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meowdymista · 4 years ago

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v. we might be dead by tomorrow

Part of the Devil’s Backbone project - Masterlist

“My God, is that Sadie Adler?”

Turning around, the woman’s mouth drops open. “Arthur motherfuckin’ Morgan!” she squeals, throwing her arms up and hugging him tight. “Oh my god! I thought you were dead! Am I dreaming? Is it really you?"

"It's me, alright." He groans as he squeezes her close, both of them laughing as he finally releases her and holds her at arm's length. "What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Bounty huntin' mostly." She slaps his arm looking him up and down, her eyes still sparkling with disbelief. "What about you? What have you been doin' all these years that you couldn't drop by to say hi to your good friend Sadie?"

"Avoidin' Pinkertons mostly." He nods at the bartender who promptly pours two double shots of whisky. They toast and only Arthur pulls a face. "Been travellin' around with Jack and Abigail, tryna get them settled someplace."

"You're still with them?" She nods appreciatively. "Does that mean you and Abigail…?" He gives her a blank stare. “Are you two… together?”

“Oh! Nah, o’course not. She’s always been in love with Marston.”

“Well, John’s been dead goin’ on eight years now.”

“So’s Jake. Have you met someone?”

Sliding another dollar to the bartender, she blows a long raspberry. “Have I hell. I think that was it for me. I’m not exactly meeting the best of suitors in my line of work.”

Arthur shrugs, accepting the beer she pushes into his hand. “Well, there you have it.”

“Oh no, you ain’t getting off that easy! You can’t be tellin’ me you ain’t ever slept together?”

“The women we travelled with were working girls, Sadie, with the exception of you. I mean, even Molly was startin’ that way ‘til Dutch picked her up.”

“I meant since I last saw y’all.” She laughs at the colour creeping up Arthur’s neck. “I knew it!”

“It ain’t like that, Sadie-”

“Well what’s it like then?” she teases with a big smile.

“It’s- y’know what it’s like. Some nights are more lonely than others.” His gaze is fixed on his fingers as they pick at the label,

“So you’ve only done it once or twice?” The heat starts burning in the cartilage of his ears. “Or once or twice this week?”

“We ain’t done it this week!” Arthur sits up a little taller, his cheeks still burning.

“No sexual activity at all?” He glances at her, his faltering voice making her laugh. “Arthur Morgan, how I’ve missed you!”

“Shurrup!” he growls, shoving her gently and draining the rest of his beer in one. “Don’t you have some work to be gettin’ on with?”

“Why? You sick of me already?” Her hand squeezes his shoulder until he meets her gaze. “Listen. I’m happy for you. You deserve to have a loving family.”

“You got the wrong end of the stick. I’m just helping ‘em get settled. We bought some land and built a ranch on it. When it’s paid for itself and they got a foot on this farming shit, I’ll leave ‘em to it.”

“How old is the ranch now?”

“About a year or more.”

“And you’re set on movin’?”

He shrugs. “I ain’t gonna outstay my welcome. Just wanna make sure they’ll be alright.”

Shaking her head, she heaves a deep breath. “What’s Abigail say about that?”

“We ain’t really talked about it-”

“So you’re sleepin’ together, runnin’ a ranch and helpin’ with her boy… but you’re still intending to leave?”

“Shit, Sadie, it won’t be for a while yet. Another year or more... it depends. I don’t know. Nobody knows.”

Quiet blankets the conversation. They each accept another beer, drinking wordlessly.

“Pearson runs the shop out in Rhodes now,” she states calmly.

“Really? Good for him!”

“Got himself a wife too - Esther.” Her sideways glance is enough to tickle him. “She’s got him as whipped as his Aunt Cathy!”

“Well, it weren’t for lack of suitors!” He laughs remembering their first trip into Rhodes. “Damn, Mrs Adler. Where does the time go?”

“Speak for yourself, old man! Them grey hairs had to come from somewhere.”

He scratches the stubble on his jaw self consciously. “Shurrup. I’m retired.”

“Didn’t know reprobates could retire.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head as he stands up. “Me neither, but it’s nice to try.”

“Well if you ever want any work, you know where I am. Most towns have bounty posters up and around. If you need money for the ranch, or if you’re serious about leaving ‘em to it…”

“Huh, maybe. I used to pick some up back in the day. You got an address, or an alias if I wanna write?”

