#also some of the comments oh i giggled no offense to charles but they were calling him 3 kinda of stupid for certain choices

[professorxsmokesweed]

i rarely use tiktok but i opened it on a whim today and discovered magneto is actually getting edits in the straightboy section and the comments were full of people respectfully gassing him up. his power grows stronger

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 151

This chapter has been one that I have been dying to write for a while. I was worried that @baelpenrose would resist the idea, but he very much thought it was hilarious. As always, his input and riffing on this chapter has very much made it better and better.

However, it also made the chapter longer, lol. But there is just no way to trim it down without losing something that makes it all work, so this week is nearly double my normal length... break everyone’s heart, right? ;)

“I don’t like these numbers,” Parvati grumbled - as much as she was capable of grumbling - as she scrolled through the final counts of approval ratings on her and Hannah’s inaugural Food Festival.

The statistics had been dropped into our inboxes that morning, in the static of about a thousand other notifications now that Derek had finished the stress-test. Also included were the results of the last three invasion-prep drills, which I was in the process of scanning over.

“How bad are they?” I asked, half listening for a number. The drills were trending better, which was a good sign that the moves were effective.

Dismissing her display with a gesture of disgust, she sighed. “Seventy-four percent approval rating.”

I arched a brow and glanced over. “Did you adjust for those who did not attend?”

The glare she sent me wasn’t seen so much as felt. “Of course I did. First thing I ran…”

“Are you filtering by the day the comments came in?”

“I -” Bingo. She huffed. “No! These are intended to be ratings for the entirety of the event!”

I started scrolling through my own statistics. “Chart them out by the date the ratings came in, filtering out everyone who didn’t actually attend.”

A pause. “Oh… Oh! It’s showing ninety-three-point-four now!”

“Et voila,” I murmured. Louder, I clarified, “People like to weigh in early, and those who object in general tend to speak first.”

“I see that… how’s it going over there?” she asked, smoothing her braid over her shoulder as she turned to look at me directly.

“We are improving with every drill, marked upticks since the relocations. Arthur should be here in about - “ I glanced at a clock, “Seven minutes to go over next steps.”

Alistair breezed over to swap my empty bulb of cold coffee for a fresh one of water. “The appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati beat me to the punch.  “He is also compulsively early, meaning…. Six minutes now.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough that I wanted to giggle. “He doesn’t even have the decency to be fashionably late. Appalling.”

Surely enough, Arthur paged at the entrance - out of some sort of manners I accidentally instilled in him - exactly five minutes prior to our scheduled appointment. As he breezed into my office, he managed a half-assed glare at Alistair for abruptly turning away and focusing on my schedule rather than his usual tendency to get a beverage for any newcomers. “Okay, updated data on drills isn’t what I want it to be.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right? Your team and Michael’s haven’t gotten past deck four by more than three percent in the last seven exercises.”

“Any percent above zero is unacceptable,” he grumbled. I chalked it up to the indignity of being forced to get his own tea from the console.

Almost as though to spite Arthur, Alistair made a point to set a refreshed water bulb in front of everyone except the professor. “There are guards on the other levels for a reason,” he suggested drily.

“And I would rather those guards be idle, thank you,” Arthur threw back in a near-venomous tone.

“Us guards would rather be prepared for any eventuality, which you may do well to plan for in your petty drills.”

I didn’t even try to intervene. Clearly there was some blatantly disagreement between my  admin and my friend, and I was exhausted from trying to make them cooperate.

“If I’m doing my job, you should be so grateful as to be idle,” Arthur drawled.

Alistair scoffed. “As if being left to rest and get fatter than a Christmas goose is a blessing…”

“You’ll live longer!”

“And get lax in my duties, which I will not stand for!”

“Get fat! Get lazy! LIVE! I don’t care! I’m not going to be lax in my duties to allow you the opportunity of getting practice at fighting.” Standing, Arthur buried both hands in his hair, but it looked less like he was running his fingers through it than pulling on it. “Are we really discussing this when we are training to fight in living body condoms?”

“I need to defend the Archives!”

“And Michael and I need to defend everyone! Us doing our job means you don’t need to do yours.”

My neck snapped back at the vehemence in his tone. This wasn’t their normal sparring… they may have never truly gotten along, but even in the beginning it was never so vicious.

To my further alarm, Alistair took a long stride forward and stared down his nose at Arthur. “We both know that she - “ his hand flung out to point at me “is either the luckiest or unluckiest person in existence. You can’t really believe that, in an actual assault on this ship, that she won’t be in danger. Which will place Tyche, the Archives, Derek Okafor, and Samuel Richardson in equal danger. You aren’t an idiot, you know this.” The hand pointing toward me turned, and time seemed to slow down as he stabbed Arthur in the sternum with it, punctuating each of his next words. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“Poke me again, and the finger comes off.”

“I would dearly love to see you try.”

Hannah and Parvati had jumped to their feet when Alistair approached Arthur, but were now slowly moving around to my position, safely behind my desk. Hannah hissed at me through clenched teeth, “You had to tell them to fight it out.”

“I thought they would use a gym, not the damned office,” I hissed back.

Before she could respond, Alistair spoke again. “You aren’t the only one on the Ark who wants to protect everyone. You need to trust us to do our bloody jobs.”

“The last time I trusted anyone else to protect people, I lost fourteen students,” came the ground out response. “I’m not backing down on this.”

“You will, or I will sedate you and strap you to a medical berth for the next four months.” Alistair stepped back and crossed his arms with finality.

A trickle of nerves ran down my spine as I watched Arthur clench his fists and release them. “You think the solution to everything is to tie it up, I swear.”

“Stop changing the topic. I am deadly serious, Farro.”

Arthur turned away from him, waving him off. “Try something else, you would never just sedate me for months on end.” Before we could stop anything, Alistair leapt forward and put Arthur in a headlock, only to be immediately flipped over the other man’s shoulder and onto the table. “Tch. Sloppy. I know you can do better.”

“I thought you wanted me to get fat and lazy,” Alistair grunted as he sucker-punched Arthur in the stomach and rolled for the other side.  Once on his feet, he eyed Arthur carefully as he circled the table. “You stubborn ass, you know I am right.  You are putting everyone in the lower levels at risk by not running preparedness drills with them, because you don’t want to factor in the fact that one of the offensive teams could fail.”

“We don’t have the luxury of failing, so no. If we do our jobs correctly, everyone who matters will be safe at the other end of the Ark.”

They didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats anymore, but the arguing wasn’t getting anywhere. “Guys - “ I tried.

Both men turned and practically screamed at me with their glares to stop talking.  Oookay. I held up my hands in surrender and decided to let them sort it out their way.

Damned if the console wasn’t on the other side of them, though. I couldn’t even get popcorn and a drink.

Alistair blew a harsh breath through his nose. “If you won’t include the lower decks in your drills, I will start sparring with Jokul.”

“He would kill you,” Arthur barked in the most miserable laugh I’ve ever heard.

“God forbid,” Alistair mocked. “If I were gone, who would make your tea in the morning.”

“The same person who picks up the socks that magically appear all over my quarters every day, obviously. Worthington, I’m serious, he could really hurt you. He has really hurt me. And Charly.”

That last part was dismissed with a wave. “Madam Charles the First put the fear of herself into him.”

“And you haven’t. He could kill you by accident, and he’d never forgive himself.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you would let me train more!”

Arthur groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You are an adult, we’ve talked about this. Train all you want, with whoever you want - Charly, Sophia, Tyche… hell, train with Evan or Michael, I don’t care. Just, not Jokul.”

When did they talk about this? I wondered. It had to be during a sparring session or something, because it definitely wasn’t in my office during one of our meetings. A glance at Hannah showed she was watching everything unfold like it was the most riveting show she had ever seen, and Parvati’s squint of consideration wasn’t much better.

“As you said, I’m an adult. Perhaps I should take your advice, and train with Charly - “

“See - “

“- and Jokul. She will make sure I don’t get hurt.”

Arthur flung his hands up in frustration. “You are so stubborn, I swear!” Growling, he paced in a circle. “Fine! Train with Charly and Jokul. IN the bivouac suit, though! And I don’t want to hear a word when you end up confined in a med bay yourself.”

Alistair’s smug grin showed just how much he seemed to care. “At least I would be spared of picking up the trail of dishes that seem to follow you around.”

“For the love of - they are my quarters! Mine! And I don’t want to hear about it when your bloody socks are constantly getting lost behind my sofa!”

Oh. Oh no. Nonononononono.

“My socks can go wherever they fucking want to, when I am constantly cleaning your disgusting whiskers out of the sink!”

