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carmenlikeme · 2 months ago

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CHAPTER ONE: THIS IS GONNA BE ONE OF THOSE THINGS

COWBOY LIKE ME: A JACK ABBOT SERIES.

pairing: Jack Abbot x rescuer!reader

summary: After an unexpected storm hits Pittsburgh, the entire city stops. Floodings and destruction everywhere. Jack ends up trapped for two days at PTMC. When he's finally allowed to be outside, he ends up at the frontlines of the disaster, back to his MASH unit days. Abbot works right next to the rescuers, helping them stabilize patients before they reach the hospital. He meets an interesting person amongst the rescuers, and the magnetic pull is too hard to ignore. Will he give in?

Where Jack Abbot meets an eccentric doctor in the middle of a catastrophe, and finds light in one of the darkest places imaginable.

genre: fem! reader (no physical descriptions) romance, slowburn (on paper, speedrun irl), hurt/comfort, breakup, happy ending (?), sprinkled comedy, idk what else, highly medically inaccurate, heavy dialogue for the first chapters.

wc: 5.7k

warnings: age gap (reader is in her late 20s, jack late 40s), major natural disaster, medical trauma, PTSD, mentions of war and violent situations, graphic depiction of injuries, mentions of COVID and death. Will edit as I write more.

a/n: this just keeps getting longer and longer bc my idea was getting little 3k chapters, GUESS NOT!! i am so happy over the love this series got and you bet I'm already writing like a maniac!! Every title is inspired by a song, I think this one is pretty on the nose!! you can also comment so I can add you to my taglist or send me an ask!

you can find the masterlist HERE!

Despite popular opinion across PTMC, Jack Abbot wasn’t nearly as pragmatic as he looked.

In fact, he was downright superstitious.

Jack hated working during full moons and disliked how Shen threw the word quiet around like it meant nothing. He never called it out, just scoffed and braced for impact. There was no reason to complain. It would get him nowhere.

Ellis was a lot like him in that regard, though she didn’t care if anyone believed she was crazy for keeping her rituals pristine.

It was a night shift thing.

Shen was not yet there, but sometimes, just sometimes, he paused before throwing words around like they meant nothing.

A start, at least.

Still, Jack clung to his habits and superstitions like a mantra. Robby loved to make fun of him, calling him too old school. But he noticed how Jack never said how long was left in a shift, how he believed bad outcomes came in threes, how he wouldn’t say the name of a patient he hadn’t seen in a while.

Jack Abbot was a man full of superstition.

For example, at PittFest.

He woke up that afternoon, groggy and exhausted, but somehow, his leg didn’t hurt. When he put on the prosthetic to head to the bathroom, it didn’t itch. Calmness was odd for a man like him.

Still, he returned to his bed and pulled the blackout curtains just enough to let the afternoon sunlight spill across the room.

And there it was.

A crow.

It stood there in silence. Jack was sure that if he moved, the crow would fly away. His hand was barely able to reach the radio as he sat down on the bed. He turned it on, his gaze never leaving the crow that just seemed to be minding its business on Jack’s balcony.

It wasn’t until the reports of a shooting at PittFest that the crow flew away from the balcony. He sighed and grabbed the fresh pair of scrubs he always had at hand.

So, the day he woke up to nine crows on his balcony, he almost fell flat onto the floor.

For once in his life, he hoped his crazy ideas were wrong.

They never were.

Jack walked into the ED cautiously, as if testing the ground. He knew his predictions weren’t always accurate, but most of the time, it was more about when than if. That left him skittish for the entire shift.

The rain started that night. It didn’t stop.

And, as twisted as it sounded, Jack felt a weight lift off his shoulders when he realized the crows still meant something, just not what he expected. Not love, but chaos.

His mind spiraled as his senses suffocated with memories from that afternoon. He snapped back as the van rattled as they made their way into the disaster.

It was their first time outside after the catastrophe, and already they felt an immense difference as they traveled the empty streets of downtown Pittsburgh.

They slowly made their way into the most affected areas. A couple of hours into the storm, a residential neighborhood was flooded, making it the focal point of the disaster.

The mix of people in the cramped van wasn’t particularly ideal for forming any type of conversation; Abbot barely interacted with them during shift changes, if at all. The last time they worked together for a full stretch was back at PittFest, and now this, it wasn’t the perfect foundation for good communication. Plus, the van driver kept talking on the radio. Jack immediately recognized the language as Spanish, the driver was struggling with the signal, but it didn’t seem to be such a problem, because he barely asked questions.

Mateo and Garcia, on the other hand, focused all their energy on what the radio was saying; they would furrow their eyebrows just slightly on occasion. Abbot realized how lucky they were by bringing two Spanish speakers with them, considering most of the rescue team was from Mexico.

“K9s are out, rescue and cadaver. No hits yet.” Mateo’s jaw clenched at Garcia’s words. “Two drownings already.”

Whitaker, with not a lick of Spanish in his brain, looked pale as a ghost. Abbot wondered if he would throw up before even arriving.

Still, after everything that had happened, he never backed down.

A true boodhound.

“What can we expect, Dr. Abbot?”

Mateo finally spoke up. He didn’t look concerned, but the overwhelming radio chatter was messing with him.

As they got closer, the agitation in the voices was palpable, Abbot could even hear debris shifting in the background. Maybe he was making it up. Maybe he wasn’t

“We can’t say yet,” he replied. “We won’t know how many are being pulled out by rescue, or if they are getting someone out alive. Still, our protocols are the same. Assess in ten seconds and add a wristband: red, pink, yellow, green, or black. Stabilize in five, send the reds first. The only difference is we are doing the quickest and easiest fix to keep them alive long enough for medevac. That’s it.”

“What type of injuries?”

“Could be anything. Mostly crush injuries, but I won’t put it past us getting some electrocutions, drownings, or heat stroke. Definitely dehydration. Some head traumas too.”

A pause.

“Okay, I’m going to say it since none of you guys seem to actually want to; aren’t you excited to see the topos in action?” Garcia confessed.

Whitaker turned to look at her, a hint of shock on his face. Mateo did the same, only he gave a bothered smile.

“I heard they were in those floods in Spain,” Whitaker added.

“I believe you’re the only one who thinks like that,” Mateo argued.

“You can pretend you don’t want to watch them, I know Abbot does,” Garcia smirked at him, and just for a second, he hoped they had sent Walsh instead of her.

“When was I included in this?” Jack muttered under his breath, avoiding the eyes on him as awkward silence took place.

“We’re here.”

No one said anything as a man guided them towards the triage zone. His voice was soft but commanding, accompanied only by their shoes sinking into the mud, each step harder and harder to pull as they got closer. Long ago were the days when Jack felt like he was walking over quicksand; at those times, the rain was so heavy that half of his shoe got stuck. This time, he made sure to put purpose on each step.

Once they were within distance of the site, they immediately shifted their attention to the people in bright orange suits, whose chests, arms, and backs were covered in patches of flags and logos. They walked around with determination, some prospecting the area with dogs, others reinforcing unstable areas to avoid more damage, and a couple more, putting a harness on someone.

The awe lasted just a few seconds.

Not even the media had gotten as close as them. Houses were destroyed, nothing but piles of what once were people’s homes, collapsed, gone. It was clear that the people there were working overtime; a neat triage zone, a huge square, clean of any debris, was waiting for them. Next to it, several vans filled with material and covered with mud almost to the roof. He wondered how hard it was to get it there.

“Here’s your triage zone. So far, we’ve identified three living under the third north quadrant. They’ll be out in about fifteen minutes. From now our EMTs are helping people hurt but not trapped, right there.”

About a dozen people sat on plastic chairs, all of them in emergency blankets. They looked physically okay but very disoriented. Jack’s mind immediately looked for any visible injuries.

“No criticals at the moment. I’ll talk to you when we pull someone out. Who’s in charge?”

Whitaker, Garcia, and Mateo took a step back, leaving Abbot by himself.

“Cowards,” he muttered.

“My name is Oscar, you can call me Oso. Here’s a walkie.”

Abbot took it quickly and set it up in his belt, Oscar offered him a firm handshake.

“Jack Abbot, emergency medicine. We’ve also got Yolanda Garcia, surgical resident; Mateo Diaz, emergency medicine nurse; and Dennis Whitaker, MS4.”

“Nice to meet you, I’ll get back to work, we’re sending one in. Call me if you need anything. Sorry, no time for chit chat. They’ll be sending you another team to take over for you in about six hours.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

Oscar jogged back towards the group, putting the harness on one of their teammates, and as much as Abbot was curious to watch them work, he turned around to talk to his team.

"Okay, people. It's go time. I'll work with Whitaker; Garcia can work with Mateo. If you need anything, let me know, make sure our yellow and pink patients don't die either. Double-check everything, triple-check if possible. Crush injuries are no joke."

“I have a feeling we might have a lot of hidden concussions,” Garcia mentioned as they quickly set up.

“I have a suspicion we might be here all day,” Whitaker replied under his breath.

Jack laughed, slipping on his gloves, and moved to an elderly lady who had a minor head laceration. Then, in the blink of an eye, twenty minutes went by. He was so focused on making sure they examined their patients correctly when they had some extra minutes on their hands, he even had time to explain to Whitaker some things to look out for in patients and how to make sure he remembered to do a full body exam.

The false calm broke in seconds.

Nothing major happened until a distant voice yelled, ‘Pull her out!, which made all of them shift. One of the topos got out of the rubble, closer to them than expected. Oscar followed her closely. She took off her helmet, then the glasses, and finally pulled down the mask. She hissed as Oscar matched her steps.

"Someone's already in trouble?"

Garcia asked, she kept glancing sideways as Abbot urged her to focus on the patient at hand, but it was harder than it sounded. Another member, an older gentleman in his 70s, walked down the path. Still in her harness, she barked back.

