like two weeks into his senior year. Peter, Cher, and reader all have early (August/September) birthdays. Any crap about aging Peter up will be deleted and blocked. You’ve been warned multiple times - if you continue to read after this point, it’s on you.

I also gave reader a last name. Sue me. Hope this lives up to the hype... I’m probably gonna hide for the rest of the night and not look at tumblr for the rest of the night... posting anxiety sucks.

Any mistakes are mine, I was rushing towards the end, lol.

☞ PART FIVE | ☞ SERIES MASTERLIST

You toss your freshly braided hair over your shoulder as you move through the halls towards Bucky’s classroom. You’re actually pretty excited. Sure, you were fuming for most of the day yesterday but after a joint and an appointment with your vibrating boyfriend, your mind cleared. Your mother's words came floating back to you, and you knew what you had to do. Kill ‘em with kindness. After all, healthy competition goes both ways.

You turn into his room, finding it empty, but the light on. No bother, you just move up the rows and plop down in your seat, pulling out your laptop. You don’t even look up when Cher walks in - late, of course - and sign loudly when she acknowledges you.

“Didn’t realize sucking up started this early.”

“And yet here you are,” you smile quickly, “Late, but here, nevertheless.”

She rolls her eyes, mumbling something about you being a bitch before she sits in her seat. Bucky arrives some minutes later, a cup of coffee in his hand, his glasses low on his nose, “Morning ladies. My apologies, I'm dragging ass today, had to get some coffee.”

You don’t answer. You don’t even look up from your screen as you tap away, finishing up your English paper. You hear the two of them making conversation, flicking your eyes up as Cher moves to the desk, leaning over it to no doubt show off the boob job her father paid for over the summer. Her irritating laughter rings out, but you pay it absolutely no mind until you feel a set of eyes on you within minutes.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning.” Bucky says, tilting his head as you finally glance up at him from over your screen.

“Good morning Bucky.”

You watch as his jaw twitches slightly and his eyes squint at the sound of his first name. You shift in your seat, dropping your eyes back to your google doc, having to literally stop yourself from grinning. You’ve got him already.

“Bucky?” He questions, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You click your teeth and scrunch your face as you pretend to be confused, “You did say at the beginning of the year to call you Bucky, yes? Has something changed?”

He scoffs lightly, a confused smirk playing on his lips as he rubs his chin, “I did, yes.” He agrees, shaking his head, “I thought you said you preferred Mr. Barnes.”

You shrug, “Well, I guess I don’t anymore.” You cut your eyes to Cher, who squints back at you, her lip slightly snarled, “If you want to be called Bucky, then I’ll call you Bucky.” You lift your eyes back to his, crossing your legs, “Just like everyone else.”

You drop your eyes back to your Macbook and fill the silence by tapping away at your keyboard again. You feel his eyes on you for a few seconds more before Cher draws his attention with some bullshit question. You stay true to course, never lifting your eyes back to him as he throws random looks at you, trying to get your attention as the class starts to fill up.

You close your laptop but never really give him your full attention as you usually do as he begins his lecture. You glance out the window, or keep your eyes cast down on your pristine white shoes You gaze at your nails, making a mental note to schedule an appointment. You keep your legs crossed. You don’t engage, you don’t answer any questions, you don’t offer any insight. You just sit there - like everyone else.

His eyes are on you the entire hour. He poses questions, but ignores the raised hands for a few moments, waiting for yours to pop up into the air. When it doesn’t, his eyes linger on you for a few beats before he finally calls on someone. His questions get short, his thoughts sort of jumbled as the time dwindles. You smile. This is going to be easier than you thought.

The bell rings and you fall in line with everyone else, heading towards the door. A hand catches your bicep and you sigh, but you keep your eyes straight ahead. Bucky nods and smiles at a few students before he turns his attention to you.

“You stopping by after class?” He asks gently, “I got something in my pants you might like.”

You smile back at him, cocking your head, “No, I can’t make it today.”

His lips part as his eyes bounce back and forth between yours, “Why not?”

“I have a riding lesson with Mr. Udaku.”

He laughs in disbelief as he runs his hand through his hair, “A riding lesson?” He repeats, “That early in the afternoon?”

“Yes.”

He clears his throat as irritation starts to bubble in his chest, “You gave me your schedule. Wednesday through Friday, six to eight, twice a day Saturday and Sunday.”

You shrug, “Not anymore.”

You take a step from him, but he stops you, grabbing your arm again. You turn towards him, your lips set in a hard line. He looks back at you, crossing his arms over his chest as you refuse to give in.

“Come on,” he says after the last student clears the room, “What is going on?”

“Nothing.” You shrug again as you answer sweetly, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve barely spoken to me today. This isn’t about yesterday, is it?” He probes, wrapping his arms around your waist, “I was just joking. You know you’re my favorite girl.”

You smile. It’s too late for that. You step out of his arms and head for the door as his eyes follow you, “You were absolutely right, Bucky,” you stress, “A little competition is healthy. For everyone.”

You turn and walk out before he can respond.

----------

You brush down Apollo, your most prized possession as he neighs gently. You shush him, patting him softly on his side before you kiss him on his snout. He shakes his head and you laugh, reaffirming his good boy status just as Cher walks into the stalls. You throw your eyes at her as she stops in her tracks before rebounding quickly and moving to her horse’s stall.

“And just what are you doing here?” She asks.

“Isn’t it obvious? I have a lesson.”

You hear her scoff, “I’m not stupid.”

“You sure about that?” You giggle, rolling your eyes, “I moved my lessons to mirror yours, just so I can crush you everyday of the week. Show you who’s boss.”

She tuts, batting her big eyes, “You just can’t stand it that Barnes doesn’t want you anymore.”

“Please,” you scoff, “Just the fact that he’s entertaining you, makes me reconsider his intelligence.”

You smile sweetly as you grab Apollo’s reins and start to walk him out of the barn. You lean into her and push some of her blonde hair off of her shoulder, “You fuck with me, I fuck with you. You should have stayed in your place, little girl.”

She slaps your hand away and you laugh before moving out into the field. You place your foot into the stir up and hoist yourself up onto Apollo, adjusting yourself on the saddle. You start a slow trot around the fenced in area, warming him up before you start working the obstacle course.

Your lesson goes exactly how you thought it would, compliment after compliment from Mr. Udaku, (or T’Challa, as many of his students call him) about your form, your technique, your skill - while Cher struggled to keep up. Pride swells in your chest as you gaze upon her flustered, red face as she rips off her helmet and runs her fingers through her hair.

“Cher, you still need to work on not bouncing as much when you canter, you're still gripping too hard with your legs. Here,” T’Challa says, “Watch Ms. Prescott.”

He waves you forward and you start a canter with Apollo, your body moving naturally with his, “See how relaxed she is? You gotta let your legs stay soft. You have to remember to stay aligned with Cotton’s body or you’ll never be a smooth rider. Thank you Ms. Prescott.”

“Not a problem,” you coo sweetly, “I’m always here to help. You have my number Cher, you can text me anytime if you need any pointers.”

She narrows her eyes at you as she exhales hard, “Thank you.” She hisses as sarcasm drips from her words.

“I mean, now that I’ve switched my schedule, we’ll get to ride together more. I don’t mind showing you the ropes. I know you’ve only started riding a few years ago.” You smile widely, continuing to step on her throat.

“I think that’s a good idea actually,” T’Challa agrees, “There’s no shame in asking for help sometimes Cher. Ms. Prescott’s knowledge and skill set could really help elevate your riding. You know she and Apollo are three time Champions.”

“Going for four,” you smile proudly, “Cher was there, cheering me on for all three of my wins. What did you place last year?” You ask, knowing good and damn well she was disqualified from your skill class.

“Fuck you,” she mouths.

Your smile practically breaks your face in two. Kill ‘em with kindness. You pull Apollo away from T’Challa and Cher, starting another slow trot around the fence. You glance over your shoulder and spot Bucky walking through the grass. You squint slightly, pulling on the reins to slow Apollo to a stop. You’ve never seen him out here before. He must be checking up on you, seeing if you really had a lesson this afternoon. You smile again. Men.

You click your tongue quickly and pat Apollo on his hip, turning him back towards the two teachers. You ride just close enough to hear their conversation but not close enough to where they’d know you’re snooping. You jump Apollo over the hogsback in the center of the arena as their conversation wafts towards you.

“I didn’t know she rode this early in the day, especially on Tuesdays.” You hear Bucky say.

“She usually doesn’t, but she texted me last night wanting to change her schedule to free up her weekends. She wouldn’t tell me why. It’s not like she really needs to practice this hard.”

You glance over at the two of them at the fence and meet Bucky’s gaze. You blink back at him, never one to back down from a staring contest, and quirk your eyebrows up your forehead. He turns his attention back toT’Challa, before he sends his gaze towards Cher. You turn Apollo again, trotting him over to another jump.

You cut your eyes over your shoulder, watching Bucky shrug, “She’s been my TA for a few weeks. I just thought it was kinda sudden that she couldn’t stop by after class today.”

T’Challa slaps him on the shoulder, “I’m sorry man. Didn’t mean to steal your help away.”

“No, no,” you hear Bucky say before he links his eyes with yours again, “We’re just going to have to share her it seems.” He shakes T’Challa’s hand, “I’ll catch you later, huh?”

You watch as he moves back across the grass, running his hand through his hair as he bows his head. You let Apollo cool down for a few more minutes before you ride him back into the stalls. You brush him down again, before cleaning out his stall and laying down some fresh hay for him. You give him his dinner, feed him a few carrots as a treat for a job well done and rub noses before kissing him again.

“You’re the only man I can depend on. See you tomorrow baby.”

You remove your gloves as you move out from the back of the barn, jumping slightly and clutching your chest when you come face to face with one Bucky Barnes, “Bucky -”

“Stop calling me that.” He answers sternly, his hands in his pockets, “You switched your riding schedule? Really?”

You shrug definitely, “So I wanted more lessons during the week, shoot me.”

“T’Challa said you don’t even need them. You’re just fucking with me.”

You giggle, “And Cher,” you add, “This isn’t all about you.”

“Can we just knock it off please? I’m sorry, okay? I told you, I was just joking yesterday.” He says with a huff, running his hands through his hair again.

You cross your arms over your chest, a smirk on your face and a sing-song tune in your voice, “But I’m just getting started, Bucky.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “It’s a little funny. Look at you all worked up.” You mock, bopping his nose with your index finger, “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Hey. Prescott.”

You snap your head back towards the new voice, taking a quick step away from Bucky. You smile as the young Peter Parker leans up against the fence, nodding his head at you, “Peter Parker. How are you?”

“You got a minute?”

Your smile widens, “Of course.”

Bucky grabs your arm again before you step away from him, “I’m not finished talking to you.”

You pull away from him, “Well, I’m finished talking to you.” You state, stepping away from him, “I’ve been involved in competition my whole life, Bucky. I don’t cave and I certainly don’t lose. You wanted a competition, now you got one.”

You turn on your heel and bounce towards the waiting Peter. He stands up straight, smiling at you again but keeps his eyes on Bucky as he walks off. Once you’re close enough, he nods towards him, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You wave it off, “No interruption. I don’t see you out here much.”

“Nah, I came by to see you. I think we can help each other out.”

“God,” you roll your eyes playfully, “You read my mind. I smoked my last joint last night.”

“Not with that,” he laughs, “Well, I can help you with that too, but I have something else in mind.”

You raise your eyebrows, intrigued with him, “Oh?”

“Word’s getting around that you and Cher are battling over Barnes.” You shoot your eyes towards him, “You know she’s got a big mouth.”

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Don’t worry. Everybody here has something on them, nobody is gonna snitch for fear of it coming back on them ten times over.” He says slowly, scrunching his face slightly as he faces the sun, “That’s what I thought I could help you with.”

You cross your arms as you glance around the deserted area, “How’s that?”

“You know Cher and I fucked around for a while late last semester, right before summer. Turns out, the fucking bitch burned me.”

“Ugh,” you grimace, “You’re kidding?”

“No. My parents intercepted the test results. That’s why my ass has been on lock down. Plus, I had to be on a fucking regimen of antibiotics to get rid of the shit. Killed my fucking game for the summer, man.”

You giggle a little, bumping your shoulder with his, “Sorry to hear it, but what exactly does that have to do with me, Parker?”

“It would kill her if we hooked up,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, “Barnes too. He hates me.”

You inhale deeply as your lips curl into another devilish smile, “I didn’t know you had Barnes.”

“I have him in the afternoon. He busts my balls over every little fucking thing.” He rolls his eyes, “Cher is absolutely obsessed with you, it would drive her nuts. It’s the best revenge that I can get and I know you love making her feel second best.”

“It gives me great joy, actually.” You watch as Peter laughs, “Alright Parker, you got yourself a deal, but we need to draw some lines.”

“Okay,” he nods, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Lay ‘em out.”

“I don’t,” you start, clearing your throat, “I haven’t fucked-fucked yet and I'd like to keep it that way.”

“Saving it for Barnes?” He teases.

“Fuck you,” you giggle, “Make outs, blow jobs, heavy petting… whatever, I’m down with all of that, just no fucking. Deal?”

He holds out his hand and you take it, shaking it to make it official, “A woman confident in her sexuality. I love it.” He pecks you on the cheek before he starts to walk off, “It’ll be a pleasure doing business with you.” He calls.

“Same to you, Parker.” You smile, “Same to you.”

----------

You and Peter keep your newfound “romance” on the low for the next few days, as not to arouse any sudden suspicions. You continue to show up to Bucky’s class a half hour early (always making it in before Cher) and completely ignore him. You catch up on homework, you read, you paint your nails. Your nonchalant attitude towards him has continued to get under his skin, as his frustration and irritation has bled over into his lectures. Everyone picks up on his attitude, even Cher, now also receiving a cold shoulder from him in the mornings and afternoons.

You and Peter decide to start your attack bright and early Monday morning. You meet up in the parking lot, hanging out next to his car, laughing and joking with a few of his baseball teammates. You walk in around seven fifty, twenty minutes after Bucky has been expecting you, hand in hand. Peter throws his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his body as the two of you make your way through the halls.

You pass by the open door of Bucky’s room and Peter stops purposefully in front of it as he calls for one of his friends down the hall. You glance into the room, but quickly cut your eyes away as you find Bucky and Cher gaping out at the two of you - Cher practically flipping over her desk she’s leaning so far forward. You and Peter push forward out of sight and you lean against the lockers, pulling him into you.

You kiss him hard, making him moan in surprise at first but he quickly follows suit. You smack your lips on his a few times before he pulls away, resting his forehead to yours as he drags his finger down your now swollen lips. The two of you whisper back and forth, smiling and giggling all the while before he leans into you again, capturing your lips.

A throat clears loudly from beside the two of you, but you both ignore it, continuing to giggle and kiss as if you don’t hear a thing.

“Guys,” you hear Bucky sigh, “Break it up.”

“Oh, Mr. Barnes,” Peter laughs, wrapping his fingers around your neck softly - possessively, “Shit, man. Sorry about that. Didn’t even hear you, did you babe?”

You shake your head, “Nope. Sorry Bucky.” You peck Peter on his lips again before reaching up to wipe away the excess lip gloss you left behind, “You’ll walk me to my next class, yes?”

He winks at you before dipping back into you to kiss you once, twice, three more times, causing Bucky to speak up again.

“Guys, I mean it. You aren’t on a beach somewhere and you need to watch your mouth, Parker.” He sighs loudly, “Ms. Prescott, your seat please.”

You roll your eyes and push away from the lockers, you and Peter linking hands and extending your arms as you both walk in different directions.

“I’ll be right here after class babe.” He says, winking again.

“Ms. Prescott.” Bucky barks before pushing a hot breath out of his nose.

When your hands actually come undone, you wiggle your fingers at him before tossing your braids over your shoulder and push past the verklempt Bucky. You step past Cher, and she grabs your wrist, pulling you down into her.

“So you want my sloppy seconds all of a sudden?”

“Sloppy seconds?” You repeat, laughing lightly as you tilt your head, “Sweetie, it’s the restaurant metaphor all over again. Peter moved on from a bug infested pizza parlor to a clean five star restaurant. You’re still the sloppy one here.” You wink.

You revel in Bucky’s anger for the entire hour. He continuously cuts his eyes towards you, now dark and brooding, but you smirk back and drop your eyes to your book, not giving him the satisfaction. Your legs stay crossed and your panties stay dry - much to his chagrin. Peter is right there by the door as soon as the bell rings. The two of you intertwine your fingers and swing them back and forth as you walk down the hall, two pairs of eyes on you all the while.

“Mr. Barnes, I-”

“Not now, Cher.” Bucky bites back, running his hand through his hair again quickly before he damn near shoves her out of the classroom, slamming the door.

----------

You pull your next stunt in the library a few days later. It’s a study period, so there’s a few more teachers and students loitering around than usual - Bucky just happens to be one of the loiterers. Peter pulls you through the bookshelves by the tips of your fingers, finding the perfect position for the two of you to be aligned within Bucky’s eyesight.

He’s perched at a table, his glasses low on his nose as he scribbles into his notebook before returning his gaze to the thick book just off to this left. Peter pushes you up against one of the bookshelves, jarring a few of the books loose from their spots and sending them crashing to the floor. You laugh, and Peter covers your mouth with his hand as he leans in and kisses your neck. His other hand snakes up between your thighs and pushes into your skirt, his fingertips brushing along your sex.

You push your chest into his and sink your teeth into your bottom lip as your hooded eyes flick towards Bucky. His jaw is tensed as he stares back at you. His lips are set in a hard, thin line, his face flushed red as his chest rises and falls harder than before. He falls back into his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, almost daring you to keep going - to keep pushing him.

You dig one of your hands into Peter’s hair, pulling softly and hissing when his teeth sink into the fleshy crook of your neck. You push your hips into his fingers as he teases your clit with light, soft strokes. He licks a slow path up your neck and chin before he kisses you deeply and pulls you suddenly out of Bucky’s sight.

“This is fun,” he laughs against your mouth, kissing you again as he squeezes your hip.

You giggle in return, tilting your head up towards the ceiling, silently asking him to continue. He obliges, and starts sucking on your skin again, pushing his hand back between your thighs. He slips his fingers underneath your panties and moans when the slickness of your sex coats his fingers. You let out a small moan as your hips move with his fingers. You grab his free hand and push it to your left breast, helping him to grab a handful of you.

You gasp suddenly when Peter’s fingers push inside of you. You laugh again but spread your legs instinctively, raising one slightly to rub his calf. You feel him laugh against you as his fingers pump softly, his palm rubbing against your clit.

“Fuck, Peter,” you say softly, pushing your body into his again as he finger fucks you up against the wall of books.

You roll your head and jump when those familiar blue eyes are on you again, this time just on the other side of the bookshelf in front of you. Your mouth falls open as you stare back at him over the tops of the books. He slides a book off of the shelf, removing his eyes from yours to flip through the pages before he slides his angry eyes back to yours. He runs his eyes along Peter’s body, then halts at his hand as it pumps into you.

You snarl your lip as a pang of excitement flashes through you. You’ve never been watched like this before - it’s kinda fun. You keep your eyes on Bucky’s as Peter’s hand quickens inside of you, his palm beating against your clit. You bite down into your bottom lip as you rest your chin on his shoulder, your head falling forward as your orgasm starts to build.

“Shit,” you whine, your breath growing ragged as your hips pulse with the pace of his fingers.

You lift your leg a little higher as the lust in your stomach starts to flood through your veins. You wrap your arms around his neck and ball his t-shirt into your hands, struggling to keep your eyes open as Bucky peers on. You watch as he runs his tongue over his teeth, blinking at you slowly, anger brimming just below his surface. He doesn’t shy away though, he doesn’t walk off, he doesn’t lash out, he just flips aimlessly through the random book he picked up as he watches as you come all over Peter’s fingers.

You slam your eyes shut at your orgasm rips through you. Peter moans as he slams his fingers into your wet, tight muscles. His free hand creeps back up to your face and covers your mouth, stifling the squeaks and squeals that dribble from your lips. Peter crushes you to the bookshelf with his weight, chuckling as he nips at your chin and neck. You keep your bottom lip between your teeth as you smirk at Bucky. You wanted a competition, now you got one.

Peter pulls out his phone and lifts it into the air, hitting record as you still lean up against the bookshelf, still panting and giggly as your body floats on cloud nine. He smiles slowly into the camera, before leaning in and kissing you deeply, his tongue skimming along the roof of your mouth before it slides along yours. He situates your panties and skirt, like the gentleman he is, before he tugs at your wrist to pull you out from between the aisles.

When he clears the bookshelves, he stops suddenly when he locks eyes with Bucky just on the other side. He nods his head towards him, before shoving his wet fingers into his mouth. He licks them clean before he pulls them out with a soft pop and glances back into his camera, throwing a wink it’s way. The two of you waltz out of the library, smiles on both of your faces. You hear Peter’s phone as it starts to sound, ding after ding after ding as a quick flurry of text messages slide through.

He pulls it out and snorts before he tilts it towards you, Cher’s name flashing across it as a call comes through.

“This is going tremendously.” He smiles, declining the call and sliding the sleek phone back into his pocket.

----------

You glance down at your watch as you whistle slowly; 8:06am. You’re now officially late to Bucky’s class, and officially late for the first time in over four years. You turn down his hallway, scrolling through your tumblr as you come to his closed door. You push through and feel the eyes of the entire class on you as you waltz in without a care in the world. Bucky’s lecture comes to a halt as he slides his eyes with you as you pick your way through the seats to find yours.

You sit, taking your time as you pull out your notebook and pen while everyone watches, just as surprised as Bucky that you’re late. You take a deep breath and expel it calmly as you finally glance up at him.

“Good morning.” You say cheerfully.

He crosses his arms over his chest and licks his lips slowly, “You’re late.”

“Oh,” you sigh a little, glancing at your watch, “Sorry about that.”

“We had a deal at the beginning of the semester.” He says, his voice deep.

You cross your legs and swing your foot lightly, “Did we?”

He narrows his eyes at you as he pulls his glasses off of his face, “Should I remind you?”

“Please.” You nod, “It’s slipped my mind.”

He nods slowly, starting to pace, “You wanted me to hold you personally responsible if you were ever late.”

You squint your eyes as you tilt your chin towards the ceiling, pretending to rack your brain, “That’s right, I did. That little check mark next to my name on the attendance sheet is gonna hurt.”

“Oh no,” He chuckles as you challenge him so openly, “You wanted to be held responsible. A little check mark isn’t going to do that.”

You smirk, “So what’ll it be, Bucky?”

“Detention.”

Your face drops. Detention? Detention? For one fucking tardy?! “Detention?” you repeat, sitting up a little straighter in your seat, “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

He turns back to face you, leaning back on his desk as he kicks his legs out in front of him. He shrugs, shaking his head, “You asked for it.”

“You’re joking,” you laugh, your mind starting to race, “A detention for being late one time? Have you handed out a detention to anyone else?”

He shrugs, “Nope. But you’re not everyone else, are you?”

You squint your eyes at him as he smirks back. This is the only way he could get back at you - to tarnish your perfect record. Your body flushes with heat - you honestly didn’t expect this. This… this is below the belt. You’d figured that he’s been so out of sorts that he’d just slap you on the wrist and beg to see him after class. You’d trade barbs back and forth, he’d eat your pussy and the two of you would be right back on track, like this never happened. But this?

“I’m getting you ready for real life. That’s what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?”

A chorus of oooh’s ring out from the rest of the class as you throw your braids over your shoulder angrily, “I have a riding lesson at three twenty five today.”

“I’ll talk to T’Challa if you’d like me to.”

You laugh sarcastically, “This is ridiculous. This’ll go on my record, you realize that?”

He shrugs again as he pushes away from his desk, “Maybe you should have thought about that. Now,” he smiles, turning his attention back to the rest of the class, “Where were we?”