“Nothin’ particular. Send it to wherever you hear from me last. No alias - this is legal work I’m doin’ now, so Mrs Adler is just fine. Yourself?”

“Beecher’s Hope, West Elizabeth.”

“Near Blackwater?”

“That’s the one.”

“I heard there’s some rough folk thataway.”

“The Skinner Brothers? Yeah, they can be pretty nasty.”

She hesitates. “I guess I can see why you want to stick around a bit longer… To make sure they’re safe.”

He agrees without much commitment - that reason is as good as any. “You should drop by if you’re in the area. I’m sure Abigail and Jack would love to see you and how well you’re doing for yourself.”

“I’ll definitely think about it.” She offers her hand, but he knocks it aside and pulls her into another hug.

“I’ll see you again, Mrs Adler.”

“Another time, Mr Morgan!” She tips her hat as Arthur waves back.

*****

Rufus gallops across the ranch as Arthur rides in trying not to jostle his arm. “Go away, boy,” he hisses. “Where’s Jack? Go play with Jack.” He swears as the dog begins to bark at him. His horse is too used to his grumpy antics to be moved by the aging pup.

He nudges his horse to the barn doors, using the bottom of his bow to prod them open ahead of the mare. Inside, he swings himself down, not caring if there is a steaming pile of manure where he lands. He's fortunate to land on the concrete with little more than a hiss at the jostle. Moving to the nearest stall to light a lamp, he finds Jack reading besides his favourite calf.

"Hey, Uncle Arthur."

"What are you doing out here at this hour?" he growls, snatching the book out of his hands and marking the page with a feather from his hat. "Get inside!"

"Y-yes sir." The boy is clearly taken aback. Arthur rarely exposes his fierce side nowadays - mostly he is calm, quietly cheerful, and appreciative of even the smallest conveniences. He scrambles to his feet, reaching out for the book when his eyes are drawn to the wound with a horrified gasp. "Uncle Arthur!"

He grimaces, still trying to usher him outside. "Shurrup! You want to wake everyone?"

"You're hurt!" It is more of a question than an exclamation, but his stuttering doesn't expect an answer. "What happened? Are we in danger? Is it Pinkertons? What do we do?"

"Shit, Jack! Breathe!" He squeezes the boy's shoulder, staring him in the eye. "It's nothing you need to worry about. No one's coming here, no one is coming to hurt us, alrigh'? Take a breath before you pass out or somethin'."

"Then what happened to your arm?" Arthur resists the urge to roll his eyes. "It looks pretty deep. Did a bear get you?"

"Sure."

"Do we need to get the animals in? What if it comes onto the ranch? What were you doing out so late anyway?"

"Boah!" Gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes to help keep his composure. "Get to bed or God help me, I ain't above knocking you out to get some peace!"

When he opens his eyes he expects the boy to be moving away, but instead he's leaning in to look at the wound.

"You need me to bring Ma? You look like you need stitches."

"No!" He grips his arm tight enough to make him whimper. "Do not breathe a word of this to your mother. This is between you an' me, a'right?"

"You need help-"

"I can take care of myself." He releases him and steps back, beginning to get supplies from his saddle bags. "Don't you go breathin' a word about this to anyone, y'hear? Nobody."

Jack watches tentatively as the man begins to remove his jacket and shirt. Seeing the ripped flesh makes his stomach churn. "What can I do?"

"I told yer-"

"Let me help." Jack nods once, his small soft face gripped with determination. "What do you need? I- I know where Ma keeps her sewing kit. An' I'm sure there'll be some boiled water left over for drinkin'. Will salt help?"

Arthur sighs, his body sagging as he deliberates. He has never been good at accepting help. The only reason he accepted any help in the past was because of Grimshaw's steadfast stubbornness or he was outnumbered. All those years of being strong… standing tall… and now he can't even scare a boy out of a barn.

"Fine. Bring me a clean union suit too. I think I saw my blue one knocking about somewhere. An' a pair of pliers - the small ones. Should be under the sink or up in the loft with Uncle."

