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kimaprince · 1 year

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Rapunzel's Flower Dev Log: Part 41 Blast From the Past

New Post has been published on https://kimaprince.com/2023/01/27/rapunzels-flower-dev-log-part-41-blast-from-the-past/

Rapunzel's Flower Dev Log: Part 41 Blast From the Past

DISCLAIMER: I found these unreleased Dev Log notes in my previous ‘2020 Dev Log’ file in my Google Docs, and as much of it is ridiculously outdated, it’s still a snapshot of the development of RF. I also think it’s missing some development between this log and my next. I have a few notes at the bottom about what I believe is missing. Also, it was apparently written before I dropped development of Reel Dream! That’s, that’s old. I mean, this is also around the begining of 2020 quarantine >3> I’d like to forget that actually.

For this year’s (2023) first Dev Log, go here. (I’ll add the link when it’s posted)

PLAYING AROUND

Feb 17, 2020

As I’m planning on putting dev logs on hiatus I’ve actually been playing around with RF today, not really doing much but I played with a Mode 7 plugin just to see what it would do:

It looks like a lot of fun when playing with it, but it has too much that would need to be done to make it work right, and is out of the scope of this project.

I got this idea however, from a game that I recently got addicted to over the weekend:

Cat Quest Developed by: The Gentlebros Pte. Ltd.

Like that game legit had me addicted and I think I beat the main story line in two days. Which isn’t much time considering the mommy life. I’m still playing the after game and clearing dungeons.

So other than the map perspective used in the game, Cat Quest (GO PLAY IT. I got it on the Switch! Okay, yes I realize this game is a few years old. It takes me a bit to get around lol) also got me thinking about dungeons and dungeon crawling. Their dungeons are single level (this game is very casual play-like) and they aren’t too expansive…unless it’s supposed to be…and they have a lot of invisible paths.

So that got me thinking for RF that I should start planning the dungeon floors to be a lot smaller than what I had imagined in my head. This will help with mapping time, and for players to clear floors faster to feel like they are progressing.

I’m going to combine that with the recurring chests idea I had, and I may include different chest types, like a locked type players can go back for once they get a key further in the game that will have rarer, but optional, items; which is another idea I got from Cat Quest.

SETTING UP THE SCRIVENER FILE WITH NPC PROFILES

Something I honestly should have put together long before is profiles for each of the characters in RF. However, I just got to doing it and thankfully I had been working on a similar system for Reel Dream and already had things I could copy/paste to make the templates.

I’m honestly questioning the 10 stars friendship system. I’m thinking of breaking it down to be stars. Maybe, maybe not. I want to make shorter games and figuring out things for 10 stars? Of course, I think I was only planning to have an actual friendship event every few stars, and I guess that means that if I have characters I want it to be harder to befriend, I could just make them have certain events happen at higher star levels, though that would also limit how many events I could have compared to others.

Okay, that was a long run on sentence but that’s my thoughts.

A MESS OF A MOUNTAIN

(Feb 19, 2020)

So I worked a good bit on Reel Dream’s plot today, scripting out the first part of the game so I felt I needed a break to do something more relaxing. So I went to RF to do some mapping of the mountain area:

Basically, from sample maps from the FSM asset pack, I glued together a few maps I liked and have been working away at making them fit, as well as making them how I imagined. Right now it’s still a mess but it’s coming together. That’s Avy’s Tower asset right there, that I plan to use for the main tower in this game. I may do a bit more searching, but this moss covered look fits with what I want for the game.

WHY DO KIDS GET US SICK

So between a rough emotional/mental week followed by a week of sick family, not much got done and now it is March 2nd. Reel Dream takes priority but I just want to note that I continued on that mountain and this is where it left off:

Still have a lot of work to do on it but it’s shaping up to be its own thing now, and not just a copy/paste from sample maps.

MARCH 5th 2020

Just did some mapping.

OH QUARANTINE OH QUARANTINE

June 15 2020

So how’s quarantine going, ya’ll?

Yeah, so between everything I normally deal with…RF has been on the bottom of the to-do list. I have been working on Reel Dream a bit lately and I continuously am trying to make my office area more productful and more childproof, which is hard now that my youngest is a full fledged toddler at age two.

What’s been on my mind lately for RF is the weapons crafting system and how I should simplify it in ways I’ve enjoyed in other games I’ve recently played such as Moonlighter. However, the idea of how it was all to work out was almost completely fledged out and ready to input into the engine so I kinda want to just go with my original idea and see how broken of a system it is. It may work out to be a fun quirk of the game!

I quit my Patreon before the corona lockdown happened, when I didn’t even know it was going to happen, and thankfully I did as I wouldn’t be able to keep up the Patreon at this rate.

Without the patreon however, it has allowed me to put game dev on the back burner as I have needed to, without feeling like I was ripping off those who were giving to me.

-Some Time Later-

Okay so yeah, the internet is distracting and I’m fighting laziness and depression right now but…

Game dev wise I think I may have tossed some dev notes in an office purge I did the other week, though I still have a lot of digital notes too so maybe what I want is there…

BLUB

BLUUUUUB

BLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUB

If any of ya’ll get that reference than….ya’ll are a parent.

Okay, so I had been working on the spreadsheet for figuring out the crafting system and I reduced the number of crafting materials I use in each setting:

I even renamed some stuff and decided on how some items were going to be used. Somehow, I just couldn’t reduce the med craft ingredients by much. Most things in that list made sense to me so I kept them.

Why this change? Well mostly I was inspired by Animal Crossing: New Horizions on how their main ingredients are just 3 types of wood, rock, clay and iron. Sure the game adds some special pieces too but those are what you are collecting on a daily basis.

Rapunzel’s Flower isn’t meant to be an overly large game, so I really shoudn’t have a boat ton of items and complicated crafting. I still want to make my additive ingredient method of crafting instead of something more linear (like Moonlighter) because I think how the additive properties will act in game will be painfully hilarious as I try and balance it all.

Yeah, I pretty much said I want to have a dev crisis trying to balance this game.

However, having done that I’ve gotten thinking about something else I had wanted to do originally in the game: On screen encounters. Originally I said I couldn’t do it because I don’t have sprites for the majority of Aekashics battlers I will be using, but thinking about it, the spawn monster doesnt have to look exactly as the monsters in the troop. I mean, hey, you don’t even see a troop you see one monster and SURPRISE it’s a troop…

So I DO have directional sprites for cute little elemental slimes for Aekashics that fit with the elements in my game. I’m thinking I could go back to the on screen encounters and use these elemental hinting slimes in the different areas to create on screen encounters. I even have plugins to make on screen encounters interactive.

More work? Potentially, well, yeah, but it will be in line with the original vision of the game.

THE NEXT DAY

Le gasp! I’m here typing the next day! So, last night I did a lot of work planning the crafting system and this is only part of my spreadsheet for that:

So I guess the next stage is…I don’t know…guess I have to make sure each item at least has an icon and then start putting these base recipes into the plugin.

As much as I love the crafting plugin I have, I also hate putting recipes in it. That’s actually why I have this spreadsheet is so that I can reference the item numbers and ingredients for input into the plugin. The plugin asks for item database numbers so I can’t just go back and forth trying to get and remember numbers. Thus, this spreadsheet.

Google Sheets really has become a go-to tool for me. I’ve even created scheduling, chore and grocery spreadsheets for daily life!…only the grocery one has gotten real use. Haha…that’s my fault. I keep trying to find a good planner system for myself because it’s easy for me to get off track and lazy.

Anywho, into the engine to go work on those recipes!

RECIPE WOES

Okay, so the recipes can only have one craft item category used and you can’t have two in one recipe so I’m going to have to plug in a LOT of recipe variations. Lots…man I’m glad I toned down how many weapons and junk were in the game.

So Okay, to tone that down why don’t we just require the Augment to be a chip that you have to craft? Yeah, yeah I think that makes sense. Then the recipe only calls for a Chip and that Chip, using the Additive Traits of the crafting system will add it’s traits to the weapon you are crafting. BINGO! I think that will save me some recipe making…I hope.

Wait, nope. That runs into the same exact issue. Unless….we use the Chip to create a Drive which creates a Core and all adds onto each other!

2023 Comments: Um, I’m not sure what all was going on at this point and I feel like there were a lot of decisions and developments I never ended up documenting. I’m not even sure if I recorded the decision to go with Randomly Generated Maps to create dungeons, or that I went back to a simpler crafting system with Yanfly’s Item Synthesis and have pretty much dropped augmenting items for weapon enhancement mechanic. Going to stick to simpler item and weapon creation. Sorry I didn’t document that, so there’s a bit of a gap between 2020 and 2023 that’s more than just time.