He completely turns the tables on you after that. He ignores you for the rest of his lecture. His mood lightens considerably. He cracks jokes, he banters with other classmates as you stew in your anger. When class is over, he holds out your detention slip between his fingers, which you snatch and crumple up in your hand as you pass by without so much as a glance in his direction.

Asshole.

The final bell of the day rings hours later and you start the trek towards Dr. Banner’s room, the resident detention monitor. He’s surprised to see you and gives you a reassuring smile as you head to the back of the room, plopping down in one of the desks. You catch Mitchell Bryant, the fifth year senior and fuck up extraordinaire, smirking at you and roll your eyes deeply before shifting in your seat to block him from your line of vision.

You busy yourself with your trigonometry homework, actually getting into it within a few minutes. The door opens and you flip your eyes towards it, doing a double take when you spot Bucky walking in. He smiles at Dr. Banner, leaning into his desk and muttering something before he heads back to the door.

“Ms. Prescott?” He calls, “Grab your stuff and come with me please.”

You cock your head as your eyes instantly narrow at him. You take a deep breath, but stand and collect your things. You walk out into the hallway, finding him waiting for you, “Yes?” you ask, your tone flat and irritated.

He doesn’t answer, he just points forward and waits for you to start walking. You roll your eyes but ultimately obey, your feet carrying you back to his classroom. He enters a few steps behind you, closing the door softly before he flips the lock.

You spin on your heel to face him as your bag hangs off of your shoulder, “What is it, Bucky?”

“Drop your bag. Put your hands flat on the desk.”

His voice is deep and eerily calm. Your lips part and your eyes widen a little as you stand in your spot. He cocks his head when you still don’t move, “Did you not hear what I said? Hands flat on the desk. Now.”

You drop your bag from your shoulder and move to his desk, flattening your palms on the top of it. You’ve never heard him like this before - so stern. You swallow hard as your eyes dart around the chalkboard in front of you. You feel his presence behind you, hearing the material of his tie rubbing against his shirt as he loosens it, before pulling it from around his neck.

You jump when he slaps lightly at the insides of your thighs, “Open sesame.”

You spread your legs wider as his fingertips brush along your soft skin. His hand slides up your spine slowly and pushes you forward until your chest is resting flush against his desk. Your breath becomes audible as he pushes his hips into your ass, making you gasp when you feel his hard on pressing into your flesh.

He grabs your right wrist, bending your arm to place your hand in the small of your back before he reaches for the left. You then feel the soft silk of his tie as it wraps around your wrists, looping around them both before he ties it tightly into a nice, firm knot. Without warning, he bucks into your ass, jolting you forward as you gasp loudly again.

“You are one smart cookie, Ms. Prescott.” He says softly, running his hands along your hips and ass, “I underestimated you.”

“Mental warfare is my specialty.”

You bite your lip as your body starts to warm from his touch. A moan escapes you as he rucks your skirt up around your hips and groans at the sight of your sheer, pink panties. You close your eyes as his fingers dance along your plump ass, cupping it in both of his large palms and jiggling it gently.

“Nervous?”

You shake your head definitely, “Of course not.”

“Never one to show weakness, huh? I like that.”

You let out a sharp scream when a hard slap is suddenly leveled to your behind. Your body tightens as you pull against the tie wrapped around your wrists. He spanks you twice again in quick succession and you slam your eyes closed as you squeal and squirm underneath him. He pushes his hand back between your legs, his fingers brushing along the sudden, new wet spot on your panties. Goddamn him.

“I’ve gotta give it to you, Prescott,” he says softly as his fingers push underneath your panties and slip through your wet folds, “You had me going. I was jealous.”

You hiss as you roll your hips into his hand, “I told you Bucky - “

He spanks you again, the sound of his flesh meeting yours bouncing off of the chalkboard, “That’s not my name.”

“Fuck!” You mewl as the sting radiates through you, but you don’t give in. Not quite yet.

“What were you saying, darling?” He coos as his fingers travel to your hips and dig underneath the thin band of your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, slipping them over your feet. You hear him inhale deeply seconds later before his fingers slip through your folds again. Your mouth drops open as he plays with your clit, drawing slow circles around it before he pushes two of his thick fingers into you. His thumb pushes between your ass cheeks and flattens against your tight hole, applying a slight pressure as he starts to pump his fingers slowly.

“Did you have fun with the young Peter Parker?” He asks, pushing his hips flush to your behind, “Hmm? Did he make you feel good?”

You whimper as his fingers curl inside of you, his thumb pushing just inside. When you don’t answer fast enough, he spanks you again, making you squeal loudly. He pushes his thumb further and you squeeze your muscles as tight as you can as you tilt your head towards the ceiling, relishing in the electricity bouncing through you. His fingers push deeper in your pussy and you growl as you run your tongue over your teeth.

“Yes.” You hiss, the smart ass in you still winning out, “You were there, Bucky. You saw how good he made me feel.”

He chuckles deeply, removing his fingers from you before he pulls you up into a standing position. He turns you around to face him and picks you up, sitting you gently on top of his desk. He stays nose to nose with you, his eyes bouncing around your face as he smirks. He lifts his fingers to your mouth, smoothing your wetness over your bottom lip.

You lick your lip slowly before you suck it into your mouth, blinking up at him slowly as you swallow your taste. He kisses you hard, wrapping his hands around your neck and pulling you into him as his tongue bursts into your mouth. You moan, letting your head fall back into his hands as you accept him, sucking on his tongue as you pull lightly against the tie still around your wrists.

He pulls back slowly, pulling your bottom lip with him before he lets go. He tilts his head as his fingers drop to the buttons on your shirt, popping them one by one until it falls open. He flips his eyes back to yours as he starts undoing his pants, letting them slightly fall down his hips. You bite your lip as you watch him push his hand into his black boxer briefs, stroking himself. He pulls his dick free and you inhale deeply, your eyes growing wide as he springs out from behind the stretchy material.

“That little prick couldn’t satisfy you.” He says quietly, “Not like I can, baby girl. I’m a grown man.”

Your mouth falls open as he pushes the tip of his dick along your throbbing clit and through your folds. He pushes your legs open wider, wrapping your right limb around his hip. He pushes at your slit, positioning himself right at your opening.

“What’s my name baby?”

You bite your bottom lip again as your lips start to curl into a smile. You bat your eyes at him but shake your head - not giving an inch.

He smiles back at you, “You are stubborn as all fucking hell.”

“You started it.”

“I suppose I did,” He laughs, leaning in to kiss you softly, “You’re my perfect little princess.” He says, “You always were, you always will be.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, cupping your face in his hands, “Don’t be mad at me anymore.”

You breathe in confidently, pushing it out of your nose as pride swells in your chest. You never cave. You never lose, “Apology accepted.”

“Good. Can I fuck you now?”

You nod slowly, “Of course you can, Mr. Barnes.”

He bites your lips and growls at the sound of his name tripping off your tongue with such ease. He grabs his shaft, slipping the head of his cock through your folds again before he stops at your slit. He wraps his other arm around your waist and starts to push slowly, breaking into your tight canal. You squeak as your muscles spread for his flesh for the first time, hissing as a delicious pain courses through you.

His mouth drops open as he watches you swallow him. He pushes a focused breath out of his mouth as he pushes until he completely disappears inside of you. A tear slips down your cheek as he pulls out and slides back in. You dig your nails into his desk as you adjust your hips - the pain and the pleasure of it all mixing and melting together into a perfect harmony.

You moan loudly as he fucks you nice and slow. He pushes his fingers to your clit and rubs quick circles against it as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes hooded as he watches you squirm and writhe.

“This is what a real man feels like,” he says softly, digging his fingertips into your hip as he fucks you, “Do I feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, tears streaming down your face, “You feel so good.”

“Mmm,” he grunts, “You are such a good girl. You’re taking me so well.”

Your head swims as he praises you, stroking your ego, making you clench around him. His hips start to move faster as his hands run up and down your thighs, gripping and kneading your flesh. His fingers roam up to your breasts, pushing into your bra to tease your thick nipples, adding a new sensation to the mix. He drops his right hand back between your legs, pressing the pads of his fingers against your clit and starts to rub again, his other fingers still pulling and flicking at your aroused buds.

Your hips jerk without warning, pushing his cock into you deeper, pulling a guttural scream out of you. Your eyes continue to leak as your head spins and your body tightens and flexes. A shutter runs up your spine, your thighs shake. You tighten them around his waist and try to grip the desk below you as a dull ache sits in the pit of your stomach.

He fucks into you faster - recognizing that you’re starting to come undone as he overloads your senses. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching and pulling as he continues to rub your clit and pump his hips into yours.

“You gonna come for me?” He starts to coax softly, “Hmm? Is my girl gonna come?”

My girl. Your brain can’t even form a coherent sentence. You’re nothing but sensation as he pushes you right to the edge of the cliff. His strokes get harder, his fingers faster as he rests his forehead to yours. He leaves your nipple to wrap his hand around your throat. His hot breath washes over your face as he kisses you quickly.

“I want my girl to come. Come for me, baby. Give it to me, I want to own you.”

You grunt as your eyes start to roll. He fucks into you as your toes curl with each of his strokes, pushing, pushing, pushing, until he tips you right over the edge. You mewl into the empty room as your orgasm floods through every vein, every muscle, every sensor in your body. He loses his control - pounding into you as hard as he can as your pussy quivers around him.

Your clit jumps with contractions as you tighten your legs around his hips. He coaxes you on, whispering sweet nothings as wave after wave crashes against you. His grunts grow louder and more erratic, his hips faltering every now and again until you feel a sudden warmth burst into you. He hisses as he spurts long, hot ribbons into your cunt over and over again.

He nearly collapses - having to slam his palm to the top of his desk to hold himself up. His breaths are deep and ragged as his head falls to your shoulder. He leans back after a minute and tilts his head towards the ceiling as he focuses on his breathing, pushing them in and out slow and evenly.

“Fuck,” he lets out as a laugh rumbles through his chest, “Goddamn.”

He reaches around and unties your wrists before pulling you up into his arms. You throw your arms around his neck and let him wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you around his desk and sits in his chair. He curls you into him, wrapping you up in his warm arms before he sweeps your braids over your shoulder. He kisses your forehead and the top of your head as he strokes your spine gently.

“You are so pretty when you cry.” He says gently, smiling at you, “My perfect little girl.”

You still can’t talk. You just smile as you nuzzle into him, blinking down at your thighs, a small amount of blood splashed on your skin.

“Can you cancel your riding lessons tomorrow and Sunday?” he asks after a few minutes.

You nod slowly, “Why?”

“I want you all to myself.” He says, pushing his knuckle into your chin to tilt your head up towards his, “I want you to pack a bag for the weekend. I’ll text you my address, okay?”

“Okay.” You say simply.

“Okay.” He smiles, kissing you again, “Come on, let's get moving.”

You reluctantly climb out of his lap and start to arrange your clothing properly, buttoning up your shirt and smoothing your skirt back down on your hips. Your legs are shaky, your pussy and clit sore, but you’ve never felt better. He grabs your bag and places it on your shoulder as the two of you move to the door. When he opens it, the two of you come face to face with one Cher Goodwin, her hand still in the air as she was just about to knock.

Her lips part as she stares at you, before flicking her eyes towards Bucky, “I thought you had detention.”

You shrug, “You thought wrong.”

She slides her eyes down your frame, squinting as she looks you over. Her face drops as the realization floods through her. Your smile widens. She doesn’t even have to ask. She runs her hand through her hair roughly as she takes a deep breath, letting the dread of knowing she’s lost again flush through her. She’s come up just short - second place, once again.

“Cher,” Mr. Barnes starts, “I’m sorry. Something came up, I’m not gonna be able to stick around this afternoon.”

She scoffs, clicking her teeth as she crosses her arms over her chest, “Mr. Barnes, I - “

“I’m sorry,” he cuts her off, “You know, I can get you a couple of names of some really great tutors that can give you all the attention you need. Okay?”

She runs her tongue over her teeth as she stares off into the distance, laughing slightly, “Sure, yeah. Whatever.”

Bucky pushes past her and out into the hallway, “I’ll have them for you Monday morning, okay? I’m sorry ladies, I gotta split. Have a good weekend. Thanks for all your help Ms. Prescott.”

You smile at her as he moves down the hallway, “Oh, Cher.” You laugh, “Poor thing.”

“I’ll fucking get you.” She sneers, “One of these goddamn days, I will win! I will fucking beat you!” You shouts, stomping her foot.

You nudge her chin with your fist, “It’s cute you still believe that. The only thing you’ll ever have over me, is knowing how second place feels.” You brush past her shoulder as a frustrated tear slips down her cheek.

“Oh,” you say happily, turning back on your heel to face her, “I forgot to tell you. T’Challa signed Apollo and I up for the relay competition on Wednesday. You’re participating in that too, right?” You wink, watching as her eyes fill with dread, “See you there.”

You throw your hand into the air as you walk away from her, wiggling your fingers, “Tootles, darling.”

768 notes · View notes

noonmutter · 4 years ago

Note

Kinky Questions, Go!! ALL 50! At least the ones you haven't gotten yet.

*knucklecrack*

1: Kitchen Counter, Couch, or on top of the dryer?

"Yes. If I gotta pick one, couch. Th' dryer's noisy an' I like bein' able t' hear th' other person.

2: Your last sexual encounter: Good or Bad and why:

Answered here!

3: A fictional person that you think would be good in bed:

(I actually don't know any ingame fiction to draw an answer from here, sorry. <.<)

4: Something that never fails to make you horny:

"Pullin' me int' you. Up, down, chest-t'-chest, back-t'-chest, whatever. Not often I get manhandled, y'ken?"

5: Where is one place you would never have sex:

"I mean, never say never, but somewhere it'd take some real convincin' t'get me t' do it? Th' meetin' space at th' center o' th' Dreamgrove. I'd sooner set my 'air on fire than fuck where th' statue o' Malorne might watch me, an' Remulos would not approve."

(Rest below the cut! Yes I did do all of them!)

6: The most awkward moment during a sexual experience was when:

"...Wakin' up in a pile o' people after an especially long bender, none of 'om I recognized, an' not one stitch o' clothin' anywhere in sight except fer a gnome-sized miniskirt. An' there were no gnomes in th' pile! "Days like tha' are why I don't fuck drunk anymore."

7: Weirdest thing that ever made you horny:

"Tenderizin' steak." Sigh. "Pretty sure it was th' smell o' th' raw meat, mostly.

8: What is the best way to sexually bind someone: Handcuffs, Rope, or Other [if other please explain]:

"With my bare 'ands, or with my teeth 'oldin' somethin' sensitive. Wolf's snout kin fit all th' way 'round most people's throats without actually bitin' down as long as I get th' canines all th' way across, an' as long as neither of us move too terribly much, it's great fun."

9: What is the fastest way to make you horny:

"Hook a finger in my collar an' pull me t' yer eye level. Trouble is, if we're not already pretty damn close an' y' start grabbin' at my collar, I might punch y'."

10: Top or bottom?

"Switch."

11: We were about to ____________ but then ______________ [example: we were about to have sex but then his mom walked in] "We were about t' sneak off t' start our 'oneymoon but then I tripped through a portal some jackass dropped in th' middle o' th' weddin' party an' 'ad t' fly all th' way back first.

12: Is one orgasm enough? Are multiple orgasms necessary?

"Sometimes it's enough, sometimes it's a start, sometimes it's not even th' point. Really depends on th' mood at th' moment, dunnit? I like t'go as many rounds as either of us kin stand, most o' th' time, but I def'nitely find plenty o' value in just one long, slow go tha' ends when it ends.

13: Something that you have hidden in your room that you don’t want anyone to find:

His expression was less jovial than for most of these questions. "Th' collar I made for Vandy."

14: Weirdest nickname a significant other has ever called you:

"Squigglebird. Long story."

15: Two things you like [or dislike] about oral sex:

"Like th' noises it makes a person make--vocally, I mean--an' th' views it gives o' th' person I'm goin' down on an' th' person tha's goin' down on my. Don't like th' taste all tha' much, really 'ate some o' th' noises yer lips an' throat make if yer a li'l overzealous."

16: Weirdest sexual act some has performed [or tried to perform] on/with you:

"Li'l inflatable toy thingie in m' backside. Felt alright fer a while, cuz I mean it wasn't like it was th' first time I'd 'ad anythin' in there, but ah... she kept goin' past my willin'ness, an' it got pretty damn uncomfortable pretty damn fast. I might be willin' t' try it again but not without a lotta thought b'fore'and, an' not with my 'ands bound.

17: Have you ever tasted yourself? [If no, would you?] [If yes, what did you think?]

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Tasted like cum. Nothin' special."

18: Is it ever okay to not use a condom:

"I mean, if y'both agree to it an' y'don't fool around with anybody else, then yeah it's fine. Overwhelmin' majority o' th' time, I wrap up, even with m'wives."

19: Who was the sexiest teacher you ever had?

"...I din't 'ave any teachers I thought were sexy? My first shan'do was a 'andsome elven woman 'o could arm-wrestle a grizzly an' win, but she wasn't wha' I'd call sexy. Too gruff, too keen t' be alone."

20: A food that you would like to use during a sexual experience:

"Not somethin' I really think about in advance, t'be honest. Cook or no cook, food just kinda 'appens on a whim."

21: How big is too big:

"Can't get my mouth 'round it is usually a problem. Length isn't so much a concern, just means y' won't get t' bury it all th' way after a certain point unless y' want me dead."

22: One sexual thing you would never do:

"Mess with any bod'ly fluids besides cum. I tried real 'ard t'understand tha' one an' I just can't, sorry. Gross."

23: Biggest turn on:

"Depends on th' person; wha's 'ot from one is wierd comin' from another. Pickin' out of a hat? When Val'rin says somethin', then rolls 'is eyes up t' look at me an' tacks on a plaintive li'l 'Sir?' at th'end."

24: Three spots that drive you insane:

"Pretty much anywhere on m' throat, th' undersides o' my wrists, an' my 'air. Partic'larly yankin' on it. Just... don't come up an' do it outta nowhere. Like with m' collar, tha' shit'll get y' punched an' I'd argue y' prolly deserve it."

25: Worst possible time to get horny:

"Most times aren't really tha' bad, Iunno... middle of a warzone I guess?"

26: Do you like it when your sexual partner moans:

"I'm kinna suspicious of anybody 'o doesn't. Wha' kinna person doesn't love tha' kinda instant feedback? Tell me I'm doin' a good job, tell me 'ow t' do a better job, tell me just 'ow blown yer mind is by losin' track o' words, sing me a song."

27: Worst sexual idea you ever had:

"Really dunno why I thought it was a good idea t' let a blindfolded guy toss me anywhere, least of all into a bed with a solid headboard on it."

He touched the back of his head in remembered pain.

28: How much fapping is too much fapping:

"When yer chafed an' still 'aven't finished cuz yer too damned raw and desensitized t' get off, it's prolly time t' stop fer a while."

29: Best sexual complement you ever got:

Answered here!

30: Bald, landing strip, Jumanji:

"Landin' strip, ideally. I kin deal with whatever but tha's th' most convenient amount. Less potential fer mess."

31: Is it good sex if you don’t nut?

"What a bizarre question, 'course it is. Shit, sometimes tha's 'alf th' point."

32: Fill in the blank: “If they ____________, we are fuckin”

"Bite my neck 'r pin me t' a wall."

33: What your favorite part of your body:

"My 'air. It's gotten damned difficult t' take care of, but th' tradeoff's pretty worth it."

34: Favorite foreplay activities:

"Touchin'. Just... touchin'. Runnin' my fingers real light an' soft across ev'ry...single...inch...of a playmate's body. Learnin' th' curves, th' blemishes, th' scars, th' ins, th' outs, th' sensitive spots, th' ticklish bits, th' fav'rites all by touch. I kin do tha' fer hours if they'll let me."

35: Love (>,<, or =) Sex For those of us who don’t remember our math that's “greater than, less than, or equal to]

"Does not equal. Th' two kin be completely unrelated t'one another an' tha's perfec'ly fine. They kin en'hance each other when they're both involved, but they aren't incomplete without one another at all."

36: What do you wear to bed?

"If I kin get away with it, nothin'. I run 'ot these days, it's real easy t' overheat if I wear stuff t' sleep.

37: When was the first time you masturbated:

"Gods, Iunno. Thirteen? Fifteen? Somewhere in there."

38: Do you have any nude/masturbating pictures/video of yourself?

"Not tha' I keep fer very long. I make 'em an' send 'em t' people tha' I made 'em for, then I get rid of 'em cuz I don't wanna watch m'self wankin' or whatever."

39: Have you ever/when was the last time you had sex outside?

"So many times, gods alive. Last time was a few days ago, if y' count th' back acres on our property as outside enough."

40: Have/would you ever have sex outside?

Leon just kinda snorted. (See previous answer!)

41: Have/would you ever had a threesome?

"Sev'ral times, an' I would 'appily do so again with th' right people. Fun, but occasionally tricky t' figger out."

42: What is one random object you’ve used to masturbate?

"Most o' th' time I'm very borin' an' just stick t' my 'and an' maybe a dildo, but I got one o' those vibratin' sleeve thingers not too long ago tha' I've been meanin' t' try out..."

43: Have/would you ever masturbate at work/school?

"No, an' maybe. If I were still workin' in a kitchen where other people 'ad t' work an' there's food ev'rywhere, it'd be an absolutely not. I work in a private workshop by th' 'ouse now, so I kin get away with it more, long as 'm careful. Thus far I 'aven't been so tempted tha' I couldn't make it back in th' house first, though."

44: Have/would you ever have sex on a plane?

"Never been in one, be willin' t' try. I've 'eard 'ow tiny those bathrooms are."

45: What is one song you’d like to have sex to?

"...gonna 'ave t' ask me that'un again in a few months when I know more songs, sorry."

46: What is something nonsexual that makes you horny?

Answered here!

47: Most attractive celebrity?

"Do th' Tarts count as celebrities? I'm not even gonna try t' pick one, but tha's all I got."

48: Do you watch gay/lesbian porn? why/why not?

"Not a big porn-watcher in gen'ral, my life feels like a goddamned romance novel as it is. Not often I need more'n a couple o' particularly fond mem'ries."

49: If a child was born on the occasion of the last time you had sex, how old would that child be right now?

"Four days."

50: Has anyone ever posted nude pictures of you online?

(Hard to answer this one since the internet at large isn't really a thing in WoW, at least not in a widely-accepted enough way for me to answer it...)

51: What is one thing that NEVER makes you horny?

"Put-downs. Don't call me slut or boy or bitch--gods, especially not bitch--or th' like if y'want me t' go 'ome with y'."

52: Do you have stretch marks? (How do you feel about them? Has anyone ever had a problem with them?)

"Not tha' I've seen."

53: Do you like giving head? (why/why not)

"Like givin' it cuz it makes m' playmate feel real nice, don't like th' flavor s' much."

54: How do you feel about tattoos on someone you are interested in?

"Doesn't make a dif'rence t' me, aside from most tattoos bein' pretty."

55: How would you feel about taking someones virginity?

"Done it, though I'm not a fan o' th' phrasin'. They put some trust in me, I din't take anythin'."

56: Is there any food you would NOT recommend using during a sexual encounter?

"Nothin' spicy. Period. Just don't. It's not worth it."

57: Is there anything you do on Tumblr that you would not like your significant other to see?

(Another one that doesn't really have an answer in this context.)

58: Do you own any sex toys? (what is it? (how long have you had it?)

Leon burst out laughing and pointed at the full-size steamer trunk at the foot of his bed. "Tha's not even close t' all of it, either. Gods alive, wha' a question t' ask me!"

59: Would you give your significant other unrestricted access to your Tumblr for a day?