"I can smell the fucking burnt plastic from here. They didn't cut power in there," she pointed, her orange suit was slightly dusty.

The man tried to calm her down, but she wasn’t having it.

“That incident commander isn't talking to us straight. He’s about to piss me off” she complained once more, both her and the man looked at each other for what it felt like an eternity, until the aforementioned showed up. “I’m going in again, from the west side. There’s a path there.”

The older man pulled a small plastic bag from his jumpsuit. He carefully opened it, and with the kindness of a father, he wiped her face softly, removing any dirt from her face. It looked so natural, she continued to complain, unmoved by his actions, as if she were used to it. Jack made a mental note to ask them if they could spare some decon wipes like the ones they were using.

“What? I was told the power was cut, but there’s probably a backup generator running. It’s too dangerous.” The incident commander snapped.

She waited until her boss finished and tried to walk away from the three men.

Oscar placed a hand on her chest, stopping her. She shoved him off with a swift motion, but still didn’t move until Oso took a step back.

“Too dangerous my ass.”

She pulled her face mask on again. Jack noticed a few hairs stuck to her forehead, the sweat running down her forehead and neck. He could only imagine how hot it was under that suit, he could see she had at least one undershirt, plus a bandana on her neck and her gloves. Even with a lower temperature, it would feel like hell.

“Can I get in?” she asked the older man, who immediately nodded. Oscar looked disappointed.

They walked back as he instructed her on what to do. There was still some resistance, something about him pulling her out if she went silent for more than 2 minutes, and more complaining. More comments about keeping some oxygen at hand, which prompted Jack to check their reserves just in case.

She seemed to have no regard for her own safety. And somehow, that got him a little excited.

Admiration? Yeah, probably.

“Looks like you ER cowboys are nothing compared to that girl. How old is she? 25?” Garcia laughed.

“She’s very young to be getting under all that stuff.”

Whitaker stumbled upon one of the makeshift gurneys as he tried to get a better view of the situation. By that moment, most of the critical patients were waiting for transport, which allowed them to take a minute to breathe.

“Are you guys hungry?”

One of the rescue team members walked towards them, he was holding a big blue cooler. He was wearing the same orange suit, except his had the nickname ‘Cholo’ written on it.

He grabbed a couple of items from it before throwing some at them without warning. The food felt warm in Jack’s hands.

“Some lady brought burritos, rescue already raided them, so feel free to eat as much as you can.”

Whitaker almost cried. He sniffed the food and started to eat immediately. Garcia wasn’t as desperate. Jack decided to put his away for the moment and eat it when he got hungry.

“Thanks, man. We’ve been quarantined at the hospital. I think I won’t eat a turkey sandwich in at least a year.” Mateo pulled the tin foil quickly and took a big bite of the burrito. “We even ran out of coffee.”

“Yeah, we run on what the people give us, and your people have been very kind.”

“Are you one of them?” Whitaker asked, as the girl who was just under the rubble argued with Oscar.

“Yeah, I’m an EMT. You can call me Mario,” he said with a soft smile.

Garcia took another bite of her burrito, her hands motioned towards the chaos. She waited a second to chew before talking.

“What’s going on down there?”

“Oh… one of our teammates is doing a rescue, but there’s a flooded section with live wires, so they’re working on finding a safer point of entrance.” Mario pointed out, as if it were a walk in the park.

“Don’t worry, she’s not as reckless as she looks. Oso is just too cautious, he’s going to follow her just when she makes contact, or maybe send me.”

As he spoke, more patients arrived from different areas. The topos weren’t the only rescue team on site, but it looked like they had the most coverage and momentum. Mario explained that some of their teams were out in boats, searching for people still trapped in their homes. Everyone on the squad had a specialty, but the main focus that day was search and rescue under collapsed structures.

“We all know how to do it,” he said, his eyes drifting briefly toward the chaos around them. “But there’s something about her. She just knows where to move… and where not to. She’s faster than most of us, too. Luis, one of the OGs, trained her personally.”

Occasionally, radio chatter interrupted their conversation.

At times, Mario would hear something urgent and sprint to help his team with new victims coming from the submerged neighborhoods still standing. He would return shortly after, giving Jack and his team a quick debrief of the situation, even helping when he could.

"So what do you do when you're not rescuing people?" Mateo asked about fifteen minutes after they saw the girl enter the structure. Mario looked worried, a little distant.

"Oh, I'm a cook at my family's restaurant."

"I thought you all were experts," Whitaker pointed out and cleared his throat, realizing he sounded a little too harsh. "I mean..."

"Nah, I get it. But the cardinal rule here is to have a job so you can support yourself. Only a few of the topos here do this for a lifetime, and it’s mostly the founders who stick with it."

Five minutes ago, Mario would’ve kept talking about his personal life and how he ended up here. But his silence made Garcia realize everyone was waiting for something more. The radio chatter continued, muffled but still decipherable.

"All good man?" Mateo walked over to Mario, who nodded.

“Yeah... she’s been there for a while and says the smell is itching at her. I’m worried she’ll stay there and pass out.” Mario was called just a second later and sprinted toward his team, muttering an apology under his breath. He quickly accepted the harness someone handed him.

Jack remembered he still had the walkie Oso had given him and turned it on, hoping to get some sort of update. Her voice crackled through the static. Something about not being able to make contact, and then something more about being in a tight space. “No visual,” was the only sentence they could piece together.

Long minutes passed. Sometimes the conversation was in Spanish; other times, it switched to English when the incident commander demanded it.

Mateo and Garcia did their best to translate as much as possible, but sometimes they could only hear the movement of the rescuer. All they got was how she couldn’t see much due to smoke coming from another area, most likely the origin of the power failure. Last they heard was the girl reassuring her team that she was still conscious.

"I hear them! Down south. I'm making contact. Three alive!" she yelled, and a collective sigh of relief rippled through the team.

Then, everyone above her got to work. Mario was still ready to jump in, just in case things got sticky. Another ten minutes passed before they saw a stretcher, then another, and a third. Finally, the rescuer was pulled out by a rope. Her bright orange suit was caked in mud and dirt, and the harness was practically glued to her.

She spoke briefly with the guys, her gloved hands patting her suit. Abbot realized then that the people she had just pulled out were now his patients.

They wasted no time in treating them, and within minutes, the patients were sent off to the ambulances, out of their reach. Mario and a couple of other rescue workers took the first of the three for transport. She was the worst off. A wall had fallen on her, knocking her unconscious for some time. The second was also unconscious, while the third could walk, but they still played it safe.

He saw more people arrive, this time to find the source of the smell and to stabilize the area underneath, as it seemed they had found more people. Jack noticed their lack of urgency compared to a couple of minutes ago, which led him to believe that the new victims were already dead.

Finally, the girl came down from the collapsed building.

Oso followed close behind, giving her safety instructions. She finally stopped, nearly in front of Jack. She pulled off her helmet, which hit the ground with a solid thud. Her protective glasses followed, and only then did Jack realize she was drenched in sweat. She removed her face mask more gently as well as her gloves and tucked everything into the helmet, bending down for a moment to catch her breath.

She asked Oso for help. He grabbed the zipper on her wrist and pulled it down to her armpit, then repeated the motion on the other side.

Panting, she reached for the next pair of zippers; one on each clavicle. They ran down to her ankles, clearly designed to be put on fast and taken off even faster. She pulled the zipper at her hips, then slid her arms out of the parted suit, revealing a black tank top underneath. She tied the sleeves around her waist.

"Hey, Abbot, do you still have oxygen?"

Oso asked as the girl dropped into one of the plastic chairs recently vacated by a patient. She didn’t protest as he crouched beside her to assess her.

"Yeah. I'll go get it," Abbot replied, heading toward one of the vans where an unused oxygen tank sat; the same one he’d checked a minute earlier.

As he walked back, he heard coughing and muffled complaints.

"Hey, doc," Oso called out. "Could you please explain to this reckless girl why it's important to take a little oxygen after inhaling all that shit down there?"

"I know the consequences, Oso. I’m not a child."

Jack offered her the mask, and she placed it over her face, her eyes piercing the man's.

Oso pulled the string of the oxygen mask to place it properly. She rolled her eyes.

"You're a doctor but would rather die than get treated. That sounds like a child to me." Oso grabbed her wrist and checked his watch. "Careful, or I'll let Dr. Abbot do this exam for me."

Jack tilted his head, already stepping in. "I think I’ll take over. Looks like you’re buying time anyway."

He gave Oso a knowing look, and the rescuer sitting in front of them scoffed.

She rolled her eyes again and looked away for a second. But her body betrayed her; a cough hit just as she reached to pull off the oxygen mask. Jack had just slipped on his gloves and gently guided the mask back into place.

"I'm good. I mean it," she said, but Abbot continued with the exam, now a little smug about it. He pulled out his stethoscope and pressed it to her chest.

"How long were you under there?" he asked.

"About ten minutes."

"I counted more."

She paused.

"Maybe twenty."

Jack looked at her, his sharp eyes scanning her features. They stopped talking as she took deep breaths, his stethoscope moving around her chest and then her back. He scrunched his nose, moving elsewhere before returning. She coughed a couple of times, which allowed him to come back to the original spot.

“Something wrong, doctor?” she asked. Jack took a step back.

He grabbed a pulse oximeter from his go bag. Without asking, he held her hands, and only then did he notice the pink compression gloves she had on. He peeled them off and put the oximeter on, then placed her hand back on her chest. She didn’t complain.

“There’s some wheezing I’m worried about. Might have to pull you out of duty for today,” Jack suggested. She shook her head repeatedly.

“And it’s not a suggestion.”

“I'm afraid I only take suggestions,” she said, her free hand pulling down the mask just enough to speak. “My team needs me down there.”

“Oh, I am sure they do,” he met her gaze, his hands coming to her neck. She lifted her head, matching his stare. “But I won’t risk it, what about six hours?”