The boy runs off leaving Arthur to reflect. For a boy without his father, he was growing up strong. He was lucky to have his mother's lust for learning, but somehow his father's gait had survived, especially when he ran. Sometimes Arthur would catch himself watching him and remembering the crap John got into at his age. If John was a coyote, Jack was a fox. He had a good head on his shoulders, and always assessed the risks rather than blundering in blindly like his father did. It was just a shame that the recklessness had been completely swallowed by such delicate hesitation - some things were best learned by jumping in the deep end.

The door creaks as Jack slips back inside breathless, his cheeks rosy from the exertion.

"I was quick as I could. Nobody saw me I don't think."

"Good." Arthur pulls the cork from an open bottle of whiskey with his teeth, spitting it against the wall before chugging its contents. “C’mere. Best we get to by the light if you’re gonna do this.”

Jack gulps as Arthur sits himself on the milking stool, wincing as he inspects the wound. “D’you got the pliers?”

“Right here, sir.”

“OK, now I’m gonna need you to take a look in the wound. I’m sure one of ‘em got me with an arrow before the bastard sliced me.”

“An arrow?” repeats the boy, swallowing his stomach as he eyes the mess of flesh. “You said it was a bear?”

He scoffs. “I’ve said many things in my life, Jack Marston, not all of them honest.”

The boy doesn’t reply. He’s trying to breathe through his mouth but the iron in the air still caresses his tastebuds. “I can’t see anything, Uncle Arthur.”

“Alright. Grab a shirt from Gwyn and bring over the salt water. We gotta get this clean before you sew it up.”

“I ain’t done much sewin’ before.”

Arthur grunts. “Now’s as good a time as any.”

The boy is obedient. He tries to be as careful as possible, but despite his ginger pats, a hiss still seeps out between his teeth. Arthur leans his head back against the barn wall to keep himself steady.

“I saw Sadie Adler when I went out Valentine way. D’you remember her?”

Jack thinks back as he wrings the shirt out. “Maybe?”

“Well, she’s doin’ well. Bounty huntin’. Said it’s good money.” He exhales sharply. “I been doin’ some here and there. Mostly fraudsters or petty thieves. None with any fight or any weapons or shit.”

“Why?”

He tilts his head to review the boy’s reaction. The whiskey and blood loss has loosened his tongue. “I want to help you and your ma buy this place outright. Eight dollars a day is plenty to keep y’all fed and clothed but the bank likes to charge more the longer it takes you to pay it back.”

“Ma will kill you if she finds out.”

“Don’t tell her.” He grips the boy’s wrist with his good arm. “Please? This- this was foolishness. I knew I shouldn’t have taken it.”

“So why did you?”

“I used to be a good shot. A few years back I could have taken ‘em out without any bother, but either I’m gettin’ slow or they’ve got faster.” He glances at his arm and scoffs. “Maybe both,” he grunts as he takes another deep swig of liquor.

“OK, well, it looks clean. Still doesn’t look to be anything much in there.”

“A’right. Bring a needle an’ thread over. Next bit is easy, ok?”

After Jack overcomes his squeamishness, Arthur is sewn up in no time. The boy helps him clean the smaller cuts and injuries, including a bullet in his leg that hadn’t gone too deep. By the time he’s finished, Arthur is dozing, slumped against one of the beams. He wakes him with a gentle shake and heaves him to his feet.

“Hol’ up a minute.” Arthur staggers to the horse and begins to pull at the saddle. Seeing what he’s trying to do with limited mobility, Jack quickly unfastens the clasps and helps set it aside. “Thanks, son.” He ruffles his hair fondly. “Y’know, you look like your father did at your age?”

“Really?” Jack pulls his arm over his shoulder, leading him in the direction of the house. Colour is beginning to light the sky. It must be near three in the morning.

“Yeah. I didn’t care much for him then.” He snorts laughing. “Your Uncle Hosea wasn’t best pleased with me.”

****

Arthur grunts as a hammering brings him back to consciousness. His body is stiff, his mouth dry, his head thumping without the noise. Squinting in the morning light, Jack is sticking his head through the door.

“Uncle Arthur? Are you ok?”

“Never better,” he growls sarcastically. “What’s up?”

“Mrs Adler - the lady you spoke about last night? She’s outside.”