"Wouldn't give 'em unrestricted access t' anythin' private o' mine fer a day. If it's tha' private t' begin with, it's cuz it's my safe 'aven, an' they respect tha', same as I do their private stuff."

60: Would you be offended if your significant other suggested you get plastic surgery?

"A li'l bit if it came outta nowhere, but I've talked a fair bit about wishin' I could get rid o' some o' my scars. It's not somethin' I wouldn't consider tryin'."

61: Would you rather be a pornstar or a prostitute?

"Pretty 'appy doin' th' latter as it is. Don't think I'd wanna try th' recorded stuff, it seems like it'd be really awkward t' do tha' fer a cam'ra crew an' with somebody 'o ain't really enjoyin' it."

62: Do you watch porn?

"Not really. Most of it's not int'restin' t' me."

63: How small is too small?

"'Too small' is 'ard fer me t' quantify. I 'aven't found anythin' too small fer me t' work with some'ow."

64: Have you ever been called a freak? Why?

Bit of a flat look. "Worgen."

65: Who gave you your last kiss? Did it mean anything?

"Me an' th' guy 'o fucked me on th' fence out back shared quite a few kisses b'fore, durin', an' after. Mostly they meant 'fuck yer hot.'"

66: Would you switch phones with your significant other for a day?

"I mean, I could. Nothin' on there I wouldn't want any of 'em t' see. Be a bit inconvenient though."

67: Do you feel comfortable going “commando”?

"Frankly I'm more comfortable tha' way than otherwise. Spent too long with a big ol' poof o' fur around m' crotch t' be comfy with most undies. Same reason I'm not overly fond o' shoes either."

68: Would you have a problem with going down on someone if they hadn’t shaved their pubic hair?

"Purely in a logistical sense, yeah. I kin still go t' town an' do thin's right, but it's... sloppy. Those 'airs seem t' WANT t' get in yer mouth, an' all tha', an' it's just so much messier overall."

69: If you could give yourself head, would you?

"'O says I can't?"

70: Booty or Boobs?

"I am very much an ass man."

71: If you had a penis, what would you name it?

"I do, but I didn't. Namin' it seems strange."

72: Have you ever been on an official date?

"Sev'ral, but all of 'em only took place in th' last few years. Never when I was growin' up."

73: Have you ever cheated on someone? (Why?)

"No, an' I never will, an' you kin quote me on tha'."

74: If you were a stripper, what would your name be?

"I 'aven't th' faintest idea 'ow tha' works."

75: Have you ever had sex in your parents bed? (Would you?)

"Nope. Never 'ad th' opportunity, an' I think I'd rather throw up on th' floor an' eat it."

76: How would you react if you found out your parents had sex in your bed?

"Sweet, I'm gettin' a new bed!"

77: What was your reaction the first time you saw a penis/vagina

"Assumin' we're not talkin' about my own bits... 'That's not gonna fit!' fer a dick, an' 'This is a lot less sexy than th'other lads made it out t'be' fer a cooch."

78: If you had a penis/vagina for a day, what are five things you would do?

Answered here!

79: Oral, Anal, or Vaginal?

"Yes."

80: What’s the first thing you look at on someone of the opposite gender?

"Their face. Also 'ow they carry themselves. But mostly their face."

( @pinpep @shckaewynn @valarin-sunstorm for mentions )

#prompty things #leon #SUCK IT RANEK

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anoutlandishfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Metamorphosis Ch.26: Over the Sea

The Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night with Jamie? How would that change the plot points we all know and love?

We’re coming down the home stretch folks! Our get away car is in the harbor! We just gotta get em there!

You can find a Master List of chapters here on tumblr or read the whole thing on AO3.

February 21st, 1744; The Abbey, Scotland Jamie.

I stifled a groan in Claire’s curls as the church bell tolled three, my arms reflexively tightening around her as I tried to ignore the fact that it was time to get out of bed.

I hated to wake her.

The night had not been an easy one for my wife — were they ever these days? — and Claire only just managed to fall back asleep, but I knew she’d need a wee bit of extra time to dress this morning… as her appearance was vital to our ruse.

Smoothing the tousled curls away from her brow, I placed a kiss on her temple, then trailed one after the other until I reached the base of her neck. She stirred at my touch, her eyelids flickering and one corner of her mouth pulling upwards towards a smile, but didn’t wake. My hand lowered to her hip, then slid along the distended curve of her abdomen as my lips found hers.

Her own hands moved then, reaching and finding me in the darkness.

“Good morning,” I murmured into her palm, brushing a kiss across it as her hand drifted round to the back of my head.

One eye cracked open to scowl at me at this greeting, her words slightly jumbled but still coherent, “Thisn’t morning, y’oaf. Dark’out.”

I curled my lips between my teeth to keep from grinning at her offended expression, the innocence of slumber still lingering on her face and made her appear very much like a spoiled, pouting child.

Claire felt my suppressed amusement and struggled to open both her eyes. Her brow furrowed with the effort it took to spear me with what I’m sure was meant to be her best look of consternation, but it fell short. I kissed her soundly in an effort to keep from laughing outright, rousing us both completely and bringing us directly back to why we’d risen at this inhospitable hour of the morn.

She sighed a moment later, a wistful look dancing across her now clear eyes.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” I swallowed hard, excitement mixing with the fear of the unknown as my stomach churned.

“Time to leave.”

... Half past 4am.

The wind howled around us as we stepped from the shelter of the abbey out into the open courtyard, cautiously picking our way across the frozen cobblestones. It’s nasty chill bit at any patch of exposed skin it could sink its teeth into and my cheeks and hands were already red and raw from ensuring the rig was properly loaded with our things.

I hastily grabbed for the carriage door, lunging for it before it was really in reach as I was eager to get Claire out of the cold, but she was of a different mind.

“You won’t say a word if we’re stopped, will you?” she inquired, pulling up short and studying my face intently. “Or only in French if you must? That cap’ll do to hide your hair, but there’s no mistaking your voice.”

My hand instinctively went to the back of my neck, feeling the rough wool of my knitted hat. It would keep me warm, certainly, but pulled low as it was, it went a long way to hide the telltale auburn hair that was plastered all over my broadsheets.

“Aye, er, oui Madame,” I promised, squeezing her hand reassuringly with a forced smile as I helped her onto the first step.

Wobbly as a new foal, I steadied her as she picked her way into the dark carriage. Murtagh held his lantern high, giving her light to see as she eased herself into the padded cushions and meticulously arranged the folds of her cloak.

“The same goes for you, hmm?” Claire’s head snapped up to look at us, her gaze locking onto my godfather’s. Her eyes narrowed in a rather unreadable expression of consternation mixed with something akin to a challenge as she continued, “Not a word from the both of you. Let Francis do the work and the talking until we’re aboard ship.”

I caught the twitch of my godfather’s lips out the corner of my eye — despite his heavy beard and the early morning darkness — and marveled yet again at the relationship the two of them had formed while I was away.

“And I can quite handle myself, thank you very much,” she added in afterthought and under her breath, almost as if to reassure herself as it was to us.

Claire caught the mirth bubbling up beneath my gathering nerves and reached out her hand to me. I took it in an instant, leaning in and keeping my voice low, even though I was sure no one but our present company could hear us.

“May your brilliant mind and unbridled tongue keep us safe, my love,” I blessed her in French, then dropped my hand to the swell of our children. “And may you both bide until we are safe.”

She crossed herself, the barest hint of a shudder running through her, and I dove into the carriage beside her, pulling her into my arms and vowing, “No harm will come to you, Claire. I give you my word.”

“I know,” she murmured back after a moment and I loosened my grip.

Sitting back, she waved me off.

“We need to leave if we’re going to catch the tide,” she insisted with a smile that gained confidence by the second. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

I blinked at her for a moment, which made her laugh — a heartily welcome sound — and I shook my head with a smile of my own.

“Oui, Madame,” I stepped back onto the ledge of the doorway, “I am entirely at your service, my Lady Beauchamp.”

She nodded curtly and dismissed me fully, all but shoving me out into cold with a single look.

I grinned at her and exited the carriage, shutting the door firmly behind me. Turning, I moved to join Murtagh on the bench up top but hesitated a moment before climbing aboard.

That they might be safe… both she and the children.

My eyes slid shut, my heart offering up the rest of a prayer that I could not put into words.

“Come along, a bhalaich.”

Murtagh’s command was urgent yet gentle and I reflexively moved to do so, hastily crossing myself before climbing up beside him with a fluidity that hadn’t been mine since before my injury. I nodded to him and with a flick of the reins, he set us into motion.

I held my breath as we passed through the main gate and left our safe haven behind.

There would be no going back.

We hadn’t traveled long before we encountered the first crofter’s hut, still shut up and slumbering in the early morning dew. I scanned the road ahead and caught sight of a small copse of trees off to the left side. This particular stretch of road wasn’t bounded by forest, so it would make a perfect lookout post, should a soldier or two want to keep an eye on the comings and goings of the abbey.

And they certainly would.

My gut clenched as we approached, wishing the lanterns posted on the corners of the carriage were bright enough to see what we were about to ride into. The mare on the right snorted to her teammate and I flinched. It took everything within me to not grab the reins from Murtagh’s hands and turn us around.

“Steady,” Murtagh coaxed in the language Claire had instructed us… one I knew he didn’t particularly care to use.

To anyone listening, it’d be logical that he would have been speaking to the horses, but I knew it was intended for me.

… Claire.

The carriage began to slow and I spat out an emphatic, “Fuck!”

I bit down hard on my lower lip, the sharp pain competing against my rolling stomach and spasming back. The deep, frozen ruts of the lane did little to ensure a smooth ride to the harbor and the combination of my raw nerves and the carraige’s jolting, jostling motions were enough to set me completely on edge.

Lifting a hand to the ridiculous bonnet atop my head, I adjusted it slightly and then arranged my skirts around me. Our success was dependent on my looking every inch a respectable woman of wealth and I was determined to have everything in place when that door opened. We came to a complete stop long before I was ready and I forced myself to take as deep of a breath as was possible in my current state.

Here we bloody go, Beauchamp.

Male voices began to bark orders, sending a shiver down my spine, and I steeled myself for the gust of frigid air mingled with danger that was sure to come at any moment. I didn’t have to wait long, for the door opened in the next second and I saw the face of Lady Margaret’s most trusted footman, Francis.

His expression gave nothing away as he offered his hand in assistance — the as yet unseen redcoats obviously requested I present myself — and I donned my most affected air, slipping into the personage I’d crafted in my wakeful hours of the night.

“Tell them I wish to speak to their commanding officer,” I sniffed, drawing my cloak tighter around me, “and do shut the door, Francis, or I shall catch my death of a chill.”

One brow twitched and I caught the briefest of smiles flicker across the chap’s face before he disappeared back into the night, doing exactly as I’d asked.

More voices sounded in conversation outside the carriage, taking on an air of confusion as a whole, with the exception of Francis’ Lowland lilt.

“Ye better do as th’Lady asks, ye ken,” he warned and I couldn’t help but grin in the dark in spite of my nerves. “She’s not one t’bide... an’ she’s a ship t’meet.”

There was a shuffling of feet and a clanking of metal, but one person had obviously moved off and all discussion faded away into nothing. A few moments passed in anxious silence until a new disgruntled voice suddenly asked, “Have you found something, then?”

Bile rose at the back of my throat as I thought of them finding Jamie up above me, but I didn’t waver from my plan.

Negatory remarks followed the new voice’s inquiry and the officer — for indeed, he must be — was informed of the situation.

Francis opened the door again and I launched into my tirade, “What is the meaning of this inconvenience, Captain?! If my ship departs without me, I shall ensure that you are stripped of your position, paraded through the streets barefoot in nothing but sackcloth and ashes, and unable to find a place of employment as anything but His Majesty’s scullery maid!”

The officer stood slack jawed just outside the door in perfect response to my tirade, obviously not expecting a well-bred, highly enraged, loyal British subject on the road at this hour.

“Do come in and explain yourself,” I huffed, beckoning him forward, “you must have a reason for holding up honest traffic in the middle of the night like a Highland bandit.”

His mouth snapped shut at this and his brows rose all the way to the edge of his wig as he climbed inside, a lantern in hand. I blinked at the sudden brightness, but it only helped to permanently affix my scowl.

“Now, who do I have the pleasure of addressing?” I titled my head to the side, feigning interest while looking very much like an addled bird, I was sure.

“Captain George Brooks, my lady, of, ah, His Majesty’s Third Battalion,” he cleared his throat, stammering slightly. “I, well, I sincerely apologize for Private Richardsen’s rather forward behavior and, well, the delay.”

He studied me quite openly, his gaze taking in my fine clothing and warm cloak. The captain seemed to take me for what I appeared to be, for he quickly continued, “You see, Madam, we have word that an escaped convict has sought sanctuary within the abbey and are stopping and searching every conveyance that leaves the place.”

I stiffened at the word convict, but used it to my advantage.

“I must tell you, Captain, that I was the guest of the good brethren and can assure you no such man exists,” I leveled him with a look that made him squirm. “And, certainly, no one of such quality is among my men.”

“I consider the Scottish brutes to be a detestable sort and am on my way now to leave this godforsaken country,” I sniffed, forcing myself not to choke on the absolute fallacy of my own words.

Captain Brooks nodded at this, but it was clear from his gathering frown he had questions for me.

“There’s a respectable tavern in the village where my men are quartered,” he shifted, leaning forward slightly. “Why stay with the heretics when other suitable — and dare I say safer — lodging was available?”

I snorted, feigning disgust, “I’d rather sleep in the gutter than under the roof of a Highland villager, Captain… and as for the heretic Papists, you forget that a good many of His Majesty’s subjects are such.”

He caught sight of the jet rosary on display around my neck and had the good grace to wince.

“My apologies, Lady…,” he trailed off.

“Beauchamp,” I supplied for him, ready to rattle off my concocted scenario. “My husband is Lieutenant Commander Alexander Beauchamp of the Royal Navy and I’m meeting him in Portsmouth… that is, if you and your men will permit us to be on our way.”

My companion shifted uncomfortably once more, groveling, “Yes, well, I see there is no reason that you should not be allowed to travel on. I shall send a man ahead to alert the guard at the port. They’ll see that you board and depart without interference.”

“How good of you, Captain,” I commented, forcing a smile as a sudden wave of nausea overtook me.

Hurry up, Captain, or you shall be wearing my breakfast.

... Jamie.

The captain strode out the door of the carriage, nearly knocking Francis off his feet, and beckoned wildly to his lieutenant. I tensed, nearly grabbing the reins out of Murtagh’s hands, but instead steeled myself as I caught his orders on the wind.

“Ride ahead,” he motioned for a horse to be brought round, bellowing, “Tell Phillips to let them through without trouble and ensure no one delays their departure... And If I hear that so much as a seagull spoke out of turn to the Lady Beauchamp, I shall have both your head and your commission, Hawkins!”

Lieutenant Hawkins swung into the saddle with a barked yes, sir and was barreling down the path ahead of us a moment later.

I blinked in surprise, then let the darkness of the night hide the beginnings of a smile that warmed my face.

Well done, mo nighean donn.

…

Claire.

The remainder of the ride to the harbor was something akin to cruel and unusual punishment.

The road had gotten better some time ago — the carriage no longer pitching from side to side with every rut we hit — but I still felt every stone, every bump we drove over. The muscles of my lower back and left hip spasmed with a ferocity that I had never experienced, protesting their rough handling in a language that I could not ignore. My stomach rolled, my chest heaved, and it was everything I could do not to lose my cookies all over Lady Margaret’s velvet cushions.

Breathe, Beauchamp.

I slid my eyes shut. It was dark as the deepest cave around me, but somehow the feeling of closing my eyes still gave me a barrier to the outside world.

You did it.

We’d passed through the checkpoint undetected, sent on our way the very man in charge of the entire operation. I couldn’t let my guard down yet, though, couldn’t celebrate this victory until we were really, truly well on our way on the open sea.

I shook my head, trying to fixate on something steady, something outside of the tossing, tumbling barrel I was currently deposited in.

Jamie.

I did allow myself to smile then.

What did he think of it all? Of our walking through right under the redcoats' noses?

I was thankful he had Murtagh at his side through the whole ordeal, but I still wished I could have been with him. For my presence beside him to steady his nerves.

Who are you kidding, Beauchamp?

You couldn’t have climbed up there next to him if your life depended on it.

Well… maybe only if it truly depended on it.

My hands moved, my arms cradling the curve of my distended abdomen as I shifted against the seat cushions. Climbing aboard this conveyance had been interesting enough… I didn’t want to think of what getting aboard the Demeter would entail.

The footman Francis was a short, sender slip of a thing, and while that suited his career perfectly, it wouldn’t suffice should I need assistance boarding the ship.

No one would think twice of Jamie’s strong form helping me… would they?

My heart lurched to a stop, skipped a beat, then thundered on as the carriage began to slow and I realized the next hurdle was upon us. We didn’t stop, but continued to crawl along for many minutes, allowing me time to right myself and prepare for act two of my facade.

When Francis did open the door… I was ready.

… Around 5am, Aboard the Demeter; Jamie.

A dhia, what a woman.

I shook my head in amused astonishment as I watched Claire’s rigid form dismiss Colonel Phillips with a flick of her hand, then turned to the captain of the ship and pointedly asked for shelter from the cold. We hadn’t the time to inform him of her ruse before we boarded, but he gruffly acquiesced and motioned for her to follow him into the cabin.

Seeing that Phillips had disembarked and none of his men were looking towards the ship, I slipped into the shadows of the gathering dawn and trailed after them.

“I do apologize for my tone on deck, Captain,” I heard her sigh as I entered the small, cluttered room. “We sincerely appreciate your kindness and understand the risk you’re taking in bringing us aboard.”

“Aye, well,” he shifted from foot to foot, not quite sure what to make of my wife, “‘Tis nothin’ much… so long as ye stay within an’ out of my men’s way, ye ken.”

I’d gathered in our short time on deck that the crew’s opinion of my wife was something akin to an omen of bad luck — as a woman aboard ship often was — and had no intention of letting her out that door again until we were disembarking onto French soil.

Claire turned as the ship’s captain left, realizing I was there for the first time and her face completely crumpled. She looked as though her body was about to follow suit and was at her side in a moment, gathering her into my arms and tucking her head securely beneath my chin. I could feel her begin to tremble from head to toe against me and looked wildly around for a place for her to sit.

Not readily finding one, she clung to me as we stood in the middle of the room, swaying slightly with the motion of the ship.

“Ifrinn,” I muttered when I found I could finally speak, “I shouldna let you do tha’, mo chridhe.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” came her soft reply, muffled by the front of my coat.

I shrugged at this, knowing she was right, but wishing my heavily pregnant wife hadn’t had to be the one to navigate us through the lion’s den.

“But ye did verra well, indeed,” I had to admit, more than a hint of pride coloring my voice.

She snorted in objection to this and I grinned, turning back her hood and shedding her of that ridiculous cap in one movement. Placing a kiss amid her curls, my hand cupped the back of her head.

Lifting her chin, she looked up at me, fatigue evident in her eyes. I kissed her soundly then and she turned in my arms, looping her own around my neck with a contented sigh.

“Are you cold?” I asked, placing a kiss on her warm neck but had felt her chilled cheek against my own.

“No, not very,” she rested her head against my shoulder. “It’s much better in here.”

I nodded, agreeing as my gaze lifted and I began to examine the quarters we’d been given.

Captain’s quarters they may be, but it was also clearly a storeroom for a good portion of his cargo. Crates stacked upon crates loomed around us like a forest of trees, with bundles and baskets cast about on the floor in unorganized chaos. There didn’t seem to be a bed to be found in any resemblance of the word and this gave me no amount of disquiet.

Resigning myself to a sturdy crate that was roughly sitting height to my left, I slowly moved Claire in that direction, easing her down onto it as I went in search for better accommodations. She flapped a weary hand at me, encouraging me on my way as she loosened her stays and let out a shaky breath.

I wove in and out of the stacks of goods, desperate to find a place for my wife to lay down. There were large wooden trunks and canvas wrapped parcels, small wooden crates and barrels of various volumes and heights… but no bed. I discovered something resembling a hammock slung in one corner, but as that would never do, I dismissed it immediately and continued my search, doubling back and returning a different way than I’d come.

“Jamie?”

Claire’s voice had me leaping over a canvas wrapped bundle and grabbing for the bucket I’d caught out the corner of my eye. I reached her just in time for her to deposit her breakfast in the receptacle, her eyes wide and cheeks gone an unearthly pale.

“Christ, I’m sorry,” I gushed, keeping a stray curl from getting in the way of things. “I shouldn’t have left yer side… tis the same wi’ me, too.”

In truth, our current rhythmic motion was nothing compared to what we’d experience once we left the harbor, but I had the good sense to let that be.

Claire shook her head, glowering into the depths of the bucket and grumbled, “It was that bloody roller coaster.”

“Mhmm,” I commented noncommittally, not entirely sure what that was but fairly confident she meant the carriage ride here. “Aye, well, ye’re off it now.”

She retched again, as if the very mention of the conveyance had set her stomach into motion again.

“Shh, my own, it will be better in a moment,” I assured her in Gaelic as I knelt beside her, smoothing back the hair from her face and rubbing her back.

Offering her my handkerchief when she appeared to be done, I took the fragrant bucket from her and set it aside, though within arm’s reach should she need it again.

“Are you alright?” she squeaked, the color beginning to creep back into her cheeks.

I stared at her, my brows nearly to my hairline as I asked incredulously, “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” the frown was back, but I could see that the wheels were churning furiously behind those amber eyes. “You were just paraded in front of an entire battalion of redcoats… that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

I shook my head, shrugging off her concern, assuring, “I’m fine, Sassenach. They didna give me so much as a second glance, thanks to you.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

A slow smile tugged at my lips at her slow, deliberate enunciation of every syllable of this declaration.

“Aye, I ken jus’ what ye mean,” I reached for her hands, twining my fingers between hers, “an’ I think ye ken me better than I ken myself, at times.”

She snorted at this, dismissing the notion.

“If I do, then it’s the same with me,” she muttered, wiping at her face.

I grinned, squeezing her hands tightly.

“Oh, aye, mo nighean donn… I do, indeed.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #Metamorphosis AU #over the sea

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outlier-rookie · 4 years ago

Text

Of Blood and Greatness - Chapter 1

Chapter 1/?? - The Kid In The Camp

AO3 Link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305741/chapters/64050937

***

“Who’s there?” John’s rough voice called out as Arthur rode back into camp.

“It’s Arthur! You dumbass.” He yelled in reply, receiving a huff in return.

“You’re back. Dutch wants to speak to ya.”

“What’s he want this time?” Arthur asked, drawing his horse to a halt in front of the other man.

“Ask him yourself.” The scared man replied, walking right past Arthur to continue his patrol.

Grumbling under his breath, Arthur guided his horse, a proud Andalusian he’d taken to calling Admiral on account of the stallions headstrong and commanding nature, over to the hitching posts. As he rode over his eyes were drawn to an unfamiliar horse hitched by the camp entrance, waiting patiently and grazing on the tufts of grass at its hooves. It was a gorgeous Missouri Fox Trotter with a clean golden coat and a rich dark mane streaked with blonde. He didn’t spend long studying the horse and instead picked up the buck he’d stowed on Admiral’s back and began trudging over to Pearson’s wagon.

But for the second time in as many minutes, an unfamiliar sight drew his attention. Sitting at the circular table and looking very out of place was a kid. Arthur took a moment to study them as he passed wondering what a young one such as themselves was doing in the middle of a camp of outlaws. The kid couldn’t have been older than thirteen or fourteen and was on the thin side. They weren’t that tall either, wearing a shirt too big for their thin frame with the sleeves rolled up in an effort to make the ill-fitting garment more wearable. In their hands they fidgeted with a ratty old hat and their hair was mattered and dirty giving the impression the kid hadn’t had so much as a bedroll to sleep on. An old memory of when Hosea and Dutch first took him in, and later John, drifted into Arthur’s thoughts as he passed. He’d barely handed the buck over to Pearson when Dutch approached him.