“Four and I won’t get under any structures for the rest of the day,” she smiled at him.

Jack scoffed. He studied the determination in her eyes as he pulled down the oxygen mask. She smiled brightly, despite the redness of her eyes, and how he knew her throat itched. He grabbed a tongue depressor, his index still holding onto her chin lightly, thumb barely brushing her too.

“Five, and you don’t go near anything that smells funny for at least 24 hours.”

“Oh, I can’t just abandon my team. I know they smell weird, but…” She coughed before she could finish her joke. Jack looked at her, his hand not leaving her chin despite the movement.

“No smoke. I mean it. Now, open your mouth for me, please,” he whispered once she stopped coughing.

“Careful there, I only get asked that during the second date,” Jack didn’t respond, but his gaze softened as he waited for her to do what he asked for. “Fine. But I need to know your name before we do the kinky stuff.”

“My name is Dr. Jack Abbot, you can call me Dr. Abbot, ” he whispered as his flashlight moved around her mouth.

“Is that how you do an exam, or are they about to fuck?” Garcia muttered under her breath. Mateo only nudged her in response. “I mean it! What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know, but I won’t get close to them even if they asked me to.”

"Any pain? Dizziness? Weakness?" he asked, his flashlight now aimed at her eyes. For once, it was comforting not to have to give instructions.

“None of that,” she replied. This time, she put the oxygen mask on herself. Then, she looked at the pulse oximeter and rolled her eyes. “Can I take off this thing now?”

“Not until I say so. I can tell it hurts to cough, and the least you can do is sit still for a second,” Abbot finally stepped back. Only then did he realize they were just inches apart. “So put it back on.”

“Ugh, you’re so bossy.”

“So I’ve been told. Any injuries you’re not telling me about? Did you hit your head down there, bump into something, pull your neck, anything I should know?” he asked. She shook her head softly. “So if I ask you to walk to that gurney over there, you won’t have any problems?”

“Not at all,” she replied confidently.

“Great.”

Abbot peeled off his gloves, and the stranger stood up from the plastic chair. He grabbed her shoulders, directing her back to her place.

“Did I say you could go? Sit. I won’t let you go until I’m content with your oxygen levels.”

“I’m not hypotensive,” she complained. Jack looked at the oximeter, then at her, and back at the oximeter. “Seriously!”

“No, but you could become hypoxic, develop atelectasis, or pulmonary edema. You’re already halfway through spitting a lung.” Jack paused for a second, unsure of his next words. “I might have to order medevac.”

She took off her mask quickly. Abbot put it back in its place without a word.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. “I don’t need that.”

“You’re not the doctor.”

“No, but I have no cutaneous burns. My airway isn’t compromised; I went in with face protection and only exposed myself for a limited amount of time. At best, I’ll let you give me a non-rebreather,” she snarled.

“Non-rebreather, Ringer’s lactate. But I don’t have that with me,” she pointed toward one of the vans in the back.

“I do. I can accept that. It’s in the pink EMS bag over at the van. There’s albuterol in there too,” she added quickly.

“I’m not done. I would also have to come back and check on your airway tonight and tomorrow morning. No buts.” Jack took off the oximeter and crossed his arms, waiting for a response.

“If you want to ask me out, you could just say so, you know that?” She tilted her head, and Jack laughed. He raised his hand in defeat, then turned around.

“You said pink?”

She nodded. Jack walked over to the van and found about ten different bags. Thankfully, the pink one stood out like a sore thumb. He pulled it out and took a second to admire the different patches and small keychains attached to it. He wondered if he should bring it with him or just grab what he needed, ultimately choosing the latter.

Her bag was in pristine condition, packed with everything necessary to take care of anyone in an emergency. It almost felt like going through his own bag, so he had no trouble finding the Ringer’s lactate and everything else he needed. He looked around before stealing a granola bar hidden deep inside.

He came back and pointed toward an empty gurney. This time, she didn’t protest.

She lay down on the gurney and remained quiet. When a pair of hands reached for her left arm, she almost jumped. Jack had appeared in front of her.

She was lying, of course. The dizziness was getting to her, but she was sure it would pass. She glanced at the person inserting the IV and realized it was most likely a nurse. Mateo smiled at her, then focused back on the task.

“You’re just going to feel a little pinprick,” he whispered.

“Okay. You’re in good hands with Mateo. I’ll go talk to your boss now, okay?”

“Okay, but you still owe me your phone number,” she said, pulling down her mask to make sure he heard her.

“I will give you my number if you agree to medevac, now rest!” he yelled without looking back.

She laughed and lay down in the gurney. Mateo’s curious eyes hit her.

“Tell me he’s single.”

“I guess it’s your lucky day,” Mateo replied, and finished setting up. “If you need anything, just holler, okay?”

She nodded.

Meanwhile, Abbot waited nearby as the rescuers continued searching for survivors. The older gentleman—the one who had been speaking with the girl less than an hour ago—walked up to him. He looked more like he was supervising than getting his hands dirty, but Jack was pretty sure he’d seen him take a few rounds around the perimeter and pitch in.

“Hey, you must be one of the doctors they sent for triage, right?” he asked, immediately offering his hand.

“Yes, sir. I’m Dr. Jack Abbot,” he replied, caught off guard by the firm handshake. “I’m taking care of one of your girls.”

“Oh, la Golondrina? Yeah, I saw that. Is she okay?” He stepped down a little farther, moving away from where rescuers and others were still rushing around to help.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to Oso about. I’m afraid she has some lung damage. I’m considering medevac if it gets worse.”

The man looked at him for a moment, then turned toward the tent and sighed.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I haven’t introduced myself.” He smiled and offered his hand again; this time, not as firm as the first. “My name is Antonio. You can call me Tony. People call me Don Toño, but I’ve noticed you gringos have a hard time with pronunciation.”

“I might be a bit of a gringo myself, so I’ll have to stick to Tony,” Jack smiled. He was about to speak again, but Tony beat him to it.

“Why don’t you join me up here? I can tell you want to be out of that triage zone. Besides, Oso won’t come down for a while,” Tony suggested.

Jack hesitated for a second. It seemed like the team had cleared a path for people to walk around the site, but the debris and scattered materials still made him uneasy. Tony seemed to notice and offered him what looked like a makeshift cane.

“C’mon. Don’t tell me an old man has more flexibility than you.” He walked a little ahead, just enough for Jack to test the cane and nod.

“None of that. It’s just…” He pointed at his right leg with the cane. “I don’t have much movement here.”

“So what? Worst that can happen is you slipping and falling. Don’t worry, it’s secure. Besides, you’ve got better form than half my guys.”

Jack looked around. Behind him, triage was steady. No new patients; he could afford to walk and talk for a second.

“Okay then, but if I fall, it’s on you,” Jack pointed out, making Tony laugh.

“Right. No worries, just stay steady. Oso is over there.”

As they walked up the mountain of debris, Jack slowly realized how big a catastrophe it truly was. There wasn’t much of a height difference, maybe just about as tall as a fence, but he could understand why the girl had been so adamant about not stopping.

As promised, Oso was less than half a mile away from the collapsed houses. Jack could see more people walking around, checking different areas. It was the perfect spot for supervision.

“You miss the field, son?” Tony waved at Oso, who stopped talking to some of his team members and jogged towards them.

Abbot didn’t answer right away. He already felt self-conscious enough as he got there. Those people could learn a lot about someone within seconds. It was very similar for him. How the young rescuer, currently resting in his triage zone, had been doing it for years despite looking like a newbie. How Oso thought of her like a daughter, maybe mirroring one he lost.

“On occasion. I think I enjoy my life right now,” he replied briefly. Oso finally made his way up to them.

“How’s the little bird, doc?” Oso asked as he got within hearing distance of them.

“Not so bad. She has some wheezing in her left lung. I’m afraid she could develop a pulmonary edema, but she’s refusing medevac,” he explained. “She’s stubborn.”

“The only way you’re getting her out of here is unconscious, and even then, I feel she wouldn’t allow it,” Oso said, playing with a lighter in his hands. “If you can convince her to at least get checked out at your hospital, by all means. I can’t force her.”

“She’s a damn force of nature. I couldn’t stop her if I tried. But maybe she’ll listen to you.” Tony pulled some candy from his pocket and peeled off the wrapper quickly. “Best I can do is have her visit you tomorrow for clearance.”

“Anything is perfect. Please,” Jack nodded. “How’s everything out here? Need a hand?”

“We’re trying to find as many people as possible. But for now, we’re good. You being there to wait for patients is the best way you can help us now. Anything you need from us?”

“Yeah. Tell her you ordered her a visit tomorrow,” he joked, but part of him hoped they would take it seriously.

“Nah, man. You’re on your own.” Oso held Jack by the shoulders and shook him slightly, followed by a friendly squeeze. “She’s all yours.”

“Oso is scared of her. And I’m too old to be following kids around,” Tony explained.

“Cowards,” Jack scoffed and turned back around. “How hard can it be?”

Turns out, very hard.

#the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt #the pitt imagine #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x reader #dr abbot #dr abbot x you #jack abbot x you #jack abbot x female reader #carmenlikeme #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader

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wooltoesocks · 26 days ago

Text

Shirahama Kamome interview at Desucon 2025, Finland

had the honour of attending her live drawing/interview last weekend, it was an absolute blast and i still cant really quite believe i got to see that. didnt win an autograph ticket, but what i did do was take notes from the panel, so if anyone's interested to read, here they are <3

feel free to share, but please credit :)

[] means stuff the panelists have said, () is me rambling

text version/ALT under the cut since it's a lot

14.6.2025 Desucon

guest of honour's program: Kamome Shirahama and the magic of drawing

disclaimer: might contain mistakes even tho i've tried to be as accurate to my notes and memory as possible <3

on the table she was going to be drawing at there were the usual 2 brushbugs wearing qifrey and olruggio's hats, but also a hattifatten

*a picture of shirahama's two brushbugs, wearing olruggio's and qifrey's hats, and a hattifatten on a table (from tongariofficial's twitter)*

the program schedule hadnt included a live drawing, so i dont know if that was going to be a surprise for us of if it was a last minute decision. shirahama said "unfortunately the hat is in the way of seeing", since she had the iguin mask on the entire time. since we had a lot of time, she would be drawing coco and qifrey. (i initially took this to mean she could draw them both since she had time but my friend interpreted it as being "BECAUSE we have time she will be drawing" so idk. she had a cool ring, which looked like it could hold ink or smth.