“You know what would fix you having to clean whiskers out of the sink? I could just stop shaving altogether. How about...that…” Arthur trailed off and very slowly turned toward the three of us behind my desk with a look of dawning horror.

And I tried. I really, really tried not to laugh.  I could feel my face reddening, my chest aching with the effort of holding it in.  

Hannah’s snort was my undoing. As soon as that tiny noise escaped her, all three of us erupted into hysterical, stomach-cramping, tearful laughter.  I felt stabbing in my arm as Parvati dug her nails in, trying desperately not to fall.  Unfortunately for her, Hannah grabbed me at the same time and all three of us toppled to the floor. The sight of Arthur rolling his eyes and crossing his arms only made me escalate from laughing to shrieking in hysterics and relief.

I couldn’t speak for the other two ladies, but I thought the two men were going to end up killing each other… At no point did I think they took the other option when I told them to either fight it out or….

I gasped for breath, trying to get myself under control. Wobbling to my feet with the help of my trusty desk and a couple yanks to free my shirt from Parvati’s desperate clutching, I pointed between them. “This… how long? Can’t believe… didn’t figure it out.”

“Not everyone is as… public… as you, Conor, and Maverick are,” Arthur snarked at me. “You know, private lives should be private and all that?”

“Must be for you,” I confided in Alistair’s direction, where he had turned his back to our fit.  “He’s never not told me when he was dating someone. Or thinking of dating someone. Or potentially interested in seeing if he was interested in dating someone… Best friend privileges and all that.”  While I waited for Alistair to respond, my mind whirled through all the things I had brushed off before but were very obvious in retrospect.

Glancing at Arthur for a hint yielded nothing but a flat stare that all but declared in flashing lights You Aren’t Stupid.

I tilted my head at that, and kept thinking. There had been genuine animosity on Alistair’s side in the beginning, and not a small amount of needling on Arthur’s.  So I knew it wasn’t something that had always been going on. My mind came to a screeching halt, however, when I remembered something - the day Alistair, Tyche, and I decided that, when I vacated my position on the Council, they would vacate roles as well to leave behind a ‘clean slate’. “Four years, holy shit,” I gasped. “Four years!?”

Finally, Alistair moved. His back was still to us, but his arms went limp by his sides, and his head dropped down toward the floor. “It would be unseemly to have the new Councilor of Education in a relationship with the attache to the Councilor for Resources and Engagement. Or formerly in a relationship, should things not end well.”

“And since he won’t be taking his position until we are on Von,” I put together, “You are okay to serve out the rest of my term, just not Hannah’s or Parvati’s.”

“Correct.”

“Huh. That makes sense,” I admitted before hopping up to sit on my desk, the chair being a lost cause on the other side of two women who were still sniffling and giggling on the floor. “I learned a lot today.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur confirmed drily. “And it had better stay in this office.”

“What?” I managed a pretty convincing confused face before pretending to realize what he meant. “Oh! The relationship thing. Yeah, cool, whatever. That’s not what I was talking about, but you’re good.”

“Dare I even ask what you meant?” Alistair ventured, finally turning around so that he could give me a warning look.

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” I asked, shaking my head and spreading my hands, palms up. When they both just stared at me, I finally broke and grinned. “Dude. You two are freaking slobs.”

The squeaking noises coming from the vicinity of my feet told me that no further work would be getting done for the rest of the day.

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[do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger]

EXT. The Roof (Winter) - Sunset

Not Just Attracted to Women!Peter Maximoff x Fem and Not Just Attracted to Men!Reader

Based off of a dream I recently had: Peter and Y/N have a conversation on the roof of Xavier's in mid-December. Peter accidentally lets it slip that he might not be straight, and he is afraid that Y/N will think less of him because of it because this is the 80s. Y/N reveals that she is also not straight, and is saddened by the fact that Peter could think that she could ever hate him- especially for that. She calls him wonderful. Feelings ensue. Also, a touch of Cherik at the end because I give the people what they want.

Warnings: Swearing, Peter cries, internalized homophobia (this is the 80s-ish and Peter uses the word 'queer' in a kind of incorrect and kind of offensive manner, but it was internalized homophobia and not actually intended to be mean to anyone but himself so I forgive him), a touch of angst but mostly fluff, Charles called you two "children" even though you are obviously not, Erik is happy that his son has someone that cares about him the way you do, Peter is insecure but not super blunt about it, Peter has been deprived of being adored his entire life, bad writing, I mention a serial killer twice, historical inaccuracy because the word queer was still a slur so yeah.

A/N: This is literally the first thing I have ever written so please be nice to me, I wrote this instead of an essay. I would love a comment of any kind, even if it's just a heart emoji or something, and constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. Also 'N/N' stands for nick-name.

(Ok, so, full discloser: the format is odd. The bullet points represent dialogue, and the only dialogue is between you two love birds. The first bullet point is Peter, the second is Y/N, the third is Peter, and so on.)

“I dunno, the whole ‘liking people’ thing has always been weird for me.”

“How do you mean?"

“Pppffftt- 'how do you mean,' what are you, Shakespeare or somethin’?”

“Yeah, because that’s the era when ‘how do you mean' would have been a popular term. Ok, what do you mean?”

“Just- when other people were liking people I never really was?”

He was gesturing wildly and avoiding eye contact, as always. He wasn't uncomfortable with eye contact, he just got bored easily in conversations, he needed to keep himself occupied. In this situation that meant staring at the red and green lights covering the rest of the roof, the snowy trees all over the yard, and a holly garland around the gate. Peter wasn't Christian, but man, did he love their Christmas decorations.

“Like… now? In school?”

“Well- yeah… but also when I was younger. And I never liked the right people? Or... liked them in the right way?”

“So you’ve never liked anyone.”

“No, no… I definitely have. It was just… weird! I don't-”

His hands dropped to his side in defeat.

“I don’t think it’s that out of the ordinary. I would tell you if it was. Also, if it was... 'weird', like you said, that wouldn’t mean it was necessarily bad.”

He hadn’t really heard what she said, he was too busy pondering what his next sentence would be. When she wasn't speaking, he was rambling.

"I had some of the normal crap… like in movies when they talk about the fluttery stomach junk. I've had that around a few girls I've been friends with, also that phase with the boy stuff, a-"

“Wait, what phase with the boy stuff?”

“Like- when you’re in middle school or whatever and you're gay for a second.”

His phrasing was a joke, but the statement as a whole was not.

“…‘Gay for a second’?”

“…Yeah?”

“Hmmm..."

"Is that- not-"

"I don't think that is... 'normal'... per-say..."

“Oh… Really?”

His heart sunk.

“…Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“…Mhm.”

“…Shit.”

He suddenly looked almost embarrassed. He shifted his posture, seemingly trying to shrink into himself.

“Do you... wanna chat about it?”

Panic started to slowly rise in him.

“Um- forget I said anything.”

“Why?”

Something in him said to go on the "defense". He did not appear as calm as he was intending to.

“I’m not- gay! or anything. I like girls! I do!”

She put her hand on his arm.

“Hey- look at me for a second. We are not in court, and I never 'accused' you of being gay. That would be a very funny reality TV show, but not what is happening right now. Listen, theoretically if you were gay that wouldn’t be bad! And I wouldn’t be… whatever you.. think that I would be? I mean- however you are afraid I would act in a negative reaction to it? I would try to be here for you, and be as supportive as possible.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Ok, sure.”

“Peter.”

“What? You’re going to tell me that you would honestly be friends with a queer person- be friends with me if I was... not... normal?”

She was taken aback by his tone, the word he had used, and the way he said it, felt like a weight dropping on her shoulders.

“Oh. would you… not?”

It was her turn to seem nervous.

“What?”

“Would you- stop being friends with someone for liking someone that they… I don’t know… shouldn’t... would be the word I guess?”

Why, in this situation, was she nervous? Oh. His fear was replaced with guilt.

“No.”

“Ok.”

“So… are you… do you… why were you scared?”

“... Why were you?”

She expected a joke from him, something along the lines of “touché".

“Are you… gay?”

“No.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe her.

“Uh-huh”

“Really, I’m not. I’ve liked boys, but also... I've had feelings for girls. I’m not… straight. So I just want to let you know that it’s okay if you aren’t too.”

“I never s-“

She smiled at him with a bit of pity, she had been there. The self-loathing, the feeling of walking on minefields with so many people in your life.

“You are…”

She paused.

“I am… what?”

“Give me a second I’m trying to find the perfect word.”

“… Okay?”

“Wonderful.”

That was not exactly the word he was expecting. Like, at all.

“Huh?”

“That’s the word. Wait- let me start over. You gotta look me in my eyes as I say it, because it’s gonna be really poetic.”

“Uh… should I be scared?”

“No. Maybe a little. No.”

“… Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You are… wonderful.”

“Oh... Thanks?“

He looked away again, to be honest, he was a bit uncomfortable. He rarely received compliments, especially ones that seem so... genuine.

“I’m not finished, look back at me, just for a second. You are so wonderful- and I will support you as whatever you are! I want you to know that I can- I can barely even think of something you could do that would make me genuinely hate you- like… maybe if you Dahmer-ed people or like chopped up a-“

He found this was amusing, yet disturbing.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry- I just- the fact that you thought, even for a second, that I could hate you… is just-“

“I’m sorry”

“No! Stop it. Don’t be sorry.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“What do you want me to-“

“Take it back! The sorry!”

“How?”

“Say you aren’t sorry”

“N/N-“

“Peter.”

“Ok. I’m, ya know, not sorry.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be”

“You’re weird.”

“Yuh-huh. Says the most likely, from the little information I've gathered, bisexual in denial who also happens to be the fastest boy on earth who had to slow down exponentially to interact with other people who also, also, happens sitting on a roof in the dead of winter with me.”

“What’s by smexual?”

Something about the way he attempted to repeat her words must have been hilarious, he thought, because here she was, sitting in front of him, in a fit of childish giggles. He would smile if he weren't so confused.

“No- that’s not- what I said- it’s… wait!”

“What?”

“You’re tryna get me off topic!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Am not!”

“Are t- shit.”

“HAHA! Victory is a sweet dessert... wait is that even the saying? Still, I win you lose, nerd.”

“Ok, okay! go on.”

She was attempting to gather herself to give off a less jokey aura. It was half working, the "am not! are too!" argument a few moments ago made it hard for him to take her seriously, but he could tell it was important to her that he did, so he tried his best.

“You have to look at me again. just for a second.”

“I sw-”

“Just do it? Please?”

His attempt to put up a fight was thwarted by her small "please". He was pathetic.

“Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You…”

“Me… or- wait- I…”

“Are w-“

“Wonderful, yeah yeah. just get to the n-”

“No.”

“… No?”

“When you say it it doesn’t encapsulate it. It sounds silly.”

“Ok little miss ‘you art thou wonderful’, how would you have me say it?”

“I am you wonderful?”

“What?”

“You called me ‘little miss you are you wonderful’ what does that-“

“Ok! Would you just- shut up and call me wonderful one more time, please?”

She looked at him and blinked. That sentence surely came off as less ironic than intended.

“You are wonderful.”

She grabbed his face, in a half-joking manner. Her grab smushed his cheeks and she couldn't help but laugh a bit when she did it. Even though it was clearly a bit, he was still flustered.

“W-“

She shook him a bit.

"Shut up 'cause I'm about to say some beautiful and true shit. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are absolutely, unchangingly, and irrevocably wonderful and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Maximoff.”

After saying what she would (in 40 years or so) recall as a painfully John Green-ish statement in her blunt and matter-of-fact manner, she let go of her semi-ironic hold on his pink cheeks. Were his cheeks pink because it was absolutely freezing, or because his heart was beating faster than he had ever (and would ever, mind you) run, you ask? No comment.

“Wow.”

“Wow what.”

“You do say it better than I do.”

“Did you like how I stressed different parts of the sentence each time? I thought that was a nice detail.”

“Wow.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wow.”

Did his voice just... break a little?

“Peter?”

“Uh- yeah?”

Was he a little... sniffle-y? She was now very concerned.

“Are you okay?!”

“Oh- um... yeah!”

No! No he was clearly not! He was sniffling!

“Really? 'Cause, you don't seem it.”

“It’s just- I just- wow.”

“Wow, what!?”

“That was just- uh-"

“Just what? It really wasn't that fancy, you seem much too impressed with me. Oh my God, was it terrible?”

“I mean it was really corny but w-“

“I swear to God if you say 'wow' one more time I may have to add ‘use of the word wow too much’ to the list of things that could make me hate you. Right next to the Dahmer stuff. That was a joke. Your use of the word wow is only mildly perturbing. Sorry."

She was panicking "just a bit".

“I’m sorry, I mean I’m not sorry. Sorry. Shit! sorry! I mean I’m not!”

And he was absolutely... full-on crying at this point.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

He was looking down at his mittens. Not that this is important, but they were very pretty mittens.

“Look at me, you klepto.”

He didn’t.

“You know- I’ve been hearing a lot of that 'look at me' stuff from you today. I mean- the klepto part is new-“

“Peter.”

“What?!”

He peaked up at her.

“Talk to me. Please, you're kinda scaring me, let me help.”

“I’m not sad!”

“You’re crying!”

“Yeah but not from the sads!”

“… The ‘sads’?”

“You know- when you get sad! It just means being sad! I don't- that’s what Wanda calls it, not me!"

He wiped his nose, tears still running down from his puffy eyes to his reddened cheeks.

“What are you crying from?”

“No one’s ever called me wonderful before.”

“I'm sorry! I did a few minutes ago and you didn’t cry!”

“No! You can't 'sorry' me if I can't 'sorry' you! And- yeah but that doesn’t count!”

“Why?”

“Because it only felt big when you said it the certain way!”

“What way!?”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks-“

“I'm sorry about that by the way I was j-“

“No! It’s really ok! Do it whenever! I mean don’t do it whene- shut up!”

“I’m not even talking! You're the one talking!”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks, and you go: you are wonderful.”

“Yeah???”

“No one ever called me that before!”

"Peter, I- well- they- they should! They should! More often! Then the amount that it happens now! I think. In my opinion."

"Or really looked at me like that!”

“Looked at you like what, Peter?”

“Like I was somethin’!”

“Well, you are… ‘somethin'! Whatever that means! And- I think you deserve to be looked at as such!”

“See?”

“What!?”

“You just-“

A strangled sob escaped from his throat. He didn't know how to explain.

“Pete.”

“Ew. I hate that nickname.”

He crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler, trying to completely ignore the fact that he was an emotional wreck.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

She opened her arms and gestured for him to come closer. He was hesitant at first- but gave up all the reasons he shouldn't move to be closer to her in exchange for the promise of comfort she was offering him. He crawled over to her and curled up in her arms. The way she held him made him want to cry more. Who does she think she is- holding him like he was worth holding? With her chin sitting on top of his hair? Letting him do that gross cry sob with the spit and the snot into her only winter coat? Rocking him, and shushing him, and petting his stupid, silver hair? She was warm, too! The audacity of this woman.

When Erik brought Charles into his office to grab a chess set, they saw the two in the window. For a moment Charles considered telling Peter and Y/N to get off of the high platform, seeing as the two were the reasons the "no sitting on the roof" rule was enacted in the first place (neither of them were coordinated whatsoever). Charles quickly dropped this notion when he saw the look on Erik's face, Charles could tell it made him so happy to see Peter be held like that, cared for like that. Erik's expression made Charles want to both tell Erik that he is the most precious thing in the world, and make fun of him (look at Mr. Metal, gone completely soft). Possibly he could do both at the same time. But for now, he is just going to pretend he didn't see the two outside of the window, and have Erik grab them their game, go to the living room, and pretend not to have read Erik's mind when he inevitably asks him how he always manages to pick the white chess piece at "random".

[ajnerdess]

Return (Javier x reader fluff)

It’s me, back with another soft Javier and reader fluffy oneshot. This is based on the idea of Javier returning from Guarma and seeing his love (reader) once again! Enjoy!

You wiped the sweat from your brow as you were busy crafting fire arrows for Charles while he was out helping the Wapiti Tribe. You hated the camp at Lakay. It was damp and dark and you felt exposed to every danger there. At night, strange sounds filled the air and even from inside the cabin with the rest of the camp, you felt unsafe. You had slept next to Charles the past few days, feeling slightly safer from the outside world in his arms. His warmth and presence offered some comfort from the loss of your lover Javier too. But Lakay was no more enjoyable, of course, the makeshift camp was made worse by the loss of so many members.

Hosea and Lenny were dead. John had been arrested. Arthur, Dutch, Bill, Micah and of course Javier were missing, presumed dead. The gang was lost, and you hadn’t been ready to lose any of them, except of course Micah, who was hardly missed company after your various run-ins with him over his offensive comments to both Javier and Charles.

As you crafted another arrow you jumped in shock as a man practically ran into the cabin. Arthur. He was alive.

You stood up, watching in shocked silence as the others flocked to Arthur, hugging him and telling him how glad they were to see him. When Arthur made eye contact with you, he offered a small smile as you approached slowly, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. When you pulled away, you held him at arms-length.

“Arthur, you’re alive? It’s, it’s so good to see you” you managed.

“You too darlin’ you too” he replied.

You swallowed, daring to ask a question you feared the answer of.