#sadie adler #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fic #red dead fanfic #meowdymista #jack marston

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thechildoflightning · 5 years ago

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Pumpkin Ch2- Funnel

Title: Pumpkin [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: LAMP/CALM

~~~

Chapter Title: Funnel- Chapter Two

Summary:

Family traditions are something Virgil’s never really had in a good way before. He had traditions- rituals- in his life once. But they weren’t the good kind. After, well his father had tried and they did have small traditions. But for the most part, Virgil never had that chance, never had the chance to create small little traditions with his family.

And now he does. He has that chance.

Warnings:

[ao3 link]

~~~

Funnel- Chapter Two

It’s Kit who sees the pony first, just as they finally escape from the maze. His ears go on end and his nose points towards it, attention singularly focused on the mysterious animal.

“Kit,” Roman chides, not realizing yet what had caught his attention.

Kit turns back to Roman, focus waving between him and the pony, obviously wanting to behave but being distracted by the new animal and scents.

“He sees the pony,” Virgil comments, following Kit’s line of sight.

Roman turns, and his eyes light up.

“He hasn’t seen a pony before,” Logan notes from next to them. Virgil nods, and they walk towards the small animal pens.

Kit goes with them, enthusiastic but cautious. His ears are pricked up and his nose is sniffing like crazy, trying to decipher all the smells.

When they reach the fence, Kit goes right up to it, sniffing at the pony. The pony looks down at him in equal interest and leans down to meet Kit. The pony gives a wide snort, nostrils flaring, and Kit darts back a few paces before cautiously coming forward. He reaches through the fence and wacks the pony’s nose.

“Kit!” Virgil says unsure whether to laugh or admonish the pup. The pony sees fine and there’s no harm done, but Kit also can’t go around batting animals. Though to be fair, the pony is also something he has never seen before.

Virgil just settles for shaking his head, not bothering to correct it unless it happens again. He’ll keep an eye out, that’s enough for now.

“Look, there’s ducklings,” Patton says, pointing over to one of the enclosures. The follow his lead to the new fenced off area where a few ducks and numerous ducklings lie. Starting there, they go down the line, cooing at all the animals that are particularly cute. They get to the pigs later, and Logan reads out the names for them on the plaque.

Virgil doesn’t pay much attention, eyes locked on the critters, but the last name makes him pause.

“Wait what did you say the pig was named?” Virgil asked.

“Waddles,” Logan said.

“That’s from a thing. I don’t know what thing. But it’s from a thing. What’s it from?”

His spouses give him shrugs so Virgil pulls out his phone to check. He knows it’s from something, and it’ll bug him all day if he doesn't check now.

“Gravity Falls,” he says outloud, “It’s from Gravity Falls.”

“Oh yeah!” Patton says, “Yeah it’s Mabel’s pig.”

“Who’s Mabel?” Virgil asks.

“You know Waddles but not Mabel?”

“No,” Virgil shakes his head and tries to figure it out, “Like- I recognize both names. But I don’t know from what.”

He searches up Mabel from Gravity Falls, and he suddenly knows where he’s seen the cute animation style before.

“Picani,” he realizes, “Picani has a poster in his office.”

Well- Picani has many posters in his office. But there’s definitely a Gravity Falls one now that Virgil thinks about it. With a boy and a girl in the center with a pig and somewhere in the background there’s a floating triangle with an eye. Oh and a weird uncle.

“Hmm,” Patton hums, “We should watch it. It’s a good show. Cute. About these two twins who go spend the summer with their great uncle where a bunch of weird supernatural stuff happens. I think there would definitely be triggers for you though. We can check ‘Does the Dog Die?.’”

“Oh I think my sister’s seen this show!” Roman chimes in, “Wait is one of the twins trans? I’m like 90% sure she said one of them was trans. Or both. Was it both?”

“...Technically neither of them are trans?” Patton admits, “But they’re both trans now. Because I’m trans and I say so.”

“Valid,” Virgil says.

He’s quickly followed by Roman’s, “Mood.”

“Did Esther like the show?” Logan asks.

“Hmm? Oh uh- I think so?” Roman replies, face scrunching up into an adorable frown, “I can ask.”

“Is there actually any queer representation in it?”

“I think so,” Patton says, “There was something and I know it was a big deal but I don’t remember exactly.”

Logan hums and turns back to the pigs.

“Which one’s Waddles?” Logan asks.

“I think that one?” Roman says, pointing at the one in the far corner. “It has the same spots as the picture.”

Logan nods, and they stare at the pigs a bit longer before moving on.