“Arthur, good to see you back, son.” The dark-haired man smiled as he clapped Arthur on the shoulder, directing the younger outlaw back towards the kid sat at the table.

“So what’s going on?” Arthur asked, “John said you wanted to talk to me ‘bout somethin’.” As the two men approached, the kid raised their head and locked eyes with Arthur. Arthur was nearly at a loss for words as the kid stared right into his soul. Their eyes were an almost unnaturally vivid shade of blue; much more intense than his own. What stuck him as odd was the weary look they held. It was the same look he’d sometimes see in Hosea’s eyes. Tired, haunted eyes like that had no place on some kid. Standing, the kid placed the ratty hat on their head and continued to stare at the two men as Dutch started to introduce them.

“This here is, uh.”

“(Y/N). My name’s (Y/N).” The kid filled in.

“Yes, this here is young (Y/N).” Dutch continued, leaving Arthur’s side to stand between him and the kid- (Y/N). “Bold little thing. Road right up into camp saying they wanted to talk to the leader of this gang and wasn’t taking ‘No’ for an answer.” He explained, chuckling lightly as he did. Arthur nodded as he hooked his thumbs into his belt, shifting his weight into a more casual stance.

“Why you coming out here to talk to a bunch of outlaws like us?” He asked watching with a critical eye as the kid hesitated for a moment, their eyes flicking to the ground as they brought their hands together and started picking at the skin around their nails. It took a few false starts before they finally got the words out.

“I want… I want ta join the gang.” Their hands dropped back to their sides and once again Arthur found those piercing blue eyes staring intently at him once more.

“I dunno Dutch.” He started, barely managing to break his gaze away from those haunting blue eyes. “They’re awfully young to be, runnin’ with folk like us.” He said, waving his hand and gesturing to the likes of Bill and Micah.

“I ain’t that young!” (Y/N) snapped.

“Kid, you can’t be more than fourteen at the oldest.”

“I’m fifteen! And I can take care of myself!”

“They why you want to join up with a gang? We ain’t some orphanage kid and we ain’t good people.”

“Now now Arthur.” Dutch cut in, raising his hand between the two. “You were the same age when Hosea and I took you in. And John was much younger.” He argued, drawing an aggravated sigh from Arthur.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea Dutch. Look at em. They’re just a kid. And the world’s changing, cracking down on folks like us. It ain’t safe-”

“I ain’t safe on my own either!” The kid interrupted. “I ain’t been safe since the day I was born. And besides,” They continued, crossing their arms and leaning back on their heels, doing their best to stare down their nose at Arthur, “I don’t come untrained. I can shoot any gun and hit any target and I don’t miss unless the gun fails.”

Arthur stared incredulously at (Y/N) as Dutch let out a hearty laugh.

“And that ain’t the only thing I have to offer.” They continued. “Them fellas, uh. The special lawmen, the uh, the um-”

“The Pinkerton’s.” Dutch supplied.

“Yeah them! The Pinkerton’s are looking for you and are crawling all over Blackwater. But they ain’t looking for me.” Arthur narrowed his eyes and crossed his own arms.

“Whatchu getting at kid?”

“They’re saying, Arthur, that they can get into Blackwater and get our money. We can get out of here and be on our way!”

“I don’t know about this Dutch.”

“I’m with Arthur.” A fourth voice joined the conversation as Hosea strolled up to the three of them. “You’re an avid reader Dutch. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is’?”

“Come on old friend, think of what this could mean for us! All that money we lost at Blackwater, back in our hand. Valentine is only a temporary stop and we need to move soon. With the money from Blackwater back in our hands we can do a hell of a lot more than what we were originally hoping!”

Hosea sighed and continued to argue against it with Dutch when the kid cut in once more, drawing the attention of just about everyone in camp.

“I already got it!”

Dutch and Hosea froze mid-argument.

“What?” Dutch asked and Arthur swore he heard a note of confusion in the older outlaws voice.

“Your money from Blackwater. I already got it, so even if you sent someone back there and they managed to avoid running into the law, you won’t find it.”

Dutch’s earlier lax and cheerful demeanour disappeared as he stepped closer to the kid, his voice low and dangerous. “And how, exactly, did you find out where we hid it if we are to believe you.”

“Adults don’t pay a lot of attention to kids. Even less so if they’re street kids like me. Heard some of them, fancy-looking fellas, talking ‘nd saying they was investigatin’ you and thought they might know where you hid your valuables in case something happened.”

“And you just happened to get there and find it first?” Arthur growled, arms dropping to his side, right hand hovering by his gun. (Y/N)’s eyes followed Arthur’s movements as they too came to rest on the handle of Arthur’s gun.

“Yeah. I did.” They replied sharply, raising their own eyes back to meet his.

A tense silence filled the air as the camp went quiet.

“Stay. Here.” Dutch’s voice finally broke the silence. “Hosea, Arthur, with me.” The three men trekked away towards Dutch’s tent leaving the teenager alone at the table; a quick signal to Javier had the Mexican man nodding as he set himself up to watch the (h/c) teen while the others talked. Once the flaps to the tent had been drawn and fastened, Arthur exchanged a worried glance with Hosea while Dutch rubbed at his chin, his eyebrows creased with thought.

“What’s the plan Dutch?” Arthur softly questioned a hint of worry colouring his words.

“I’m not sure just yet Arthur. Hosea, what do you think?” Hosea huffed before replying.

“I think we continue with the plan to get away from Valentine. We’ve just about outstayed our welcome and it’s time to move on. I think it far more likely that this kid is part of a Pinkerton trap set to catch us.”

“And if they are telling the truth? If they really have gotten our money out from Blackwater and it’s now within our reach? It a lot of money Hosea, if we had that back then we could get the hell out here.”

“Is the slim chance that they are telling the truth worth the lives of everyone in camp Dutch?” The older outlaw returned. “We’ve already lost the Mac, Davey and Jenny. If this kid is luring us into a trap, who else will we lose?” Dutch brought his hand up to his mouth and nodded solemnly at Hosea’s words, though the crease in his brow suggested he was less than happy with the answer he was given.

“And what do you think Arthur?”

Arthur scratched at his stubble, drawing a hissed breathe as he thought about their options. He strongly sided with Hosea. This whole deal of a random kid wandering into their camp, claiming to have possession of their money was already a wild tale. Add on to that the fact they were apparently willing to just hand it back over to them in return for a place in the gang was just confusing. Anyone with half as much brains as Marston who found the money would have taken it for themselves, and yet this kid was here and offering to give it all back to them with not a lot in return. And yet something was stopping him from outright refusing to consider the kid might be telling the truth.

“I want to ask the kid something first.” He finally said. “They gotta have a reason for wanting to join up with folk like us. This kid could have set themselves up for life if they were smart with the money but instead, they’re trying to return it and get in our good graces. I want to find out what that reason is first.” He finished.

Dutch and Hosea were silent for a spell before the eldest outlaw smiled and clapped Arthur on the arm. “And you claim you ain’t a thinker boy.” Arthur tugged his hat a little further over his face as he averted his eyes, muttering a half-hearted argument under his breath before making his way back toward (Y/N). The teen looked up at Arthur as he stopped by the table, silently regarding the young teen before him. Silently, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it as he kicked a leg up on the short barrel that acted as a chair. The two stared silently at each other as Arthur puffed away before taking the lit cigarette from between his lips and addressed them as Hosea and Dutch watched a short distance behind him.

“Why do you want to join the gang?” He asked slowly, his drawl weighing his words down heavily as he spoke. “You could’ve taken all that money for yourself so why go to all the trouble of bringing it down to us? Worse people than us could have found you and they wouldn’t have had any qualms about robbing and killing some half-starved fifteen-year-old kid sleeping out alone in on the plains.” He paused, taking another drag and lazily blowing out the smoke. “Whatever you want from us must be worth a lot more to you than money.”

(Y/N) didn’t answer straight away. They squeezed their hands tightly and Arthur could barely see them biting their lip from under their ratty hat.

“M’ Dad.” Was the soft reply. Arthur stayed silent and watched as the kid drew a shaky breath. “My auntie. She said that my Daddy is an outlaw. Said that- that he knows the Van Der Linde gang. I just. I want to meet him.” They finished with a shrug.

“What’s your Daddy’s name kid?” Dutch asked, coming up to sit beside the teenager who was suddenly looking much smaller than they did when Arthur first spoke to them.

“I- I don’t-” Again the kid tightly wrung their hands as if it would relieve the emotional pressure they were feeling. “I know what he looks like. That’s all I need. I don’t care if he wants nothin’ ta do with me. I just want him to know that I exist, I suppose.”

Arthur stubbed the end of his cigarette and dropped the butt on the ground, turning to look at Hosea and Dutch who shared a mildly surprised look. Arthur mulled over the information in his head. Fifteen years ago when (Y/N) would have been born, it was mainly Dutch and Hosea finding jobs that he’d sometimes join, while Susan and Bessie looked after John. Uncle might have been around then too but Arthur failed to see any similarities between the drunken old man and the kid who currently looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them.

As Arthur was mulling over everything, Hosea stepped up and took a seat by the teen.

“You mentioned your Aunt earlier, but what about your mother?” he asked gently.

“Don’t have one.” Came a barely legible mumble. Silence once again fell over the group but no one seemed eager to break it this time. Just as he was about to say something, anything really, Dutch beat him to it.

“How far away did you hide the money?”

“W-West of Valentine.”

With a nod, Dutch turned his attention to Arthur. “Arthur, I want you to take Javier and Charles with you and the kid.” Turning back to the kid he continued. “I trust that you aren’t going to lead my boys into a trap.” He said. “If you stay true to your word then there’ll be a place for you among us.”

The kid's face lit up at Dutch’s words. “Yessir!” They cheered; face aglow in the afternoon sun as they turned to Arthur. “We should leave as soon as possible. To be back before the sun gets too low, ya know?” Arthur grunted in response and waved for the kid to mount up. They only took a few steps before spinning back around. “Can I get my gun back?” Dutch shrugged and nodded.

Arthur strolled back over to Admiral, running a hand along the steed’s neck as the horse noses at the satchel hanging by the man’s side. Feeding the stallion a fresh apple, Arthur doubled checked his saddlebags for ammo and supplies while he waited for Charles, Javier, and the kid. Not even five minutes later he was joined by the kid, repeater slung across their back, with Charles and Javier at their heels. They boldly strolled up to the Fox Trotter, smiling brightly as the horse nosed at their offered hand before the kid swung themselves up onto the saddle.

Sparing a place at Charles and Javier and seeing the two men also sat up in their respective horses, Arthur nodded at the kid. “Alright then, lead on.” He instructed with a wave.

“Follow me, gentlemen.”

And with that, they were off.

***

Thank you for your patience! The first chapter for “Of Blood and Greatness” is finally finished!

As a reminder, this is a Red Dead Redemption 2 crossover fanfic as it contains elements of Percy Jackson (you don’t need any prior knowledge of PJO,)

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x gn reader #rdr2 x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption #rdr2 #of blood and greatness #RDR2 crossover #red dead redemption 2

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razorblade180 · 4 years ago

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The Real You pt6

[Warning, Parts 1-5 are really old. So their quality is eh...]

Love sucks, that’s the feeling our emotionally wrecked trio was having anyways. Each of them sat quietly while looking at an empty cake tray and devoured bowls of ice cream. They must’ve scarfed down enough sweets to make even Ruby sick, yet not even their slightly upset stomach could compare to the pain in their chest. Love sucked, but here they were, wishing for a way to grab a hold of it with both hands.

Yang sat on her couch all alone and stared at Jaune, who laid on her floor. His eyes fixated on the never ending weeping of the heavens outside. A fitting mood really. Yang still felt like letting her tears flow just a little bit. She couldn’t believe that she got cheated on, again. Technically this would be the first time but the series of events and feelings were scarily familiar to what happened with her partner that it was hard not to draw certain comparisons.

Jaune finally noticed her gaze and stared back. He could tell just from one look how much she was trying to keep herself together for everyone’s sake. He had no doubt that he had truly broken Yang’s heart and that in return made him feel utterly sick beyond belief. How could he do something so awful, sleeping with Neo? The feelings towards the girl in question only made it worse. It was one thing to give your body to someone else that you weren’t dating, but it was far worse when you were also emotionally invested. Jaune couldn’t bear to see the look of sorrow on her face. He’d turn away but Jaune Arc would not run from his mistakes. His lack of judgement got him into this so he would take all forms of punishment to show how much he ached from his decision. Yang Xiao Long deserved better.

Neo sat at the table, watching them both. The girl methodically fiddled with her empty spoon as she tried to deal with her guilt. Why was being a good person so hard? It wasn’t a foreign concept, not completely. Treat others the way you wanted to be treated, don’t let negative thoughts decide your actions, use your talents to better the world; Neo wasn’t sure that last one was possible. The girl pursued a man she loved for selfish reasons, knowing good will those moments of bliss would rot and decay in no time at all, poisoning the very person she wanted to impress.

“You’d think after all those sweets, the three of us would be on any sort of high right now?” Neo said, her head resting on her arms. She didn’t care what response they’d give her. Any words were better than silence. She knew that better than anyone. “Where do we go from here?”

“Dunno.” Yang said, “I can barely keep my own thoughts in order.”

“Share em. No use holding anything in, especially against me. I’ll take the punches, physically or verbally.”

“Okay then. I hate this, this...ache. I hate how much hurting you both are putting me through to the point I wanna scream.” Yang’s nails dug into the cushion beneath her. “Worst part of all? I hate how scared I am. It feels like I’m only a few more events away from living in this apartment with no one but my sister and possibly Weiss to visit me; when they aren’t too busy being in love. Just like…”

The blonde bruiser’s eyes shut tight. Tears managed to escape and her lip quivered fiercely. Seconds passed by before she opened her eyes and looked at her boyfriend. Was he still her boyfriend? She guessed that was to be determined later. Only one thing was at the forefront of her wary mind.

“I want to still be with you Jaune, I do. But for the life of me I can’t think of a way to even begin to go through this. Apologizing doesn’t cut it. Punishing or making some kind of deal with Neo to leave doesn’t fix anything either. I’m so furious but I hate the fact that letting you go is the last thing I want.” Yang clenched her chest tightly. It felt as if everything was pulling her apart and trying to keep her together all at once. “I love you so please, end this yourself.”

Jaune’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“You came over here so I can chew you out and break up right? Well if you want this to officially end then you’ll have to do it yourself because I’m dumb enough to still want you.”

“You aren’t dumb.” Neo spoke up, “And I’m the last person to be talking about being fair or discussing hypocrisy, but it’s close minded to think making Jaune shoulder that choice isn’t a form of punishment. Even a blind person could easily see that he loves you too; more than anything. More than anyone.”

It hurt but it was the truth. If it came down to it, Jaune would pick Yang in any situation and Neo would be left out to dry. His feelings for the petite girl are true, but that didn’t matter as long as he had Yang. Not that she could blame him.

“Honestly, I’m jealous of you Yang. Not just because you’re good, but because you are what I want to be. Maybe that’s why I could do what I did so easily? I was tired of feeling beneath you, the girl I wish I could be.”

Neo stood up from the table and looked at Yang’s tired red face before looking at Jaune and shaking her head. “Sorry, for wrecking what you have. We both know I’m terrible for you. If I could make a good guy like you cheat on someone like her then I’m clearly bad.”

“I’m not as good as you think. I would’ve pushed you away if I was.” Jaune sighed. This was going nowhere, fast. They were all about to keep looping this cycle of hating themselves. “Stop treating me like I’m perfect, I’m not.”

“Never said you were, it’s obvious to see though I’m making cracks in your demeanor that weren’t there before. Since I’ve already gone this far when it comes to being a shitty person, no reason for me to start considering the requests both of you have. I’m gonna do what I want, leave.”

Yang let out a groan of irritation. “Neo-”

“You have no intention to stop loving him so what other option could there possibly be? Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re not the type to share, are you?” It was faint but Neo was sure Yang could hear it, the little plea that had escaped in her voice. Neo would love nothing more than to be wrong right now. She wasn’t entirely sure of Yang’s past relationship but it had obviously done a number on the girl.

Yang could hear that twinge of hope in Neo’s voice. She could even see the twinkle in her eye. Neo was practically begging for a life line, a reason to believe that she didn’t have to commit to her claim of walking away. Sadly, Yang could only stare, and Jaune knew exactly why such a question was risky to ask.

“Sorry, I can’t say that I am. That situation is...it burned me before.” Yang said, resisting the painful memories that tried to surface.

Neo’s face went pale. Well, that was it. Her final possible tether to the life and person she wanted to be with, severed in no time flat. She did her best to sound indifferent about it.

“Oh, I see. I...wasn’t aware that there were some rough patches in that subject. Then I guess… I guess there’s nothing left to do. Jaune…”

“Neo…” He knew better than to try to change her mind or make this tougher than it already was. He didn’t have an answer for all three of them after all. It would’ve been selfish and inconsiderate to speak as if he did. Even saying goodbye felt way too...inappropriate, in a way.

Neo put on the fakest smile both Jaune and Yang had ever seen in their life. “Thanks for believing in me, both of you. Even though I flopped the moment I tried to change. It was nice, having someone take the chance anyways.”

With her feelings in the open, Neo turned towards the door and grabbed the knob. Her hand stayed on that knob, her fingers refusing to grab it as her entire body trembled. She knew they could hear her sniffle. Neo knew that she was taking entirely too long, but even with nothing left to say, leaving felt so painful. She took one final breath and then found the will to step out of the apartment, the sound of her footsteps sprinting the moment the door closed behind her.

Yang found no joy in seeing her leave, only more ache. She turned to Jaune who was still staring at the door, his eyes filled with a new kind of sorrow.

“If you’re wondering what things would’ve been like if I had been the one to pick, I would’ve chosen you. Don’t think for a second I’d willingly walk out of your life.” Jaune said, tearing up. “Even so, I would’ve felt terrible leaving Neo’s life. This might sound a little egotistical, but I can’t see her bouncing back from this. Not alone. Not without us.”

“Us?”

“I may have given her the dream of changing, but you were clearly the goal post.”

“Don’t put that on me.” Yang said weakly, “What would’ve happened if she did change? She would still love you, and I would still be worried about losing you.”

Jaune bit his bottom lip out of anxiety. Of course none of them were able to find a solution, they all had baggage and walls that they tried their best not to hit. Jaune was wary, but that might’ve been the problem. Neo never pulled her punches and this day had already been the absolute worst, so why not keep pushing? That’s the thing about baggage, you gotta unpack it eventually. Jaune only wished that it wouldn’t come back to bite him.

“I’m not Blake…”

Yang’s head jolted up. Jaune didn’t need to look at her to know Yang was staring at him with scarlet eyes that felt like they were burning a whole into the side of his face.

“Don’t say her name.”

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t been thinking about what happened with her this entire time. Yang you won’t lose m-”

“YOU DON’T THINK SHE DIDN’T SAY THE SAME THING!?” Yang said, screaming as she stood up in frustrated anger. Jaune had struck a nerve he knew was still very much was like an open wound. He finally looked at the girl, she had his undivided attention.

“You don’t believe that she didn’t reassure me that I had nothing to worry about!? That’s how it starts. They ease your fears, tell you that things are mutual, that feelings are equal; that’s not how that works! No matter how much attention she gave me, it was obvious her mind was on Sun. The looks, the talk, the stories, so I do what anybody would do and confront her about it. We talked and we talked and we talked and we talked until finally I believed that things could work out. Sharing wouldn’t be so hard if everyone really is on the same page right? All three people give the same amount they gain right!? Well that’s not how it works!!! It felt like I was fighting to find a reason to even be around them. Slowly but surely, a wall was being built but bringing up the dynamic again after so many discussions just got so…I was tired Jaune. Her words felt so rehearsed, so lifeless. Up until we have one more discussion because I just don’t think we’ve gotten it right yet. That’s when her words sounded true. When she looked at me and said ‘I can’t do this anymore’ and I knew instantly I was out of the picture. Blake had chose Sun over me a long time ago, I was just stupid enough to ignore the signs! So tell me Jaune, how the hell would this end up any different!? How could you look at me and say you won’t need me around anymore!?”

Yang’s chest rose up and down heavily as she tried to breathe. She refused to be slowly pushed out again, to have her feelings subtly get abandoned for another. She watched Jaune stare at her, his face expression giving off nothing but sorrow, or was it pity?

“Well!?” Yang sniffled, “Say something for fucks sake!”

Jaune walked closer to her. Close enough reach out and wipe the numerous tears that riddled her face. “Because my love for you isn’t fragile.”

He said nothing else. Jaune left her speechless for a moment while he walked towards the door and opened it, scaring her a little.

“Jaune what are-”

“I think a little space right now to think about today is needed. I need that space, but I will come back. Don’t ever doubt that.” Jaune opened the door. “I messed up today, I know that. But don’t you ever doubt my love for you. I swear it never runs low.”

Yang said nothing. She simply watched him close the door. The girl fell back onto her couch, she had to be minutes away from vomiting. Jaune was right about one thing, she did need some space from this situation. As well as some perspective. Yang dialed her scroll and practically begged for her sister to pick up. Thankfully, she did.

“Hey sis, what’s going on?” The cheerfulness of Ruby’s voice felt like the one sunlight on this gray day.

“Hey Ruby. Y..You free to talk?”

“Always, what’s up? You sound stuffy.”

“Oh you know…Jaune cheated on me today.”

Part 5

#rwby #yang xiao long #jaune arc #ruby rose #neo politan #rwby dragonslayer #the real you #rwby silent knight

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all1e23 · 5 years ago

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Swallow [Epilogue]

Epilogue: Nearly Eight Years Later.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: It was time to let go

A/N: It’s the end! Thank you for sticking with me. I love this so so so so much, and I don’t normally say that about my writing. lolol. It’s a bit long for an epilogue, but I felt it was needed. The friend Steve mentions in the letters in the first half is Phil, and when he says the garage, he means the club. Gotta talk in code. Prison, ya know? Send me love because I’m needy. No beta so read at your own risk. ;-)

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!*

Buck,

Of all the dumb things you’ve ever done telling Y/n you’re over, and she needs to move on has to be one of the dumbest. You know she’s been writing you? She tried to come up and see you and they sent her away, but I’m guessing you know all that since you have to refuse.

She won’t wait around forever, you know? Or, maybe she will. The two of you I swear…

I don’t know if you really thought about what you asked of her. Have you really thought about losing her to someone else? You keep pushing her away, and you might get your wish. She loves you. Don’t be an idiot.

We are good. Garage is doing good. We miss you.

I’ll write you soon.

Stay out of trouble.

——

I don’t expect you to write me a love letter or anything but at least let me know your smartass mouth hasn’t gotten you killed, okay?

Henry & Emma miss their Uncle. I was thinking about bringing them up to see you. Peggy thinks it would be good for everyone. You’re my family, no matter what. You’re my brother.

Everyone is good. Garage is good.

Y/n… is good. She misses you.

Bring the twins for the fourth? Might do you some good.

——

If you don’t answer me, Buck, I’m coming up anyway.

Don’t shut everyone out.

Everyone is good. Garage is good.

——

I’m not dead.

No. I don’t want you or the twins here.

Y/n will move on. Just takes time.

Tell her it takes time.

—————

Six Months

—————

You’re a stubborn ass.

Nice to get something back finally. I have to say, it hurt Y/n to know you’re writing me. She was visiting Peggy when I got the letter. Can’t you write her back once? It’s been six months since you went in.

Six months is a long time, Buck.

When are you going to let go of this bullshit and let me come see you?

Everyone is good. Garage is good. Thinking about a change.

——

Never. Stop asking.