“Javier, where’s Javier? Is he, is he, where is he Arthur?”

“I’m here mi amor.”

You looked past Arthur. There in the doorway, with Dutch, Bill and Micah behind him was Javier.

Your heart stopped and you let out a gasp as you stared at your lover in disbelief. Tears filled your eyes as you made your way towards him, practically running towards him.

“You’re alive! Oh my god Javi, you’re alive” you said as you collided into him, forcing him to lean on the door for support as you threw your arms around him. As his arms closed around you though, he let out a hiss of pain.

“Easy mi amor, easy” he whispered.

You pulled away enough to look him up and down, feeling his chest as you examined him for injuries.

“What’s the matter my love? Are you hurt?”

Javi nodded. “I got shot in the leg.”

Your tears fell as you couldn’t contain your emotions any longer. You shook your head as you looked at him. “Oh Javi” you whispered with a shaky voice, your hand on his neck gently.

Javier noticed your tears and his hand went to your face, stroking your cheek softly. “Oh hermosa don’t cry, I’m alright.”

Dutch cleared his throat. “Why don’t you two get some privacy? I’m sure Javier has a lot to tell you y/n.”

You nodded as Javier’s arm went around your waist and you led him to the sleeping quarters as the others remained in the main part of the cabin.

When you were alone, you burst into tears, throwing your arms around your lover once more, holding him close to you, careful not to put any pressure on his leg.

“Hey, hey it’s alright mi amor, I’m here, it’s ok” he told you softly, kissing your hair as he held you close.

“I thought you were dead, I thought you were gone forever Javi, i thought you were dead” you said, almost hysterical as you gripped him.

“I know, I know I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry you were alone hermosa. I’m here mi querida, I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere now, I’m sorry” he whispered, calming you by stroking your hair and kissing your cheek softly.

You led him to a bedroll, sitting down with him as you stared at him, making sure he was really there, that this wasn’t some elaborate dream.

Javier held you close as he wiped the tears from your eyes, holding you in his arms as he sat up leant against the wall with you in-between his legs.

“You’re really here, you are really alive. What happened Javi?”

He stroked your hair away from your face as he stared down at you, as if he was also in disbelief you were really there.

“We hid in Saint Denis and then when the patrols had died down a little, we tried to leave the city but we couldn’t. There were guards at every exit of the city, so we head to the docks, the plan was to just board a steamer that was heading up river, but instead we found a boat that took us to a place called Guarma. We were taken prisoner by some crooked businessmen and then when we made for an escape, I was shot in the leg and taken hostage. Dutch, he came back for me, him and Arthur they found me, freed me and we made it back here. I made it back to you.”

You bit your lip, imagining the trauma Javier must have been through. He noticed you staring at him with a worried expression and leaned down to kiss your forehead softly. You had almost forgotten how he felt, how warm he was, how every touch of his set you alight.

“That dream of moving to a nice home away from this life, from the violence, from the pinkertons, it gets further and further away every day doesn’t it?”

Javier shook his head slowly, placing another kiss on your forehead, his arms holding you close. “That isn’t true mi amor, we just need to stick by Dutch, he always has a plan to get us through all this mess. You’ll see, I’ll get us the nicest house, and the nicest ring and I’ll make you the happiest wife querida.”

You smiled faintly, Javier said those words with such enthusiasm, you had no choice but to believe him. He spoke to you about Guarma, about Hosea and Lenny dying. In turn you told him about burying them both and giving them a proper funeral. You cried when you told him, thinking of how young poor Lenny was, too young to die, of how Hosea was the only one who could make Dutch see sense. Javier prickled at that, after all, the man had saved Javier twice now, he would not allow a bad word said about the gang’s leader.

When Javier yawned, you showed him to your hammock, wanting to give him the space to sleep and rest his leg but when you went to leave his side, he tugged at your arm.

“Where are you going querida?”

You stroked his cheek. “You need to sleep my love, you need to rest.”

He shook his head. “I’ve just spent time on a tropical island, thinking I might never see you again, thinking I might die. I won’t sleep tonight unless you are by my side, get in.”

You giggled slightly. “Javi I don’t even know if I’ll fit in there with you.”

He looked at you with pleading eyes. “Try querida, for me.”

He held out the hammock for you to climb in next to him. You fit, just about but it was a tight fit and you fit snuggly against Javier. He placed an arm around you as you slot your legs between his, careful not to put pressure on his leg. With one arm at your side and another resting on his chest gently, you felt immediately at ease. Javier was warm and the feeling of his chest moving up and down was comfort enough for you, knowing he was alive and safe and with you once more. You felt him pick at your hair, running it softly through his fingers. You smiled up at him.

“Are you comfortable?”

Javier nodded down at you, staring at your lips before he leaned down to kiss you. The kiss went straight to your head, making you feel dizzy with need for him, your hand went to his neck as you pulled him close to deepen the kiss, your tongue tracing over his lips, silently begging for access. Your hand slipped down his chest but Javier’s hand reached out to stop you.

“Hey querida, I don’t want to do this here, like this, without any real privacy. Besides, not even sure we can make love in a hammock, not without one of us ending up on the floor. Let’s, let’s just rest tonight, that ok?”

You swallowed, slowing your breathing, you nodded, as much as you hated to agree, he was right, anyone could walk in and with the separation you had experienced, you wanted to make love to him properly.

You kissed him chastely on the lips before setting your head back against his chest. Javier’s arms closed around you once more and you both finally found sleep, listening the sounds of each other’s breathing.

[artificialqueens]

(treat me nice) never let me go [branjie] 7/15 - pinkgrapefruit

chapter 7. i’m powerful with a little bit of tender

previous chapters  1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

A/N - Hi guys, It’s been forever and I am really sorry but I’ve had some rocky times with my mental health recently and I had to take a break from tumblr and from writing. I really hope I can get you another chapter of this in less than three months but I make no promises. In other news we’re almost half way there now! Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this one - it’s an apology <3

ALSO I’VE BEEN DOING ALOT OF READING LATELY AND I’VE REALISED THAT COMMENTING IS SO REWARDING TOO. PLEASE COMMENT. I’VE BEEN ON BOTH SIDES AND IT’S FUCKING LOVELY.

*

When Brooke shakes Vanessa awake, she is already dressed. Vanessa rolls over gently, Brooke’s hand on her lower back as she looks up into the blonde’s eyes, getting lost for a second in her sleepy haze.

“Wake up, time to shop,” calls Brooke, cheery after a coffee and a protein shake. Vanessa sighs with a small giggle.

“You never sleep, huh,” she grumbles, squinting upwards at the ornate ceiling.

“You’re always grumpy in the morning,” Brooke counters goodnaturedly, although without giving anything away as to whether or not she does sleep. She stands straight and appears to dust off the navy blazer she is wearing before reaching into an inside pocket and pulling out her AmEx card. She hands it to Vanessa as if it was a piece of cardboard to be disposed of or something equally as meaningless. Vanessa takes it carefully. “Now, if you have any trouble using it, call the hotel,” Brooke reminds her, hand already on her briefcase. Before Vanessa can say anything, the blonde leans over and places a chaste kiss on her forehead, smiling slightly to herself as she goes to leave.

“So, more shopping?” Vanessa clarifies, causing Brooke to stop at the bedroom door. She turns around, puzzled at the tone.

“Yes,” she confirms as if it is obvious, “frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t buy more yesterday.”

“It wasn’t fun.”

“No?” Brooke drops the briefcase at the door and sits by Vanessa’s legs on the bed, any plans to leave forgotten.

“They were real mean to me.”

“Mean to you? Well then.” Brooke takes Vanessa’s hand and pulls her up out of the bed, her face like a man on a mission, except more pressed and less forgiving. “We’ll see about that,” she mumbles under her breath, hoping Vanessa won’t hear. She doesn’t see the smile that graces the girl’s lips.

*

Vanessa is barely dressed when Brooke comes back into the room. She’s got her hair piled in a bun on top of her head and one of Brooke’s shirts is tied at her waist like a crop top, attempting to bring a modicum more class to the hooker skirt on its third day of wear. Despite looking like a self proclaimed ‘mess on legs’, Brooke still watches Vanessa for a second, eyes raking her soft, toned legs and ass lifted by her red stilletos.

The blonde picks up the AmEx card off the table and slots it into the breast pocket of the shirt, mentally appraising Vanessa’s memory before forcing an iced latte into the girls hand and using the other to almost drag her into the main area. They stand facing each other for a second, Vanessa looking up expectantly.

“Don’t fidget.” Brooke starts, tone clipped. “Drink the coffee.”

“Yes, mami.”

“Ness.”

“Sorry.”