[did you read manga growing up and what were your favorite manga and mangaka as a kid?]

- like all kids she read manga, but also liked novels and movies

- her favorite were x-men and star was comics- she read manga that was maybe targeted to an older audience

[did you always draw as a kid?] (didnt write down this question but i think it was smth like that)

- according to her parents yes, and also she's drawn since she herself can remember

[when did drawing become your job?]

-she studied design (? and smth else idk i accidentally wrote design in english and finnish lmao) in university, and alongside that she got small jobs to draw atuff for for example teaching materials and games, and realised you could actually make a job out of drawing.

[what did you learn alongside your studies?]

- she had graphics as her major, but was also interested in accessibility design and something else (i think this had smth to do with the environment, maybe environmental design? but i had just written "something")

[how did you end up a mangaka?]

- self published manga drawings, and at some point a publisher reached out to her like hey do you wanna come draw for us

[what kind of material do you like to draw with?]

- the sketch she does with a pencil, and then the actual drawing with an inkpen- corona has chabged stuff a bit because you have to take into account how much can you meet with your assistants, so more of the drawing is done digitally nowadays

- she prefers drawing on paper, but for example if a design is going into a game (=onto a screen) she will draw it digitally to fit

- she's also been challenging herself recently by drawing more stuff digitally

[do you draw all the details in the sketch, or just at the inking part?]

- the pencil marks distract the drawing process, so she will add the details in the inking part

- "you are going to see it yourself with this"

[where have you taken influence from to your drawing style?]

- fantasy, rpg, europe (i think i meant western here??)

- okay so i had written "role-playing-game-styled" but idk what that rly means lol

- the style of wood carvings is medieval[your works have been published in maby magazines, is there a difference between magazines what kind of manga you draw?] (i think that meant her drawing style depending on magazine not the manga's story)

- it's not really the magazine that changes stuff, the drawing style changes depending on the story

- witch hat atelier is story-book-like

- style will accommodate what suits a game the best

[where does the style come from for each story?]

- no (???? what he fuck did i mean by this im sure it made sense in the moment)

- if it's a digital media, she will draw with a computer, a japanese story she will use a brush, and for a western story she will use harder pencils

[do you change your style depending on the target audience?] (more in the ways of a country a person is from, for example western/japanese)

- she will draw what will be enjoyable regardless of the target group/audience

[does your style change depending on the age group of your audience?]

- it's more in the language then, so the dialogue's difficulty changes

[where did you get the idea for enidewi?] (this just read "enidewi idea?")

- she likes european gothic angels and devils and wanted to write about them. there are a lot of things she likes in enidewi- she likes to tell stories with girls in them

(no idea what the actual question was, i just write "enidewi memories?")

- it's about 2 girls on trips and they get into shenanigans

- she has travelled a lot so she pulled stuff from her own experiences/stuff related to her own experiences

- she does hope that she hasnt been as much of a difficulty as those 2

[when did you get the idea for witch hat atelier?]

- she was thinking of it while drawing enidewi

- the idea has been with her for surprisingly long, 6 years before publishing

[were you imagining the story or the worldbuilding then?]

- no plot, but the setting, world and themes

[was the drawing part of magic in the story since the beginning?]

- it's been in the story since very early on

- there are some people who are incredibly talented at drawing in our world, but everyone can draw at least a certain amount, so she wanted a world where the magic is in everyone's reach so to say

[how did you design such an intricate magic system?]

- first she wanted a simple system that even a child could copy but wanted there to be some logic to add extra effects

[what is your favorite symbol?]

- the one coco uses a lot, meaning sylph shoes

[i think we would all want a spell to fly with our shoes]

- shirahama would want a spell to easy stiff shoulders (she was i think showing a v bad posture drawing position lol)

[too bad those are forbidden]

(no idea about the question here lol i missed it bc i was explaining the previous laughing to someone, she also had to read the question again from a paper she had so hell yea me too)

- the fears of how to get better at drawing

- there would be a feeling of relatability

[so the series has the "good guys" wearing a pointy brimless cap and the "bad guys" a brimmed cap, so a different philosophy means a different cap. where did you get the idea/why is it like this?]

- she was vaguely pointing at her iguin hat and doing the muscle flex pose like woo

- she cant say, and it will be revealed as the series progresses (she had her hands clasped at her chest i had written that down soecifically)

- wait with excitement for the upcoming chapters (i THINK she meant like any future chapter but tbh i for a sec thought the translator said NEXT chapter but dont get ur hopes up. ANYWAY WHAT THE FUCK)

(smth about the desig of characters again was distracted by the whole thing before)

- she think it's fun to make the character designs, it's it's becoming hard because there are so many characters

- she will sometimes go to her artist friends with a character idea like hey this is what this character is like what would they look like

[all the fans here would probbaly go crazy for a finland inspired outfit, what would it be like?]

- well it would be warm at least

[furhat]

[does qifrey's hat tell something about his character?]

- it's a modified version of his hat as Beldaruit's apprentice so not really

[how has it been like creating the rules within the world?]

- it's been fun thinking of the fashion styles and clothes (literally the note says "fashion styles and clothes fun so nice to make <nonsense> that was fun" so idk take of that what u will. the nonsense might have been "work" but i honestly dunno)

[what has been difficult to get to fit?]

- she says the weaknesses and holes are hard to work into the system so that it's noticable that things are wrong but not too much into either direction

- bring to light something about the differences in people ("bring forward motivation into that different people kinda" what. anyway not sure what i meant here, also not sure if this is still to the same question but i didnt at least write a question in this part so idk)

- she thinks a lot (about what, idk i think there was a question here too i missed about maybe magic?), magic is a technology that tries to make human lives easier

[do you intend to raise awareness of real life problems?]

- partially, and that magic is a positive depiction too so that might inspire to fix the real life problems[inspiration for witch hat during the creation of the series?]

- during middleschool/high school/university she liked lord of rings movies, and peter jackson films (idk if it was like she liked those during that time and they still inspire her or like was this just not answering the question but anyway)

[are there any spcific details inspired by other serieses?]

- ghibli, the idea of nausicae (? not sure about this but like those were mentioned)

[witch hat atelier is peculiar/unique with it's use of art deco. do the page compositions come to your mind as they will be or are they modified as you work?] (notes said to the first line just "wha unique, art deco" so i think that's what it meant?)

- there are both instances, some will be completed like they first came into mind, and others get elements and other stuff added while drawing[how does it feel getting recognition outside of japan too?]

- she is very happy about that, that people enjoy and read her stuff and she is very honoured overall, and it's nice that that's the case also in other countries

[reading pictures is pretty universal, is it kind of like the manga's magic that it's for everyone?]

- she said it's kinda of funny with japanese because kanji are pictograms so they are also pictures in a way

[so your series has an official spin-off called witch hat atelier kitchen. where did the idea for that come from?] (a lot of thumbs up from shirahama at the mention of kitchen yay)

- she was approached by the publishing like oh hey we have this idea to draw a witch hat food series is that okay with you[are you how deep in the creation process of kitchen, or is it just sato's work?]

- sato creates it, sometimes they might workshop some world related stuff, for example the names of vegetables, and how to connect kitchen with the main series more

[do you have a favorite character or do you love them all equally?] (she was looking between the translator and the audience and reaching for the brushbugs like tadaa kinda)

- brushbug is easy to draw so that's why, and especially drawn with a brush

[there's also a very cute hattivatti]

- she had bought it immediately after arriving to finland

[hattifattener are probably the closest finland has to a brushbug]

- "yeah that's how it is"

[you have worked with marvel, DC and star wars. how did this start?]

- she liked american comics and attended cons in the usa too, and showed some sketches for a producer/editor (idk the word but like someone in the industry)

[have you gotten to draw any of your favorite characters?]

- her first crush was wolverine

- she also like batman a lot

- she at least hasnt had the opportunity to draw them together in a work

- she draws a lot of female characters for her work usually too

[what's the process for cover art, do you get precise instructions or do you have more free hands with the design?]

- she gets mostly free reign, and does something to suit the character

- sometimes there will be instructions/asks to include something, for example if the story takes place in japan to put fitting elements there

[is there much of a difference working with foreign works compared to japanese ones?]

- not really, most differences depend on the work itself

[how much time do you get to making a cover?]

- she's been busy lately (👀👀👀) but usually the deadlines arent super specific, she will usually make one a month

[you worked in character design for the star wars: visions -series. how was the experience?]

- on top of all, the series is an animation, it was nice to get to work with other people

- also amazing to get to see her designs come to life

*a sneeze*

[do you have to take into account that the characters will be animated when making the design?]

- there wasnt as much creative freedom since star wars is a established franchise so a lot of the design elements already exist

- okay so i didnt hear if she said "you didnt have to simplify the designs" since it's animated or that "you did have to simplify the designs" so like uhhhh sorry for not being able to answer that :( i feel like it mighta been "you didnt really have to simplify" but oh well

[do you draw witch hat characters from a reference at the beginning until you memorize the design, or does the design change along the story?]

- she had made a few designs beforehand (i think this meant like of one character like a few versions)

[you also drew the comic adaptation for Star Wars: Visions. did you get strict rules for it of were you allowed to change stuff?]