Anywho, from now on Dev Logs will be written for this year’s development, and I’ll try to keep in mind to give ya’ll a refresher when I talk about certain mechanics and developments.

Thanks for reading and God bless, Kima Prince

#Dev Log #Rapunzel's Flower #RPG Maker MV #Dev Logs

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julek · 3 years

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day 17 ❄ freshly baked bread

winter prompt challenge

The leaves have turned brown by the time they start trailing north. Geralt had had a significant number of contracts south of the Alba, after meeting Jaskier in Lyria, and they’d been slowly making their way into Kaedwen so they can arrive at the keep before the first snow. Jaskier’s joined him for many winters at Kaer Morhen now, and he knows better than to wait too long, careful to expose the bard to frozen temperatures when he doesn’t need to.

They’re making camp under a white fir after a long day of walking, but Jaskier doesn’t seem too tired.

“Where are we, exactly?” he asks Geralt, absentmindedly strumming his lute.

Geralt stokes the fire. “Not too far from Hagge.”

Jaskier frowns and licks his lips, and Geralt knows he’s looking at his mental map of the Continent, which, in Geralt’s humble opinion, isn’t all that accurate.

“Hagge... You know I always confuse that one with Brugge? Must be the spelling. Anyway! If we’re near Hagge, we’re near Lettenhove!”

Geralt sits down on a log next to the bard, whose eyes are glinting with excitement. His voice always takes on a soft note when he talks about his family, his expression warm and fond — Geralt knows he misses them, and sadly doesn’t seem to get time to spend around them. Whenever they’re in a city that’s big enough to have a good correspondence system, Jaskier writes to his sisters and his parents, telling them all about their lives as they trudge around the Continent.

Jaskier heaves a small sigh. “Would it be too late for a quick detour? I know you want to get to Kaer Morhen as soon as possible, but I haven’t seen my family for a while and I’d love to hug my mother goodbye for the winter— you don’t have to, though, they can be a lot.” He huffs a laugh. “And maybe— it’s okay if we can’t, actually.”

Geralt shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. He thinks of all the times they strayed from their path just because Geralt had caught word that another Witcher was passing through, the times Jaskier’s missed a banquet just so he could have another round of ale with Geralt’s brothers. “It’s fine, Jask. We can ride out tomorrow.”

“Really?” Jaskier beams, his smile entirely too big for his face and too bright for Geralt to handle, and leans forward to wrap his arms around Geralt’s shoulders. “Oh, that’s so kind of you! I hope you’re prepared, though, they’ll have a million questions about you and they’ll want stories, Geralt—”

“Like you did?”

“Yeah.” Jaskier pauses, a small smile on his lips. “Like I did.”

Getting to Lettenhove isn’t hard by itself — the road’s well-traveled and the closer they get to the village, the more Jaskier remembers. They’ve walked through the marketplace and the smell of freshly baked pies lingers, Geralt’s mouth watering at the thought. There’s a narrow path just on the side of the road, and that’s the one leading to Jaskier’s family’s house. It makes a beautiful picture, the golden treetops curling into one another in each side of the path forming an archway, the stone house in the distance. Jaskier’s scent is tinted with excitement and happiness, and it feels warmer than usual, a bit more muted — home, Geralt thinks.

Jaskier’s family is almost as warm and bright as he is; Geralt’s barely set foot in their house and he’s already pulled into a strong hug, Jaskier’s father clapping on his back with a smile.

“You’re the Witcher!” Jaskier’s mother exclaims, and there’s nothing but pure joy in her scent. “It’s so exciting to meet you, after hearing all of Julian’s songs!”

Geralt can’t help but smile, already overwhelmed by their hospitality. After Jaskier’s sisters have hugged him welcome and introduced themselves —Kitty, Lizzie, and Jane— Geralt’s lead to a room on the second floor, which he belatedly realizes, belongs to Jaskier.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Jaskier’s mother starts as he sets his pack down by the door. “Had we known we’d have guests, we would have gotten the guest room ready— you’ll have to share with Julian, if that’s alright? Or I could ask the girls to find some clean linens and—”

“Thank you,” Geralt says, kindly interrupting her rambling, which sounds familiar. He bites back a smile. “This is perfect.”

She blushes bright red and goes downstairs, and her voice carries as she orders her family around to start preparing dinner. Geralt moves around the room, taking every detail in. Jaskier’s room looks like he’d imagine, and, at the same time, nothing like it — he immediately feels drawn to it, the dark wooden floors and soft blankets on the bed, the bookcase filled with all kinds of books and the seemingly endless stack of papers by his desk. It’s so him, so Jaskier, Geralt can’t think of another word to describe it.

“It’s weird, seeing you here.” Jaskier’s leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on his lips.

“Good weird?”

“Definitely good weird,” Jaskier says, and presses a chaste kiss to Geralt’s lips, then wraps his arms around him and lays his head against his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re here. Thank you.”

Geralt gently squeezes his waist, pressing his nose against the crook of Jaskier’s neck, breathing in. He hums against his neck.

“Are you hungry?” Jaskier says when they part. “I’m sure Mother would love to stuff you full of pie and wine.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt wakes in an unfamiliar room. He frowns and goes to reach for his sword when he sees a familiar tangle of brown hair peeking out of the blankets, the warmth of Jaskier’s body against his own grounding him. He drinks Jaskier in; the way his legs are tangled in his, the bard’s head resting on the crook of his arm, his slow breathing. Sunlight filters through the thin curtains and falls around them almost gently, painting everything golden in the early morning.

Geralt traces small circles on Jaskier’s arm, basking in his warmth. They don’t get many moments like this on the road, and Geralt relishes every second of them — no contracts ahead, no obligations, nothing other than laying close to each other. He closes his eyes and gently nuzzles his nose against Jaskier’s hair, hearing the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“You’re thinking sappy thoughts, Witcher,” Jaskier murmurs against his chest, his voice thick with sleep. “I can tell.”

Geralt smiles, then presses a kiss to his temple. “Good morning.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier pulls the blankets over his head, making small sounds of protest, something along the lines of how it’s too early to be awake and too cold to get out of bed, then brings Geralt under with him, draping the covers around them.

“Hi,” he says in the dark under their pile. It’s too warm for Geralt, but for Jaskier, he’ll stay.

“Hi,” Geralt answers, and presses a kiss to Jaskier’s lips this time. It’s slow and sweet and lazy, their lips finding each other again and again, and it’s perfect. “We should get up,” he says when they pull back for air.

Jaskier pouts. “You’re an ingrate, Geralt of Rivia. I bring you to my home, feed you and bathe you—”

“You haven’t bathed me.”

“—share my bed and blankets with you, only for you to demand we get up at the crack of dawn, when we don’t even have anything pressing to attend to. Rude, that’s what you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says, kissing the frown between Jaskier’s brows. “Will you find it in your good heart to forgive such an indiscretion?”

Jaskier purses his lips, considering. “Hmm, I think I’ll have to. After all, I can’t risk being uninvited to Kaer Morhen. I’ll miss Eskel too much.”

“It’s him you’re after, then?”

“Of course,” Jaskier says with a grin. “This was all a ploy to get to your brother, my one and only.”

“I think you are getting uninvited to Kaer Morhen, after all.”

Jaskier gasps in mock outrage. “Geralt! You wouldn’t.”

“Hmm.” Geralt tosses the blankets aside and sits up on the bed. “It’s decided.”

Jaskier, with his hair all mussed and sleep still tugging at his eyes, kneels on the bed, and he’s never quite looked so beautiful. “I could convince you to change your mind?”

Geralt turns to look at him. “How?”

Jaskier lifts his eyebrows and licks his lips. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

After a mind-blowing blowjob and another few hours of sleep, Geralt and Jaskier make their way downstairs. The house is silent, and there’s a note on the kitchen table: Went to town to run some errands before the cold settles in. Help yourselves to breakfast! We’ll be back at noon.

“Well, seems we’ve the house to ourselves,” Jaskier says and grabs a mug. “Tea?” Geralt takes a seat at the table and nods. “Okay, I don’t quite remember where everything is— What would you like to eat? I’m sure there’s fruit, and some nuts, and we could— Oh! I could make some bread for you!”

Geralt lifts an eyebrow. “You can bake?”

“Of course I can!” Jaskier starts pulling ingredients out of different drawers and sets them on the table. “I’m quite a proficient baker, mind you.”