The goats are last and by far the most fun. They seemed to almost play with each other, bleating and jumping around. They also engage in a bit of staring and bouncing with Kit and Trixie. The goats seem fascinated and entertained by the pups, and the pups seem equally fascinated and entertained in return.

In fact, they got so caught up in watching the goats and dogs tease each other, that they completely missed the last goat.

“Ow!” Roman yelps, falling back from the fence.

“What?!” Virgil responds instantly, narrowing in on Roman for any signs of harm or injury.

“It bit me!” Roman complains loudly.

“What?”

“The goat! It bit me!”

“Are you okay?” Virgil presses, still worried.

“Oh yeah I’m fine,” Roman easily dismisses. “But hey! It bit me! And it chewed through my jeans!”

He turns to face the tree of them, pointing out the chewed away fabric near his knee.

Patton stifles a giggle, leaning into Virgil’s side at the sight as Roman continues to look highly offended.

Roman ignores them, and instead struts right back over to the goats.

“That wasn’t nice,” he says directly to the goat that bit him, “That wasn’t nice at all. You’re mean.”

“The goat doesn’t understand you,” Logan inputs, “In addition I very much doubt it has the capacity to consciously make a choice to be mean or unkind or to feel similar complex emotions and intend to perform actions that follow through with those complex emotions. But I’m unsure. I don’t know much about goats. But it is a goat Roman.”

“I don’t care!” Roman says loudly.

Logan shrinks ever so minutely. Roman still isn’t facing them.

“I don’t care,” Roman repeats, and carries on, “Your goat facts are very interesting Logan, thanks for sharing.” Logan straightens a bit, and bounces on his toes. “But I’m human and I’m going to project my goddamn emotions on these evil goats if I so please.”

Patton continues to snort into Virgil’s side. Virgil wraps an arm around him and watches the entertaining interaction.

“As long as you’re aware that you’re projecting your emotions onto the goat,” Logan supports.

“Heck yeah. They’re mean goats. I’m doing the healthy anger projection thing. What’s that called?”

“You’re generally discouraged from projecting in therapy,” Patton adds, the same time Virgil adds, “Equine Therapy.”

“Oh yeah, animal-assisted therapies are a good example,” Patton agrees, “Cause sometimes we need to project. But projecting onto actual people can hurt them and hurt our relationships with them. Projecting onto animals can create a healthy release for certain emotions when done in a proper setting. Equine therapy is a great example of that.”

Roman nods, still glaring at the tiny goat in front of him.

“I’m calling this mad-at-goats therapy,” he declares, before giving one last piercing stare at the ‘evil’ goat, before his face softens. “He’s kinda cute though. Now I feel bad for him. I’m sorry goat.” He reaches his hand back over the fence and the goat sniffs it gently. “Hey can we get a pet goat?”

A quick flip from hating goats to loving them isn’t exactly something Virgil would expect from most people, but from Roman it’s hardly a surprise.

“I’m vetoing goats,” Virgil informs him.

Roman grumbles, faux annoyed.

“We all agreed when moving in with Virgil that he got veto rights on any pets,” Logan mentions at Roman’s grumbling.

At the comment, Roman finally turns back to face them at all.

“I know,” Roman says, “I was teasing. I don’t actually want a goat, and I’m not mad at Virgil for vetoing the goat even if I did want one. It was very kind of you to gently but firmly remind me of a preestablished agreement we had come to.”

Roman rejoins them, and they continue to stand in eyesight of the goat enclosure, while still being out of reach and out of the way of all the other people who want to check them out.

“Oh. Okay. I don’t want a goat either. I suspect they would need exercise, but seem very difficult to walk,” Logan muses.

They all glance over at the leaping animals.

“Yeah,” Virgil agrees, “We can barely manage a puppy as is.”

Patton gasps.

“Don’t talk about my son that way!” Patton insists, glancing down at Kit at his feet. He looks back at Virgil. “Can you pick him up for me?” Virgil nods and reaches down to pick up the small pup before trading the puppy for Patton’s cane so Patton can hold his small body in two hands.

“Don’t listen to them Kit,” Patton coos, “They’re just mean. You’re a lovely perfect darling who could never do anything wrong.”

“Hey! I thought I was the lovely perfect darling who could never do anything wrong!” Roman protests.