- the story was completed so that wasnt changed- she kept the same visual spirit as in the animation

[is there a foreign work you would still like to get to work with?]

- a lot of eeeeeee pondering noices, she was holding her hand on her chin like when you think bout something

- she said it's a difficult question, but she would like to work with a tabletop rpg or boardgames (excited hand gestures)

[well im sure everyone here would at least love to play those]

- she mentioned she's done work with Pokemon cards and Fate/grand order

[there is a witch hat anime coming. what's your role in its production?] (excited hand gestures again)

- she says she checks the stuff the animators have done, and gives corrections if needed

- since the manga is black and white, she gived advice on the colourschemes, for example with what kind of coloring techniques the characters have access to and therefore what the clothes will look like

[is this the first time you've thought about the colours of some stuff?]

- there have been a lot, for example coco's dress in chapter 1

- she will ponder with the team what would work best

[how (much?) are you waiting for the anime?]

- "a lot, and also very excited that all of you will get to watch it"

[are there any serieses/games you like right now?]

- magus of the library (someone from the audience provided the english translation, the translator said "big wizard of the library" (in finnish). thumbs up from shirahama at that), it's very interesting

[well nice we're getting recommendations here]

[the world of witch hat atelier is rpg-styled, is there any videogame elements?] (something about videogames and witch hat world at least lol i kinda missed this bc of again the previous question)

- there's not really any video game elements, since there is no level ups or magic points

- more closer to fantasy literature

[you said you read manga before becoming a mangaka yourself. has making your own manga changed this hobby, are you tired of manga outside of work?] (many excited hand gestures again)

- she actually reads more manga now than as a kid- as a kid she didnt dare buy a lot if she didnt know the story that well (or like being way more cautious of what to buy), but now she feels like "she has permission" to read manga

- "oh it's part of the job i can buy and read manga"

[do you look back to your works and think a lot about what succeeded and could have been done better?]

- when she starts a new part in the series, she will read the previous one and think about what might have been left unexplained and try to broaden and explain the stuff later

[has the way you engage with and judge other people's manga changed after becoming a mangaka? do you think like "oh this could have been done differently" "oh this was really cool"?]

- she said she isnt "skipping school" when reading, she does look at novels too with new eyes now

[is it good to read others' fantasy works, or do you do it just because you like it?]

- she does keep up with what other people are writing, and says it's good to know what's going on so as not to write absolutely similar stuff

[oh it does look like the drawing is finished now.] (this was 12.17, the panel started at like 11, a few minutes over most likely)

- you could really see how she added the details with the ink pen and not with pencil (dont remember if this was shirahama or the panelists, but still so true and amazing to watch)

- "i erased the pencil marks out of the way"

- "thank you for having the patience to watch me draw"

[well this is going to turn into a thanking contest but i do think the pleasure is completely ours/thanks are completely on our side, thank you for drawing for us] (literally no thank YOU tetia core interaction)

[does anything come to mind that the finnish manga and anime -fans would be interested to hear that we havent realised to ask?]

- "thank you so much", she says it's nice to feel that people like the same stuff as she does, that even if we're from different countries that we are all fans of manga

[how has it been visiting finland for desucon?]

- she arrived a few days ago in helsinki, and the food and weather has been very good (this is hilarious she managed to come here on the 4 consecutive days when it's been sunny and so warm and not raining at all this whole year i feel like what. anyway glad she liked the food yayy)

- she still hasnt had time to properly visit desucon yet

when she left the stage she waved the hand of the brushbug that had oru's hat at the audience <3

#wha #witch hat atelier #kamome shirahama #interview #desucon 2025 #i wrote the notes basically blind since i wanted to watch the drawing and it was pretty dark in the audience #so like it's a miracle my handwriting was at all legible lmao #i thought it would look suspicious if i was on my phone since you werent allowed to take pictures so that's why handwritte notes #anyway translating these into 1. coherent text and 2. english took me like 4 hours lol this was 4 A4 worth of notes #tbna #tongari boushi no atelier #still insane about the “oh lol read more and you'll find out” WHAT THE HELL THAT WAS SUCH A SIMPLE QUESTION #like that woulda been the last question i'd thought would be a plot point #goooooooooosh #villasukat.

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angel-sweets666 · 1 year ago

Text

stuck together

Barbarian bakugo x princess! Reader

Your parents arranged you to the brash and rude prince of the barbarians to save their own skin. CHAPTER TWO HERE

warnings and stuff inside of the story: talks of virginity, talks of a virginity check (its accurate to the time period ok?) a/n should I make this a series? I think it’d be fun but idk ur rich btw so just like there’s rich stuff.

THE FULL VERSION IS OUTTT, truely ask and you shall receive. Anyways this is the full edited and lengthened part one I hope it’s better then the sneak peak I gave you guys

AGED UP

Mitsuki leaned back, her piercing gaze fixed on your parents. "So, what do you say? You give us your daughter, and we'll form an alliance," she proposed, pausing for their response. "It would offer protection from the Todoroki kingdom Flamoria, no?" The blonde woman smiled at your father, trying to sway him.

Flamoria had a habit of attacking your home kingdom, however in recent years the bakugos have managed to not only defeat the todorokis but make their kingdom subservient to them.

Your mother hesitated. "I mean, I dunno…"

"We'll do it," he interrupted, cutting off your mother.

"Huh?!" Your mother turned to him, shock evident on her face.

"Perfect. Sign here," Mitsuki said smoothly, handing them a piece of paper which already had both mitsuki and masarus names written down. It was a betrothal agreement, arranging the marriage between you and her hot-tempered son, Bakugo.

Your father reached for the pen, the gravity of the situation pressing down on him. "This will secure our safety and ensure a powerful ally," he murmured, almost convincing himself as much as anyone else.

"But our daughter…" your mother started, her voice filled with concern and disbelief. She looked at Mitsuki, then back at your father, torn between the political necessity and the love for her child.

"We don't have a choice," your father replied firmly, signing the paper. "This alliance is crucial for our kingdom's survival. The Empyrean empire is strong.”

Mitsuki's smile widened as she took the signed document. "Excellent. You won't regret this. Bakugo will make a fine husband, many heirs will come from this, she is a virgin right?” The blonde asks “we can get her checked for it, *name* was very sheltered growing up so we can assure you she’s a virgin.” Your father explains, leaning back in his own squeaky wooden chair. His gaze turns to your mother, who seems distraught about marrying off her child to the barbarian prince. Someone famous for being a violent person.

at 17 years old bakugo had brought back the head of a powerful tribe leader and put it on a stick for everyone to see, at 18 years old he had gathered a small army of men and defeated the midoriya kingdom and had a bloody cloak from the one of the dead soilders to prove it. Then at 20 years old bakugo had forced izuku, the Feywood king to surrender his crown. Which put feywood in the empyrean empire. No one knows where izuku midoriya currently is, all the people know is that he was last scene getting dragged by his green locks by bakugo and was never seen again.

Later on

“YOU ARRANGED ME TO WHO!?” You screamed, staring at your parents in complete horror. How could they do this to you? You make one wrong move and your own husband would order your death! “Look it’s not so bad..” “NOT SO BAD? HES KILLED HUNDREDS! THOUSANDS EVEN” “He won’t kill you though!” Your father exclaimed, An attempt to calm you. “Look, bakugo may seem like a man killing war machine of a prince but his parents assured us that he’s very gentle with women.” You scoffed, leaning your weight to one hip “bullshit. He’s gonna kill me. Brutally, he’s gonna hack off my head just you watch”

Over the next few weeks, you tried everything to call off the arrangement. You attempted to run away before the virginity check, faked illness, and came up elaborate excuses. Nothing seemed to work. Your parents were stubborn, insisting that you marry Katsuki Bakugo for the strength of their own kingdom.

Lying in bed, you tossed and turned, unable to escape the looming dread of marrying the great, scary barbarian prince, soon to be barbarian king. What if he rips your head off just because you refuse to give him a kiss? The thought made your heart race with fear.

Suddenly, a knock on the door snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. A maid entered, her eyes gloomy with pity . "Your Highness? Tomorrow we will wake you early to help you begin packing for the travel to the Empyrean Kingdom," she said softly, her voice trembling as she tried to avoid any kind of trouble.

You groaned and turned your head toward her. "When am I being sent to them?" you asked

"U-uh, most likely the day after tomorrow," the maid stammered, clearly uneasy with your distress.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of your impending fate settle even heavier on your shoulders. "I see… thank you," you muttered.

You looked back at the red headed maid “How far is the journey?” You asked her softly, she fidgeted with her fingers “a-about two days, they live f-far from our kingdom your highness” she stammered. You smiled to the red head and dismissed her.

As she left you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. The thought of being married off to someone you had never met, someone with a terrifying reputation, filled you with a sense of dread and hopelessness. Your parents decision felt like a betrayal, a sacrifice of your happiness for the supposed greater good of the kingdom

You stood in the corner of your large room, watching as numerous servants took gowns, corsets, shoes, and other clothing items, placing them into bags. "U-uh, don’t barbarians wear less formal clothes? Shouldn’t I bring less?" you asked the maids. All of them turned to look at you, a hint of surprise on their faces.

"Her Highness makes a point," the same red-headed maid from the night before whispered to an older maid. The older maid, seemingly more experienced, turned toward you with a thoughtful expression.

"You're right, Your Royal Highness. They would probably end up burning these clothes or turning them into barbarian-styled garments," she conceded.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping in resignation. "What do barbarian women wear?" you asked the older maid, hoping for some clarity.

"Hm… flowy skirts, I’ve seen a few wear headdresses," she replied, as some of the gowns were hung back up in the closet. The maids began to sift through your belongings, selecting items that might be more appropriate for your new life.