*

By the time they get to the store Vanessa is shaking. It’s in part due to the large coffee she drank in an inhumanely fast time, but mostly the sheer nerves of standing outside a place that managed to make her feel so small. Brooke notices, of course she does, and squeezes her hand comfortingly.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, quietly.

“People are looking at me,” she responds, shifting a little on the spot, hands running along the base of her skirt, nails buried in her palms.

“They’re not looking at you, they’re looking at me.” Brooke’s not wrong. She’s dressed in a white lace bodysuit, tailored navy cigarette trousers and a navy blazer, the outfit accentuating the impossible length of her legs and the gym workouts she does six days a week

“I don’t like stores like these, they’re not nice to people.”

“They’re never nice to people. They’re nice to credit cards,” Brooke counters with a tone that tells Vanessa they are done. She gives her a quick once over, smoothing one side of the shirt. “Quit fidgeting, get rid of the gum,” she commands. When Vanessa spits it out into the nearest street grate, the blonde just sighs.

*

Brooke leads them both into the store with a confidence Vanessa just doesn’t have. It’s been cultivated through years in a competitive field, and it oozes out of every barely existing pore on the blondes skin. Vanessa trails behind, timid and unsure, but immediately feeling the residual anger burn back up in her heart.

This store is painted in taupes and warm beiges, neutrals that extend as far as the eye can see. It even smells expensive, like if you step in without at least a million dollars you will be kicked right back out onto the street. Vanessa’s eyes get caught on the bright reds and golds and the deep sea blues covering the many racks and rails of the store.

They’re immediately approached by a tall woman in her mid twenties, red hair and green eyes that appear to reflect all the greenery Salifornia is missing. She has more conviction behind her eyes than she should when faced with Brooke, but it doesn’t turn Vanessa off in the way it should.

“Scarlet Envy, floor manager,” the redhead says, hand stuck out in greeting. Brooke shakes it in a business-like fashion, but her frown stays put.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes.”

“Ah yes, miss,” Scarlett appeases, acknowledging Vanessa for the first time - even with someone like Brooke she is still overlooked - people still don’t treat her like she has a voice.

“You see this woman?” Brooke gestures to the brunette behind her.

“Yes?”

“Do you have anything in this shop as beautiful as she is?” Scarletts smile falters for a second, her face overcome with confusion as she scans the shop floor.

“Oh, yes.” Brooke’s eyes darken. “Oh, no! No, no, no, I’m saying we have many things as beautiful as she would want them to be. That’s the point I was getting at, and I think we can all agree with that. “ Her face now matches her name and it makes Vanessa chuckle in a way that Brooke definitely banned her from doing earlier that day.

“I think,” the blonde tests, “that we’re going to need more people helping us.” Scarlet nods. “I’ll tell you why. We’re going to be spending an obscene amount of money here. So we’re going to need a lot more help sucking up to us. That’s what we really like. You understand that?” She flashes the edge of her black AmEx card and recognition flashes across Scarlet’s eyes. She nods again, this time with more assertion, and turns on her heels to find the appropriate amount of people to cater to the extortionate amount of money due to be spent.

As Vanessa is fussed and tended to, Scarlet approaches Brooke again, the taller woman with a soft smile and a warm demeanour peeking through her cold front. “Excuse me miss? exactly how obscene an amount of money were you talking about?”

Brooke chuckles softly.

“Just profane or really offensive”

“Really offensive Scarlet.”

“I think I like you.”

At that moment, Brookes phone rings and she sighs. The spell is broken, and she hurries past Vanessa, sliding the card into her hand and kissing her on the cheek. She’s halfway through the conversation before she leaves the store.

*

“Brooke Lynn Hytes speaking.”

“Oh, Brooke. Where the hell are you?” Brooke runs a hand through her loose blonde strands, stifling a yawn as her eyes scan the street for her car.

“Busy, Mr Charles.”

“The words all over the street. Cain’s gonna raise the offer.” Ru sounds more excited than Brooke has heard in god knows how long, but she’s unconvinced.

“She’s countering? God, she is a tough old bird. Where’s she gonna get the money from?”

“I don’t know. She, uh– I think he’s throwin’ in with the employees.” Her hand moves to her forehead, no longer caring about her makeup. She is tired and clinging onto the happiness of Vanessa - hoping she can get through the day and just get back to her.  

“She still needs someone to underwrite the paper. Find out who it is, I’m on my way.”

“Yeah, okay. You got it.”

The line goes dead.

*

Back with Scarlet, Vanessa smiles to herself. She feels powerful in a store full of men and women who listen to her every whim. In the men’s section, she spots a red tie the colour of her lipstick. She taps the nearest woman and gestures to it. “Get me that tie, would you?” She asks - it doesn’t sound like a request though.

“Farrah, get miss Mateo the tie.”

*

She finishes up in that shop and orders a taxi to take her home - arms overwhelmed with the sheer number of bags she has. As they are driving down the street however, she spots a shop she has to visit and calls for the driver to pull up. She grabs four or five bags, and hops out, strutting into the store like she owns it.

“Hello.” She calls out as she steps through the door. She drops her bags on the floor dramatically and watches as two women hurry to pick them back up for her, moving them onto a stand ever so carefully. Carson is scurrying around in the back and she calls for him to come down to meet her. “Do you remember me?” She asks.

Vanessa is smirking because she can. She’s dressed like a rich housewife, and she has every intention of acting like one - all prissy and entitled because she can. She can do all of this.

“No, I’m sorry,” replies Carson and he sounds genuine. It’s a wonder what dressing well can do for you, she thinks to herself, dabbing at her forehead with a silk handkerchief.  

“I was here yesterday. You wouldn’t wait on me,” she states.

“Oh.” This time his brow furrows and she watches as her remember exactly who she is.

“You work on commission, right?”

“Uh, yes.” Vanessa wishes Brooke could see her now. She imagines the blonde would look so proud as she slowly pulls off her white gloves to reveal chipped red nailpolish. With her now unclothed hand, she reaches into the breast pocket of her cream pantsuit and pulls out the AmEx card. She tries to embody Brooke as she smrks.

“Big mistake. Big. Huge!” She beckons for her bags and they are placed back in her hands. She gives them one last look and then raises an eyebrow, lip quirking. “I have to go shopping now.”

She leaves and she does not look back.

*

Vanessa stalks through the hotel lobby looking proud, chest out, head high. She has a few bags in each hand with Courtney carrying the rest up to the room and she feels powerful. She could get used to the way people’s eyes are following her for good reasons instead of bad, and yet the grasp of wealth feels scary. It sickens her to know how differently people treat her because of how she dresses.

Nina’s talking to people when Vanessa walks in and she doesn’t notice her at first, but as her clients’ heads turn, hers does too. She sees the short brunette in a cream pantsuit and a small smile grows on her face. She sees Vanessa as kind of her child now and, damn, is she proud.

Vanessa goes out of sight, but Nina’s smile doesn’t change.

*

Brooke enters her office already done with the day. At her desk sits Ru, her boss, looking unimpressed with her lateness as he slams the phone back onto the desk, shuffling his papers and pointing to the chair opposite him for her to sit in.

“Brooke Lynn,” he says, monotone and with little care.

“Mr Charles.”

His facade seems to drop almost immediately, lighting up like a kid at Christmas as he hands her a sheet of mortgages taken out by Shuga Cain. “You were right about Shuga. She mortgaged everything she owns, right down to her walking stick, to secure a loan from the bank.” Brooke feigns surprise before giving him a raise of the eyebrow that can only be interpreted as ‘I told you so.’ Ru’s face replies with ‘and there’s more’ before he says, “Not just any bank, Visage Banking!”

“Uhuh,” Brooke follows.

“I think it goes without saying that this deal means more to the bank than even to Cain. And we‘ve got an in at the bank…” he trails off, like he wants her to end his thoughts, but she refuses with a stare. “So…..”

“We gotta call the bank.” She finally exhales with a sigh. He looks disapproving and a little curious as to her mood.

“Alright Brooke. What the hell is wrong with you this week?” He breaks, leaning onto her desk like he’s supposed to be interrogating her, but with all the power of a golden retriever. Despite this, Brooke cannot find it within her to withhold much.

“You know what I used to love when I was a little kid, Ru?” She doesn’t wait for a reply. “Building blocks, Kinects.”

Ru sighs and runs a hand over his bald head. “So, I liked Monopoly - I don’t get what you’re saying.”            

“In Canada, I help people build things. You don’t build anything, Ru. You destroy it.”

“I make money,” he counters with a stony disposition. “We’ve worked for a year on this deal. It’s what you said you wanted. I’m handing it to you.”

“You’ve worked for it. You want it. You don’t want your hands dirty.” Brooke gets louder as she says it, standing, hands flat on her desk.