“No love. You’re the darling who decides it’s a smart idea to stand up on your desk during college to debate with a classmate and then fall off it and get a concussion.”

“Okay, that was once!” Roman argues, “And come on, it’s not fair using that against me twice in one day.”

Patton’s eyebrows knit together.

“I mentioned that earlier?”

The sentence is much more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah. I almost fell off the hay bales in the corn maze,” Roman reminds.

“Ah right,” Patton nods, “I remember the hay bales You almost fell off?”

“I mean yes but nope. Completely fine. No near falls or misses or anything like that. But yes I almost fell.”

“He almost face planted,” Virgil supports.

“But I didn’t!” Roman says, voice rising at the end.

“You need to be more careful,” Patton chides. A shifts on his feet a bit and grimances slightly, “We don’t need someone splitting open their head at the pumpkin patch.”

A searing picture burns through Virgil’s mind. One of human skull and brain matter. Of blood and bones and-

Trixie presses against his leg. Virgil shakes the past from his mind and takes an even breath.

“Virge?”

“Hm?” Virgil responds, turning his gaze back to Patton as Trixie stays at his side. Patton watches him carefully.

“Oh, I’m good,” Virgil says, soothing Patton’s concern.

Patton nods and shifts again. Kit squirms lightly in his hands.

“Want to trade back?” Patton asks, nodding at his cane.

They switch again, and Kit gets transferred to Roman’s arms after Virgil instead of back to the ground. Roman holds him close and gives small cooing noises as Kit squirms enthusiastically at the attention.

“Can we sit?” Patton asks, “My hip’s hurting.”

The group quickly agrees and they find an open bench nearby. They take a minute, just sitting, taking in the scenery. The pumpkin patch is large, and the actual pumpkin patch part of the pumpkin patch is even larger. The fields stretch off into one direction, quite a few people wandering around them to pick their own pumpkins.

“We should get funnel cake,” Roman says abruptly.

“Oh yes.”

“I’ve actually never had funnel cake,” Virgil admits.

“What?” Roman says, whipping to catch Virgil’s gaze and mouth hanging slightly opened, “You’ve never had funnel cake? Ever?”

Virgil’s told his spouses a lot of weird, fucked up things over the years. But of course this simple detail about a dessert he has yet to try would be one of the things that managed to shock Roman completely.

“We didn’t exactly get dessert in a doomsday cult,” Virgil explains, voice light.

“Okay, first off, you weren’t in a doomsday cult just fucked up weird religious shit. Second of all, You had what…” Roman takes a moment to fumble over the dates, “fifteen-ish years since then. And you still haven’t had funnel cake.”

Of course Roman’s going to focus on the funnel cake.

Virgil shrugs in response.

“Unacceptable, we’re definitely going to get funnel cake now. You have to try it.”

“Don’t make him try it,” Logan immediately jumps in.

Roman turns to him, seemingly a bit lost for words.

“...Why not?”

Logan taps his foot on the ground. Patton reaches up to settle a hand on his shoulder before thinking better and dropping it.

“It should be Virgil’s choice. Don’t make him.”

Logan’s gaze is downcast and his hands wring together in what Virgil knows is an anxious stim. Roman seems to recognize the stim for what it is as well, and his face and body relax.

“Oh of course,” Roman agrees, switching from light teasing to pure honesty, “Sorry I was probably a bit unclear. I meant that I suggest Virgil tries it, and I encourage him to, but if he really doesn’t want to, I’m not going to force him.”

Logan nods, but frowns. He starts rocking slightly.

“Lo? You alright?” Virgil asks.

“I think-” Logan hesitates, “I think I’m overstimulated. I feel- not bad… but not good. It’s- static, but not static? Buzzing perhaps. I think I’ll stay with Patton if you’re going to get funnel cake.”

“Would you like a firm hug? For a pressure stim? Or touching in a different way?” Patton asks.

“Don’t touch me,” Logan responds immediately.

Patton nods, and listens.

“Apologies,” Logan says after a minute, “That was rude. I meant-”

Logan doesn’t finish and scrunches his shoulders in towards his body, face still downcast.

“Are words hard right now Logan?”

Logan hesitates before nodding.