As you watched the process, you couldn’t help but glance out the window. Your mother and father were walking in the garden, deep in conversation. They seemed so in love, so perfectly matched, yet they were throwing you into a marriage that promised nothing but misery. The contrast between their happiness and your dread was almost unbearable.

"Your Highness, we’ll pack lighter, more practical clothing for your journey," the older maid reassured.

"Thank you," you murmured, though your heart wasn't in it. The thought of being dressed in unfamiliar clothes, adapting to an unknown culture, and being wed to a man you feared only added to your anxiety.

As the servants continued their work, you wandered over to your bed, sinking down onto the edge. The weight of your impending departure pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You had grown up surrounded by luxury and love, and now you were being sent away, to marry probably the most violent man you’ve ever heard of

Tears welled up in your eyes as you thought about the future that awaited you. Would you ever find happiness in the Empyrean Kingdom? Would Katsuki Bakugo, the fierce and terrifying prince, ever come to care for you, or would you be nothing more than a means to an end?

"Your Highness, is there anything else you would like us to pack?" one of the younger maids asked, her voice gentle.

You shook your head, wiping away a stray tear. "No, just… make sure to leave out a few comfortable things for me to wear until we leave."

"Of course, Your Highness," she replied, her expression sympathetic.

As the maids continued their preparations, you lay back on your bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You tried to find comfort in the familiar surroundings, knowing that soon you would be leaving them behind.

"So, what's the barbarian kingdom like?" you asked, looking over to the maids. The older maid once again turned her head to look at you.

"Most of the people live in either big wooden houses with all sorts of weapons around or in these hut-like tent things. Either way, they have all these symbols painted on them," she described, clearly having been to the Empyrean Kingdom before.

"And what about the Bakugos? Where do they live? You asked

"They live in a stone castle with intricate paintings on it, and there's a lot of security. The last time I was there, they had spikes on the bridge leading to the castle, with people's heads mounted on them," the old maid replied,

"How long ago were you there?" you asked, feeling a chill run down your spine at the gruesome detail.

"When the young prince was about fifteen, so around five years ago," she said, placing one last corset into a bag.

You glanced at the six bags of items packed for your journey, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. It was a smaller amount than you had anticipated, yet it seemed to signify the end of one life and the beginning of another.

"Did you meet the prince?" you asked, trying to glean any information that might help you understand the man you were to marry.

"Briefly," she replied, her expression softening. "He was intense, even as a teenager. Always training, always pushing himself. But there was a sadness in his eyes, a loneliness."

You sighed, trying to reconcile the image of the fierce, terrifying prince with the glimpses of vulnerability the maid described. "And the people there? How are they?"

"Fierce, proud, and loyal," the older maid said. "They value strength above all else, but they also have a deep sense of honor and community. If you earn their respect, they'll defend you with their lives."

The more you learned, the more daunting your future seemed. Yet, there was a strange comfort in knowing that the barbarian kingdom, despite its harsh exterior, had its own codes and values.

As the maids continued their work, you tried to imagine what life in the Empyrean Kingdom would be like

"Is there anything else I should know?" you asked, your voice softer, almost hesitant.

The older maid paused, considering your question. "Just remember, Your Highness, that if you respect them and they’ll respect you."

Her words resonated with you, giving you a small but vital sense of empowerment. You nodded “alright, seems easy enough..”

The day that you needed to travel to the empyrean kingdom came, your parents watched you walk to the carriage by the gate as your mother sobbed into your fathers chest.

The ride to the Empyrean Kingdom was grueling. As the carriage rattled over uneven roads, you gazed out the window, the lush greenery of your homeland gradually giving way to the rugged, bushy but covered in tall trees landscape of the barbarian territory. The closer you got, the more your anxiety grew, each kilometre bringing you closer to the empyrean land

When you finally arrived at the castle, you were struck by its threatening look. The stone walls were decorated with weird red painted symbols, and the spiked bridge, as described by the maid, loomed menacingly ahead. Your heart pounded as you stepped out of the carriage, taking in the harsh surroundings.

A group of stern-faced and very attractive guards escorted you inside. The castle's interior was as intimidating as its exterior—dimly lit, with weapons and trophies of past battles displayed prominently on the walls. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you were led through the cold halls. You swore that if you listened close enough you could hear peoples screams in the dungeons below. Fuck was this hell with its 7 rings?

Finally, you were brought to a large chamber where a tall, muscular figure stood with his back to you. His spiky blonde hair was unmistakable. He was busy looking at a sheet of paper, the one oddly similar to the ones your parents shown you when they first announced your betrothal to bakugo. As he slowly turned to face you, his piercing red eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you want to look away. He looked almost angry at you, furious even. Which was confusing because you’ve known this man for a whole 10 seconds

he was tall and about 6ft with messy blonde hair, scars all over his body and face, and piercings on his ears and lip.

"So, you're the princess they sent," Katsuki said, his voice dripping with disdain. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression one of barely concealed annoyance. Katsuki had a deep voice that you couldn’t tell if you found attractive or if you wanted to run away and hide.

You straightened your back, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as you could muster. "I am," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady but it ended up sounding shaky.

Bakugo scoffed, looking you up and down as if to check if you were just a weak small baby or strong enough to be a wife and a queen “Great. Another weakling to babysit," he muttered under his breath.

Anger formed within you at his dismissive attitude. "I am not a weakling," you snapped. "And I am certainly not here to be babysat."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "We'll see about that," he said, turning away from you. "Follow me. There's no point in wasting time."

You clenched your fists, biting back a come back to insult him with as you followed him through the castle. Every step echoed in the vast, cold corridors. His steps much louder then yours due to his much larger frame

Bakugo led you to a large hall where a group of people—presumably his advisors and some of the castle staff—were gathered. He introduced you curtly, barely sparing you a glance as he did so. The looks you received ranged from curiosity to outright hostility, they clearly didn’t want you here. Just like the old maid back had home had warned, these people hated the weak.

After the introductions, Bakugo dismissed everyone, including you. "You'll be shown to your chambers. Don't get in my way or else," he said, theblonde clearly trying to end the conversation between you two before he could get sucked into some conversation he didn’t waht

You followed a servant to your chambers, a mix of anger and sadness within you. The room was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the rest of the castle, but it did little to lift your spirits. You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of your new reality settle over you.

Over the next few days, you tried to find your place in the castle. The people were distant and wary, their lack of trust clear in their every interaction with you. And Bakugo… he was even worse than most . He ignored you most of the time, and when he did speak to you, it was with a cold, dismissive tone that made your blood boil. He always had a tone of sass, trying to get under your skin constantly.

as the days grew closer and closer to your wedding date he seemed to just get more and more annoying, constantly having some tone of sass. Never wanting to talk to you and constantly flirting with your maids, you even went the effort to fire atleast 4 of them to keep their grotty hands to themselves.

“you done firing my staff now?” Bakugo grumbled as he caught up with you in the stone candle lit halls “your staff? You mean my staff? My staff who you seem to love flirting with” you corrected him, looking over your shoulder at him. The blonde furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed “I pay for them there for their my staff.” He growled, asking faster in an attempt to intimate you “actually, your parents pay for the staff.” “Hah?” “Your parent pay for the staff so their not your staff, their the palaces staff.” You said ignorantly as you played with the lace of your dress. “You gonna get out of that frill fest you call a gown?” He asked, again trying to insult you “if I do I’m gonna shove it up your ass” “excuse me?”

“Want me to say it slower? I—WILL—SHOVE—MY—GOW”

“OKAY OKAY SHUT UP WOMAN” he growled at you and walked off in spite “THATS WHAT WHAT I THOUGHT. THATS WHAT I THOUGHT.” You angrily yelled back to him, which in real aspect you were yelling at the back of his ignorant head. You huffed and stormed away in the opposite direction as you wanted nothing more then to get away from that man. As you stomped down the halls, footsteps echoing with each step; you heard a male voice call out to you

“Princess.”

you looked over, a certain brown haired man similar looking to katsuki stared back at you. It was king Masaru “I was looking for you” he says, walking towards you. You quickly curtsied to the king “About what?” You asked “we have a wedding date for you and my son” he smiled warmly as if this was a good thing “o-oh.. and when may that be..?” Your eyebrows furrowed with frustration “a month from now, they will date you to get your gown fitted this week” he seemed overly happy about something neither you or his temperamental son wanted.

“Will I wear a wedding dress from my country or your country?” You asked softly, trying to keep your cool “uh.. our country.” He informed you “I’d rather wear my own wedding gown though, your majesty” “well.. you belong to our kingdom now. We can give you a dress that’s a mix of the two if you’d rather” he compromised, trying to keep with both your and his kingdom. Letting out a sigh your shoulders dropped “I suppose that be okay…” a look of mild disappointment on your face “wonderful, I’m glad we could come to a compromise” he smiled and walked off, an electric blonde guard following close behind him who you earlier learned his name was kaminari. The blonde goofily smiled to you, he seemed like a character. The two men walked off as they chatted, rolling your eyes you too began to walk in the direction of your bedroom chambers.

you couldn’t sleep that night, you tried changing your nightgown, exercising, reading a book, meditating, everything! nothing would help you sleep this night, you wondered if it was the weird interaction with king Masaru or the fact your own fiance was when you think about it was cheating on you with your own staff members. you slowly slid out of bed and out of your silk sheets, rubbing your face up and down with your hands with frustration. Looking down at your feet you sighed, looking out of the window. the night sky was so peaceful unlike your mind which was running with less the pleasant thoughts. How could you get Katsuki to like you? or at least tolerate you in some way so he wouldn't be the most annoying little shit.

The creak of the door hinges squeaks as you pushed the heavy wooden door open, wincing at the high pitch noise. Slowly but quietly gou walked towards the chambers of your future husband. As you approached the door you hear two voices come from the inside

“you’ll need to learn to cherish and care for her eventually”

“why would I do that?” “She is your fiancé! Your future wife! Future mother of your heirs!”