“Morse’s jugular is exposed. It’s time for the kill,” Ru finishes, looking angry.

Brooke picks up her briefcase swiftly and has a foot out of the door when Ru calls after her, “Call the bank!” She doesn’t dignify him with a response.

*

When Brooke comes into the penthouse she is exhausted and frazzled, and cannot wait to relax into the sofa with a large glass of red wine and her Netflix subscription. What she does not expect (although it is not unwelcomed), is to find Vanessa lounged on her favourite armchair nude. The woman’s hair is tied in a messy bun on top of her head, single curls falling down to frame her face. The only item she has on (it cannot be deemed clothing), is a vintage red tie. It covers nothing, sitting perfectly between her breasts, and Brooke would be lying if she said she wasn’t fixated.

“Nice tie,” she gulps out, a little speechless.

“I bought it for you,” purrs Vanessa, tugging at it gently, teeth imprinting on her lip. She holds her hand out to Brooke and guides her through the archway into the ensuite.

*

They lay together in a bathtub full of bubbles, Brooke’s head on Vanessa’s chest as she slowly rubs a sponge over her torso, watching the bubbles lather and dissipate as if entranced. There’s something about bathing together that removes any sense of distance, and Brooke feels compelled to open up about things she’s never considered opening up about. She smiles contentedly before she begins to speak.

“My father always wanted me to be a man,” she states plainly, without preamble or caution. Vanessa’s hands stop briefly before a sloshing can be heard and then warm water is back, rolling over Brooke’s chest. “I suppose that’s why he never had a problem with me being gay - thought I’d make a butch lesbian.”

Vanessa chuckles at that and Brooke can feel the vibrations through her own body too. “You ain’t butch, Mary,” she gets out.

“I know,” responds Brooke with a lilt in her voice. “Anyway, back in my early twenties, I competed in Miss Continental. My dad,” she pauses to consider her words, “he was furious.” Vanessa places a warm hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “We fought for weeks, he always wanted me to be something, to follow in his footsteps and make something of myself, and insisted that I couldn’t do so if I won a beauty pageant.”

“Bullshit.”

“Exactly. Anyway, he all but disowned me - called me names I’ll never forget and, god, I was so angry.” She sighs and tries to run a hand through her hair, but it’s wet and knotted, so she settles on running her nails up her thigh. Vanessa notices and drops the sponge in the water, settling them both into a position where she can detangle Brooke’s hair easily. “It took me ten thousand dollars in therapy to say that sentence. I was very angry with him.” She repeats with a smirk as Vanessa giggles behind her. “I say that very well don’t I? I’ll say it again. I was very angry with him.” This turns the woman’s giggles into full fledged laughter as she feels her hair become lighter, until Vanessa’s fingers get back to detangling.

“Hi, I’m Brooke Lynn Hytes and I was very angry with my father.”

“I’d be real mad at the ten thousand dollars, boo, but you do you,” Vanessa chips in and Brooke can hear the smile in her voice, glad they’re both enjoying their bathtub rendezvous.

“I won Miss Continental,” Brooke announces finally, deeming it important to finish the story.

“Damn, babe,” she sounds impressed and it makes Brooke flush under the dimly glowing bathroom lights.

“I won Miss Continental and I used the money to put myself through law school. And then I got a job and opened a firm under RuPaul and the first case of his I took on - I helped buy out the company my father was president of. I helped buy it and then I helped sell it off, piece by piece.”

“What did the therapist say?”

“He said I was cursed.”

“Well, you got even, so that must’a made you happy then.”

“Did I mention my legs are about 31 inches from hip to ankle,” Vanessa asks, suggestively wrapping both her legs around Brooke’s waist and leaning to dot a kiss onto her shoulder. “So, basically, we’re talkin’ about 31 inches of therapy, wrapped around you for the bargain price of…”

“Three thousand dollars,” they finish together, laughing. Brooke turns her head so she can lay a soft kiss on the back of Vanessa’s hand, a ‘thank you for listening’ and a 'thank you for still being here’.

[papa-rhys]

i know you receive a lot of writing requests (bc your writing is wonderful!!) so please dont feel pressured or rushed to write this or anything! but i was wondering if you would like to write charles x adorable, short reader? like maybe the boys tease him bc charles is such a big, tough man and reader is tiny ray of sunshine who brings out charles’ soft side like no one else? idk, you can interpret/write this however you want, i just need charles fluff LOL

Reassurance (Charles X Reader)

Now that I’m reading over this, it sounds sad? I didn’t mean for that to happen, I’m sorry, lmao. I tried to write this in 6 different ways and I just could not for the life of me channel it correctly, if that makes sense? Hopefully this will suffice! 

You sit on the floor underneath the canvas where you andCharles sleep, waiting out the miserable weather in the moderate comfort of thebedrolls that the two of you laid together to form one big enough for the bothof you to share.

Charles sits near you, resting against a box and quietlyreading the newspaper that Hosea had given to him earlier in the day and youfind yourself bored of watching the fog and lashing rain. Deciding that you’re in need of someaffection, you crawl over to where he sits.

“What you readin’?” you chirp, poking your head over the topof his newspaper.

“The news,” he says sarcastically with a smile on his face.

“Har har. Anythinginteresting?”

“Not really. Some stuff about us, but other than that, it’sjust the usual nonsense about bigwings and thieving politicians.”

“Sounds thrilling,” you state, rolling your eyes and takingthe top of the newspaper between your thumb and forefinger. Slowly tugging thepaper from his hands, you smile up at him mischievously. “I can think of far better ways to pass thetime on a day like this,” you tell him, suggestively.

There’s a brief secondwhere you could have sworn Charles looked alarmed – almost scared – at thethought of having sex with you and your stomach churns a little with the blowto your confidence that comes along with him clearing his throat and edgingaway from you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, resting back on your knees andplacing your hands in your lap; your head tilted to one side.

“I, uh… I just don’t –“

“You don’t want me?”

“No! I mean, yes – I do wantyou. I just…” He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back out of hisface before letting out a deep sigh of frustration. “You’re so small,” he says.“Some of the boy’s think I might be… hurting you… when we…”

“They – Christ, that’s what this is about? The boyspicking on you again?” You can’t help but breath a sigh of relief, followed bya chuckle. For a moment there, you were scared he might have gone off you, andknowing that he hasn’t… well, it’s an understatement to say that you’re happy. Charles has been receivingsome flak for a while now; mainly about the size difference between the two ofyou. It’s all in jest, you’re sure, but it pains you to find out that it affectshim this deeply. It’s not like him to not want to touch you – he usually hashis hands all over you at every opportunity – so him abstaining from being intimatewith you is proof enough for you that the once jovial, offhand comments aregetting a little too out of hand now.

“I just don’t wanna hurt you,”he says. “I couldn’t bear it if you were in pain and you weren’t telling me.”

“You don’t hurt me,” youreassure him. “Those boys are just talking outta the side of their necks. Youdon’t gotta listen to a damn word from them.”

There’s a moment of silence as Charles pauses and gazes down and his hands, pondering the size of them. “They think I act funny when I’m around you,” he mumbles,allowing you to scoot next to him and take his hand in yours.

“Yeah? Well they also thinkBill Williamson is funny, so I wouldn’t read so much into that,” you smile. “Theyclearly have a poor sense of humour.”

You stroke the back of hishand with your thumb and he puts his other arm around your shoulder, pullingyou in tight and squeezing you into him. You rest your head on his chest,breathing deeply and calmly as you absorb his warmth in the midst of the dreary weather.

“I’m sorry for making youfeel bad about yourself,” he says softly, before planting a kiss on the top ofyour head. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“No, I know,” you smile up athim sweetly. “Rain’s clearin’ up. You wanna head into town and see what troublewe can get into?”

Charles looks around the campbefore letting a small hmm escape his throat as he thinks the idea over. “Most of the boys are outon that job with Dutch,” he says, lifting his hand from around your shoulder topull some hair out of your face. “Camp’s pretty empty. It’d be a waste if wedidn’t take advantage of the peace and quiet.”

“Oh yeah?” you grin, sittingup and craning your neck to kiss him.

“I mean, if you don’t want to then…” he smiles, placing his hand on your jaw.

“I’ll be sure to screamparticularly loud to let you know if you hurt me,” you joke.

“Oh, you do that,” he smirks,nodding his head before scooping you up and laying you down on the bedroll; leaningdown and trailing tickly kisses along your collarbone that leave you giggling asyou bury your fingers in his hair.

Bonus: The day before

You give Charles a peck on the cheek as the two of you partways at the campfire. It’s late and cold and you’d much rather be asleep thanbe sat around the fire with the boys and their liquor-fuelled bickering.