“Okay,” Patton replies, “Well I don’t need an apology. I think ‘don’t touch me’ is a perfectly fine way of communicating you wouldn’t like touch. It was direct, and some people may take it as rude, but I know that wasn’t your intention and that communicating is hard right. It was a fine way to say that.”

“Okay,” Logan agrees.

“Do we still want funnel cake?” Roman asks for a moment, looking at the group.

Virgil considers, “Yeah why not try it?”

“Heck yes,” Roman says, “that’s the type of attitude I like.”

Roman pulls Virgil away to go get funnel cake, giving Patton and Logan a bit of space in the meantime. It seems to help somewhat, because when the return with treat in hand, Logan looks much calmer and less overwhelmed.

Roman presents the funnel cake dramatically, causing Patton to giggle and Virgil to elbow him gently. They pass around forks and dig in.

Virgil has to admit it’s not half bad. He wouldn’t want it every day- the flavor and taste being much too overwhelming for everyday consumption. But the treat seems to fit in perfectly with today, and Virgil can appreciate that. Some foods are just made for certain occasions. Like latkes during Hanukkah.

They finish the treat, throwing away the trash before settling on a bench all together to make a decision on their next move.

“Pumpkins?” Patton asks.

There’s no objections, and as such, they all start moving towards the field of orange.

~~~

Taglist Below

-message me to be added or removed-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown @you-betcha-weirdo @gattonero17

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jujubieberbae · 7 years ago

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Sick

Request: Can you write a Justin imagine where he doesn't feel well and wakes you up in the morning because he's been ill and feels really sick? Thanks!

Sorry it took so damn long! I’m a terrible author... but it’s here!

Warning: UNEDITED!!!

The morning came faster then the night fell, and soon the sun shone through the silk curtains displayed against the windows. The house was silent which was odd considering the house usually vibed with energy.

But today seemed to be one of those rare days where I could wake up with Justin in a peaceful manner. No friends to interrupt, no manager to demand places to be, no dogs to bark us back to reality, and overall, no noise.

This was perfect...

Almost.

A groan to my left was heard not even seconds post my thoughts. A grumble, low and husky having me clenching my thighs and leaving me wet between the legs.

Miraculously, even with the familiar weight of Justin’s arm wrapped against my waist, I had somehow managed to twist my body and face the person behind me, which undoubtedly had been the corporate of the leg clenching grunt.

Justin slept peacefully now in front of me. Hair a golden mess sprawled out against his pillow, skin uncharacteristically pale compared to his usual tanned complexion and mouth agape just the slightest as small, breathy but wheezy breaths escaped through his god-like lips.

The sight nearly had me pouting as the boy sniffled just the slightest and shuffled around until I was pressed further against his chest. And only the had I realised the difference between his nose and the rest of his face.

His nose stood out like a sore thumb against his face. A bright red contrasting with the pale state his face held. He looked horrible in terms of his health, which left me worried just the slightest.

Natural motherly instinct kicked in faster then I could even process what my body was doing, and soon I had a hand up against his forehead.

Comparing to the dry state his skin took, Justin’s forehead was actually rather clammy and radiating with a heat unlike any other. He was burning up a high fever judging by his temperature and that lead the frown that had formed on my face to deepen.

Poor baby was sick and hadn’t even woken up to feel the wrath yet. I just knew today was going to be hell for him.

Deciding against cuddling up to him until he awoke, It hit that the best thing I could do for the boy was to tend to his needs which meant a dose of painkillers and a hell a lot of water.

As slowly as I could proceed to do, I sat my torso up straight and removed the rough grip Justin had on my waist, pouting when he frowned in his sleep and pressed around for something to hold onto, probably me.

slipping a pillow beneath his arm, I rolled out of bed and ran my way down the stairs, also managing to find Esther along the way who had taken it upon herself to follow after me.

In no less then a couple of minutes flat I had managed to prepare a cold wet cloth, make a warm cup of tea, prepare some toast and place a few painkillers on a tray, taking it all back upstairs to Justin thanks to a little bit of multitasking.

With esther at my feet and the tray in my hands, I managed to creak the door open without waking my poor baby up. As I entered the room, I managed to spot him fighting against the bed sheets, breaking just the slightest of a sweat.

He sniffled once against, swiping his arm against his nose before settling on his side with the blankets pulled all the way up to his chin.