Geralt hums and sips at his tea when the water’s done boiling. Jaskier chatters away, bright and awake, and he’s wearing one of Geralt’s shirts. His hair is still a tangled mess, but his cheeks are flushed and he’s in such a good mood his scent is intoxicating. Geralt’s seen him in many ways — performing at banquets and taverns, forehead damp with sweat and a smirk on his lips; composing by a riverbank, his brows furrowed in concentration and a pen hanging from his lips; moving around Novigrad like he owns the place, in one of his brightest doublets and a smile plastered on his face after he downs a bottle of Everluce. He’s beautiful in each and one of Geralt’s memory, but right now, with a line of flour across his cheek, wearing Geralt’s shirt and kneading bread for him, sharing his bed and his home and his life with him, this is the most beautiful Geralt’s ever seen him.

“I love you,” he blurts out.

Jaskier stops mid-rant and brings a hand to his cheek, his eyes wide. “I— you do?”

Geralt breathes out, his chest feeling lighter than it has in years. “I do.” He steps forward, moving closer to him, and presses his hand on top of Jaskier’s. “I do.”

Jaskier smiles, and it feels like sunshine is pouring down on Geralt. He bumps their foreheads together. “I love you too.”

Geralt lets out a quiet laugh and presses a kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth, their breaths intertwined. He thinks of Kaer Morhen, the way the bard takes to it like he’s lived there forever, like there’s no other place he’d rather be. The way he sits by the fire with a book and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, the way he teases Eskel and Lambert like they grew up together, the way he follows Vesemir around the keep with a million questions waiting to be answered. The way he belongs.

And Geralt belongs too, he realizes. Here, in the middle of Jaskier’s family’s kitchen, with his arms wrapped around his bard as sunlight washes over them, and the scent of fresh bread and love fills his senses. He’s home, too.

#mywriting #winter prompts #geraskier ficlet #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #this is so sappy i apologize in advance #they're in love. they're home. i don't need anything else

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vasiktomis · 3 years

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Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

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douxspider · 4 years

Text

— 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐲 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐧.

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( potential spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) — Reader is new to town, working at a bakery ran by a kind old lady. Getting used to the ropes of the city, a man in blue arrives unsettled, holding a bloody rag against his knuckles and shivering just slightly. (occurs after arvin approaches the three bullies.)

warnings: blood, mentioned alcohol abuse, bullying. word count: 2,330 published: 9/17/20 ao3 link — part 2, 3

— — • — —

You didn’t ask for much in life. You didn’t want much. Your entire life you let the sea take you where it wanted to take you, and if it brought you to a flourishing island with the most beautiful sunsets and the softest sand, you let it. If it wanted to take you to the dangerous, icy hurricanes where waves clashed and thrown against each other and you drowned in the salty depth, you let it.

You don’t have a will, the town would mock you.

You were new to Ohio, originally coming from New York, and they liked to call you city girl. Your accent was more urban compared to the rural dialect around you. You stuck out like a sore thumb. The community grew together, knew everyone’s names, and when a random strange girl with only a plastic bag of clothes arrived at the nearest motel, it was all the rage.

Luckily, you managed to find a sweet baker lady to take you in. She had a plump figure, rosy cheeks, and graying auburn hair that spoke of pies and sunshine. Her name was Marilyn McCann, she was in her late 50s, and she had lost her two dear sons in the Vietnam war, her husband previously passing from health complications. Marilyn opened the baker, naming it McCann Boys in honor of them.

You were seated behind the counter on a stool, picking at a lemon and poppyseed muffin, placing chunks of the bread in your mouth and eating slowly. It was a quiet day, rain splattering against the window, most people wanted to bake indoors.

While you fidgeted with the book in your lap, idly reading it, you heard the bell ring. You glanced up, and instead of the man moving to the counter, he only took a seat by the window, a rag covering his knuckles as his hat hid his face. He refused to return your eye contact, which was used as a silent method of do you want me to come to you?

You were running the shop alone. You couldn’t ask Marilyn who this strange fellow was. You had to take the initiative.

Getting up from your seat, the stool groaned against the hardwood beneath you, and you made your way towards him. He was bouncing his jean-clad leg excessively, winding the rag around his tightened fist. There were dark stains on it, but you paid it no mind.

“Sir?”

The man twitched his head in your direction, his cap revealing only an inch more of his face before moving back down to the table. “Yeah?” His voice was low, a bit hoarse.

You leaned to the side a bit, crossing your arms, crooking a brow upwards. “You good?”

“Yeah, ah,” he spoke, moving his chin upwards to look at you, and he stopped. You did as well, a silent, complex tension thick between the two of you, before he continued, “Just uh… needed to sit down, s’all. Do I…” he cleared his throat after a voice crack, “do I need to buy somethin’?”

Shaking your head, you gave a quiet, slow, “No.”

Taking a better look at his hands, you noticed it was blood on the rag. So, he was getting that post-fight clarity. You moved to the back and grabbed some pure alcohol you and Marilyn liked to keep, pouring only a bit on a clean washing rag, before heading back to the mysterious man’s location. Taking his hands, he gave a quiet noise of surprise as you tore open his fingers from the old rag and placed it to the side.

“Lady, what are you— ow! Shit...”

Lightly sponging the rag against his knuckles, you then placed the new cloth in his hands, taking a seat in front of him.

The man in front of you seemed somewhat offended, clutching onto the rag and padding it over his knuckles, but also giving you a scowl. “The hell you do that for…? ‘Didn’t need that, I can take care of myself.”

“So, what’d the man do? Pissing contest taken too far?”

He removed the cloth from his hand and wrung his knuckles together, and you stared at the scabs. “Maybe you should keep your nose where it belongs, darlin’.”

You hummed, leaning over the table and resting your bare arms against the surface, looking out the stormy window. “Y’seem like a sweet girl,” the man spoke up, catching your attention, “but that kinda behavior here… askin’ too many questions, it can get ‘ya hurt.”

Eyeing him up and down, you tilted your head so it nearly rested on your shoulder. “Well… y’gonna hurt me, stranger?”

Brown eyes fogging over with clear distant memories, you watched his expression dampen, no longer seeming agitated but only conflicted. “No… no, I wouldn’t hurt ‘ya.” His voice was only a low grumble. “I was taught better than to hurt girls.”

Giving a hum as a response, you tapped your painted fingers against each other. “I’m not trying to be nosy,” you then confessed, “...just curious. Don’t hear much from this town regarding fist fights.”

“You’re the city girl?” With a wince, you nodded. “Ah.”

“That a bad thing, mister?” You asked, trying to analyze his expression. He seemed distant, staring off, before his eyes turned as round as saucers glancing at you.

“No, no, miss, I ain’t imply that. Lotta people know about you ‘round here, it’s rare for a cityfolk to come to this dot on the map,” he explained, “Just curious.”

Clearly that was an insinuation for you to indulge him on his question. Though, feeling smug, and honestly in your right, you told, “You tell me why you’re bleeding from your hands, I’ll tell you my harrowing tale of ending up in Ohio. How about that?”

Surprisingly, the stranger let out a quiet laugh. It was breathy, and for some odd reason you could tell he doesn’t do that often by the way it seemed foreign coming from him, the product from his lips being stopped with his mouth closing. “Fair. You’re good at this game, little lady.” He let his knuckles out into the open air before crossing his arms together, leaning back in the booth.

“My old man,” he started with a distant voice, grimacing at the latter, and you assumed there was a dark history there, “he taught me t’protect myself. To protect others. Now, he was no layabout, he was straight outta the war,” the stranger chuckled, “if anyone tried anythin’, he wouldn’t let ‘em. He taught me that with physical expression.” The jean jacket around his arms got tightened with his whitening grip. “Now, y’see, lotta folk in this town ain’t kind. They ain’t acceptin’, they don’t like new things. They don’t like concepts.”

You listened quietly, feeling your heart slow its pace within your chest, trying to silence itself to take in every word. “I got a sister. Step-sister. She’s sweet, but she ain’t like the others. They don’t like that.”

His jaw tightened as he looked out the window, his blue cap shading his eyes. “...Had t’put an end to it.”

An understanding finally settled in your head. You fiddled with the apron draped around your legs, chin tilted downwards as you took in the information. You looked back at him. “...That’s a good thing.”

“What?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Protecting your sister. That’s a good thing.” You could tell he felt guilty only slightly, perhaps he was scared of himself, scared of what he did. “I never had a sibling growing up,” you told, “having someone there to protect me would’ve done me wonders.” The stranger moved his hand up to his mouth, rubbing the side of his index finger against his chin. You gave a weak smile. “People aren’t too kind here to me, so I don’t need to fantasize your sister’s reality. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be outcasted from your own town like that. Your sister must be a kind soul, being thrown to the wolves like sheep like that.” You shook your head. “It’s not right. I think you did what you had to do. Sometimes that’s the best you can do.”