Please stop talking about Y/n in your letters, Steve. Stop bringing her up. Stop telling me how she’s doing. I need to keep her out of my head if I am going to make it without her.

Tell her I stopped writing. She can’t move on if she’s waiting on me and she needs to move on.

A change?

——

You’re a bloody idiot James Buchanan Barnes. I don’t think I have ever met someone as foolish– Do you even know how a woman’s heart works? Or love for that matter? Are you really senseless enough to believe that Y/n could simply walk away from you? Forget you existed?

Stop being utterly ignorant and let her come see you.

Sorry about that. Peggy says, hi.

Okay, Buck. I won’t bring her up again.

Henry and Emma added some drawings. I don’t know if they will let you keep them. I hope they do. You deserve something for Christmas.

Yes, a change. It’s about time, I think. Tony is ready to retire, and I think the rest of the garage is tired of working on cars day in and day out after everything. We all want something new. Nothing is for sure. I’ll let you know if we decide to close the shop doors for good.

Merry Christmas, Buck.

——

Merry Christmas, Steve

————-

One Year

————

Hey, Buck.

Been a few months since I’ve heard from you. I know the longer you’re in, the harder it is. Don’t be mad, but I had a friend check up on you to make sure you’re okay. He said you’re staying quiet and keeping to yourself. I told him to keep an eye on you.

Bitch all you want. At least I know someone is watching your back when I can’t.

Twins are doing good. Ems is doing ballet now. You should see her in the little pink glitter tutu they make her wear. It’s adorable and I kind of hate it. I’m in trouble, Buck. Big trouble. Henry is good. Smartmouth. Takes after you. Always getting into fights. That one might be on me.

Everyone is good. Garage is good.

Write me back.

——

Six months and no word? Fine. I get it. You don’t want to talk, but I won’t abandon you. I won’t let you do this alone, no matter how determined you are to punish yourself.

Nothing has changed much. Henry started playing football. Emma is still dancing. Peggy says you’re still an idiot, but she loves you.

Sam is good. Pissed you won’t let him visit.

Everyone is good. Garage is good.

————–

Two Years

————-

Dance is a thing of the past.

Emma has moved on to cheer and, man, do I hate cheer. Hate it, Buck. Henry is still playing ball. Pretty good, I think. Peggy says too young to tell.

Everyone is good. We all miss you. Garage is good, but I think it’s time we talked closing up shop. Tony is retiring at the end of this year. Wants more time with Pepper and Morgan. I don’t blame him. Working all the time, I miss the twins.

They are growing up fast.

I miss you, Buck.

—–

I don’t even know what to say. I wish you would let me know how you are. Give me something here, Bucky?

Everyone is good. Garage is good for now.

I know you don’t want to know, but she’s okay.

—————

Three years

—————

Merry Christmas, Buck.

I sent you money to your commissary so you could at least get a few magazines and maybe some smokes. How are you doing? We miss you. The twins miss you. Sam misses you.

Got your outstanding debt paid off and gave your bike a tuneup. She’s purring real pretty, but don’t worry she’s still your girl. I’ll make sure she’s in good shape when you get home.

—-

Thanks for the smokes. I was about to lose my mind. Oh, and keep your ugly ass off my girl.

Miss you all, too. Don’t tell Sam I said that.

I’m glad she’s moving on.

—————

Four Years

—————

Since you’ve ignored my last ten letters, I’ll take it you don’t want to talk. Fine. I added pictures from the twin’s birthday, and before you get pissed, there aren’t any pictures of her. I didn’t think you would want them.

I made sure to throw in a couple of gifts from you into their mountain of gifts. Emma is over tea parties, but she’s really into make-up, so expect a makeover when you get out. Maybe your niece can get you to cut your hair?

You’re nearly there, Buck. Hang on a bit longer, and you’ll be home.

If you change your mind, about the pictures, just say the word. See you soon.

——

Just one. Please.

————–

Five years

————–

Don’t you have a wife and kids to take care of? A sam, too? Instead, you’re spending all your time writing to me. Sixteen letters is a bit much, Stevie.

I’m okay, punk. I’m alright.

Listen, I know you want me to come and stay with you when I get out, but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t work for the garage after this mess. I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay at your place. I don’t want to mess up your life now. Drop it for now, okay, Steve?

I know I never said, but, thank you for the picture. I miss her. Just thanks.

——

If you would write me back regularly this wouldn’t be an issue, you know? I wouldn’t feel the need to check up on you several times a week. Now, what the hell are you thinking, Buck?

Where are you going to go if not home? This has been your home your entire life. You come home, stay with us, and figure out your next step. You will always have a place here so quit trying to get out of it punk. You’re family.

You’re welcome. She misses you, too. We all do.

——-

I hear there was an incident at the prison. Schmidt was found dead. In the one corner of the rec yard that has a blind spot from cameras? That’s a tough break.

——-

I was in solitary for mouthing off to some guard – Coulson I think. Wasn’t there. Too bad I missed it, but we are all better off.

————-

Six Years

————

It looks like the garage will be settled at the end of the year. I’ll save your share from the sale for when you get out. I talked to Fury, and he said one of us can be there to pick you up. I am guessing that it will be me? I won’t bring the kids or Peggy. Give you some time to get your head together before I bring you home.

Peggy is talking about getting the spare room set up for you. It already has all your things packed up in boxes from the garage. You can stay here for as long as you like. I”m sure the twins would love to have their uncle back and I wouldn’t mind having my best friend back either.

Let me know the date once you’ve got it figured out and I’ll be there with your girl. I haven’t touched her! I swear no one has touched your bike.

Y/n is okay, too. Stubborn, but good.

We will talk soon… Hell, I’ll see you, I guess.

Soon, Buck. Just a few more months.

——

Steve,

It’s good the garage settled.

It was time to let that go; time for everyone.

I should still go. I know I don’t have to. I know I can stay with you and Pegs. I’ll always be grateful to you for everything you’ve done, but I can’t.

We both know that.

A lot can change in seven years. You’ve got teenagers. Do the twins really remember me? Might be weird to have a stranger hanging around they have to call their uncle. You and Pegs deserve time alone, and you don’t need a third wheel hanging around.

To be honest, I don’t know if I can see… her. She’s moved on, and I’m glad. I really am. That’s all I wanted for her. I didn’t want her to waste her life waiting for me to show back up so I could fuck it up again. I just… I can’t watch that. I can’t handle seeing her with someone else, and I won’t make her leave town and leave her family again.

There’s no place for me here now.

Besides, I’ve always wanted to take my bike and hit the road. Go from coast to coast. See what shit is out there. Maybe this is my time?

I think Fury sent you the paperwork with my release date. If you could, bring my bike and my bag. Just drop it at the gate. I can’t face everybody. I won’t leave if I do. Thank you for everything and thank you for watching over her when I couldn’t.

I’ve only ever wanted her happy. Maybe now she can have the life she’s always wanted.

See ya around, Stevie.

—————————————————–

Seven years, three months and six days

—————————————————–

“Barnes! Let’s go!”

Bucky tucked his longer than usual hair behind his ears and ran his hand over his leather jacket, staring at the missing patch as he followed the guard in front of him. He was glad the club shut down last year. It was more than time to kill it. His father started the club to keep his neighborhood safe, but it has only ever led to more destruction. He should have shut it down when his father died, but what would he have done to support you? Yeah, it sounded stupid and old fashioned. He knew he didn’t have to support you, but he really did. That was just the man he was, and outside of being a mechanic and an outlaw, there wasn’t much to him.

Honey and amber-colored rays were barely peeking up over the tops of the trees. Bucky wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but he knew his place wasn’t in this town anymore. Everyone grew up and moved on while he was locked up, and it was time he did the same.

The gate slowly rolled open, and Bucky stepped onto the other side, his shoulders sagged in relief. It felt good to be out, but he still felt empty after everything he had to give up to get this… freedom. Bucky always thought when he was finally free of the club, it would be for you; he would have you. The part of him that couldn’t let you go, even after all these years, wondered what you were doing right then – getting ready to have dinner, taking your kids to see Clint, or having dinner with your husband, maybe? Bucky didn’t know if any of that was reality or a painful joke his head invented to hurt his heart. Truthfully, he didn’t know anything about you anymore, and he needed it to stay that way if he was going to live without you. He couldn’t bear to hear about the life you built without him, but he hoped you had all that and so much more.

He hoped you had everything you ever wanted.

The gate shut behind him, and Bucky could breathe again – as best he could without you anyway, it would take more than seven years to learn how to breathe without you. Bucky eyes scanned the parking lot until he spotted his bike in the far corner, and his heart dropped. He told Steve he didn’t want anyone to see him off. He couldn’t handle saying goodbye again, and of course, the little shit didn’t listen.

Because there you were.

You gently pushed off the bike and started towards him. Bucky’s eyes dropped to the ground, and he shook his head; as angry as he wanted to be, he couldn’t find it in himself to upset.

He was so relieved to see you.

Bucky stopped in front of you and sighed, “You weren’t supposed to waste your life on me. I told you to find some good ol’ boy and get married at the church and all that. What happened to starting your life?”

You shrugged and closed the gap between you, “You can’t tell me what to do. And who says waiting for you was wasting my life? I get to decide what my life looks like not you.”

“Stubborn,” Bucky huffed with a grin.

“Impossible,” You countered, grinning right back.

Bucky wanted to explain why he didn’t write or call, tell you why he wanted you to move on, but he knew you understood. You always understood. You knew his heart better than he did – you’ve held it for longer than he has.

He looked down, and the guns n’ roses t-shirt made him grin. Fourteen years later and you’re still wearing that old thing. It’s faded a bit since he bought it for you, but damn you looked good in it. In the middle of the rose, resting comfortably was your ring hanging from his old chain. Bucky licked his lips and hooked his right index in your ring, giving a gentle tug.

“Rings go on your finger, sweetheart.”

You reached back to undo the chain and finally parted the ring from the chain, letting it sit on his index finger but only for a moment. You held your left hand out, and he slipped the delicate band on. He never thought the first time he would get that ring on your finger would be as a convicted felon, standing in the middle of a prison’s parking lot. That didn’t matter he supposed. None of that bullshit has mattered for a long, long time. The only thing that mattered was you, and you were here.

You were really here and still his.

“I can’t go back.“ He tested warily.

One last chance. An out. He was giving it to you freely. He wouldn’t be angry with you for taking it. He understood the burden of loving him and what it meant for your future. He would never blame you for not being able to handle that weight. Bucky’s loved you for more than half his life, and he knew better than most, sometimes, loving you meant letting you go for a bit. You’re never really lost in the end.

Whether he had to let you go or not, he was going to go on loving you till his last breath.

A quick nod towards the back of the bike he spotted your bag strapped on top of his and that old wooden box of his dads tucked comfortably between them. You already knew, and neither of you was going back home. You were both starting over somewhere new just like you always wanted.

Bucky captured your lips in one quick swoop, and it was just as he remembered – sweet and sure, the only thing that has kept his heart beating these last twenty-odd years; your love and those sweet kisses. His forehead rested against yours, and his hands tightened around your waist. He just had to make sure you were real and not another dream. You tugged at his leather and took a deep breath, breathing him in after seven long years, and nothing at all had changed. You smiled and let your hands wander up his chest and wrap securely around his neck, tiny fingers finding their way into delicate strands.

“Can we start our life now?”

He grinned and dropped one more kiss to your lips.

“Yeah, baby, we can start our life now.”

A yelp echoed in the nearly empty lot as Bucky’s arms tightened around your waist and lifted your feet from the ground, carrying you to his bike and grinning the whole way. He had planned on riding off with no destination in mind and a heavy heart dragging behind him, but somehow he got another chance, and he wasn’t sure what he did to earn it. He certainly didn’t deserve it or you. It didn’t matter why he got it. Now that he had it, he was going to spend the next few decades making up for every secret and lie, every tear shed and every second spent apart.

You always find your way back to each other, and he was stupid to think this time would be any different.

The bike rumbled to life under you both and Bucky settled back against you for a moment, letting his hand rest on your leg – a little pause to be sure. His reassurance came as a lingering kiss to his cheek. He sat up and let your arms envelop him; one around his waist and the other draped over his shoulder. And, then, all you could see was a sunset glow and blacktop. Bucky pulled your left hand from his chest and placed a kiss to your swallow before letting it rest back over his heart. A stoplight and a soft whisper in his ear asking where you were headed and a simple answer, wherever you want, pretty girl. He could go anywhere as long as you were there. You didn’t respond or mention a destination, so he was going to drive till one or both of you got tired.

You’ve got plenty of time to figure out where you were headed, but he was stopping at the first chapel he sees. Maybe he would take you on out to California. That ring on your finger might sparkle different in that fancy west coast sunshine. Bucky wouldn’t mind finding out, but for now, he would just drive. Your weight melted against his back, relaxing into his warmth and it ignited a deep, hidden piece of his soul that’s only ever been meant for you. He met your eye in the small triangle-shaped side mirror and winked as his wrist twisted forward, lurching the bike ahead. The squeal that fell from your lips had him laughing, loud, and unbridled. Of course, his first real laugh in a decade was because of you and everything was just as it should be. You tightened your arms around him, and he placed a hand over your own, guarding his heart and yours.

Just like always.

Previous // Masterlist

#biker!bucky x reader #biker!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #biker!bucky au #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #MC!AU #mc!bucky #alternate universe #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes

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dancerlittle006 · 4 years ago

Text

Important Decision & New Baby Smells

First things first, I don’t own anything related to Disney or Newsies. Second of all, this is a continuation of my “The Many Adventures of Sammi & Race” series. You may want to read the others in the series but it’s not necessary!

April 21, 1905

The plan was set. Jack and Race had set it up weeks ago. Race and Spot would take Sammi for a long weekend, giving Kat and Jack the opportunity for a little alone time before baby #2 would arrive. However, that plan went right out the window the afternoon Race had picked Sammi up after his shift from the hotel.

As soon as Race had gotten home, the phone had rang. They had moved to a brownstone closer to the Kelly’s and had looked at the opportunity as a new chapter in their lives. “Hello?”

“Racer, the baby’s comin’.” Jack panted as if he had run a marathon causing Race to grin.

After reassuring Jack that Sammi was fine, they settled in for a long weekend of niece/uncle time. Spot was at work, thus leaving the four year old with her favorite uncle. “What do you wants to do Sammi?”

Holding her favorite doll in her arms, the little girl grinned brightly at her uncle. “Ummmms . . .” Her new favorite word when she was stalling or just trying to figure out what to do. “Hows about da park?”

Soon they found themselves in the park, Sammi singing some song and hopping from foot to foot while Race held her hand. “Whatcha singin’ Sammi?”

She shrugged, continuing to sing the song. Race listened, trying to place it but came up empty. She led them to a bench in the middle of Central Park. Settling herself on the bench, her head whipped from side to side taking in the comings and goings of the park. “Sammi, yous gonna be a big sister.”

With a shake of her head, she looked at her uncle. “Nope. Babys not comin’.”

“Da told mes otherwise.” Race looked down at his niece. “Yous gonna be a great big sister.”

She bit her lip, a tell that something was bothering her, which Race picked up immediately. “What’s wrong? Aren’t yous excited?”

Sammi shrugged again, standing up next to her uncle before plopping on his lap. “Is not a good sister.”

“Oh Sammi.” Race whispered, hugging the girl tightly to his chest. “Yous learn how to be a good sister. Yous don’t instantly knows how to do that. Yous uncles, mum, and dad wills helps you. Is that why yous worried?”

Putting a finger to her lip, she slowly nodded. “A year from now, yous be a great big sister. And yous baby brother or sister wills adore yous. Just watch.”

The two sat in silence for a bit, watching the action within the park. “What do yous want, Sammi? A brother or sister?”

Again, she shrugged. “Is never had a brother or a sister until I met yous dad, Sammi. Your dad and mum are mys siblings and theys pretty good at its.”

“Yous help?” She whispered, her body growing heavy with sleep.

Race smiled, running a hand through her hair. “Yes, Is and Uncle Spottie will help you, Is promise.”

Picking her up, he made his way through the park, the rhythm of his walk causing the girl to fall asleep on his shoulder. Soon the two arrived at home, Race putting Sammi in their guest room, closing the door slightly behind him. Making his way to the kitchen, he cleaned up the remaining dishes from that morning's breakfast.

The task gave him time to think - it had been five months since Spot had proposed and they were no closer to planning a wedding than five months ago. They both knew they wanted to get married but they had no idea where to start. Kat had tried to get them to sit down and plan but that had quickly gone out the window. They had talked about eloping and not making’ a big deal out of it. Both Spot and Race had flown by the seat of their pants for much of their lives and it seemed they would take that into their marriage as well.

The running of the water knocked him out of his thoughts just as the door to the brownstone opened and a grinning Spot entered, kicking his boots off before sighing loudly. “Honey, Is home.”

Shutting off the water, Race met him at the door with a kiss before grabbing the bag that was in his hand. “Sammi’s asleep in the guests room. And Jack called a couples of hours ago and said the baby’s comin’”

“Hows she doin’?” Spot moved to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, leaning against the counter as Race joined him.

Shrugging noncommittally, Race shook his head. “One moment shes excited and the next shes reserved and quiets. Is think once the babys here, she’ll be betters. Shes worried she’ll be a bad big sister, and I tried to reassure her that she’ll have all of us to help her.”

“Her whole world is changin’. She’s used to having you, me, her uncles, Jack, and Kat all to herself.” Race smiled. “That girl will be fine and she’ll be a great big sister.”

The opening of the guest room door caught their attention. Race and Spot both held a chuckle at the mess of hair that Sammi was rocking. “Hey baby girl. Hows you sleep?”

Giving her uncle a glare, Sammi opted to crawl up in Spot’s lap instead of Race’s. Spot had always loved post-nap cuddles but lately, Sammi had opted for Race and not him. He would take full advantage of Race’s misstep and cuddle Sammi. “Hows you sleep, Sammi?”

“Goods.” She yawned, burrowing her head in her uncle’s chest. “Da babys comin’ Unka Pottie.”

He ran a hand down her back. “Uncle Race just told me. That’s excitin’ huh?”

Sammi shrugged, fighting back another yawn. “Is guess.”

“What do yous want to do this weekend, Sammi? Go to the zoo, maybe the park or da museum?” Spot rambled, as the little girl readjusted to being awake.

The room fell quiet. Race and Spot both grinned at once another, lacing their hands together, looking at the little girl that had been their world for the last four years. Things had changed for their little group. Albert and Marie had married in January and were expecting a baby in the summer; Finch and Elmer were on-again, this time the entire Newsies group had bets on whether they’d make it or not, and Crutchie had found a nice girl, named Molly who he was sweet on - last Race heard, they hadn’t officially become a couple, but it was nice to see his friend thinking’ of settling down.

“Jacobi’s.” Sammi had sat up, pushed her hair back, and grinned at the couple. “Can wes do Jacobi’s?”

Race looked at Spot, who merely shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

“Sammi can you go get your shoes on?” Race asked, watching the girl hop off the couch before running to get her shoes. Kat had been teaching her how to tie her shoes and she had gotten the hang of it but still had a hard time making a knot.

Race went to get himself ready, leaving Spot with Sam. Standing in the doorway, he watched Spot explain the bunny ears and how to loop them together. “One bunny ear, two bunny ear . . .”

Grinning, Race couldn’t wait until Spot was a papa. They had talked about children and adopting, both agreeing to wait until after the wedding, whenever that would take place. Quickly getting himself ready, Race soon joined the other two in the living room, where a grinning Sammi had both of her shoes on. “Unka Race!”

“Yes Sammi?”

“Unka Pottie shows me the bunny trick.” She bounced on her toes, showing him the newly tied shoes. “A bunny ears then ‘nother one and loopy de loop ‘em togetha.”

Race shook his head, grinning at the girl. “Good jobs Sammi. Yous ready?”

Ensure they both had their wallets, they left the brownstone, their hands swinging between them while Sammi danced in front of them. Crossing a few streets, they soon arrived at Jacobi’s. Walking in the place was empty, allowing them to pick out their favorite booth. Sighing loudly, Race caught Sammi’s attention. “Whats with you little girl?”

“I miss da and mum, unka Race.” She propped her chin in her hand and gave her uncle a look. “Whens can Is see them?”

Race looked at Spot who shrugged his shoulders in response. “Is not sure, Sammi. Mum’s havin’ da baby and that mights take some time. But maybe when wes get home, wes can call ‘em.”

“Ok.” She picked up the menu, looking at the photos, as Race relaxed against Spot’s side.

The bell above the door caught their attention, but it was no one they knew. Spot and Race both smiled in the stranger’s direction before looking back at their menus. “What yous want, Sammi?”

“Nugs and fries, pease!” She exclaimed, her knees coming under her bottom, causing her to be taller in the booth.

A chuckle escaped Race’s mouth. “Yous got it girl. What to drink?”

“Ummmmmmmmm . . .” A finger to her chin, making her look like a detective, she considered her choices. “‘Pple Juice.”

“A fine choice for the lady.” Spot chuckled, pulling out a piece of paper and some crayons for her to draw while they waited for the waiter.

Race cocked an eyebrow in his fiance’s direction. “Since when do yous carry papes and crayons in yous pocket?”

“Since we have a mini Jack Kelly in ours presence.” Spot waved his hand in Sammi’s direction, provin’ a point. “Yous knows he takes her to ‘ork and lets hers draws. Says she’ll be da next prodigal child.”

The waiter came over and took their orders, soon returning bringing their drinks before leaving them alone.

Race laughed knowing he was right. “So we needs to talk.” Glancing at Sammi, ensuring she was occupied, he titled his head towards Spot. “Wedding details.”

Throwing his head back, Spot groaned. “Ugh, whys plannin’ a weddin’ so hard?”

“Wes just gotta pick a date and the rest will fall into place.” Or at least that was what Kat told Race when they met for coffee after the proposal. “So whats month work for you?”

Spot shook his head and mumbled what sounded like ‘idiot’ under his breath before lacing his fingers with Race. “Is always loved the fall. So hows about October?”

“Since wes got engaged and alls?” Race grinned. “Okay so a month is picked . . . nows a date.”

Spot grinned, squeezing Race’s hand. “Hows about October 17 - one day less thans a years bein’ engaged?”

Seeing a calendar pinned on the wall by the register, Race walked over, flipped through the calendar, chuckled to himself before walkin’ back to the booth. “Yous want to get married on a Tuesday?”

Spot shrugged. “When has wes ever done anything conventional in ours relationship? This is perfectly us.”

“True.” Race nodded, a slap happy grin sliding over his mouth. “Is good with that. Tuesday, October 17, Is marryin’ you. Now, for names, hows we doin’ that?”

Spot gave him a confused look. “Whats you mean?”

“Conlon-Higgins or Higgins-Conlon?” Race shrugged his shoulders. “Its don’t matter to mes.”

Pulling Race in for a chaste kiss, Spot shook his head. “Yous have too much time to thinks.”

“But this is what we’ll be knowns as. Is know you love your last name but Is loves Higgins just as much.” Race protested. “Wes both wants to keep ours names but combine them together.”

Spot could see why this would worry Race. He knew he had all the pros and cons about each way and had looked at all the ways it would flow. It was one of the many quirks he loved about his fiance. “Hows about we go with Higgins-Conlon?”

“Anthony “Racetrack” Higgins-Conlon has a good ring to it.” Spot grinned at his fiance, squeezing his hand, just as the waiter came back and dropped their food on the table. “Little miss, it’s time to put aways the crayons and papes.”

She pouted for a minute before realizing her chicken nuggets and fries were sitting in front of her. “Yum!”

Squeezing Race and his laced hands, Spot mouthed ‘love you’ in Race’s direction before digging into his own food.

Quietness fell over the table as the three dug into their food. Patrons came and went in the restaurant, the bell ringing over the door with each opening of the door. Just as they signaled for the check, a familiar face walked into the restaurant whistling a tune and a happy grin.