“you except me to fuck her too? Shit.”

“Yes obviously! Your gonna need heirs for our kingdom!”

“fine. Before or after this whole wedding?”

“well In her kingdom, you two do that on the wedding night but to be honest I don’t really care when you do her”

“Too easy”

safe to say your whole face was pink, with either anger or arousal but you couldn’t tell

Tag list!

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tendertulip · 6 months ago

Text

under pressure

word count: 3.8k

summary: You can’t seem to get away from the Marauders and their hopeless flirting. After turning them down continually, the four of you get paired up for a Potions project. With the help of a messy dorm room and a record player, you find out you may have more in common than you thought.

content: poly!marauders x slytherin!reader, just a bit of language, kind of enemies to lovers maybe?, a tiny mention of jegulus tehe, grumpy x sunshine trope, idk i think that’s it?? lmk if there’s anything else!

authors notes: here it finally is!! sooo sorry it took me so long to post this, life has been crazy recently! also i know that under pressure isn’t exactly time accurate for when they were at hogwarts but just go along with it ily! i’m probably gonna make this a series so if you have any ideas or suggestions please leave a comment or request! anyways pretty please lmk what you think!! enjoy lovies!

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Another day of trying to fend off the Marauders with a fucking stick. You weren’t known for being particularly warm to anyone, let alone to the three boys who terrorized your house-mates daily, even though you always seemed to escape their pranks untouched. Unfortunately, your cold demeanor never deterred them from trying to charm you. Each of them, in their own way, had attempted to catch your attention, only to find your wit and icy demeanor an insurmountable wall. Every attempt was more vexing than the last, and you were growing more perturbed by the sight of them every day. It did, however, brighten your day a little, in some sick way, seeing their faces when you turned them down.

James was the first to try. Armed with his trademark confidence and lopsided grin, he cornered you outside the Potions classroom one afternoon, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Hey angel,” he greeted, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“We have class together, Potter,” you replied flatly, brushing past him and into the classroom.

Unbothered, he followed you, sliding into the seat next to yours despite the scowl you shot his way. “You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“That sounds dangerous.”

He laughed, undeterred by the jab you threw at him. “You’re funny. I like that. So, how about this—you, me, Remus, Sirius, a butterbeer in Hogsmeade this weekend?”

You didn’t even look up from your parchment. “I’d rather spend the weekend brewing Bubotuber pus.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning closer. “You’ll be missing out on the best date of your life.”

You leaned away automatically before finally meeting his gaze, your expression blank. “And you’ll be missing out on your dignity if you don’t leave me alone.”

James blinked, momentarily stunned, before letting out a bark of laughter. “Alright, angel. I like a challenge.”

“Good,” you said, turning back to your work. “Because you’re not getting anything else.”

He nodded with brows raised, “I’m aware.”

You spent the rest of class dodging his looks and ignoring his sickeningly sweet comments, gathering your books and hurrying out as soon as class was over, successfully avoiding any more hopeless persuading from James.

Sirius Black was the next to suffer. He prided himself on his charm. He’d never met a girl he couldn’t win over—until you.

It started in the library, where you were seated alone at a table, engrossed in a particularly dense-looking book. Sirius slid into the seat across from you, his signature smirk firmly in place.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he drawled, propping his chin on his hand.

You rolled your eyes internally and didn’t look up. “Black.”

“Studying hard, I see. Not that you need to. I bet you’re brilliant at everything.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said, turning a page.

He grinned. “I’ve got other tricks up my sleeve.”

“I doubt that.”

His smirk faltered for a split second, but he recovered quickly. “Alright, love. What would it take to get you to have dinner with me?”

“An entirely different personality,” you said, still not looking up. You knew that statement was mostly true, or maybe, deep down, you were trying to convince yourself more than him.

He let out an exaggerated gasp. “You wound me.”

“Not yet,” you muttered, scribbling something in the margins of your book.

Sirius leaned back in his chair, clearly torn between frustration and amusement. “You’re playing hard to get.”

“No,” you said, finally meeting his eyes with a deadpan expression. “Try impossible.”

For once, Sirius had no response. He dragged in a breath, knowing he was losing momentum the longer he stayed silent. He sided with giving the table a quick tap as he got up and reluctantly walked away, mentally kicking himself for being off his game.

Remus Lupin was the final victim. He was subtler in his approach. He wasn’t one for grand gestures or flashy lines; instead, he opted for quiet conversation and shared study sessions. You were virtually looking over your shoulder every five seconds, knowing he would be trying his hand with you at some point. You avoided all three boys as much as you could, turning heel and leaving if you saw them coming your way in the corridor or entering the room you were in. Of course, your luck ran out.

He found you in the greenhouse one afternoon, tending to a particularly finicky Venomous Tentacula.

“Need a hand?” he offered, stepping carefully around the plant, his hands in his pockets.

You glanced at him, brow raised. “Not from you,” You paused, taking in the calm air around him, and against your better judgement, spoke again. “What would you know about Venomous Tentaculas?”

“Not much, but enough to know not to touch it,” he said with a small smile.

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t smile back. “I’m fine, thanks.”

He leaned against the workbench, watching you carefully prune the plant. “You’re good at this.”

“Obviously.” You kept an eye on him out of your peripherals, apprehensive, surprised he wasn’t trying to get in a spare word wherever he can, like James and Sirius did.

He chuckled softly. “I was being polite.”

“Well, don’t,” you said, setting down your shears and brushing dirt off your hands, turning to face him. “It’s unnecessary.”

Remus hesitated, then said, “You know, you don’t have to be so guarded all the time.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you don’t have to waste your time trying to psychoanalyze me.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were,” you scoffed, cutting him off. “And for the record, I don’t need your pity or your approval. So, if you’re done, I have actual work to do.”

Remus sighed, pushing off the workbench. “Alright, dove. I’ll leave you to it.”

And there’s another dreaded pet name. “Good idea.”

As he walked away, he glanced back over his shoulder. You were already focused on the plant again, seeming as if he hadn’t been there at all. When you heard the door shut behind Remus as he left, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He was the most tolerable out of the three, giving you space when you asked for it, leaving when you wanted. He was calmer than the others, a quality you appreciated. You shake the thought out of your head and pick up the shears once more.

The boys reconvened in the Gryffindor common room that evening, nursing their bruised egos.

“She’s impossible,” James declared, flopping onto the couch.

“Completely heartless,” Sirius agreed, though his tone was more impressed than frustrated.

“I told you,” Remus said calmly, sipping his tea. “She’s not interested.”

James sat up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Or maybe… she just doesn’t know us well enough yet.”

Sirius grinned. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Remus sighed. “This can’t possibly end well.”

But he didn’t stop them from planning their next move.

Within two weeks, their plan was in motion. The three boys were so dedicated that they spared time out of their precious weekend and stayed after Potions one day, ambushing Slughorn. Somehow, pretty easily in fact, they managed to convince him to make the four of you partners for the new project. Sirius put it under the guise of needing your “brilliant brain and knowledge” because he and James were “trying to be better students”. As if.

The next week, Slughorn announced the groups for the project. You sighed and narrowed your eyes at the three boys, knowing that somehow, this was their doing. If it was one thing, they were persistent. If only they put that effort into their schoolwork.You hoped you could just get this over with as soon as possible, you would even do all the work yourself to avoid being stuck in a room with them. You hurried out of class that day, annoyed. You shoved through the boys as they had tried to make their way to you as soon as you were dismissed.

You sat at your usual spot in the library, a fortress of books surrounding you, quill scratching furiously across parchment, trying to possibly finish the project without having any contact with the three menaces seated across the library. You could hear them whispering just a few tables away, their presence proving to be an irritating hum in the back of your mind. Sirius laughed, low and rich, and you refused to look up.

“Hey, angel,” James called, sliding into the seat across from you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and instead flipped the page of your textbook. “Since we’re all partners for the Potions project, we thought we’d… collaborate.”

“I don’t recall asking for collaboration,” you replied dryly, not sparing him a glance.

“That’s the thing about group projects,” Sirius chimed in, plopping into the chair beside you, a roguish grin plastered on his face. “It doesn’t require your approval.”

You raised a brow, scooting your chair away from him slightly. “I didn’t realize Gryffindors believed in forcing unwilling participants into things. Aren’t you supposed to be noble or something?”

Remus, the most tolerable of the trio, slid into the seat on your other side, carrying a stack of books. “You’re right, dove,” he said smoothly, voice calm and measured. “But unfortunately for you, Slughorn paired us up.”

Your jaw clenched. Sluggy and his infuriating belief in “Inter-House unity.”

“Fine,” you said sharply. “But don’t expect me to do all the work while you three mess around.” In truth, you were happy to do all the work if it meant you could escape this conversation.

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” James said, eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

The next evening, you found yourself in the Gryffindor dormitory, an unfamiliar space that smelled of old parchment, broom polish, faintly of Sirius’ cologne, and something you can only describe as teenage boys. You had practically begged to meet anywhere else, their dormitory being the last place you wanted to end up. Coincidentally, every option you came up with seemed to be taken. Your dorm-mates were using your dorm for their own projects, and were firm on their stance of “no boys, especially not those ones.” The library had a suspiciously timed incident of smoke bombs exploding, and all the students had to vacate until it was aired out. It had Marauders written all over it. Your house-mates would rather die than have three Gryffindors in their common room, so you didn’t even suggest it. As a last resort, you tried to coax them into working in their common room, but, once again, the answer was no. The rest of their in-house friend group decided to work right in front of the fireplace. The girl who introduced herself as Marlene definitely had a glint in her eyes, as if she was in on it. You just couldn’t win.