“I’ll be over soon,” Charles tells you, letting go of yourhand as you head off to your tent.

“You two look close,” Bill comments, approaching thecampfire as Charles takes a seat.

“We are,” Charlesresponds curtly.

Bill swigs from hisbottle of whiskey, keeping his eyes on Charles he does so. He’s clearly drunk - as evidenced by him swaying like a tree in the breeze as he stands - and Charles knows enough about Bill to know that the conversation that follows will be anything but dull. “So,” Bill starts, prompting Charles to roll his eyes. “How does… y’know… how does it work?” 

Bill makes a gesture towards Charles’ crotch, then towards the direction that you had walked off in, and Charles blinks at him for a moment before responding. “Howdoes whatwork?” he asks, though he surely already knows where Bill is going with this.

“Y’know… how do you… fuck? I mean, you’re a biiiiig fella… and Y/N’sso small. Doesn’t it hurt ‘em?”

Bill – waiting on some kind of answer – stares Charles down. 

“Isthis, uh…” Charles clears his throat and does his best to hide hisembarrassment and discomfort. “Is this a joke, Bill?”

Bill shrugs. “Well it was semi-serious to begin with, but since you seem to find it sooffensive, I guess it’s a joke.”

There’s a few seconds of silence – seconds that feel like hours to the both of them – and Bill eventually decides that it’d be best to take himself out of the conversation. He bids Charles a good night and staggers off towards the poker table where Mr Pearson and Javier sit, leaving Charles to look down and examine himself, contemplating the size of his frame.

[fandorkofeverything]

RdR2 Doubts And Scars Chapter Seven

//Katherine’s P.O.V//

 

“Dad, he’s been tied for almost a month now! He’s had no food or water; he’s going to die if you don’t decide what to do with him!”

 

“So what if he dies? He an O’Driscoll, Katherine!”


“How can you say that? You don’t know Kieran like I do! Or Raine! They never belonged in the O’Driscoll gang! ‘Nor did they want to be in it in the first place!”

 

My hands were made into fists from anger. My eyebrows were furred, and my voice rose louder with each word I spoke. Kieran and Raine don’t deserve the shit they got. They need to be treated fairly. True, they didn’t tie Raine up, because the boys would never tie a woman up, let alone a minor, but still! They’re starving her and Kieran! Without me, they’d be dead.

 

“Plus, it’s not like you haven’t been around her lately anyways. That fight in Valentine. Saving Reverend from that damn train. And oh! That’s right! Collecting those goddamn debts!” I growled, crossing my arms. Strauss’ debts are stupid. Why pay people who can’t pay you back? It’s ridiculous.

 

“Fine. I’ll have a little chat with him.” Dad decided, defeated and I breathed a sigh of relief.

 

“Thank you…” I started to walk the other way, but I decided against it. Knowing my father, I had better follow him. Plus, I knew Raine was by Kieran, and I needed to keep an eye on her.

 

We walked up to Kieran and Raine, both of them tensed up immediately at the sight of Arthur.

 

“Put in a good word? Would you…?” Kieran asked, visibly shaking.

 

“You got some speaking to do of your own. About that old gang of yours.” Dad growled at him, Kieran then looked down, scared.

 

“Dad, come on…..” I whispered, a hand on his shoulder. This wasn’t the way to do it.

 

“Mr. Arthur….. Please. Let my brother go.” Raine pleaded, her big blue eyes shining up at him.

 

“I said…. I told you…. I don’t know nothing.” Kieran told him, and Dad scoffed.

 

“That’s what I thought.” Dad growled, crossing his arms.

 

“Come on, Dad. He has to take care of his sister. Untie him.” I told him, but he didn’t take his eyes off Kieran.

 

“Not just yet, Katherine. I was thinking Mr. Williamson could have a word.” Pawpaw came up, Bill behind him. My blood turned to ice. I know what Bill is capable of….

 

“You ready to talk, boy?” Bill growled, getting in Kieran’s face. Raine shuffled and hid behind me. I put my arms around her in comfort.

 

“I told all of you, I don’t know nothing! They ain’t no friends of ours! My sister and I just rode with them for a while!”

 

“Horseshit! See, we’ve heard that part, so how about the truth?!” Bill screamed at him in his face. “Dutch, what’d you want me to do?”

 

“Hurt him! So the next time he opens his mouth, it is to tell us what’s going on!” Dutch exclaimed, and Bill rolled his sleeves up, getting in his face and Kieran flinched back slightly, as if afraid to be touched.

 

“Pawpaw, please! He didn’t do nothing to us!” I pleaded, trying to get him to see reason.

 

“Quiet!” He exclaimed, looking in my direction, then back at Kieran. “Who am I kidding? But if one of O’Driscoll’s boys opened his mouth, he’d tell a lie. Screw it. Let’s just have some fun.” He turned to Bill, with a smile. “Geld him.”

 

“What?!” I exclaimed, tightening my grip around Raine.

 

“No!” She exclaimed, trying to get free of my grasp. “Don’t hurt him!” She struggled in my arms, but I held onto her. “Get away from my brother!”

 

“I’ll do something, just wait a minute.” I whispered to her, and she settled down slightly.

 

“Bill Williamson, don’t you dare go near That boy with those tongs!” I exclaimed stepping in front of Kieran.

 

“Move aside, Miss Morgan. This is man’s work!” Bill exclaimed, moving his hand as if to push me out of the way.

 

“You touch me, Williamson, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” I warned him, hand on my knife on my belt.

 

“Katherine. Move.” He told me and I shook my head.

 

“No. and you wouldn’t hurt a lady, now would you, Williamson?” I asked him, a smile on my face.

 

“For God’s sake! Katherine Bessie Morgan, move outta the way!” Dad moved me forcefully, and Dutch lowered Kieran’s pants.

 

“Don’t worry! They’re only balls boy!” I made Raine turn around so she wouldn’t have to look at Kieran’s parts, and I ran at Williamson. Stupidly, I grabbed the tongs and jerked it away from him. I screamed and threw them aside, blowing on my now burning hands.

 

“Katherine!” Dad grabbed my now sizzling hands, getting a better look at them. he then gave me eye contact, looking directly at me. “Are you crazy?!”

 

“A little bit.” I breathed heavily as my hands continued to burn.

 

“Katherine, go see Miss Grimshaw.” Pawpaw told me and I shook my head.

 

“Not until you untie Kieran, let him pull his pants up and treat him decently.” I argued, ignoring the glare that Dad was giving me.

 

“Okay, okay! Listen. I know where O’Driscolls held up. And you’re right. He don’t like you anymore than you like him. He’s at Six Pointe Cabin! I’ll take you there. Serious. I don't like him. I mean, I like him even less than I like you no offense." Kieran spilled the beans and I sighed in relief. They weren’t going to hurt him.

 

“Okay. Why don’t you take a few of us up there, right now?” Dad ‘suggested’ though it wasn’t really a suggestion, more like an order. Dad cut the rope, and he pulled his pants back up, hurriedly.

 

“Go see your Aunt Susan. Now.” Dad ordered me and I nodded slowly.

 

“Come on, Raine.” I whispered, and she followed me.

 

//

 

“Seriously, Katherine! How stupid are you?! Why would you grab flaming hot burning tongs?! If I were your mother, let me tell you!” I had basically tuned Aunt Susan out at this point. I love her, I really do. But she knows I’ll do whatever I damn well please. She pulled the wrap around my hand a little too rough, and I eyed her. She mumbled a slight apology and I sighed, shaking my head slightly and looked over to the other side of the clearing.

 

Dad, Uncle John, Bill and Kieran were back at this point. They were told that Kieran should be spared, and he and Raine will remain living with us. I’m glad about that! I’ve grown found over the siblings. I’d hate to see them break up. Raine’s also grown more confident talking with the other gang members. Charles, Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth particularly. She’s still wary of Arthur, Dutch, Sadie and Bill. I don’t blame her. They’re terrifying if you didn’t grow up with them or have gotten to know them.

 

Sadie, however,…. That’s different. Her husband was killed by O’Driscolls. Though, it’s not their fault….. I wish I could teach everyone to hate the sin, love the sinner…. It’ll take some time though. But I’m willing to help them. Whatever it takes.

 

“Okay. You’re free to go.” Aunt Susan told me, and I got up, walking over to Kieran and Raine.

 

“So, free from imprisonment, are we Mr. Duffy?” I smiled as he blushed slightly. I could tell he was timid. Shy, even. I think I can help with that. “How’s Spirit doin’?” I asked, looking to the Kieran-confirmed Arabian/Thoroughbred mix. That’s what we’re calling it.

 

“He’s good. He still needs some time adjusting though.” Kieran commented, looking over to where the horses are. “Dutch assigned Raine and I to care for the horses.”