As I fell further into the room, my eyebrows fell inwards as I placed the tray against the bedside table, snatching the cold wet cloth into my hands.

Remembering what my mother had told me while treating my fever years ago, I pulled the blanket away from his body and let the cold air drown against him.

If you shiver with a fever, keep them warm. If you sweat, cool them down.

The blanket would do no good but make it worse for him. So without hesitation, I began dabbing the wet cloth against his forehead, hoping to cool down his temperature just the slightest.

At the sudden sensation, Justin’s eyes slowly peeled open to reveal a pair of tired, droopy and red eyes, slightly swollen over and glassy. With a chesty cough and small stretch, he managed to pull a confused smile over at me.

The sight of him awake left me smiling myself, leaning over to press a kiss against his clammy forehead. “Morning baby. How you feeling?”

Justin sighed, closing his eyes in agony having me frown just the slightest at the action “Sick.” He growled in a husky voice, suddenly rubbing a hand up against his throat with a grimace of pain. “Very sick.”

“Yeah. When I saw you this morning I knew you weren’t feeling so hot. I could see it in your face.” I began. “Thought I would bring something to cool you down, something for the pain and a little to eat so the medicine will work.”

Glancing off to the side towards the tray sprawled upon his bed side table full of everything mentioned, Justin smiled, pressing a hand over my own still dabbing at his skin, just approaching his chest away from his neck. “You’re too good to me baby girl.”

Trailing my eyes away from the cloth and back to his eyes, I managed a small smile at his words, leaning down to press another kiss to his face, but this time against his lips.

He was quick to retract his head, pouting when I frowned in confusion. “I don’t wanna get you sick baby.” He spoke low and sorrowful. To which I smiled.

“I don’t care. I wanna kiss you.”

Justin chuckled. “Then who’s gonna take care of me?”

“Me still, I’ll just mope around the house, fetching you whatever you want.” I giggled.

“Like your mother.” Justin added turning my giggle into a full blown laugh.

“Yes! Like my mother.”

It wall silent for just a few more seconds, nothing but the sound of the wet cloth gliding around his chest and the small patter of Esther’s paws against the ground until Justin’s face suddenly paled and he suddenly shot up.

“Justin?” I frowned, but it wasn’t until seconds later he ran straight towards the bathroom that I sighed in realisation and scattered to my feet to follow after him.

With the tray in tow and esther at my feet, I drew over to his figure bent over the bathroom toilet and was quick to place the cold towel against the back of his neck, slowly caressing his back.

“Oh baby.” I sighed as he heaved yesterdays dinner into the bowl. It was a long couple of minutes before Justin thankfully cleared his stomach. He was quick to lean up against the wall, a frown etched upon his face.

The sight for the upteenth time today had me frowning against the situation. I hated seeing Justin sick, it was like bubbly, happy person he was was no more, and wouldn’t be back until he beat this virus.

Finally placing the wet cloth down, I grabbed the tea and pills off the tray and handed the items to justin.

Justin glanced up lazily and smiled a painful smile thanking me as he picked up a shaky hand which was once cradling his stomach and drowned the pills, swallowing hard, then managed to hold down a mint I handed him.

Once placing everything back on the tray and out of my hands, I slowly made my way over to Justin’s side and was dropped to the floor, crawling oevr to his side.

Justin’s trailed up just the slightest, confusion clear in his eyes when I suddenly lifted a leg over his body and placed myself on his lap. Without hesitation he shot out an arm and wrapped it around my waist, despite the confusion and buried his head into the coeck of my neck, sighting against the skin.

The feeling of his now minty breath against my skin had me shivering with pleasure, leaning down to place my head against him, a loving kiss following which I placed against his head.

“How you feeling?” I muttered against him.

“Better.” He spoke muffled against my neck. “Now that I’ve thrown up....And that your in my arms.”

I smiled, slipping a hand around his neck, where I began playing with the small hairs at the nape of it.

“I love you.” I suddenly said.

Justin’s head poked up from my body, leaning back away with a smile. He was just about to speak up when suddenly, esther jumped up against him and right onto my lap in between us.

We both looked at the little pup in amusement, laughing at the furry little thin before leaning over and pressing a kiss against each other's lips, Esther still in between.

My hands cradled over Esther and forehead pressed against Justin, he spoke the words I would die to hear everyday of my life.

“I love you too.”

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