“DA!” Sammi stood up on the booth seat with a happy grin. “Unka Race it’s daddy!”

Jack heard Sammi’s yell before redirecting himself towards the booth in the back. “Well looks whats the cat drug in. Whats you doin’ here?”

Sitting next to Sammi, Jack raised an eyebrow in his brother’s direction. “Yous daughter picked this for dinner.”

Settling Sammi on his lap, he ran a hand through her hair. “Yous have a good afternoon, cara?”

“Yes! Wes went to da park and Is sleep and da, looks, Is colored.” She showed him her pape where she was doodling. “Is had fun with Unka Pottie and Unka Race.”

Jack smiled in appreciation at his two brothers. “Thank you for takin’ her.”

“Da?” Sammi waited until Jack looked at her. “Is da baby here?”

Race and Spot both raised an eyebrow in Jack’s direction, wondering the same thing. “Yes, da baby’s here. Would you like to meet the baby?”

Sammi’s head bobbled in excitement. Jack promised she could as soon as he grabbed the food they had ordered. Their check was settled just as Jack returned. “Kat’s mum with her while I ran down here. Wes were gonna call yous tonight and let you know but it’s better that I rans into yous.”

The four headed towards the brownstone, Race and Spot hanging back while Jack bustled through the door with Sammi on his heels. “Kat, wes got company.”

Though it was quiet, Race could hear the groan that escaped Kat’s mouth. “Jack Kelly yous a dead man.”

“Its your favorites, Katherine.” Jack sang back, grinning and motioning the two to sit in the living room while he escaped to their bedroom. They could hear the quiet murmuring from the room, while Sammi sat on the couch next to them.

“Unka Race?” Sammi slipped her hand into his before looking at him with wide eyes. “Is ner’ous.”

Pulling her onto his lap, Race dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Thats okay, cara. Is nervous too.”

“Yous ner’ous?” Her eyes went wide at the thought. “Whys?”

“‘Cause Is only held ones babys before.” He whispered, a faint smile on his face. “Yous know whos that was?”

Not breaking eye contact with her uncle, Sammi shook her head. “Yous. Yous was the first baby I ever held. And yous sibling will be the second. And its okays to be nervous; that means its important to yous and me and unka Pottie and mum and da.”

“Okays.” She whispered, eyes darting over to the door leading to the hallway. Her eyes went wide seeing her da, mum, and grandma standing there. “Mum, da.”

Kat brightened at the sight of her three favorite people sitting there. “Hi sweetheart. Did you have a good time with your uncles?” Crossing the room, she sat on the opposite couch as Sammi hopped down and joined her mum. “Careful. Hi Race, Spot. Thank you for watching her this afternoon.”

“Yeah.” She whispered, fingers at her mouth. She searched her mum’s face for something different but finding nothing, she cuddled into her mum’s embrace. “Wheres da baby?”

Wrapping her arms around her daughter, Kat smiled. “Look at da.”

Poppin’ her head off Kat’s shoulder, Sammi’s eyes widened at the blanket wrapped bundle. “That da baby?”

“Would you like to meet your new brother?” Kat asked, watching Jack cross the room to join them on the couch. Jack adjusted the bundle so Sammi could see the newborn who was sleeping soundly and smacking his lips. “What do you think Sammi?”

Running her index finger over his hand, she smiled watching his fingers curl around her’s. “He’s ‘ittle.”

“Yes, he’s little.” Kat squeezed her close to her side. “Yous were littler than he is.”

Eyes widened, Sammi looked around the room. “Is was ‘ittle?”

“Yes, Samantha, you were once this little.” Kat grinned, looking over her shoulder at Race and Spot. “I just heard your uncle tell you you were this little once and you were the first baby he held.”

The little girl’s head looked over at her two uncles. “Unka Race, Unka Spottie, Is got a ‘roter.”

“Yes yous do.” Race grinned, looking at the bundle in Jack’s arms. “Whats his name?”

Jack smiled at Kat and Sam before looking at Race and Spot. “Wes had a hard time tryin’ to figure out a name. The middle name was easy but the first name was hard.” He nudged Kat, letting her do the honors.

“Our son’s name is Thomas Anthony Kelly. We’re going to call him Tommy. Thomas after Jack’s da and Anthony after his uncle Race.” Kat smiled, as Race’s jaw dropped.

Tears clouded Race’s eyes as he looked at his brother and sister. “Yous didn’t has to do that.”

“We knows wes didn’t but Race, yous been there for us and wes indebted to yous.” Jack’s voice thickened with emotion. Passing the newborn to Kat, Jack crossed the room to pull Race into a hug. “Yous such a great uncle, friend . . . brother and wes want Tommy to have a great man to embody as hes growin’ up.”

Race squeezed Jack’s shoulders, more tears escaping his eyes. “Is honored, Jackie.”

“Wanna hold him?” Jack pulled back, taking his son back from Kat before settling him in Race’s arms. “What do you think, Uncle Race?”

Race’s eyes swept over the tiny human nestled in his arms. Tommy’s lips were puckered, as if he had just eaten a sour lemon, eyes tightly shut, and quiet wisps of air were released as he soundly slept. “Hi’s Tommy, Is your uncle Race. That’s your uncle Spottie over there. Wes love yous so much.” Looking over at the new parents, he shot them a watery smile. “He’s perfect. He’s gorgeous.”

Jack turned his attention to his daughter, grinning brightly as he picked her up. “So wes keepin’ him, Sammi?”

“Hes okay.” She gave her dad a look. “Will hes cry?”

Kat rolled her eyes at her daughter and husband. “He will cry sometimes but it’s just his way of letting us know he’s here. Will you help us?”

“Uh huh.” She gave her da a hug and smiled at her mum. “But can Is go to Unka Race and Uncle Potties without him?”

Kat and Jack both laughed as did both her uncles. “Already negotiating with me. This wasn’t supposed to happen for another couple of years.”

“We’ll talk about you going to Uncle Race and Spottie’s house.” Kat shook her head at her daughter.

“She’s your daughter and you can’t deny that.” Jack laughed at how similar Samantha and Kat were. “Wes in trouble with this one, though.”

Kat’s eyes widened at the thought. “Oh crap, I didn’t think about that. Especially climbing up to private boxes just to talk with pretty girls.”

“Worked for you didn’t it?” Jack raised an eyebrow, leaning over to steal a kiss from his wife. “Admit it, that’s what swept you off your feet.”

Kat’s cheeks blushed. “That might’ve had something to do with it.”

Race looked down at his nephew. “Yous parents are crazy but theys the best. Spottie and Is will be there when its too much for yous and Sammi.”

Relinquishing him to Spot’s outstretched arms, Race smiled seeing Spot hold their nephew. “Thanks for that Race. If our kids ever runs away from home, yous house is the first wes checkin’.”

Standing, Race crossed the room to pull Kat into a hug. “Congratulations, Plums. He’s precious.”

“Thanks Race.” She stepped back. “Wes was going to tell you later on tonight to tell you. Jack said you were at Jacobi’s.”

Seeing Jack, Spot, and Sammi all talking while looking at the baby, Race smiled. “Yous daughter wanted Jacobi’s.”

“Yous hidin’ something.” Despite just having a baby, Kat’s observation skills hadn’t lessened any. “You want to talk?”

He took her hand and led her into her office, closing the door behind him. “Yous the only one that wes told since we JUST decided this.”

Kat titled her head in curiosity, her finger going to her lip in concentration. “What? Spill it Racetrack.”

“SpotandIsdecidedourweddin’date.” He rushed out, eyes shut, anticipating her excitement.

Kat laughed. “How about you repeat that, this time spacin’ out your words?”

“Spot and Is decided our weddin’ date.” He could see the excitement building on Kat’s face. “October 17.”

Looking around the room, she found her calendar, a giggle escaping her mouth. “A Tuesday, Race, really?”

“Would you expect anything different?”

Kat shook her head, pulling him into a hug. “If you and Spot were any other couple, yes I’d expect something different. However, you two have never followed anyone’s path, always makin’ it your own. Why that date though?”

“It’ll be a day less than a year engaged.” Race smiled. “Spot’s words not mine. The bugger’s a little sentimental, if yous didn’t knows that.”

Kat smiled. “He continues to pleasantly surprise me.”

“Me too. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Race smiled. “I will needs yous help with all of this. Wes don’t know where wes getting married.”

She nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Come by this week and I’ll help. I’ve got some good ideas that’ll be perfect for you and Spot. But you two need to figure out if you want an indoor or outdoor venue.”

Opening the door, Race stuck his head out the door, grinning at Spot. “Spot, for October, indoor or outdoor?”

Looking up from Tommy, Spot’s eyes widened. “Ummm . . . Indoor. Is Kat cathootin’ with you?”

“Of course she is.” Blowing a kiss to Spot, he closed the door again, only hearing Jack ask what was going on in October. “Indoor it is.”

Kat clapped her hands in excitement. “Come by Wednesday after work and I’ll have some options for you two.”

“Is haven’t said this lately, but thank yous Kat.” Race bit his lip. “Yous and Jack are the family neither Spot or Is had growin’ up and Is thankful yous my sister.”

Tears clouded her eyes, as she smacked his shoulder. “Quit makin’ me cry Racetrack. I’m emotional already due to Tommy but you are being too sweet. You and Spot are just as much as family as we are to you. I was so excited for you two to meet Tommy. The rest of the newsies will meet him later this week but we knew you and Spot would meet him tonight or tomorrow.”

At the sound of the door opening, Jack looked over at his wife and brother. “Do I need to pound Race for makin’ yous cry?”

“Don’t you dare Jack Francis Kelly.” Kat’s eyes glared at him. “He just said something sweet and I’m an emotional mess.”

Jack nodded. “Heard louds and clear. So Is hear yous havin’ a big party in October, on a Tuesday of all days.”

“Yea Jackie. Yous free?” Race sat on the couch and gave his brother a big grin. “‘Cause bein’ a groomsman and all yous schedule will needs to be free.”

Jack grinned. “For yous two, I’d clear the whole month if needs be. October 17 is a fine day for a weddin’.”

“A weddin’ that needs to be planned.” Spot and Race both groaned at the prospect of planning.

Jack chuckled, nodding his head in sympathy. “With Kat’s it won’ts be so bad. She’s a master of plannin’ a weddin’.”

“Thanks Jack.” Kat grinned, excited at helping plan the wedding of her brothers. “It’ll be the party of the year.”

Race shook his head. “I thoughts that was Albert’s weddin’.”

They all chuckled at that event - it was glitz and glam and very over the top but it worked well for the couple.

Spot looked between Kat and Race. “Ous weddin’ will be nothin’ like that, clear?”

Kat nodded, looking between Race and Spot. “That wedding would never fit for yous two. The simpler the better. And the actually weddin’ won’t be long - 30 minutes tops.”

“Good.” Race threw his arm over Spot’s back, grinning at the newborn and enjoying the familiar feeling of the family enveloping him. Sammi, who was playing on the floor with her doll, climbed up in Race’s lap, gave him a hug, and mumbled “love you” before snuggling his chest. Smiling at Kat and Jack, Race settled. He was in his happy place and with those he loved most surrounding him.

What do you think? Thomas Anthony Kelly is here. He will be making appearances throughout the rest of the series but the series will still focus very much on Race and Sammi as she grows older. If there’s anything you want to see, just send me a message and I’ll try to incorporate it.

But the bigger news it that their wedding is the next part of the series. I haven’t started writing it yet so if there’s ANYTHING you want to see, send me a message. I have some ideas but it will be a couple of weeks before it’s posted!

#The Many Adventures of Sammi & Race #Dancerlittle006 #newsies #fan fiction #writings #newsies fan fiction

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porkchop-ao3 · 5 years ago

Text

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 57)

Agent Wilson

This one’s a pretty long one, I hope it makes up for the week I missed. Just a warning for some mild sexual references, and there’s a little angst too. I hope you enjoy! Shit’s about to kick off lemme tell you :P

I really hope the formatting of this isn’t fucked up somehow. I’m having some computer problems and I don't have chrome installed right now so I’m using Microsoft edge, and it seems a little different when pasting this stuff in. Idk. Hopefully it’s fine.

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

Our campsite was thankfully untouched after our short trip away, though there wasn't really much worth stealing anyway, besides an old tent. When we arrived back, Arthur immediately started cooking up some of the wolf meat for us, some generous slabs that he seasoned with oregano for a little more flavour. It smelled delicious, I hadn't noticed how hungry I'd become, and I was salivating long before it was ready to eat.

"You feeling a little better now that you've had a night away?" He asked me.

"My head feels clearer,” I nodded, "feel like I can breathe again. I'm not really looking forward to going back but I know we have to.”

"We'll be fine. It'll all have been forgotten about, just like when I kicked his teeth in."

"Do you think I should apologise, clear the air?" I asked. Arthur chuckled, then realised I was seriously asking.

"If it'd make you feel better, then– but that tells him that you were in the wrong, and he'll go 'round thinking that he can just get away with doing what he wants. Including touching you, which I ain't having. If you hadn't throttled him, I would've, and I certainly wouldn't've apologised," he said, spearing some cooked meat on a fork and handing it to me. I thanked him and blew on it to cool it.

"You're right. He shouldn't've touched me," I said.

"I'd say just steer clear. Don't let him pull you in, just ignore anything he says. He ain't worth it," he advised, and I let his words sink in. He was right.

"How long do you think we could get away with staying out here?" I asked. He glanced up at me from the fresh lump of meat he was cooking over the fire. He thought for a while.

"I think," he began slowly, then sighed, a guilty look appearing on his face, "I gotta see Dutch today. I promised Charles I'd go and speak to Rains Fall, but then I gotta meet a few people from Wapiti and Dutch. He's got something planned with Eagle Flies, wants me to be there."

"What's Dutch wanna do with him?" I questioned, then took a bite of meat.

"I… I don't know. It don't feel right; I got a feeling he's planning on using him and the situation his people're in as some kind of opportunity," he sighed. I frowned deeply. "It's an ugly business, I'm hoping I can help keep things from getting too out of hand."

"Out of hand, how?"

"Like if Eagle Flies and the others fight back hard enough, it might only land them in more trouble. Rains Fall can see that, but his son's a little hard to convince, apparently."

I nodded in recognition. "Charles told me a little of this while you were away, he was helping them back then. I feel like I should do something–"

"No. Not now Dutch has his hands on the situation, I don't want you near it. 'Sides, your leg ain't healed yet. I bet Susan'll have some words for both of us when we get back as it is," he was quick to respond. I exhaled and looked away. "But anyway, all this means I gotta head off soon."

My heart thumped. "What if I wanted to stay?"

Arthur's mouth opened but nothing came out for a few long moments. "Well, if you wanted to, I couldn't stop you."

I looked down and considered it as an option for a while, chewing and swallowing some more food before continuing. "We could ride back, then I'll pick up a few extra things from camp and come back here while you go and do what you've gotta do. Then I guess, if you wanna come here again when you're done, you can," I suggested. "But that's up to you. I just don't feel ready to go back yet."

"You'll be okay out here alone, with your injury? With the wolves?” He asked, not doubtful, but genuinely asking.

"I think so. I'll have my rifle, and I'll keep my wits about me," I told him, though my confidence did waver a bit at the mention of wolves, "maybe I'll even go and drop in on Mrs. Balfour tomorrow."

"Yeah?" He smiled a little.

"You think that'd be okay? Or should I– maybe she don't want to see me. You're the one who helped her, after all," I murmured, finishing off my food.

"I think she'd appreciate it," he nodded his head, biting into his own cooked meat and speaking only after he'd swallowed, "she ain't had a good time of it. She could use some kindness."

"I'm a little worried about her, not being able to hunt."

"We'll do something about that," he reassured me.

"You're a sweet man, Arthur. Ain't many men who'd help a woman like that, 'least not without wanting something in return," I said, and he shrugged dismissively. "I'm serious. You're a gem. You helped me get out safely that night in Blackwater. You helped Penelope get away with her love. And you're helping Charlotte. And Mrs. Downes–"

"Mrs. Downes wouldn't need help if it weren't for me, and Strauss' scams," he cut me off. I exhaled quietly.

"Don't, Arthur. You're always denying the good things people say about you," I shook my head. He kept his eyes on mine for a while, his mouth open a little, but he never spoke. "You're a gem," I repeated.

He didn't respond, but he exhaled something close to a laugh and a bashful smile appeared on his face. He continued eating his breakfast, finishing off the chunk of meat speared by his knife. When he was done he reached into his satchel and pulled out his journal, crossing his legs and flicking through the pages until he came upon a blank one. I watched him idly as he started jotting things down inside. Curiosity got the better of me.

"What're you writing about?" I asked him. He cleared his throat and made me wait a while before answering.

"About last night," he said. I thought back, mind filtering through our evening until it settled on what we'd done in his tent. I imagined myself pressed up against his back, my hand inside his union suit, pressing kisses to his neck and his shoulder as he hummed out quiet moans, the slick sound of my hand on him just barely audible. My face flushed warm.

"About what I…" I trailed off. His face was blank for a moment, then he laughed at the realisation.

"No, not that," he said. "Just about what happened with Micah, how we came out here. How nice it was to be alone again, you know, I always miss this when we're back at camp," he elaborated, looking up at me.

"Yeah me too," I nodded.

"I will come back here after I've done what I've gotta do. We'll spend another night here together, at least."

"That makes me happy," I beamed, shuffling close to him and hugging his arm, leaning my head on his shoulder. Arthur went back to writing, I didn't read what he put but I was touched that he didn't mind that I was so close while he wrote. But I did glance down as he started flicking back through the book; I just wanted to see more of his lovely drawings. One page caught my eye; it was full of drawings of birds, but none like I'd seen in person before, only in artwork. They looked exotic. I stopped him on that page, and enquired about them.

"These were in Guarma. When I came back, I wrote down everything I remembered. Drew some things too," he explained. "The whole island was full of parrots. Brightest coloured feathers I ever saw, these drawings don't do 'em justice."

"Well, I think they're beautiful, even without the colour," I told him, leaning closer to inspect his sketches. A whole spread of them, some close ups of their heads, others of them taking flight, they were all lovely. I was glad to see that something nice had come out of the whole ordeal. "You haven't spoken much about Guarma," I said gingerly.

Arthur nodded, and he was still for a moment.

"It weren't easy talking about it when I first got back," he admitted. I was careful with how I phrased my next question, not wanting to pressure him.

"If you ever wanted to talk about it, you know I'm here, right?"

"Yeah, I know. Just felt like too much to go into. None of it was nice, I don't want you getting upset about it," he revealed. My lips parted silently, and it took me some time to know what to say.

"I know you're alive and you're okay. So, I couldn't get too upset now," I said.

"I don't remember much from the first day or two," he said, "but I think they're easier to talk about."

"Yeah?" I shifted, sitting upright so I could look at him.

"The boat went down in the night. We were all sleeping and suddenly we had to get up, the sea was so choppy; we was getting thrown around like ragdolls. Anyway, we got split up. Dutch and the others got out on a boat, but I… didn't," he began. I frowned deeply at the revelation but let him carry on. "That's when things get hazy. I know I went into the water but I don't know nothing about how I lived long enough to wash up on that island,

"Nor do I remember much about what I did when I got there. Think I just walked, looking for people. Eventually I saw smoke and I followed it; that's how I regrouped with the others. But we got captured soon after that. Javier got shot, we went off with some feller, weren't from Guarma. Hercule, his name was. And that's– that's when–"

Arthur stopped and he was frowning. I reached over and squeezed his knee.

"Well, I said I'd help with some situation the workers on the island was in. Reckon I got shot by a tranquilizer dart, woke up to getting the shit smacked out of me by some angry feller," he shook his head. "Anyway, we all ended up helping Hercule with some things, he was getting us a boat off the island."

"What sort of things?"

Arthur shook his head and exhaled audibly, "fighting against Fussar, the man who was in charge. He was at the party at the mayor's house, believe it or not. Maybe you saw him, he was the one with all the medals and whatnot," he gestured to his chest and I thought back. I had vague recollections of such a man, but I hadn't paid much attention at the time.

"Yeah, I think," I nodded.

"Dutch and I saved Javier from where him and his army were keeping him, then, to cut a long story short, I killed him. He knew who we was and weren't letting us off the island, so he had to go. Though my sense is the world will be a better place without him, anyway."

"And then you came back?"

"And then we came back," he nodded. He sighed heavily, then met my eyes. "That's about it, summed up. I also blew up a warship with a cannon, watched Dutch strangle an old lady to death, and saw way more of Micah's pot-belly than I ever needed to. So yeah, it weren't a nice trip, and every day I just wanted to be back home."

I couldn't even laugh at the slice of humour Arthur tried to bring in about Micah's stomach. I reached for him, squeezing his upper arm and stroking it comfortingly.

"That's a lot to go through," I whispered. He stared at me for a moment, his eyes widened slightly, mouth parted a little. He looked stunned. Sad. Like he was realising that yes, it was a lot to go through. Then he exhaled sharply and looked away.

"Well, least I got to see a tropical island. Probably never would've seen anything like it otherwise, never mind what Dutch says about us all being mango farmers," it was a poor attempt at finding a silver lining, just like my thoughts about Arthur's beautiful drawings. I didn't take away from it, though.

"Yeah, at least there's that," I leaned over and kissed his shoulder.

"Dare I say it might've been quite nice if I'd gone there on purpose, and you were there too, and there weren't no Fussar bullshit to deal with," he breathed a laugh. "Even so, ain't thinking of going back."

"I'm content with Blackwater being the most exotic and far out place I've ever visited," I chuckled, and he joined me.

"Anyway, I better get going. Shall we pack up? We'll do like you said, head back and I'll get Jet, then you can come back here with some fresh clothes and some more food. We've even got some pelts for Pearson so he can't whine too much about his helper leaving with a few cans of vegetables."

"Sure, though I feel a little bad now you put it like that," I murmured.

"Don't. I damn well paid for most of it anyway," he told me with a bitter, annoyed edge to his voice that almost made me smile because it seemed to me, if only for a second, Arthur was accepting all he did for the gang. And how sometimes, it wasn't fair.

"Is there anything I can do for you, lighten the load a little?"

"No–" he began automatically, then paused. "Actually, I got some stuff needs selling to a fence, jewellery and the like. John told me all those months ago that you was good with bartering with the trapper, maybe a clever, pretty lady like you'll get a better deal than me."

"I'll give it my best shot," I grinned.

We got moving, deconstructing our little camp and putting out the fire. We rode back to Beaver Hollow, and when we hitched Rayna up with the other horses, Arthur stopped to kiss me once before telling me where he was keeping the jewellery, and asking me to be discreet when I retrieved it. He headed straight off, telling me to be safe and promising to return to me later on at Brandywine Drop. I watched him ride off on his own horse before walking into camp.

My heart was pounding. I scanned the place, seeing people glance up from what they were doing to look at me. They didn't stare or say anything, and I quickly realised that things were just as Arthur had assured me; people had pretty much forgotten about my outburst and weren't at all bothered. But then again, Micah wasn't around, and I did wonder if he would have something to say next time we crossed paths.

I went straight to Pearson's wagon, finding the man himself sitting behind it smoking a cigarette. He seemed pretty down most days, quiet and morose but irritable when bothered. I trod carefully when I approached him.

"Morning, Mr. Pearson," I said. He lifted his head, addressing me with a mildly surprised gaze.

"Ahh, there she is. Thought you weren't coming back, the way you left yesterday," he chuckled.

"Mm, not my finest hour," I sighed leaning up against the wagon and pressing my boot against a stone on the ground, pressing it into the mud. "Being stuck at camp, doing nothing, maybe I went a little stir crazy."

"You feeling better now?" He asked. I pursed my lips and met his eyes.