“That’s great!” I exclaimed, patting his shoulder, causing him to flinch a bit. Something tells me he’s not one to like touch.

 

“Now that I have my own horse, Kieran’s going to help me train him and get him saddle-broke and ridable! Right, Kieran?” Raine looked at her brother, hopefully and he nodded.

 

“You got that right!” He exclaimed, messing up her hair, causing her to giggle.

 

“Kieran! Let go!” She laughed, trying to get out of his grasp. I laughed at the sight.

 

“Micah! They got Micah! Dutch! Arthur!” I heard the familiar voice of Lenny Summers, he basically jumped of his barely three-year-old mare, Maggie and ran up to Pawpaw, Dad and Aunt Molly.

 

“Who’s Micah?” Raine whispered, not knowing who the sick rat bastard rattlesnake was.

 

“I’ll explain later.” I told her, walking up to where my second-best friend was.

 

“What’s going on?” Pawpaw asked him.

 

“Micah! He’s been arrested for murder! He was in Strawberry and he—” Lenny didn’t breathe as he spoke, I put a comforting hand on him.

 

“Lenny, it’s okay. Just breathe.” I told him and he took a few breaths but continued.

 

“They nearly lynched me… They got Micah in the Sheriff’s at Strawberry. And there’s talk of hanging him.��� Lenny finished and I scoffed. It’d do the ratface good.

 

“Here’s hoping.” Dad commented, earning a laugh out of me.

 

“Arthur!” Pawpaw exclaimed in shock.

 

“What? The fool brought this on himself! You know my feelings about him, Dutch.” Dad told him. He was right. Micah’s not reliable. He’s the one who convinced Pawpaw to take the goddamn boat job in Blackwater.

 

“You think I can’t see past his bluster to the heart inside? He is a fine man.” I scoffed at Pawpaw’s comment. A fine idiot, that’s for sure.


“No! I ain’t saving that fool!” Dad exclaimed, turning the other way.

 

“I can’t go! My face will be all over West Elizabeth! Arthur, I am asking. He would do it for you.” Pawpaw told him and Dad sighed in defeat.

 

“I don’t think he would, but fine, alright.” Dad waved his hand in agreement.

 

“Thank you, Arthur.” Pawpaw nodded at him and Dad looked over to Lenny, who was sitting at the nearby table.

 

“You okay, Lenny?” Dad asked, walking over to Lenny, who was only a month or two older than me.

 

“Yeah, of course I’m okay.” Lenny told him and I shook my head. He’s not.

 

“You don’t seem okay.” Dad commented and I rolled my eyes. Way to be subtle.

 

“You take that kid into town. Valentine, not Strawberry. Get him drunk. And Arthur? No crazy business.” Pawpaw told him, causing me to smirk.

 

“I’ve given that up!” Dad defended himself. Yeah. Right.

 

“And you get Micah out of that jail!” Pawpaw ordered him, going into his open tent. Dad sighed, irritated that he’d have to rescue the rat.

 

“Come on, son.” Dad wrapped his arms around Lenny slightly, walking towards Maggie and Splash. “I’ll get to it Dutch! I just…. Can’t drop everything.”

 

I eyed Black Rose, who has a face full of grass in her mouth and I smiled. I ran over towards her, mounted her and raced past Dad and Lenny.

 

“Keep up, old man!” I exclaimed, urging Black Rose on.

 

“Old man?!” I heard Dad yell and I smiled.

 

“We’ll show her!” I heard Lenny exclaim and I heard the clatter of hooves.

 

“You know the way girl; we know for a fact you can beat ‘em!” I exclaimed, asking for more speed.

 

Racing against the eagles, the wind in your hair. You almost seem free. Like, you can do whatever you want, say whatever you want, and you won’t be ridiculed for it. It’d be amazing if the world was like that. If the world was better. If the world was kinder. But it’s just not meant to be.

 

I pulled Rose to a stop at the entrance to the Saloon and smirked as the other two followed.

 

“You’re not fair.” Lenny told me, dismounting Maggie.

 

“No but let me tell you this;” I wrapped my arm around him and smirked. “Even with two burned hands, I still ran a better race than you.” I told him and he rolled his eyes but smiled at me anyways.

 

We walked into the saloon, and we leaned on the bar. We ordered three beers. I hope to god that this is only one or two…..

 

About an hour later

 

“I don't wanna spend my life jaded,

Waiting to wake up one day and find,

That I let all these years go by.

Wasted….

 

Another glass of whiskey but it still don't kill the pain,

So he stumbles to the sink and pours it down the drain,

He said it's time to be a man and stop living for yesterday,

Gotta face it.

 

'Cause I don't wanna spend my life jaded,

Waiting to wake up one day and find,

That I let all these years go by,

Wasted…..”

 

“Katherine, get off the bar!”

 

“I’m not on the bar! You’re in the fishbowl!” I laughed and fell about fifty feet, hitting the floor.

 

“Ow! Damnit Lenny, why didn’t you warn me about that cliff?!” I exclaimed, struggling to find my legs. “Have you seen my legs?! I swear I just had them!” I felt around, but no such luck. “Legs! Where are you?!” I ran outside, hopefully to find them. “Excuse me, ma’am!? Have you seen my legs?!”

 

“They’re attached to you, dear.”

 

“Ohhhhhh….. Thank you for helping me find my legs!” I hugged her and she gave me a pat on the arm.

 

“Go home, dear. You’re drunk.”

 

“Have you seen my Dad? I can’t find him! He’s tall and handsome! He’s a man with a face, and hair!” I exclaimed, looking around to find my father. The women sighed, pointing somewhere.

 

“Maybe try the saloon?” She suggested and I sputted.

 

“Pfffffffffft, as if! He gave up drinking years ago!” I waved my hand in disbelief, but walked into the saloon anyways.

 

“Daddy! Have you seen my Dad?!” I yelled, looking around the saloon. “You know, you’re not the only one I call Daddy! But I’m talking about you in this moment!” I looked around and fell over a chair, falling twenty feet. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THE RIVER?! HELP! I’M DROWNING!” I flapped my arms pathetically, trying to get out of the river.

 

“Katherine!” I felt myself be lifted up and saw Lenny. “What are you doing?” I grabbed Lenny’s face and kissed him on the lips.

 

“Javier’s not the only good-looking man in our family!” I wobbled off sideways, trying not to fall in the river again.

 

“LENNY?!” I heard Dad’s voice, and Lenny went over and grabbed Dad. I saw them repeatedly smacking themselves and I laughed, hiccups in between.

 

Awhile later, I found myself outside, in the street.

 

“Hey, you three! Stop right there!” We froze as we heard their voices. Police. We started to run, one caught Lenny. One caught up with me and handcuffed me. the other one chased Dad and caught him too. After that, I blacked out.

 

////

 

“Kat? Are you dead?” I groaned at the sound of Lenny’s voice, holding my head.

 

“Shut the fuck up….. Ugh, kill me now.” I sat up, looking around. Dad, Lenny and I were in jail cell. Wonderful.

 

“What did we do?” Dad asked and I shrugged.

 

“No idea.” I commented.

 

“I don’t know.” Lenny added onto that.

 

“Me neither.” The Sheriff said, I looked over at him. “Shit. A trio of degenerates. There’s a fine for drunken violence in this town. You’re just lucky no one was killed.”

 

“We didn’t start a thing!” Dad yelled and the Sheriff chuckled, amused.

 

“Yes, you did.”


“Well…” Dad waved his hand in defeat. “I don’t remember.”

 

“Any of you got any money? It’s fifteen dollars, and you’re free to walk.” I sighed, pulled out said price and handing it to the man.

 

“Pity the lady has to pay for your crimes.” I glared at him as he unlocked the cells, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Woah, my apologies miss! Why don’t you two take the lady home. See she does her house chores.” I growled and slammed the door shut when we got out.

 

“That inconsiderate, no-good, sexist- Ahhh!” I screamed in anger, crossing my arms in annoyance. “I am not just a woman to see to house chores! I can fight, I can hunt, I can kill if need be, and I can ride! I’m nobody’s buckle bunny!” I exclaimed, hand on my hip.

 

“Trust me, we know.” Lenny told me and I scoffed, getting on Black Rose, holding my head as another dizzy spell took place. 


“I’ll see you two back at camp. No hurry.” I told them, making Black Rose walk.

 

Well…. That certainly was fun. One of the worst drinking I’ve done yet. Tomorrow, Dad and I will deal with Micah. Either that be letting him hang or saving him from Strawberry. I’ll decide when we get there......


Did I kiss Lenny?!

 

I stopped Black Rose and facepalmed.

 

   

“I’m a fucking idiot.”