He was staring at you, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if you said too much. If you were prying too much. You had never met this man before, he could’ve just killed someone for all you know for no rhyme or reason, he could be a sociopath, luring his next victim, but you trusted your gut on saying that this man was right in what he did.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards and he gave a quiet exhale through his nose, nodding his head before glancing at you, head tilted downwards. “Now, your story. Fair trade, little lady.”

With an amused smile, you shrugged. “Came from New York, had no ties. Father ditched when I was still learning my ABCs, mama abused alcohol, that’s what wound her up in the grave. Took that as my sign to go.” You recalled the dirty poor Manhattan streets you grew up on. “Manhattan… it’s a busy city. Too busy. No one knows ‘ya, but they assume they do.” You pointed at him to exaggerate, closing an eye, “If you’re in the wrong neighborhood, that’s what you are now. Wrong. I was a wrong, poor girl with no faith.”

“No faith?” The stranger asked.

“Faith didn’t keep me alive there. Only money.”

He nodded slowly. “Surprised to see someone here not lookin’ to God.”

You clasped your hands together and shrugged. “Well, when he brings me something nice, I’ll go to church.” Glimpsing up at him, you asked, “Do you have faith?”

“Only for my grandmama and sister. I ain’t got no interest listenin’ to a man for hours.”

“You seem like a family man, mister.” You smiled, leaning back. “Are they the only reason you’re here?”

A moment of hesitance resulted from him. “Yeah.”

You decided not to press further.

Taking in the quiet rain, you tapped your hands on the table beneath you three times and stood up, placing your hands on your hips. “Well, mister, do you drink coffee?”

He seemed so small in the booth, huddled up with his arms crossed, brown eyes that were no longer iced over with memories, but instead focused on you with a round childish charm to them. “Ah… yeah, I do.”

Smiling with a nod, you headed and started up the yellow coffee machine. You looked back at him, saw him staring out the window, and you finished up the mug of coffee and gave it to him, hot. Sitting in front of him with your muffin, you both indulged in your delicacies in a peaceful silence.

When his coffee was just about gone, he asked, “Mind if I smoke in ‘ere?” He wondered, and you gave him permission.

“Sure. The only thing I’m concerned about is the gross taste coffee and tobacco must have together,” Wrinkling your nose at the thought, the man laughed, amused as he placed a cigarette in his mouth and used a lighter.

He puffed in the smoke and then removed the cigarette from his mouth, pulling over an ashtray that rested on the table. Blowing through the thin slit between his lips, he murmured, “Arvin.”

“Hm?” You asked, wiping off your hands on your apron from crumbs.

“My name is Arvin Russell.”

Blinking at him, you smiled, testing out his name carefully. “Hi, Arvin. I’m Y/N L/N.”

Arvin seemed a little shy, his cap hiding most of his face before he moved his head up just slightly, catching your eye, pointing out, “‘Like that name. Suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

A little flustered, you pinched your bare lips together before giving out a breathy chuckle. He moved his cigarette to his lips, watching you closely, inhaling the smoke. “You’re sweet.”

Arvin smiled, the paper-wrapped cancer stick between his lips, he pulled it out with a quick huff and said, “You’re the sweet girl talkin’ to bloody strangers sulking in the corner of your shop and givin’ em free coffee, Y/N.” He was staring at the window when he said this, but his head turned towards you, relaxed against the seat behind him, tapping the ashes into the ashtray. “Y’deserve better than this place.”

Feeling overwhelmed with all the positive comments— you didn’t receive many— you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Well, Arvin, I think you deserve good things, too.”

Arvin gazed at you, a soft expression on his face before checking his watch. “Have to head home.” You both stood and you began to clean up. Arvin went up to the counter and gave a few dollars, and you stared at the money, gawking before giving a nervous smile and shaking your head.

“You don’t need to do that, Mr. Russell—”

“Arvin was doin’ just fine, sweet girl,” Arvin said with a smile. “Y’helped me out today. Thank you. Genuinely. I wanna pay back however I can.”

You took the money cautiously, feeling shy.

“Take that money for yourself. Buy yourself another pretty dress,” he said, eyeing the one you wore and tipping his hat. He was about to leave before he turned, hand flat against the glass, the other tucking his old rag into his coat pocket and gazing at you. “...We’ll be seein’ each other again, Y/N.”

Feeling overrun with flustered emotions, you smiled and said, “I would sure hope so, Arvin. I liked having you around.”

Arvin looked to the side, murmuring, “Likewise.”

You were left in the silence of the bakery, the rain turning into a light mist outside. Pressing your lips together, you changed your weight from foot to foot, turning to lean your back against the counter and giving a sigh.

Each encounter with him from then on would slowly grow into something more.

#arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #fic #the devil all the time #tdatt #reader insert #tom holland #mine #2k #peachy keen #douxdamian #my writing #sfw #T #multichap

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snowdice · 3 years

Text

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 63]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Let’s do some of this tonight.

Chapter 29

Virgil finished eating the breakfast Patton’s mom had sent for him. It had been going on a week since they’d discussed making menus for him him. She sent up little cards with each meal and he was supposed to rate each thing she sent on a scale from 1-5. Logan would read it to him before he ate, and Virgil would mark the little box on the card corresponding to his opinion. Usually, he would put a 4 for everything (he had tried to do 5, but Logan had told him 5 was reserved for things like chicken alfredo). Three was for things that he was neutral on, 2 was for things he didn’t like but could tolerate, and 1 was for things he didn’t like. So far, the only 3 was the unseasoned porridge she’d sent one day. Yet, putting toppings on it like cinnamon and sugar and different fruits had increased its rating easily.

“Finished?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

“What would you like to do today?” Logan asked. “Patton is busy until after lunch, and then we thought you might like to go back to the garden again. It’s supposed to drop in temperature over the next few days, so it will be the last good day for it.”

“Sounds good,” Virgil said. “I don’t care what we do today though. What do you want to do?”

Logan made an expression, and Virgil titled his head. “I don’t have anything in particular I want to do,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Virgil said immediately.

“You would not be interested in the activity I wish to partake in,” Logan said.

Virgil squinted at him. “I’d be interested in laying on the ground and staring at the ceiling.”

Logan chuckled. “No, truly. The activity I would do if you were not present would involve reading.”

“You can read to me,” Virgil suggested.

“…In Sanskrit.”

Virgil frowned at him. “Isn’t that, like, some sort of dead language?”

“It is,” Logan said. “I taught the language to myself in order to read a specific book called the Pragilium Text. It’s an encoded book that leads to a magical location that I have been trying to decode for years.”

“That’s fine,” Virgil said. “You can do that.”

“It would be in the library,” Logan said.

“Okay.”

“But…” Logan said. “It would in no way be interesting to you.”

Virgil shrugged. “Like I said. I’m content to lie on the floor for a few hours.”

Logan frowned. “I can’t make you do that.”

“You wouldn’t be making me,” Virgil said. “I want to go. Maybe you can find me an easy book I could try to read?”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

Virgil nodded, decisively.

“Very well, get dressed and I will show you the library.”

Virgil stood to do so and a few minutes later, Logan was leading him out of the royal wing.

Both of the guards greeted him kindly, and Virgil hunched his shoulders in a bit, but said a soft “hi.”

The library didn’t end up being too far away. It was through the small dining hall and to the left where the staircase to the kitchen was to the right.

“This is not the main library,” Logan said when they entered. “It is just a smaller one. The royal librarian comes here only about once a week to organize. Some other castle residents might come in too, but it is usually mostly empty.”

Virgil could tell just by listening closely for a few seconds that the place was likely empty (unless someone was lying in wait).

“I’ll look and see if there is something simple for you in case you’d like to read. You can explore a bit if you’d like,” Logan said.

Virgil nodded and stalked off into the shelves to secure the area. There were many books, not that he could quite read any of the spines. The bookcases were mostly cramped into the space. There was the open area where they’d come in with a few comfy chairs and Virgil found a desk near one of the windows. It had stacks of books including one pretty large and old one. He looked at it curiously.

Virgil heard Logan’s footsteps approach from down an aisle. “That’s the Pragilium text,” he said.

“It’s pretty,” Virgil said, looking at the design etched into the cover.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. He reached forward to touch it and opened it carefully. The print was small and didn’t look like the letters Logan had taught him so far. There was a small map on the side that Virgil could at least guess at the meaning of.

“You can read that?” Virgil asked.

“I can,” Logan said. “Very few people can though.”

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a smile. “Now, I found you a book. I apologize as its subject matter is for younger children, but it has many pictures that can help give you context when you don’t know something. You don’t have to read it if you do not wish to, especially as we haven’t gotten very far in our lessons, but I thought you might like the challenge.

He handed him the book and Virgil took it with a smile. “I’ll try to read it,” he said.