"A little," I said. "I uh, I'm gonna spend another day away from camp. Arthur and I are sleeping up at Brandywine Drop."

His brows raised a little, "oh, okay. You want me to tell Dutch when he gets back–"

"No. You needn't say anything to anyone. I just thought it'd be a good idea for someone to know where we are," I shrugged. "Mind if I steal a little food?"

He sighed, but waved a hand towards the wagon.

"Thank you," I smiled at him sweetly and he chuckled, shaking his head at me.

I rounded the wagon and gathered a couple of things; some canned sweetcorn, biscuits, ground coffee and some strawberries for something sweet. We wouldn't need a lot of food, we still had plenty of meat left from the wolves and I knew I could forage some carrots and berries around the river as well if need be.

"By the way, I have some meat and some pelts for you," I called to Pearson. I heard him shuffle and grunt as he pushed himself to his feet and rounded the wagon to join me. "Three wolf pelts. There's some meat wrapped up in the saddlebag, on Rayna."

"Thank god," he breathed, and started heading towards the horses, "was starting to think we'd have to start eating each other."

"Just leave enough for me and Arthur," I called to him, slipping away the supplies in my satchel and then heading across the camp to our tent.

I pulled some fresh clothes from my suitcase, laying them out on the bed, then bent down to Arthur's own chest. I retrieved some clothes for him too, placed them with mine, then reached right to the bottom of his chest until I felt the drawstring bag he'd mentioned to me. I discreetly pulled it out and placed it on top of our clothes, rolling it up to create a nice little bundle that would fit into my saddlebag.

"Are you leaving?" John asked, calling out from his place at the campfire.

"Yeah," I answered simply.

"Shit, does Arthur know?" He exclaimed, getting up and coming over. I looked at him with a mild frown.

"Arthur's coming with me," I told him. He stared with his mouth hanging open, and I was so confused until I replayed the conversation in my head and realised what he thought I meant. "Oh, we're not leaving leaving, for good. Just another night."

"Oh, right," he exhaled, a hand smacking to his chest. He blew through his pursed lips and chuckled. "Had me worried for a second."

"Don't worry, if we leave we'll be sure to drag you kicking and screaming, too," I said, half joking.

"Right," he laughed, shaking his head. "Anyway, how'd it feel to have your hands round Micah's neck?"

"They weren't there long enough to really take notice," I sighed, tucking the bundle of clothes under my arm. "I couldn't say."

"You could try, sure would be nice to find out," he smirked. I rolled my eyes with a sigh.

"Where is he anyway?" I asked.

John glanced around. "I don't know. Probably out there terrorising some poor innocent folk."

"How's he been? I mean, has he said much about what happened?"

"Not really. Everything kind of just went back to normal once you and Arthur left, you know how it is."

"Good," I nodded. "And Dutch?"

"Dutch," he scoffed, "he still ain't speaking to me, much. Not like I really want him to."

"I wonder who he hates more, you or me," I snorted. "Anyway, I gotta go. Have an errand to run, then I'm heading back out for another night. Just need time away, try and pull myself together."

"You okay on your own?"

"Course," I smiled, "Arthur said he'd join me later on, he's got plenty to do today."

"Well, you just take care, alright?" He patted my arm. "If anything happened to you, Morgan would be hell to live with."

I breathed a laugh and shook my head at him. I wrapped my free arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. He made a surprised grunt, but returned my hug quickly, if a little awkwardly.

"John, I'm… I'm real glad I met you," I whispered.

"Yeah, me too, Miss," he replied quietly, almost shyly, patting my back before releasing me. I stepped back and looked up at him. The little smile he wore made me chuckle, it was clear he wasn't used to much friendly affection.

"I'll see you later," I told him, then ducked out from under the cover of the tent.

"Sure," he nodded, watching me go.

I hitched Rayna up outside the saloon in Van Horn, figuring I could go for a short drink after selling the jewellery. I dug the drawstring bag of treasure out of my saddlebag, tucking it into my satchel before feeding Rayna an apple.

"Won't be long, baby," I whispered to her, patting her neck.

I headed along the path towards the edge of Van Horn, taking a breath and becoming reacquainted with the place after such a long time. It looked even more run down than the last time I'd visited, and I almost couldn't believe that I used to like the place. It still had that weird, out of the way, different feel to it, which I guess was part of its charm. It was a real unique place.

I reached the end of the wooden boardwalk where the fence was situated, and entered. I was greeted by a thick Scottish accent.

"Hello there," he said, his tone cheery.

"Hey, mister. How you doing today?" I asked, giving him a big smile.

"Not too bad, yourself? That's a nasty limp you've got," he noted, nodding towards my leg. I might've hammed it up a bit on my way in, in a bid to appeal to his sympathetic side.

"Oh, I got burned," I told him a little breathlessly. That was genuine; I was surprised how much energy it took to move around when I was conscious of my injury. "But I'm… I'm fine."

"You sure? You need help with that bag?" He nodded towards the canvas drawstring tucked under my arm, and I shook my head.

"I got it. It's actually what I came to show you; got some things to sell," I told him, putting the bag down on the counter, hearing the clink of its contents. I pulled open the drawstring and reached inside, not even fully aware what was in there, just that Arthur had collected it all over the past few months and hadn't had the chance to sell it before the Guarma situation. Penelope's bracelet was somewhere inside; her reward for all of his help.

I pulled out the first thing my hand touched; a smaller bag. It was filled with assorted rings, earrings, pearls.

"I usually buy bundles like that for fifty," the fence told me, "I don't have time to go through the whole lot and value individually."

"Sure, okay, but just for this little bag. There's more in here, some is worth far more than that," I told him, getting my insistence in early, making sure he knew I wasn't going to accept pittance. I flipped the bigger canvas bag and gently emptied it onto the counter.

Inside, I counted seven gold rings, a pocket watch, a necklace that appeared to be platinum, a sapphire encrusted bracelet that I guessed was Penelope's…And rather disturbingly, a gold tooth. The fence inspected the lot, checking for markings, its condition. He picked up Penelope's bracelet, scrutinising it more closely, watching the light dance within the stunning blue stones.

"This is really nice. I won't ask how you acquired it," he said, and I had to chuckle considering it was probably the most honestly acquired of the bunch. He never said a word about the tooth. "I'll give you seventy-five for the bracelet. The other stuff… one hundred."

"A hundred and seventy-five for the whole lot? But this is platinum. And the pocket watch and all the rest of it is gold. You can do a little better than that, sir. That bracelet's gotta be worth a hundred on its own," I raised my brows at him. He met my eyes over the bracelet and chuckled.

"I can do one-eight-five," he offered. I pursed my lips, clasping my hands together and tilting my head at him. He laughed again, shaking his head at me. He put the bracelet down and stared at the lot.

"You can do two-hundred. You know you can," I said cheekily. He blew a jet of air between his lips, brows jumping. "Pretty please?"

"You're gonna try sweet-talking me, Miss?" He accused, humoured.

"What do you say? A tidy two-hundred?" I offered my hand out. He considered, looking at my outstretched hand.

"Two-hundred…" he muttered, then roughly took my hand, shaking it once.

"Yes! Thank you, sir!" I cheered, clapping my hands together.

"Since you're so polite," he murmured, turning to his register and opening it up. He counted out the money and handed it over. I tucked it away in the bottom of my bag, and was as aware of it as I was the revolver at my hip.

"Much appreciated, you take care, now," I nodded at him, spinning on my heel and heading out before he had the chance to change his mind.

"You too, madam, watch that leg," he called, and I smiled over my shoulder at him.

I took a deep breath of the salty air, smiling on the sharp exhale, and started heading back up the boardwalk towards dry land. I headed for the saloon, where Rayna was still hitched. I gave her a rub on the neck before stepping up onto the deck and entering the saloon. I glanced around once I was inside; spotting a mix of characters. Mostly drunk locals lounging about the place, a couple of women, and some more sharply dressed men at the back of the room. I took a spot at the bar, leaning my elbows on it and greeting the lady serving.

"Can I get a beer, please?" I asked, sliding a coin across the bar. She cracked open the cap of a bottle and placed it in front of me, "thanks," I added.

I took a first sip, sighing out at the quiet moment in the saloon. Well, it wasn't quiet, the place was full of chatter and noise, but quiet in the sense that it was normal. I was just sitting at a bar, having a drink, on my own. Something I hadn't done since before I joined the Van Der Linde gang. Not that for a second I missed this kind of life, not once Arthur and I grew close, but it was a nice if not strange reprieve from my new reality.

"Whiskey, please, ma'am," one of the well dressed men from the back of the room appeared beside me. He was quiet while he waited for his drink, but I sensed him looking at me. I wasn't in the mood to speak to anyone, so I kept my eyes on my beer.

"Here you go, officer," the barmaid said as she handed him his drink, and my heart thumped.

"You just come in, Miss?" He asked, and I knew he was speaking to me. I lifted my head. The gentleman was raven-haired and had skin so pale it was almost sickly, a pair of waxy, dull grey eyes and a large mole on his cheek. He wore a clean suit and his hair bore the flattened style of someone who wore a hat until sitting down at a table.

"Uh, yeah. Couple minutes ago," I nodded, then averted my eyes.

"My colleagues and I did the rounds already; we're asking folks around here a few questions. There's been a criminal gang pass through these parts," he said. My lips parted and my eyes widened, a gasp sucking in without my permission. "You alright, Miss?"

"Is… is it safe to be here?" I asked, straightening up and looking around anxiously.

He breathed a laugh and smiled reassuringly. "Me and those fellers back there," he turned and glanced their way, and I followed his gaze. "We're with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. It's our job to keep people safe, while we're around, you ain't got nothing to worry about."

"Well, that sure is a relief," I exhaled, hoping my nerves wouldn't seem suspicious, given the circumstance.

"We're here mostly to ensure the people of Van Horn remain vigilant while these people are in the area, and also to make them aware that there's people they can report to should they notice anything odd," he continued, taking a sip of whiskey with his pause, "are you aware of the Van Der Linde gang, Miss?"

"Well, sure, I've read the name in the papers. I try not to get too caught up in it, however, frays my nerves," I told him. "But it's never been so close to home before," I shook my head.

"We understand that the gang's leader and four other men passed through here when they arrived back in the country via boat. They were in the state of Lemoyne for some time, and after a raid of their settlement they… they escaped capture and we believe they headed up this way. We're patrolling the area, but we're asking that people sound the alarm if they spot any of the people we're looking for. I have some photographs," he told me, reaching into his inner jacket pocket.

"You do?" I murmured quietly, looking at him through the corner of my eye as I sipped my beer– well, pretended to. I couldn't trust myself to swallow it without choking while I was so tense.

The Pinkerton placed a pile of small photographs in front of me. On the top of the stack, was Dutch.

"These men do not make up the entirety of the gang, there is a group of more than twenty men, women… and children," he sighed, then tapped on Dutch's face, "all following Dutch Van Der Linde."

"More than twenty? That's a big group. And you ain't managed to track 'em down yet?" I cocked a brow at him.

He chuckled at my criticism, droning some excuses while I ceased to listen, picking up the photographs and shuffling through them. They were all mugshots; Javier, Bill, John, Charles… of course, Arthur. I stared at his photo, his straight, unhappy face, his cold, level gaze, his strong jaw and lips pressed tight together in a threatening line. He was him, but so different to the version of him I was familiar with. This was the way they saw him.

"Do you recognise this man?" The Pinkerton's words pulled me out of my head and I met his eyes. My lips parted but I struggled to find something to say.

"No, he's just–" I stammered, looking back at the photo, "I realise it may be inappropriate given what a terrible man he is, but I can't help but notice what a handsome face he has," I breathed a laugh.

He hummed, polite but with distaste. He took the photos back and put them away in his pocket. "You're not the first woman to have made such comments. I would've hoped they'd have more sense, or better taste."

Something flickered in me. A twinge of possession. It reared its ugly head now and again and each time I battered it into submission.

"He's probably awful, though. A pretty face means nothing, then," I said, the corner of my lip curling up. I was suddenly having a little fun talking to the enemy, while he had absolutely no idea who I was. "I couldn't imagine how awful it'd be to be courted by such a man. To run with that gang. All those awful, heartless men," I tutted.

"This is the sort of poison we're trying to save America from. These outlaws, they– they tarnish this land. Take all that is pure and stain it with the blood of the innocent, and all the while do it with an entitled sense of invincibility as if they are free from all consequence. How they live like that and still sleep at night is beyond me."

"Beyond me," I agreed, nodding slowly. "It's terrible."

"We have had small victories, however. A member of the Van Der Linde gang was shot dead in the streets of Saint Denis last month; Hosea Matthews," he told me. My stomach turned and I looked at him, trying not to let him anger me. "I was told the others watched it, he died right in front of them," his mean laugh made me want to knock his block off.

"That so?" I hummed.

"They said the look on Van Der Linde's face was better than any paycheck," his teeth practically shone with his grin and I looked at them, wondering what it'd be like to see him picking them up off the floor. I would never try it, of course.

"Well, Mr…” I began, offering my hand to him.

"Mr. Wilson," he took my hand and shook it.

"It's been a pleasure talking with you, but I must get going," I said.

"Of course. And it's been a pleasure talking to you too, Miss…" he replied, and I didn't answer his prompt to give him my name. Not even my alias. I just took my beer and walked out the door.

I paused for a moment outside, bringing the bottle to my lips and gulping down the last of it, tossing the empty bottle aside carelessly before striding over to Rayna and mounting her, side-saddle. I clicked at her, turning her away from the hitching post and onto the road, away from the agents.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #atink #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic

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firehedgehog · 5 years ago

Text

Undertale choose your Adventure

A Crack Story, Originally written and posted on Wattpad. Dream was on a walk.. and then it went weird.

So originally as said, was posted on Wattpad where at the end of each chapter there was a set of Votes. The Story finally finished but you can still find the original stuff on Watt. Here is the completed version minus the votes. If you want to join in future Adventures, please keep an eye on my wattpad account under the same name.

It was a beautiful day in the multiverse, singing flowers blooming birds... no they actually were.

Its not a misprint.

And a Skeleton was making there way through the area.

Dream Thought it was a beautiful day.

No battles.

His brother wasn't causing issues, and Ink for once wasn't driving him up the wall.

Nothing could make this day go badly.

Then he saw someone ahead.

Standing there was Error, The Destroyer.

Ink rival..

Dream was on his own, and his attacks would only do so much.

So... what if he changed what he did.

Taking a deep breath Dream walked towards the destroyer, who was apparently snacking on chocolate.

"Hey good looking," Dream said with an easy grin.

Error blinked and looked at the gold garbed skeleton.

"What are you on Dream?" Error asked.

"Who said I was on anything," he purred back.

Error glitched a bit more then usual.

"What's Inky's plan now," he growled.

"Just my plans," Dream said leaning up.

Chu

Error fell down with a thud as Dream kissed him.

"Um..." Dream said as Error started rebooting.

"Get away from him Dream!" a voice growled.

And there was Nighty, looking as evil and goopy as always.

"Aw come on, he might be evil but at least he's cute and has a soul. Why do you always stop be from getting a boyfriend!" Dream pouted stamping his foot.

"Because your an immature idiot and think Ink for brains is a good choice half the time," Nightmare replied smugly.

Meanwhile Error had rebooted and hid in the bushes.

"No way! He just wants me for emotions! So let em have Error!" Dream cried.

"No way! Do you know how hard it was to get to the friend zone! I have to make it to the boyfriend zone next!" Nightmare snarled.

"So we both want him!" Dream said drawing his bow and arrows.

Error ate popcorn in the bushes.

It was nice to be wanted.

"We'll decide in a battle!" Nightmare called.

They leapt forward, attack on attack...

And somehow created a pentagram shape.

And activated it.

And Blinked.

"Blue?" Dream asked bewildered, as the other star sans seemed to appear in the pentagram.

"Wasn't I just making Tacos?" Blue said looking around a tray of food in his hands.

"I knew it!" Nightmare cried pointing at Blue.

"Knew what?" Dream asked.

"I knew Blue had to be secretly evil!" Nightmare yelled dramatically.

Error fell over laughing in the bushes, scattering his popcorn everywhere.

"Its is something I'm wearing?" Blue asked looking down at his clothing.

"EVIL!" Nightmare hissed.

"Brother... I'm sure this is a misunderstanding," Dream sighed, trying not to think of the weird thing Blue did.

"EVIL!" Nightmare cried.

"Can you guys send me home, the ovens still on," Blue asked with a sigh.

"He has to be evil, because he made friends with Error!" Nightmare protested, Blues eye twitched.

"That's jut the power of friendship, after all your Error's friend," Dream pointed out smugly.

"EVIL!" Nightmare ylled which was starting to get annoying.

"SEND ME HOME NOOOOOW!" Blue said in a warped voice an Error symbol appearing in one eye, the twins eeped and hugged each other.

When no return summon had happened, Blue got mad.

"So your just going to cry like babies," he said, voice still warped.

"Run you fools," Error said from his spot.

"Ha ha ah, I'm sure we'll be alright.. were friends right?"Dream asked nervously.

"We're going to die," Nightmare shivered.

"I'm sure it will be fine, after all Blue.. was the most innocent one right?" Dream said shivering.

Right?

Multiverse...

Stars darn it.. why did the multiverse only 4th wall break for Blue.

"Well then... I'm guessing you both need punishment," Blue giggled a bit insanely, voice glitching even more.

White bones shifted, Errors appeared around his body.

"Why aren't you running yet?" Blueberror smiled, voice fully glitched like Error now.

Only for a Taco to land in his hands.

Nightmare and Dream stared.

It was a fully cooked fresh taco.

"Oh! A Taco!" Blueberror said, and ate the Taco.

Magically he seemed to turn back into normal Blue.

"Your just not you when your hungry Blue," Error said, putting away his 'In case of Blueberror box' back into its magical hiatus.

"Thanks Error," Blue said all smiled and sparkles.

"Evil..." Nightmare whimpered.

"Soo... whats going on?" Blue asked putting his tray into magical space.

"Wait a minute," Blue said, eye lights blazing "Were you asking out my Error on a date!"

"Your Error?" Dream said faintly.

Nightmare looked ready to have an Error type crash.

"Of Course! We've been dating for years," Blue said happily.

"You did get the wedding invites right?" Error asked confused as he stood beside Blue.

"Wedding..." Dream said wild eyed.

"Invitations!" Nightmare squeaked.

"After all I don't share, Error's mine," Blue said with a wicked grin.

Error smiled happily.

Ink sulked in the bushes, everyone was having so much fun.

And they hadn't even invited him!

Him.. the Creator!

Why hadn't he gotten an invite to this drama yet, or even the wedding.

"Um... you got invited," a voice said.

"Don't I have any friends," he sniffed.

"Hello?" the voice said.

"He's totally not paying attention," a second voice said.

"Time to forth wall break!" the first said gleefully.

"We're already breaking it!" the second said.

"Time to join the party!" GumdropWolfYT gleefully shouted, as he picked up and Ink and threw him towards the other four skeletons.

ObsessiveFangorl facepalmed and dragged the other away, quickly closing the forth wall behind them.

"Ahhhhhh!" Ink shouted as he went flying

Crash

Fate held up a scoreboard with a 9 out of ten.

Error, Blue, Nightmare and Dream had slammed across the area from Ink who had suddenly bowled them over.

It was clearly a Ten Fate.

Fate?

Fine ignore me.

Hmph...

"Owwww," Blue said, he quickly got up and rushed to Error to press the 'Yes to Reboot' button.

"I see starrrs," Dream giggled clearly knocked over silly.

"I'm sooo done!" Nightmare said, opened a portal and left.

"Wait.. where did Ink go?" Blue said, looking for the resident soulless skeleton.

And Blinked when he spotted him.

"This.. is hilarious!" Reaper laughed taking pictures with his camera phone, he hadn't expected to come across Ink boi embedded into a hill side in a skeleton made crater.

Seconds made a dying sound.

"Hello Reaper!" Blue said happily, from beside the downed Error and Dream.

"Hey Blue, I see the moron was being a moron again," Reaper said.

"Nah, just a badly patched forth breaking," Blue said cheerfully.

"So normal as usual then," Reaper cackled.

Suddenly Reaper paused, and stared.

“Is everything alright Error?” Blue asked, Error groaned and slowly got up.

“Geno..” Reaper whispered.

“Whoever Geno is, can take a number after this migraine,” Error said rubbing his skull.

“No, your Geno!” Reaper said shocked, his mate had vanished eons ago.

One minute there, the next nope.. cya later reality.

“I think I’d know if I was someone else,” Error said, after all Fate had said they’d created them from the anti-void.

Meanwhile Fate was trying to hide from Destiny’s glare.

“Yeah... you know what,” Reaper said with a smile.

“What what?” Blue asked bewildered.

Who was Geno?

“See ya, sorry you’ll have to cancel the wedding as I have I waifu to claim!” Reaper grinned, suddenly beside Error. He grabbed the destroyer who crashed, then both vanished.

“Get back with my Error!” Blue screamed going super sai.... I mean Blueberror and vanishing also.

Dream twitched.

Ink blinked and looked around wondering where everyone went.

If Reaper was anyone else, he’d be biting his fingers in frustration.

He’d found his Geno.

Geno so changed.

Geno.. who clearly didn’t remember him.

Yet... his soul pulsed, he could feel the link between them as soulmates.

What had broken Geno, his wonderful stubborn Geno.

Geno and himself, who had been discussing if they wanted children.

“Can you stop staring at me,” Error said grumpily, they were in Reapertale in Reapers home. Why Error hadn’t left yet, Reaper had bribed him with chocolate.

One of the things that apparently not changed between Error and his past self.

“Sorry... it’s just, I never figured out I’d find you this way,” Reaper said unhappily, after all how did one react to ones mate becoming the destroyer.

“As far as I know, Fate created me as Ink’s counterpart. I’m linked heavily to the Anti-void. If I’m gone to long, I’m pulled back. I don’t know how I can be your Geno,” Error said sipping a giant chocolate milkshake.

“Anyway, you can prove it?” another voice said, Reaper and Error blinked as suddenly as Blue was there eating a Taco at the table.

“How did you get here!” Reaper said shocked, only he himself and Grim should have been able to enter without an invite.

“Technically I’m an error a glitch in the system,” Blue chirped, his form shifting to his other self then back.

Right... Geno use to walk through security like it wasn’t there also.

“And what do you plan to do if you find out he is my waifu?” Reaper asked.

“Well Share him of course, Error is the only one I ever wanted. And at least your cute too, my glitchy error codes would protect me too,” Blue said wickedly.

Reaper and Error blushed heavily.

“Right,” Reaper said shakily... we have a few ways to do this.

“And?” Error asked, interested either way.

“TIME TRAVEL!” TK!Sans shouted appearing in a flash of time travel.

“Out! When I find out how you keep getting in with time magic this better stop!” Reaper said annoyed, stupid time kids.

“Oh! Look at the time. Gotta go!” the time tot said and vanished, leaving Reaper grumbling.

“You were saying?” Blue said giggling.

“I have a gem that sends us back in time, out of phase so no one can see us and we can’t change anything,” Reaper replied. “We go back, tag Geno as he’s taken and follow!”

“Why didn’t you use it in the past?” Error asked.

“You need three people to use it, and every time I get someone to agree they start arguing on where they should go first,” Reaper said dryly.

“Lets do this!” Blue cheered.

“Welp. Lets do this,” Reaper said, pulling a weird grey gem from a shelf.

“How does it work?” Error asked.

“Oh, were already there,” Reaper cackled, and all three of them faded away.

Fate sputtered as her toy vanished.

OoOoO

Three figures appeared with a Zomp sound.

Yes, a Zomp sound.

No were not going to describe it more.

Anyway...

“The world looks grey,” Error said looking around.

“And there is Geno, the day he vanished!” Reaper said pointing to a bloody glitchy skeleton.