Reluctantly, you followed them up the stairs to work in their dorm. The room was, oddly enough, exactly what you expected. The space that was tidy with stacks of books on the floor next to the bed had to belong to Remus. Fitting. James’ and Sirius’ beds seemed to blend together, the only telling factors being the Quidditch posters by James’ bed and the record player and band posters by Sirius’. Also fitting. You knew most of the bands on Sirius’ posters. Surprised, you shook your head slightly. You couldn’t have anything in common with these boys, could you? The fourth bed, which you learned belonged to Peter, one of the boys in the group holed up in the common room, was a mix of tidy and messy, with a half-played game of chess sitting on the blanket.

There were clothes strewn on the floor between James’ and Sirius’ beds, both of the boys scrambling to pick them up and throw them out of sight as you walked in. They looked at you like they hoped you hadn’t seen it. You had. Remus scoffed a chuckle, which you somewhat appreciated, but didn’t let it show.

Now here you were, perched awkwardly on the edge of Remus’ bed, the cleanest place in the room, with your arms crossed, as the boys arranged their notes across the floor. The Gryffindor dormitory felt strangely foreign to you, with its warm tones and cozy chaos. It was nothing like the pristine coldness of the Slytherin common room, where everything was sharp edges and muted colors. Here, the atmosphere was alive, buzzing with an energy you couldn’t entirely place—and didn’t trust.

“So,” Sirius began, lounging on a pillow in his usual carefree manner, “any brilliant ideas, gorgeous?”

“I have several,” you replied, not acknowledging the irksome pet name, “but I doubt you’d appreciate the brilliance.”

James smirked. “Why so cold, angel? We’re charming, aren’t we?”

You snorted. “You’re persistent. That’s not the same thing.”

Sirius grinned, leaning forward. “I bet we’ll grow on you.”

You ignored him, focusing instead on the pile of notes on the bed in front of you. That was, until Sirius got up and began rifling through a stack of records near his bed. You rolled your eyes.

This was supposed to be about the project.

At least, that’s what you told yourself when you agreed to meet them here instead of putting your foot down and insisting on the library or another neutral space, or perhaps even working together on another day entirely. But you weren't naive—you knew better. The Marauders had been relentless in their attempts to worm their way into your life, and you had been equally relentless in shutting them down.

“You know,” James said, glancing up from his notes with an infuriating grin, “it’s not every day we let a Slytherin into our sacred quarters.”

Sirius spoke over his shoulder as he searched through the records. “Even Regulus hasn’t seen it.” You glance at Remus as he tries to catch your attention.

He mouthed, “His brother.” to you. You roll your eyes and mouth back, “I know that. House-mates, remember?”

James responded to Sirius aloud, “...Right, yeah.” You narrowed your eyes slightly, knowing his response was suspicious, but not pushing further. None of your business.

“Oh, I’m honored,” you replied to James’ initial comment, deadpanned.

Remus shot James a look. “Don’t mind him. He’s been insufferable since he got that Outstanding in Charms.”

“Not insufferable,” James protested, recovering and tossing a quill at Remus. “Confident.”

“Arrogant.” You corrected without missing a beat.

James clutched his chest as if you’d wounded him. “You wound me, love.”

“No,” you said, inspecting your nails. “But I’m considering it.”

From the corner of the room, Sirius laughed, his voice rich and warm. “I like her. She’s got bite.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Black?,” you muttered, side-eyeing him as he turned around with a record in hand. You immediately kicked yourself mentally for saying something that could be misconstrued as flirting.

Sirius’ eyes lit up. “In fact I would, doll. You offering?” Sirius said, flashing you a grin. You rolled your eyes, your silence being response enough. He took the record out of its sleeve.

“What are you doing?” you asked, brow furrowing.

“Setting the mood,” he said with a wink, sliding the record onto the turntable. Moments later, the opening notes of a familiar song filled the room. The unmistakable opening notes of Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie graced your ears.

Your quill paused mid-sentence.

You didn’t mean to react, but the music stirred something in you—an instinctive recognition, a fondness you couldn’t quite mask. Maybe you could have something in common with them after all. Your lips twitched, just barely, and though you fought to remain impassive, your lips began to move slightly to mouth the words of the song. Anyone looking would probably just assume you were just talking to yourself to figure out your assignment. Unfortunately, you had no such luck.

Remus was watching you from his place on the floor, leaning against Sirius’ bed. A small smirk formed on his face as you continued reading a Potions book, still mouthing the words to the song. He scoffed a small chuckle and shook his head, not having expected you, of all people, to listen to Queen or Bowie.

The small noise caught Sirius’ attention and his eyes flicked to Remus. He followed his gaze to you, and he caught it immediately. His dark eyes lit up like fireworks. “Wait a minute.”

You looked at him sharply. “What?”

“You like Queen,” he said, his voice brimming with something close to awe.

“It’s just a song,” you replied, tone clipped, feigning indifference, but the words didn’t carry much weight.

James and Remus exchanged a glance, both clearly intrigued.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Sirius said, practically bounding over to you, his excitement spilling over. “This isn’t ‘just a song.’ This is Queen. This is brilliance. This is art. And you, my darling—” he pointed at you dramatically, “—you know it.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, Sirius flopped onto the bed beside you, far too close for comfort. Remus chided him for messing up his blanket, a scold he hadn’t extended to you when you sat down. You leaned away from Sirius slightly, but made no effort to actually move.

“Admit it,” he said, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “You’ve got good taste.”

Your lips twitched again, and this time you couldn’t quite stop the ghost of a smile from appearing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“It’s just a song,” you said stiffly, though your body language had betrayed you.

“No, no, this is monumental,” Sirius declared, rolling dramatically onto his side and throwing his arms in the air. “I knew you had taste!”

Remus took this as an opportunity to chime in. “Queen’s one of his favorite bands.”

“They’re the best band,” Sirius corrected. “And now I know you have some semblance of a soul.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t pull away when Sirius leaned closer, his energy almost contagious. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Black,” you said, but your lips twitched upward ever so slightly.

James, not one to miss an opportunity, tossed you another question. “Alright, love. What’s your favorite Queen song?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “I’m not playing your little games, Potter.”

“Fine.” he looked away for a moment, before turning back with a hopeful smile. “Queen or Bowie?”

Remus, ever the observant one, chimed in gently after a moment. “It’s alright, you know. You can like Queen and still pretend you don’t tolerate us.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. The music played on, filling the room with its familiar rhythm, and for the first time that evening, for the first time with them, you felt yourself softening—just a fraction.

You hesitated, eyes flickering to Sirius, whose expression was a mix of hope and anticipation. He was grinning like he’d just won the Quidditch Cup. You scoff in resignation. “...Both. But I’m partial to Queen.”

Sirius let out a triumphant laugh, throwing his arms into the air. “I fucking knew it! She’s got taste!”

“Congratulations,” you said dryly. “You’ve discovered that I enjoy good music. What a revelation.”

“It is,” Sirius insisted, still grinning. “You’ve officially earned a pass in my book.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A pass for what?”

“For being tolerable,” he said jokingly, as if it were obvious.

“Oh, how generous of you.”

Remus chuckled softly. “You’ll have to forgive him, dove. He doesn’t know how to behave like a normal person.”

“I can see that.” You snickered dryly, appreciating the semblance of alliance you seemed to have formed with Remus.

Sirius leaned back on his elbows, watching you with an expression that was almost smug. “See, gorgeous? You’ve got more in common with us than you think.”

“Now I wouldn’t go that far,” you shot back, though the edge in your voice was noticeably duller. Sirius looked back at you deadpanned, but that smirk seemed to be glued to his face.

“Fine,” you muttered. “I like Queen. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Sirius said, beaming.

For the first time, you didn’t feel entirely out of place with them.

James, sensing the shift, tossed you a chocolate frog from his nightstand. “You’ve somehow found common ground with Sirius. That means you’re officially one of us now.”

You caught it, unwrapping it slowly. You raised your brows at him. “One of you? A kind offer, but no.”

Sirius threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning like a madman. The contact was uncomfortable, but you made no effort to pull away completely. Remus chimed in this time. “Sirius is the most judgemental out of all of us. You get in with him? You passed.” He shrugged at you as if his statement was absolute.

James leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You know, angel, we might just have to keep you around.”

You scoffed. “Please don’t.”

“Too late,” Sirius said, his grin practically splitting his face. “You’re one of us now, whether you like it or not.” He leaned towards you and placed a dramatic kiss on your cheek. This time, you leaned away, furrowing your brows at him, wiping your face with your hand.

“Watch yourself, Black. You want to keep those lips? Keep them off me.” You shot at him.

Sirius gave you the infuriatingly enticing smirk that seems to be consistently plastered to his face. “Whatever you say, doll. But soon enough, you’ll be begging for our lips on you,” He shot a wink at you.

You rolled your eyes in response, popping the chocolate frog into your mouth. You glance at the other two boys, who seem to agree with Sirius. “In your dreams, Black.”

Sirius got up from the bed, scurrying to his corner, “Oh, believe me, we see you plenty in our dreams, gorgeous.”

For the first time, you don’t have a response.

Before you could wallow in the feeling of being speechless, Sirius came back with a thick stack of records and tossed them down on the bed next to you, earning him another scold from Remus about getting floor germs on his bed. You chuckle and share a look with him, shaking your head at Sirius’ antics. Sirius began to shuffle through his albums, questioning you about every band he knew of, as he tried to find another similarity between you. James chimed in every so often, commenting on one of the few bands or songs he knew of, only to get brushed off by Sirius as he was awaiting your input. Remus looked on from the floor, periodically trying to continue to work on the project. After a while, all of your schoolwork layed forgotten on the floor. As the music played on and the boys pulled you into their banter, you found yourself relaxing—just a little. Maybe they weren’t as insufferable as you thought.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

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#poly!marauders x slytherin!reader #poly!marauders x reader #marauders x reader #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #james x reader #sirius x reader #remus x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #marauders #hogwarts #harry potter

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