“Well, you have free reign of the library. Feel free to continue to explore and to interrupt me if you need to.”

Virgil nodded and took the book before deciding to finish his sweep of the library. It turned out that appearances were not deceiving, and the library truly was empty. Once he was certain about that, he looked around for a comfortable place to settle down and try to read the book Logan had handed him. He found a sturdy looking bookshelf near where Logan was reading at his desk. He scaled it quickly. It was a little bit dusty at the top, but it wasn’t a bad place. It was close to the ceiling and kept him hidden pretty well, but still gave him enough room to pop up onto his elbows. If he looked left, he could see Logan down below with his eyes trained on the book, but if he looked right, he could see the entrance to the library.

He pulled the book in front of him and looked at the cover. It was covered in drawings of different colored flowers. One simple white flower was in the center and there were three words on the cover. He squinted at it and silently tried to sound it out based on what Logan had taught him so far. He could guess that the larger word was ‘flowers’ based on context. So, he was pretty sure it read How Flowers Grow.

He flipped open the book. Logan was right, there were many hand drawn beautiful pictures. He could pretty much understand what was happening just from them even if he couldn’t read all of the words.

It was an interesting book even if he couldn’t read it and it was obviously made for small children. Judging by the pictures, it seemed to be detailing how plants, or at least, flowers grew through some kid planting and caring for a flower over the course of some amount of time.

Virgil had, of course, known flowers grew from seeds, but it was interesting to see things about how the stem would pop out of the seed in the ground and things about the roots growing.

He more looked through the pictures than read it the first time but had flipped back to the front to try to read the words when he heard the library door open.

Virgil perked up in awareness, but then settled when he recognized Patton’s footsteps. Virgil tilted his head to watch as he walked directly to Logan’s hideaway.

“Hi,” he said, gaining Logan’s attention.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied. He glanced at the window and must have seen that time had passed because he closed his book and shuffled his papers.

“The guards said you came here,” Patton said, glancing around. “Where’s Virgil?”

Instead of letting Logan answer that question, Virgil pulled himself forward, with the book in one hand and slid off the bookshelf to land lightly on his feet next to Patton.

Patton screamed briefly before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Logan had placed his hand over his heart. “Where on Earth did you come from?” he asked.

Virgil blinked at him and then pointed to the bookshelf he’d been on top of.

“How long were you up there?” Logan asked.

“Pretty much the whole time,” Virgil answered.

“I…” Logan said. “I didn’t even know.”

Virgil squinted at him. “You need to learn to look up.”

Patton giggled.

Virgil turned on him. “You need to learn to case the area.”

“Oh honey, your shirt is all covered in dust,” Patton said instead of responding to his very valid criticism. Virgil frowned. “Let’s get you changed and then go grab some lunch.”

“Lunch?” Virgil asked.

Patton chuckled and grabbed his hand. “Yes, sweetie, lunch. Then garden.”

“Fine,” Virgil said. “But you do need to learn to be more observant.

“Yes, yes, whatever you say,” Patton said.

Logan just rolled his eyes.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out into the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see flowers but see all of the flowers grow. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits. They ended up in the food garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on the direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests, I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin them so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some leftover.”

“Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on your, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop.”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you want to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at the large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected to understand his words and the exasperation in the tone he said them in.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

“Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

“A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

“No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

“Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

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Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

“Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

“Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

“Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

“Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

“It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

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“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

“It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

#proofread stories #not writing

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welcometomy20s · 2 years

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April 24, 2022

VOCALOID LEGENDS - 2011 Part 2

#66 - Hitobashira Alice (YugamiP) [MEIKO, KAITO, Miku, Rin, Len]

Achievement Date: 11-04-30 Upload Date: 08-04-30

About a bunch of Alice and the gruesome feat they meet. My favorite interpretation is a satirical one, giving us a rough history of Crypton VOCALOID at the time. MEIKO paves the wave, but ultimately doesn’t get sold. KAITO gets embarrassed, but eventually finds newfound fame. Miku is the queen that constantly worries about her end, and Rin/Len was an experiment that worked well, but was ultimately beaten out by Miku. This actually might be MEIKO’s first song on this list, isn’t it? Huh. That’s interesting.

#67 - Fire◎Flower (halyosy) [Kagamine Len]

Achievement Date: 11-05-03, Upload Date: 08-08-02

Good old piano rock from halyosy. It just screams a happy anime ED and I just love it. Still a classic song that is covered to this day. A little bit of bittersweetness in the ending not only is consistent with other halyosy but adds so much to the anime ED vibe. The tuning is not the best and the vocal layer seems floating above, but the song is so good. Perhaps the reason why the song is more well-covered than most songs here.

#68 - Antichlorobenzene (OwataP) [Kagamine Rin]

Achievement Date: 11-05-17 Upload Date: 10-09-19

The song OwataP wrote when Paradichlorobenzene reached a million views. Once again, it’s about internet bullying, this time gone bad, as the song becomes even more latin than before… it also sounds infernal, which I guess is the point. The addition of Paradichlorobenzene in that bridge adds to the supposed tragedy of the song. For the end of a series, it’s a pretty dark one. Fitting in this climate, I guess.

#69 - ACUTE (KuroUsa-P) [Miku, Luka, KAITO]

Achievement Date: 11-05-26 Upload Date: 09-08-21

Another dramatic song from KuroUsa-P detailing a complicated relationship where Miku likes KAITO but KAITO likes Luka, who is Miku’s friend. Miku sees KAITO confessing to Luka and gets blood-hungry and stabs KAITO and then herself. Yeah, very dramatic, the song is dramatic, it’s a very typical fare from KuroUsa-P, which is strange his most famous song and then one more song is definitely much more plainer than this.

#70 - IMITATION BLACK (natsuP) [KAITO, Len, Gakupo]

Achievement Date: 11-05-31 Upload Date: 09-06-01

It’s a Visual Kei boy band song from natsuP, one of the earliest women VOCALOID producers along with OSTER project. This is actually a bit removed from her usual work, but it’s a good adaptation of the style. Definitely put the boy band trio, called Banananice, on the map and inspired many more songs with the same group.

#71 - Unhappy Refrain (wowaka) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Date: 11-06-19 Upload Date: 11-05-02

wowaka’s last song before he went on an extended hiatus. While the verse and melody is your typical wowaka but the instrumentation refers to songs like Rolling Girl. Reference to the older songs hints at this song as a reflection of his influence in VOCALOID community, which is further heightened with his last song, and note that they both have a heart shape in the PV. Telecaster B-Boy could be a reference to the initial line here, and maybe is a response as one who went through a renaissance?

#72 - Once Upon on Me (DECO*27) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Date: 11-06-21 Upload Date: 10-11-25

I think a DECO*27 song that people know and love but doesn’t immediately feel like DECO*27 songs, although it’s definitely an Ai Kotoba song. (DECO*27 only has three songs but they are really good songs.) I think this DECO*27’s most bittersweet song, but emphasis on the sweet side, which is rare for this type of music.

#73 - Nyanyanyanyanyanyanya! (daniwell) [Hatsune Miku]

Achievement Date: 11-06-21 Upload Date: 10-07-25

Of course now known as Nyan Cat, although that’s actually a UTAU cover. Daniwell is actually quite storied and you should listen to his later songs because they are quite something, an evolution of songs like this. Unlike the UTAU cover, the Miku is lighter which gives a lighter feeling which he carries in his later songs. I think what makes the song tick is that wide bass giving that wide feeling in which the airy Miku floats.

#vocaloid #review #music

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hopesbarnes · 4 years

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Rosey Inn

Summary: Ten years ago you left your small town and small-town boyfriend believing you were destined for bigger and better things. But when your mom passes away and leaves the family Inn to you, you’re forced to face all you left behind.

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Maybe two curse words, fluff, angst, loss of parent

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: This was written for @wxntersoldiers 6k AU Challenge, I had the prompt Roomates!AU.

Also a huge thank you to @starbxcks for beta reading this. Love you to pieces. (PS spot the gilmore girl reference and i’ll love you forever)

This was not the plan. None of this was the plan. Your entire life had meticulously put together to reach one goal. And now? Now you’re sharing a house with a boy you haven’t seen in a decade, back in your home town, and owning an inn.

Talk about cliche.

The town of Rose Hill is quaint. One supermarket, one high school, everyone knows everyone’s name quaint. The people are kind and overly lax in security and come together for events. It sits near a beautiful lake and is known for its tourism. The kind of place people dream of living. The perfect American lifestyle.

Just not your dream. Since you were little you wanted one thing. To be a big shot New York lawyer. The kind that people know will get them off for any crime, and anything. You were going to be the success story of Rose Hill, the one to get out. The one to make it.