“Does this have a speed up option?” Blue asked as Reaper tagged Geno.

“Sure,” Reaper said and slammed the gem into a tree.

“Cool!” Blue chirped as the world sped up.

Suddenly strings zoomed out of nowhere like a lasso yeeted Geno out of the area.

“Not my strings,” Error said, “looks like fates.”

“Right, lets follow!” Blue said, and they quickly followed the tag on Geno.

“The Anti-void!” Error said as they appeared in endless white.

“And there is Geno!” Reaper smirked.

“Hey you, Glitchy boi!” a voice yelled in the voice.

“Yeah you!” the voice yelled as Geno pointed at himself.

“I need a destroyer, you’ll do,” the voice said.

“That’s fate...” Error said dryly.

“Um.. no thanks, I kinda have to tell Reaper something important,” Geno said.

“Who said you got to say no?” Fate asked.

Womp!

A giant hammer fell from nowhere and hit Geno, covering the area with a cloud somehow.

“Um...” Reaper said at the scene.

“...” Error said as the dust cleared.

“Now my minion! Do your job!” Fate cackled.

“Riiight... lets go home,” Blue said sweatdropping.

BOIIIING

“What’s with the weird sounds it makes?” Blue asked.

“No clue,” Reaper said.

“...” Error said.

“Error honey?” Blue asked in concern.

And crashed and rebooted.

“That’s new,” Blue said as the reboot stopped at 99% with a new choice.

‘Download and install Original Data YES/NO’

Blue quickly pressed yes.

“Thank you for choosing The Origination Reincarnation Station, please sit back and relax” a gentle female voice said, then Error exploded.

“What the stars!” Reaper said as they were knocked back.

“Error!” Blue cried.

“And welcome back the migraine,” a voice said, a non glitchy voice.

“Geno babe!” Reaper said happily.

“I need to sit down,” Error.. no Geno said getting up, Reaper quickly helped his spouse to a chair.

“Are.. you still Error?” Blue asked worriedly.

“Yes...” Geno said.

“Good, just because you got your old body isn’t stopping my wedding to you two!” Blue said smugly, the married couple blushed.

“You had news for me... when you vanished,” Reaper asked softly.

“Ah..” Geno said blushing heavier.

“Ohhhh.....” Blue said giggling suddenly.

“I... was kind of pregnant when Fate grabbed me... and still am, now that this body was freed,” Geno said summoning his ecto body, which was quiet far along.

“How did we not notice!” Reaper said in shock.

“ Well... I never summon my ecto body, and my glitched state hid any signs. Also.. I’m half dead and your Death,” Geno said dryly.

Meanwhile Blue started having millions of baby thoughts, Error/Geno was a beautiful Skeleton in both forms. And the three of them would make adorable children, he wondered how long it would take to talk Reaper to get him knocked up too.

“Heh heh heh... Blue said lost in his own head.

“I’m sorry...” Geno whispered holding Reapers hand.

“For what, your alive,” Reaper gently said, he leaned forward and touched there foreheads together.

“But... I cheated on you as Error,” Geno cried.

“Shhh... that doesn’t matter. You had no clue you were anything but what Fate said love. And I can see you truly love Blue too.. he’s not bad, and if that’s the price I pay for you I’ll pay it a million times,” Reaper promised to his teary eyed love.

“It won’t be easy, I’m stil l th e Destroyer. The Error,” Geno said.

“And I’m Death, Death and Destruction go together,” Reaper smirked.

“Idiot,” Geno said.

“And Blue can be the Chaos,” Reaper giggled.

“Crap...” Geno suddenly said.

“Whats wrong?” Blue asked, coming out of his daydreams.

“Well... Its time, guess the baby got tired of waiting eons to be born,” Geno said wincing.

Thump

Reaper had left the building.

Okay fainted.

“Gahhh.... oh my stars!” Blue panicked and ran around like a headless chicken.

Pow

And there was Blue meeting the wall.

“ Why...” he cried through the pain.

OoOoO

The sound of crying.

“Take it easy, your magic will b e over stressed for th e next few weeks,” a voice said, yes.. Sci’s voice.

“ I will, thank you for allowing me here,” Genos voice came.

“No problem, was hilarious to see you rushing in using magic to carry Blue and Reaper,” Sci cackled.

“The Baby!” Reaper said coming fully awake.

“Over here,” Geno said amused.

Apparently there were in at a hospital, Blue was just coming too.

“Reaper.. meet our son,” Geno said happily, held in his arms was a tiny Skeleton with one eye light typical to a sans type.

“He’s perfect,” he said raspy voiced in awe.

“What’s his name?” Blue asked wide eyed.

“I think his proud papa should choose,” Geno said.

“Goth, taking parts of both our names,” Reaper said happily, here he was gettinga happy ending.

Death and his glitch.

Death and Destruction.

With Chaos at the side.

“Hey Geno, next kids mine,” Blue smirked.

Geno sputtered.

Reaper laughed.

“You have quiet the future kiddo,” Reaper told the newborn.

He couldn’t wait to see it.

END

#Undertale #Crack #do not take this seriously #fanfic #Dream #Error #Nightmare #Blue #Ink #Reaper #Geno #afterdeath

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thetravelerwrites · 6 years ago

Text

Johnny (Cowboy Minotaur) Pt. 2

Rating: Lemon Relationship: Male Human/Male Minotaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Reader-Insert, Monster Lover, Interspecies Relationship, Male Reader, Male Monster, Gay Reader, Gay Monster, Post Gold Rush, 1860's California, Cowboys, Cowboy Minotaur Content Warnings: Gun Violence, Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Handcuff Bondage, Cumflation Words: 3798

The conclusion to @severedreamerbeard ‘s commission! Randall puts pressure on Johnny, so the reader decides to do something about it, only to be injured while protecting Johnny. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

The next few weeks were unremarkable. The town was small and most folks were mild-mannered. The only place that seemed to have any trouble was the saloon, and Bláithín was more than capable of handling most scrapes that went on there herself. She came in to the jailhouse once or twice, dragging an unconscious drunk behind her while you and Johnny were playing blackjack for peanuts and pennies.

You and Johnny often ate your meals at the saloon, though Uncle George invited you, Johnny, and Judge Jones over for dinner once a week. He liked to cook, but in such a small town, he rarely had anyone to cook for.

All through this time, you’re trying not to think about whether or not Johnny was like you. If you told him and he wasn’t, he could arrest you and send you to the Sacramento big house for indecency. And if he was… what? You had to admit to yourself that you liked him rather much, but it wasn’t as if you could have any sort of relationship with him that was anything more than professional. In the city, people didn’t care about other people, but in small towns, people talked. You knew if you gave in and he reciprocated, people would talk. Johnny hadn’t been here much longer than you, but the people of Redington already respected and admired him. You didn’t want to strip him of his job, home, and dignity because you had feelings.

One afternoon, as you and Johnny were talking with Bláithín about her recent stolen packages, Randall came into the saloon followed his entire entourage, with Lloyd at his left elbow. The entire room went silent and a few of the bar’s patrons hastily threw down money and left. Bláithín stood as straight as her packhorse body would allow and both you and Johnny stiffened.

“Relax,” Randall said, holding up his hands in placation. “We ain’t here to start trouble. We just want some grub and a drink. That against the law now?”

“Bláithín?” Johnny asked.

“I haven’t ever officially barred them from entering, and as long as their payin’, I suppose there’s no harm,” She said slowly.

“Maybe we’ll stick around for a bit,” Johnny told her in an undertone.

“I’d appreciate that, sheriff,” She replied.

The boys settled around the saloon, ordering food and drink and being rowdy, but not so much that it would require tossing them out.

“Hey, sheriff!” Randall shouted over his buddies. He’d been watching the two of us whisper to each other. “You done breakin’ in that new deputy? Workin’ him hard, I bet.”

Johnny snorted, but you said in a whisper, “They want to rile you up. Don’t rise to the bait.”

Lloyd piped up next. “Yeah, I bet he’s so sore from his ‘job’ that he can’t hardly sit down.”

His men laughed uproariously.

“Johnny,” You asked him as you felt him getting more and more tense next to you. “We both know they’re criminals. Why haven’t they been run off or arrested before now?”

Johnny huffed in exasperation. “They’re careful about it. They do most of their… work… outside of the town limits, which means it’s outside of my jurisdiction. What happens out in the desert beyond the town’s boundaries is fair game. There’s no witnesses, so there’s no crime. My hands are tied unless they do something illegal within the town’s borders.”

“What would be enough to get them sent away for good?”

“Burglary, robbery… nothin’ good,” He said, eyeing the group as they howled with laughter.

You thought about what Johnny had said when you first got to town: He loves any chance to prove he’s the biggest swingin’ dick on this side of the tracks. “What about assault on a lawman?” You asked on a low voice.

Johnny frowned. “What’re you--”

“You know, Randall,” You said loudly, pushing yourself off of where you’d been leaning on the bar and advanced slowly. “You want to know what I think? Why you like pokin’ at Johnny so much?”

“Oh, do enlighten me,” Randall said in an amused tone.

“You’re jealous,” You told him simply. “Johnny’s got everything you want. Respect, money, integrity…” You looked Randall up and down. “Height. Looks. Brains. A backbone.”

Randall’s smile changed to a scowl in half a heartbeat. “That prissy dickweed has nothing on me.”

“If you mean smell, you’re exactly right,” You said, holding your nose. “Are you like an actual cow and roll in your own dung? That’s the only reason I can think of that you’d smell so bad all the time.”

Randall stood so fast that his chair flew back. His entourage also shot to their feet, their hands going to their gun belts.

“You’re either as stupid as you look or tryin’ to get your ass beat,” Randall said.

“That’s fair, I do have a hitable face,” You said.

“Kid, stop it,” Johnny said, grabbing your arm.

“Gotta protect your little boy toy, don’t you sheriff?” Randall said, cackling.

“What’s a-matter, Randall?” I shot back. “Mad he won’t take you back?”

That’s what did it. Randall cracked you across the face. You were prepared for it, but he hit hard and you stumbled back into Johnny, who caught you and pushed you back onto your feet.

“That’s enough!” Johnny said. “Randall, you’re under arrest!”

“Like hell I am!” Randall said, drawing his gun. He pointed it right at Johnny.

“Look out!” You couldn’t push Johnny out of the way, he was too large. But you cold jump in front of him. The bullet was aimed at Johnny’s ribcage, but it managed to hit you squarely in the shoulder. It was enough to rattle the bones in your arm and you cried out in pain.

Johnny bellowed in rage and jumped into action, delivering a blow to Randall’s stomach that sent him sprawling, his gun skittering across the floor. Lloyd tried to retrieve it, but Bláithín stood there with her rifle, aimed at his head.

“Wouldn’t be doing that, if I were you, bucko,” She said. Two more of his gang rushed her, guns in hand, and she twirled with incredible agility and kicked them both hard in the knees. The snapping sound echoed throughout the saloon, and they went down screaming. The other four shot out of the saloon, into the street. Bláithín went out to follow them, but you stopped her.

“Leave ‘em,” You gasped, getting up off the floor, gun in hand. “They ain’t actually done anything. These four are the ones we want to worry about.”

Johnny was on the ground over Randall, pummeling him into the floorboards. You grabbed his arm as he was going down for another blow.

“He’s out, John!” You said. Johnny was breathing heavily and stared at you, his pupils pinpricks and hyperfocused, but he stopped and got up, breathing as though he’d run to the coast and back.

Bláithín was holding Lloyd at gunpoint. “These four inna going nowhere, John, but we need the surgeon. Run an’ get ‘im.”

Johnny stared at you for a moment longer, then obeyed.

Getting the bullet out of your shoulder was more painful than it going in, but there was no permanent damage. Johnny was at the other end of the infirmary, securing the other prisoners. He glanced back at you occasionally, as if making sure you were still there, although you were going to be in that bed for a day or two to make sure the wound didn’t open up or get an infection.

Uncle George and Judge Jones arrived shortly after, talking with Johnny in hushed tones. Jones and Johnny went off to another room while Uncle George came to sit on the cot next to you.

“That was a risky gamble, son,” He said, although he couldn’t bring himself to sound too annoyed at you.

“Ain’t this why you brought me out here?” You asked, a little woozy from the whiskey they’d made you drink before taking out the bullet. “To get rid of Randall?”

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t expect you to get yourself shot!” He said, his annoyance bubbling to the surface.

“He was aimin’ for Johnny,” You said seriously. “A gutshot in that big guy would have been fatal.”

“Hmph,” Uncle George said. “Well, you’re not staying here with these hooligans. You’ll be staying with me till you’re patched up. Johnny’s gonna have to make a trip to Sacramento to bring back deputies from the big house to transport Randall and his men back that way. He’ll be gone about two weeks.”

Your heart sank a little, but you kept your face neutral.

“What about the four of Randall’s crew that got away?” You asked.

“Scattered like cockroaches after their leader got caught,” George said. “Just as well. They hadn’t actually committed a crime, they were just present when a crime was committed. Perhaps now they’ll move on and pester someone else.”

“Hmm,” You hummed. “Will the town be alright without a sheriff? I mean, with Johnny gone and me laid up?”

“Bláithín’s takin’ up the reins, so to speak, until John returns. She’s a capable woman.”

“I believe that,” You said, laying back with a tired sigh. “I think I might get some shut-eye, Uncle, if’n thats alright?”

“Sure thing, son,” He said, standing. “Got some paperwork to do, as it is. You rest easy. I’ll have you moved to my house tomorrow morning.”

You fell into a sodden slumber, feeling heavy. Later, you were awoken in the dark by a gentle shake.

“Wake up, deputy,” You heard a gravelly voice say softly.

“Johnny?” You asked, groggy and unable to see much in the dark.

“Yeah, it’s me,” He said. “I’m leavin’ out tonight. I want to get there and back as quick as possible, but… I… I wanted to thank you. For takin’ that bullet for me.”

“I’d do it again, John,” You said, still half asleep. “I’d do it a thousand times.”

You closed your eyes again, and there was silence. Perhaps he thought you’d fallen asleep again. You felt his hand take yours and hold it, gently caressing the knuckles. Your heart thumped when he pressed a kiss to it, but when you opened your eyes, he had dropped you hand and you could hear him hurrying out of the building.

You’re uncle had said it would take two weeks for Johnny to get to Sacramento and back, but he managed the trip in half the time. He was dusty and looked a bit thinner; it looked like he’d barely taken a rest the whole time.

By the time he got back, you were on your feet again and had taken back the job of deputy from Bláithín, though your arm was still in a sling. She gratefully relinquished it, though the town had been quiet with the offenders finally caught and out of the way.

“Welcome back, sheriff,” You said brightly as he leapt off his horse.

“Thanks,” He said. “How you holdin’ up?”

“My arm’s still stickin’, so I’m all good,” You said, wiggling your arm in it’s sling.

Johnny nodded, satisfied. “The boys from Sacramento are about an hour behind me. They’re at the train station, getting a bite to eat.”

“Have you eaten?” You asked him. He shook his head. “Come on, then. I’m buyin’.”

“Nah, kid. You don’t pay for nothin’ when your with me anymore,” He said, smiling at you. It was the first actual, honest-to-god smile you’d ever seen on his face. It completely changed it, lighting it up and making him look…

You shook your head. Now wasn’t the time.

After you’d eaten, the deputies arrived. You followed Johnny into the jailhouse. As soon as Randall saw the deputies, he started screeching.

“They provoked me! Him especially!” He said, pointing at you.

One of the deputies banged the bars of the cell with his baton. “Hush up!”

“What about him then?” Randall asked, pointing at Johnny, his voice more menacing. “There are some things about him you’d probably like to know.”

“And how exactly do you know those things, Randall?” You asked him dangerously, getting in his face though the bars separated you. “How exactly do you know?”

Randall shut his mouth tight and glared at you.

“You said you had something to declare?” The prison deputy asked.

Randall’s jaw worked and he looked at you with pure venom.

“...no. No, I don’t.”

“Fine. Time to get moving,” the deputy said. Randall, Lloyd, and the other two of the gang were loaded into a barred paddy-wagon.

As they moved off, Johnny said, “Can’t say I’m sorry to see the back of ‘em.”

“You said it,” You said, massaging your shoulder a bit.

“Does it hurt?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Not much.”

He snorted. “Quit tryin’ to be a hard ass. When’s the last time the bandage was changed?”

“Couple days.”

“It’s due, then. Come on, I’ll take care of it,” he said, walking back to the jailhouse. You follow.

He sat you down at the table and got a box from the bunkhouse.

“Take off your shirt,” He said.

Your heart threw itself into your throat, but you complied, carefully pulling your arm out of it’s sling and tugging the sleeve off.

“Lay your arm on the table and get comfy,” He said, pulling out strips of cloth and some salve.

He was inches away from you, and you could smell him. He smelled earthy and reminded you of home. Comfy was the last place you could be right now. Your heart was hammering.

He carefully peeled the old bandage off and inspected the skin, checking for infection. He was gentle. You could feel his breath on your bare chest and it was all you could do to hold still and not reach out for him. He gently worked the salve into your skin without hurting you much and re-wrapped the wound.

“...uh…” He started diffidently. He was purposefully not looking you in the eye. “Thanks… for pipin’ up for me. I don’t know… what you know… or… but…”

“John,” You said seriously. “Look at me.”

He looked up, his face stern and closed, but his eyes showed his true self. You bent forward and kissed him. He pushed you back immediately. At first, you were scared you misjudged him, but he was looking at you wonderingly.

“You… you’re…”

You nodded. “I’ve been holdin’ back because I didn’t want to cause you trouble… but… God, Johnny…” You rushed forward again and kissed him, harder this time, and he didn’t pull away. If fact, he gripped you tightly, causing you to yelp in pain from your shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry!” He said, letting you go at once.

You shook your head. “No, I’m fine.” You got up and bolted the door of the jailhouse. “Is this alright?”

He nodded, breathing hard and standing. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off as you unbuckled your belt one-handed.

“Are you sure?” Johnny asked, shedding clothes.

“Yes,” You said, pulling him down by the chin to kiss him again. His hands found your buttocks and lifted you so that your legs were wrapped around him. He swept off the desk and laid you down on your back, pulling your boots and trousers off. He reached over you, bending so that his body was flush with yours, and pulled open a draw on the desk. When he drew back, he was holding the bottle of oil that he used for sore muscles.

He put some on his fingers and rubbed it against your entrance, and you moaned. He worked the oil in while kissing you, eventually inserting one finger, then two, then three. His fingers weren’t exactly small, and the stretch felt amazing.

He moved you so that you were laying lengthways on the desk and reached back into the draw, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. He pushed the desk closer to the cell and took your hands, carefully lifting your arms up and cuffed them to the cell.

“Don’t move around too much,” He said as he climbed onto the desk between your legs. “Don’t want to reopen that wound.”

You nodded, breathless at the sight of him. His length had slipped out of it’s sheath and was standing at attention, brown and black like the rest of his body with a flat head. Johnny covered it in oil and rubbed it in,

“Ready?” He asked.

“It’s been a while,” You admitted. “I’m more than ready.”

“I can guarantee it’s been longer for me,” He said, chuckling, as he pushed himself slowly into you. You groaned with the sensation, your head falling back against the desk.

He took your knees in his hands and pushed them back against your chest and buried himself as deeply as he could go. Looking up, you saw a bulge in your belly were he had planted himself. He moaned as he slowly pulled back out and pushed in again, the bulge disappearing and reappearing with each thrust. Once he was confident he wasn’t hurting you, he sped up and you gasped. Your own member was bobbing and twitching against your stomach, and instead of grasping it, he reached underneath and rubbed his fingers over your sack, massaging the skin and making you cry out. You muted your noise, though, fearful that others would hear.

“Fuck,” He breathed, leaning forward on his hands and speeding up. You could feel him twitching inside you, and he had trapped your cock between your stomachs, so as he thrust, he was rubbing it between the two of you.

“Oh, God, Johnny,” You gasped. You could feel yourself getting close, the friction of his skin against your length and the feeling of him working his against the nerves inside you made you feel like you were going to explode. Your body tensed as you came, spraying against you and him as he continued to move at a frenetic pace. The tension caused a little bit of pain in your shoulder, but you barely noticed it.

He reared up and grasped your hips, ramming into you with a fierce intensity until he came as well, filling you so full that your belly pooched again with the sheer amount he released into you.

He slowed to a stop, still inside you, and rested on his knuckles, wheezing.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, struggling to get his breath back.

“No, I’m alright,” You replied, just as breathless.

After some time, he uncuffed you and helped you down off of the desk, and the two of you cleaned yourselves up and dressed without speaking. Sitting back down at the table, you reached out for his hand.

“I know your worried about people finding out about… us… what we are…” You said. “But… I like you, John. I don’t want to stop this.”

“I don’t either,” he said with a worried frown, gripping your fingers tightly.

“I…” You gulped. “I could… I could talk to my uncle.”

“What?” Johnny said. “No, don’t! No one can know about this.”

“I won’t tell him about you,” You assured him. “I’ll tell him about me. Uncle George has been more of a father to me than my own father. If anyone would understand, he would. And even if he doesn’t, he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“You’re absolutely sure of that?”

“Yes,” You said, squeezing his hand. “Trust me.”

Johnny regarded you with a grim expression, but nodded.

That night, you stopped at your uncle’s house unannounced, which you had never done before, though the invitation had always been there.

“My boy!” Your uncle said, hugging you when he opened the door. “Good to see you up and about. What brings you by?”

“Actually, Uncle George, there’s somethin’ I need to talk to you about.”

“Well, this sounds serious,” He said, stepping back so that you could come in. “Maybe we could talk about it over a brandy?”

“That’d be nice, Uncle, thank you.”

He took you to his lounge and pulled a decanter from a shelf. “So what has you looking so dour, son?”

You took a glass and sucked in a deep breath. “Did you and my pa ever have a talk about me bein’… different?”

“Not as such,” George said, sitting in a chair opposite you. “Though my brother and I don’t see eye to eye on many things, so his definition of ‘different’ may not be the same as mine.”

You sighed. “Honestly, Uncle… I’ve always wanted to be open about this, especially with my family, but Ma and Pa beat into me that I… wasn’t right.”

“Not right how?”

Moment of truth. “I… You… You must be wonderin’ why I never had a sweetheart or been interested in marryin’. Truth is… I actually would like to be married… just… not to a woman.”

“...I see,” You uncle said slowly. You winced at his distant tone.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Uncle,” you said sadly.

“Young man,” He said. “You haven’t disappointed me.”

You looked up. “I haven’t?”

He shook his head firmly. “No, my boy.” He took a swig from his own glass. “You know, Herbert and I went to college together. We’ve been very close friends ever since. He lived in New York, but he came out here with me to be the judge. Did you know that?”

“No, sir?” You asked, confused by the question.

“Jones and I never married or had sweethearts, either, but our positions put us beyond reproach. People gossiped, of course, but we were members of high society. We had enough power to quash most of it.”

Your jaw dropped. “You… is that why Pa never invited you to the farm? I thought it was because he resented you for being rich.”

George laughed sharply. “That was certainly part of it.” He clapped you on your good shoulder. “Look, son, don’t worry. We still have to be careful, but Herb and I started this town to be a safe place for good people. You’re a good man.” He took another sip. “And so is Johnny.”

Your heartbeat hitched up. “Yes, he is.”

“More to the point, he’s safe. You make sure he knows that.”

You smiled and relaxed, sitting back in the armchair. “I will, Uncle.”

After talking with George, you went back to the jailhouse. Johnny was sleeping when you came in, and you slithered into bed with him. The beds were a little narrow, but you made it work. He snorted awake.

“Did you talk to your uncle?” He asked, cuddling you into his side.

“I did,” You said with a smile, kissing him softly. “It’s alright, Johnny. Everything’s alright.”

He sighed and threw the blanket over you. At ease, the two of you slept.

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