And you did. Got accepted into an Ivy League, finished school, and joined a practice. Until you got the phone call, that your mom passed away and left the family business to you. There went all your plans, all your dreams, everything. You were right back where you started in Rose Hill.

The Rosey Inn was a landmark, built long before your grandparents were even born. Passed down through generations of L/Ns. Each owned/managed the inn and raised their families in it. You spent your childhood hiding in the maids closet, tasting the chef’s recipes, tending to the front garden, and reorganizing the books in the front room.

You didn’t play alone though, you had Bucky. Bucky Barnes was your best friend and eventual boyfriend. His mom was a maid for the inn, and the pair of you grew up together. He was your everything and first love. But when you left for New York you wanted a fresh start, one that didn’t include the boy who’s life aspirations were to own a hardware store. So you dumped him and left, without saying goodbye.

Your past was but a distant memory. Until you were back and looking at the familiar inn.

“Y/N! Oh, how I missed you!” you hear the voice of Wanda, your best friend say.

“What are you doing here!” you ask greeting the red-headed girl. She had moved here Junior year of high school and you became fast friends. She was the only one you had contact with after leaving.

“Well, I took over as nighttime manager. And when I heard about your mom I decided to fill in on daytime until you could move back. I’m so sorry about her Y/N,” she says with sincerity in her voice.

“She’s been sick for a while, I’m just happy she’s out of pain now,” you say and pull her into a hug.

“I’ll let you settle in, then tomorrow we can go over the inn and what needs to happen.”

“Thank you Wanda for everything,” you say and head to the house.

The inn set back from the road, with plenty of space in front for parking and picnic areas. Behind it sat a large outdoor eating area, and a gazebo. But if you take the trail to the left, it leads to your childhood home. A three-bedroom house, with two floors and far enough to not be part of the inn, but close enough you could be there in case of an emergency.

You expected the place to be overgrown and in need of a cleaning, but it looked as new as the day it was built. And a car was out front.

When you get closer to the house the door opens and you swear you jump ten feet into the air, only to hear the voice of the one person you hoped to avoid.

“Been a while sugar,” he says smiling.

James Buchanan Barnes looks as good as he did ten years ago when you abandoned him. No scratch that, he looked better. The years did him good, his jaw was more chiseled and light scruff covered his face. His arm filled out and he wore a button-down. He looked refined, older but damn good looking.

“Sure has handy boy,” you smile back. “What are you doing in my home.”

“Must have your lines crossed, I live here now,” he says mischief across his face and eyebrow raised.

“In my childhood home?” you ask perplexed.

“Your momma was having a tough time the past few years and needed some help. She said I could live here if I helped her out. And when she got sick she put the house in my name too, saying you would need just as much, if not more, help when you got back.”

“So we’re roommates?” you ask hoping this was all a joke.

“Sure are,” he smiles, “let me help you with your bag.”

“I have movers coming in a few days with the rest of my things, just brought enough until then.”

You walk into the home and it’s not the dusty and doily place you remember it. The furniture is all-new, and the decor is modern. The living room has a grey fabric couch with navy throw pillows and a coffee table with a cookbook and tray on it. There’s a sleek floor lamp next to it and a flat-screen tv across atop a tv stand with movies neatly packed inside. A soft rug is on the floor with a diamond pattern on it. The entire room looks like a page from a catalog and if your suspicions are right the rest of the house is as follows.

“I took the guest bedroom when I moved in, so your old bedroom is still yours,” he says and you nod heading up the stairs following him to your childhood bedroom. When he opens the door you see it’s the one room that hasn’t changed. It still looks as it did when you were 18 years old and leaving to be on your own.

“I’m gonna have to update this room!” you say pointing to the outdated poster on your wall.

“Your mom didn’t want to change it, she insisted it remains the way you left it,” he says with a sad smile. You may have lost your mom, but that didn’t mean he didn’t lose her too.

“So many memories in this room,” you say and let a few flood back. Bucky’s cheeks heat up and you look down ashamed. He had to be thinking of the time the two of you first made love. You were 17, had the house to yourself, and did what you could on the small twin bed.

“I’ll leave you to settle in, then we could get dinner?” he asks and you nod. You unpack the few outfits you brought along and mentally map out what furniture you’ll replace with the one from your apartment. After getting a little bit of the initial shock of being back, you sit down and take a deep breath. Not only were you going to be running an inn, but apparently you were going to be roommates with the only man you’ve ever really loved. Life really does throw curveballs, doesn’t it?

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

The rest of the night was slightly awkward. Bucky ordered pizza and the two of you made idle chit chat while eating it. He offered to hang out with you, but you wanted to get up and going early so you decided to retire to your room instead. He gave a pained smile and wished you a good night.

The next morning you woke up at dawn, a habit you had from being in law. Late nights and early mornings. After showering you get dressed in nice pants, a blouse, and some sneakers since you would be walking a lot today. You made a mental checklist of what needed to be done: meeting with Wanda and looking over the inn, visiting the safety deposit box, and arranging for a storage unit for the rest of your furniture.

When you got downstairs Bucky was already dressed, in dark jeans and a flannel shirt over a faded t-shirt.

“Morning,” he said and slid a cup of coffee your way.

“Thanks,” you say and take a sip from the mug.

“I took the day off from the store and figured I could help you out today.”

“You didn’t need to do that. You’ve already done way more for my family than you ever needed to.”

“I love your family, even used to think they’d be my family one day,” he says. The last part comes out quieter than the rest and you feel a flood of guilt.

“I’m meeting with Wanda in twenty minutes, but after could you help me run errands around town?”

“Anything. I gotta fix up the back steps to the inn this mornin’ anyway. Might as well do them now,” he says lowering the coffee cup. He goes across the counter to where his glove is and puts it over his hand.

Back in high school, he was attempting to make a table for his ma. He got distracted though and sawed into his arm. They had tried to save it, but the damage was done. Word had gone through the town and one woman told her fiancee (who just happened to be Tony Stark CEO of Stark Industries) and Bucky got a state of the art metal prosthetic. But you guess he was still embarrassed by it and hid it around everyone. Everyone but you it seems.

The meeting with Wanda was exhausting. She went over everything from payroll, to linen deliveries, to the filing system. There was a wedding scheduled three and a half months from now that took the majority of the time, as your mom was originally in charge of the day. But everything seemed manageable with help. You moved Wanda to the official daytime desk manager and promoted Clint Barton to the nighttime manager. Wanda said he functioned best at night anyway. She introduced you to the other members of the team, Vision (her husband) was the head chef. Scott Lang was the bartender at night and events, Peter Parker was the bellhop on duty at the time. She said you would meet the rest of the staff at a later time, and that there weren’t any bad seeds in the bunch.

The two of you ate lunch together in the dining room and she filled you in on the staff gossip, little things to help run the inn better. Like how Clint needed coffee or would forget he was even alive, or how Peter Parker could usually lift more than you’d think but if MJ (his girlfriend walked in) he would almost always get distracted and walk into a wall.

After lunch, you texted Bucky (he had given you his new number last night) and met him at his car.

“How was lunch,” he asks, walking up to you. His sleeves were rolled up now and he had sunglasses on. His hair is a mess and his undershirt has paint stains on it. He’s got his toothy grin plastered across his face, and it’s the exact same one you fell in love with as a teen.

“Good, you fix up those stairs?” you ask and get into his car. He had a dark green pickup that was in desperate need of a wash. There was a toolbox in the back, but the front was spotless.

“Yeah, even painted over them too.” Bucky was always the fixer. Helped out whenever he could, and didn’t mind getting a little roughed up in the process. It was always the biggest difference between you. Your life was carefully crafted and there was no room for mess.

The ride is quiet. You don’t even know what small talk to make with him anymore. Do you bring up sports? Ask about his mom? Tell him about New York? It all seemed too stiff and meaningless.

You finally get to the bank and he offers to pick up some tea for you and him while you go to empty your mom’s safety deposit box. He knew this was something you needed to do alone, so he gave you your space.

The bank had one small room of the locked boxes, and the teller came with you holding the second key to the box. Once the box was unlocked you moved to a small table and chair surrounded by walls for privacy. The bank teller leaves you alone with the contents and you take a deep breath in.

Inside the metal box are a few papers, your parent’s marriage certificate, and the deed to the house and the inn amongst them. There are also a few family heirlooms, two necklaces, and a ring. Your great grandpa’s watch is also in the box. But what sticks out is a letter with your name on it. You pull it out and read it.

“Dear Y/N,

If you’re reading this then I’m gone. We both knew this day would come and would bring you home to where you belong. Years ago you left, and I know you needed to do that. You had dreams of a better and bigger life, but you have to know in your heart that Rose Hill is where you need to be.

I’m sure by now you have seen that Bucky lives in the house. He moved in a few years ago to help me out, and I told him to stay after I go. Y/N, I know you don’t want to hear this- especially from your mother, but he is the one. You two were meant to be. As soon as you stop running from that, you’ll feel at peace. He’s a good man and you need to let him have your heart again.

I trust you’ll handle the inn with grace and hopefully not sell it. It’s been in our family for many lifetimes, and I want it to continue that way. But if it’s too much give it to James. He’s family whether the pair of you are together or not.

Be kind to yourself dear.

Love,

Mom

You place the letter down and let the tears fall. It was too soon, you should have had her longer. And despite your best intentions of coming, staying a few months maybe a year and finding new owners you know you have to stay for good now. And for Bucky, you don’t even know. Bucky was the past, wasn’t he?

After you left the bank you went by a storage place then back to the room. The past three weeks have been a blur. The wedding was in less than three months and the bride decided to change the entire decoration scheme to be more ‘woodsy than classical’ and you were still figuring out what that even meant. Besides that, you were trying to figure out how to run an inn. People required directions you didn’t have so you were overwhelmed.

Between the running around you were spending all the time you could reading articles and going through the binder your mom kept. You never really understood how much time and energy your parents put into running this place. Growing up you just thought they greeted people and were friends with the staff. It never dawned on you that running an inn is more than just owning the property.

The spare minutes you had left were spent settling into your old life. Originally you planned to come back for a year and then move back. This was going to be a blip on the radar of your life. But you know now that was unrealistic and this is where you belong. So you officially list your place rather than lease it for a year. You formally quit your job, and you’d still have to fly back eventually for cases next year but that was a ways away.

In the mornings you shared a coffee with Bucky, and at night the two of you ate dinner together. It was comfortable but awkward. Which was your fault. You knew it was your fault, you broke his heart and left. But you just didn’t know how to fix that.

Most mornings were silent. You weren’t a morning person and Bucky wasn’t a talker. But today he had something to say. It only took three weeks, but better late than never.

“Natasha and Steve invited us over,” he says and you nearly drop your cup.

“They got back together?” you ask completely shocked.

While Wanda was who you stayed in touch with and one of your closest friends, Natasha was your best friend beside Bucky. The two of you met in dance class and became close. In middle school, she started dating Steve, who is Bucky’s best friend. They were the perfect pair, she was the fiery redheaded dancer and he was the timid but loyal baseball player. However, in Junior year of high school, they broke up after Natasha got drunk at a party and admitted that Steve wasn’t her first.

He had felt betrayed that she lied and broke up with her and she sobbed on your shoulder for a whole week. You and Bucky got in a fight about it too because he had taken Steve’s side and said she shouldn’t have lied. You fiercely defend Natasha though. It wasn’t her fault she had a hookup with an asshole that she tried to forget.

“Yeah. After high school, Steve and I got a place together while we went to the community college. One day we decided to go to a party at the university in the city. And the next day Natasha was in my kitchen. They had a ‘benefits’ only relationship for a few months before realizing they were idiots and got back together officially. Tied the knot maybe four years ago?” he explains.

“I’d love to see them again,” you say cordially. Hopefully, they didn’t resent you for leaving.

“We’ll go over for dinner?” he asks and you nod.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Good morning!” Wanda sings when you see her. She’s awfully cheery today and dressed up. She has a black lace dress with a high neckline. She’s wearing a pair of velvet burgundy heels and looks stellar.

“You are way too happy and look amazing today. Why?!” you ask laughing and she laughs with you.

“I may have an appointment with an adoption agency today,” she says smiling.

“WHAT! Oh my god! Wanda, that’s so exciting!” you say and pull her into a hug. Wanda’s wanted kids since you were 16 and found out a few years ago she can’t get pregnant.

“I don’t want to get too excited because it’s going to take a while. But we’re starting the process,” she says.

“I wish you and Vis the best. I’m so excited Wan.”

The day went by in a flash. Wanda had to leave early so you were on your own for part of the day. But it went good and you were finally feeling like you had this in the bag.

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

You get back from work and change into more casual clothes. When you get downstairs Bucky is waiting in a leather jacket. You can tell he’d showered since work because his hair is still damp and he isn’t covered in his signature dirt and sawdust.

“Ready?” he asks and you smile.

“As I’ve ever been,” you say and he leads you out to his truck. Your car had been brought here two weeks ago so you didn’t have to rely on him to drive you everywhere anymore but it made sense to go in one car for this.

The Rogers live in a nice house with a large backyard across town. It’s no more than a 15-minute drive, and you arrive at the house with a flower garden outside and scattered kids’ toys in the yard.

“They have kids?” you ask your eyes widening at the idea of Natasha Romanoff with children.

Bucky laughs, “Twins! A happy surprise though. You’ll love my godchildren.”

“You’re a godfather?” you ask trying to not let the sadness of all you missed seep in.

“Yeah, why they hypothetically trusted me with their literal children I don’t know.”

The two of you walk up to the door and before you can open it a flash of red hair is seen and then you’re encompassed in a tight hug.

“I really missed you,” she says and the two of you move in a circle without letting each other go. A few tears fall from your face but you wipe them away.

“Hi Natty,” you say and she smiles pulling apart. She moves your hair from your face and tilts her head at you.

“If it isn’t my best friend finally. You look amazing. I really missed you,” she says and pulls you into another hug. It seems she holds no malice against you and a weight leaves your shoulders.

“I missed you too Mrs. Rogers,” you say and tilt your head smirking.

“C’mon in Steve’s cooking and I have two people for you to meet.”

When you walk into the living room you’re greeted by two three-year-olds.

“Y/N meet Sarah and James,” she says motioning to the two blondes. “Sarah and James meet your aunt Y/N.”

The two kids wave and smile and say hi synchronously. They were adorable and had Natty’s eyes.

“No hello to me?” Steve says coming in the room and you walk over and give him a hug. “We missed you here, big shot.”

“I missed you guys too. All of you,” you say and look over at Bucky. He lets a small smile cover his face but drops it when he sees you looking.

Over dinner, they fill you in on what you missed. After school, Natasha took over the local dance studio and turned it into a competition studio that was doing fairly well. They were winning titles and having girls travel just to be taught by her. Steve on the other hand became a teacher and is teaching high school history as well as coaching the baseball team. It’s as if no time had passed and the four of you are talking like you did growing up. The kids warm up to you and sit next to you and draw pictures with you.

When their bedtime comes Bucky and Steve wrangle them and agree to read stories, so Natasha pulls you outside to the patio.

“So,” she says and you give her a confused look. “What’s it like living with your ex-boyfriend?” she says and you gulp.

“Oh. That,” you say. “That is bringing up feelings I don’t want.”

“I always thought you two would get married at 19. He was so lost after you left. We all were but especially him. And he still looks at you as if you hung the moon.”

“I broke his heart, it’s not fair of me to do this to him again,” you say and she grabs your hand.

“Babe, you were young and messed up. Don’t let that get in the way of your happiness.”

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

Natasha’s words hang on your conscious for a while. Every time you look at Bucky for the next two weeks you think of them.

The two of you start talking over coffee in the morning, and there’s definitely long wanting gazes and the need to be close. He’ll touch your hand when handing you something, and you’ll fix his hair and lay your head on his shoulder while watching movies.

He tells you jokes over texts and you send him gifs every time he complains about a customer. You were falling back into the way you used to be and you are so happy.

On Friday he asked if you guys could talk after work. Which was his right, he needed answers and you needed to ask about your mom. It had been two months now since you returned and you needed to air it all out. But knowing this made you feel jittery all day long. You kept spacing out or walking into the wrong room and everyone could tell you were a mess. It got to the point where you were doing more harm than good and Wanda sent you home.

It turns out that Bucky had finished early that day too because when you got home he was there.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly.

“Hi sugar,” he says smiling.

“You finished your day handy boy?” you ask and take your jacket off and hang it on the hook.

“Sure did. Only had a few customers at the store and figured I could close up early. And there was no fixing to do at the inn so I figured I would come back and relax for the night. How about you?”

“Wanda sent me home. Said I was ‘hurting her flow’. You wanna order some food tonight?” you ask trying to keep up some small talk.

“What I really want is to get drunk and have you be honest with me,” he says bluntly forgetting the politeness his mama taught him.

“Well, Okay. That- We can do that. Still need some food I’ll order some Chinese.” you say pulling out your phone to order delivery from the shop down the road.

An hour later the two of you have eaten and are both slightly tipsy.

“Why’d you break up with me Y/N?” he asks finally.

You turn to him and shrug, “I wanted to be successful and I thought I needed someone who wanted the same success as me. I wanted to leave the past behind and that meant you. But I was too chicken shit to tell you. James, I regretted it every day.”

He gulps audibly and takes a long swig from his drink.

“I was so lost. I was going to marry you. Move up north with you. I knew that was where you needed to be and I wanted to be who you needed too.” he says.

“You were who I needed. Still are if we’re being honest. I just didn’t know that then.” you say and look down embarrassed. I thought you’d have moved on now. Settled with a nice girl, maybe Maria or Darcy. Had a few kids.” you admit.

“Can’t settle down when you’re still hung up on a girl,” he says and you look at him.

“Bucky I still love you. But you don’t deserve me. You deserve someone better.” you say.

“I deserve you. And as much as I want to show you that we’re both drunk and you’re still dealing with grief,” he says.

“So what now?” you ask.

“Now we wait. Make sure this is right and not just unresolved feelings,” he says.

“And if it is?” you ask.

“Then I move out and we pretend this never happened,” he says and downs the rest of his drink. You follow suit.

“Can I ask something?” you say after a few moments of quiet.

“Anytime sug, I’m an open book.”

“Was she mad? I didn’t come home when she got sick and I barely talked to her after dad died. I should have come back. I was a bad daughter,” you say and a tear falls down your face. He grabs your hand that was peeling a label off the bottle.

“Honey, she wasn’t mad. She was so proud of you. Told everyone about your cases and watched the news whenever you were mentioned. You made her so proud.”

“Thank you for being there for her.”

“She was my family too. I think we should get some rest though. It’s been a long night,” he says and you nod and head up to your room.

The next morning you wake up with a headache but see medicine and water on your bedside table. It’s then you decide that you were gonna try to make it up to Bucky. There was a chance to mend this and have the relationship you once had, and you had to take that chance. No way were you losing this man again. Once was hard enough. So you decide this time around you have to court him.

When the pair of you were young, only 13, Bucky had learned from Natasha through Steve at the time that you liked him. So he made it his mission to properly court you. It had started with notes and small trinkets, and after two weeks he knocked on your door with two bouquets of flowers (one for your momma and one for you) and asked your parents if it was alright if the pair of you dated.

They had of course said yes, knowing Bucky his entire life and planning your wedding with his parents when you were still kids. But back then you didn’t break his heart. Now you needed to figure out a way to mend it.

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

There were two weeks until the wedding and you decided you needed to ask Bucky to be your ‘date’ there. He was obviously already invited because he was needed to make sure nothing broke and if it did it could be fixed. But you wanted him there as yours.

You woke up the next day early and went into town to get his favorite bagels and a rose. You got back to the house just as he made it downstairs and gave him the flower and food.

“Thank you? Why go through the hassle when we have food here?” he asks.

“I’m wooing you.”

“Doll, you do not need to woo me. I’m already wooed!” he says laughing.

“No, I messed up. And you deserve to be properly apologized to. So I’m wooing and you’re going to let me.”

“Okay,” he says shaking his head and taking a bite from his bagel.

Day one: success.

Day two starts when he gets back from work. You tell him that the pair of you are going on a date and tell him to wear a good pair of shoes. He gives you a weird look but agrees. You bring him to a club outside of town and once he sees it he can’t stop laughing.

When you and him were 16 you decided to try and get into a club. You both had horribly made fake ids and dressed up to look older. You were obviously turned away, but his car had refused to start after all that effort. So you both danced outside to his mp3 player while you waited for AAA to show up.

“I figured we could recreate that night, without AAA and the awful heels,” you say and he nods his head. You pull into the abandoned lot you spent hours in years ago. After parking, you grab your phone and put on a playlist of songs that were popular at that time and spend the next two hours just dancing. Completely embarrassingly and in a way nobody your age should. But it’s nice and the pair of you just let go.

Days three and four aren’t that eventful as you both have a lot of work. So instead you hide little notes throughout his things both days. They’re nothing special, just enough to let him know you’re thinking of him and how much you like him.

Day five you greet him after he closes the hardware store with a vintage Brooklyn Dodgers hat. His grandpa had loved the team and told Bucky all about them. You had to scour online for the hat and it was worth it when you saw the look on Bucky’s face. His eyes widened and he pulled you into a close hug. You would never admit it to him but you took a deep inhale of his scent.

Day 6’s plans were changed when Steve called and said Nat didn’t feel good and wondered if you would take the twins for the day and night. You told them you had to check with Bucky but would head over as soon as you heard from him.

Bucky of course was over the moon to have the kids over so you went and grabbed them after hanging up with him. When you got there Steve had packed each kid an overnight bag and handed them to you with their blankets and stuffed animals. Apparently Bucky bought them for the twins when they were born and they refused to sleep without them.

The twins were ecstatic to sleepover ‘aunt y/n and uncle Bucky’s place’ and babbled to each other the entire drive. You got there and saw Bucky’s truck so you figured he took the rest of the say off for the kids.

The rest of the day was spent running around the yard and showing the kids the inn and it reminded you so much of your childhood with Bucky. You wouldn’t mind your own kids playing here too you think to yourself.

After getting the kids to eat dinner and putting them to bed in the guest room you’re wiped and fall asleep with Bucky on the couch.

You wake up early the next day to little hands patting your shoulder. You manage to get up without waking up Bucky and bring the kids to the kitchen. Day 7 would be breakfast in bed you suppose.

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

It was one week now until the wedding and you were stressed. The mothers decided to come in now and make your life a living hell by trying to undo everything the couple had done. Thor and Jane had made it perfectly clear to ignore their parents and you were doing your best to.

You told Bucky to meet you at the inn today since you couldn’t make it out to him, and when he arrived you had Vis make your lunch and the two of you picnic in the garden.

Day 9 was a big one because you were asking Bucky to be your date today. You lit candles around the house and had a big sign asking him to be your date. It mimicked how he asked you to prom all those years ago.

You got dressed up and waited impatiently for him to come home. When you heard his car you dimmed the lights in the house and held the sign for him to read. He came in and smiled at your setup.

“Doll, of course, I’m going to be your date,” he says laughing and pulls you close to him.

“You know you don’t need to do the rest of your wooing. We can just make it official now,” he says and you shake your head.

“James Buchanan you let me finish my last 5 days.”

“I just want to kiss you,” he whines and you laugh at his frustration.

“Soon Handy Boy I promise.”

Day 10 you go to the old drive-in theater with him. Wedding prep is just about done and you had the night off. You fill his truck with blankets and pillows after telling him the plan and having him grab snacks and drinks for you both.

The place is playing Edward Scissorhands and Beetlejuice in a Tim Burton back to back showing and it’s a good excuse to spend the night watching good movies and snuggled close to the man you love.

Day 11 and 12 you bake for him. The first of two nights cookies, the second muffins. He thanks you for both but asks if you’re trying to Hansel and Gretel him.

Day 13 was the day before the wedding and the entire family had come into town. The entire inn was rented out to the Foster-Odinson clan. It was all hands on deck and it was the fullest you’ve seen the inn yet. But despite the craziness, everything runs smoothly.

Midway through the day Wanda gets a call she was approved to adopt and was so excited she yelled it out. The entire place let out collective squeals (even people who had no clue who Wanda was) and the day just had a good tone to it.

For the last day before the wedding, and your last night of the ‘wooing’ you cook Bucky dinner. He’s surprised by the fact the house doesn’t burn and compliments your meal at least ten times. You tell him about Wanda and Vision.

“Do you want kids?” he asks and you nod.

“I want a bunch of kids. I want to raise them here too. With you,” you say and he chokes on his drink.

“God Doll, I want that too but don’t be that blunt about things. I’m getting older, don’t need a heart attack.” You laugh and he smiles.

· · ──────────·🌹· ───────── · ·

After what feels like a lifetime the day is finally here. You’re up and out of the house before Bucky even wakes. He’s sleeping in since the store is closed today and he doesn’t have to be at the inn until 11 am.

The bride and her bridesmaids are all drinking coffee and nibbling on light pastries when you get there. The makeup and hair team she hired should be here in around an hour. Jane has gel eye patches beneath her eyes and one of the bridesmaids still has their hair in a towel.

After checking that they’re all there and everything is running smoothly you check in on the kitchen staff. They all say things are on schedule and you nod and go to find Scott to ensure that the bar is fully stocked.

On your way to check with Scott, you find Peter carrying the suits up to the groomsmen and he wishes you a good morning. Scott, you find a few minutes later organizing the liquor. Everything seems to be running smoothly.

A few hours go by and it’s an hour until the wedding starts. You thank your lucky stars that everything runs smoothly as the guests start showing up. You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see Bucky in a suit. He looks fantastic and you practically drool.

“How’s my favorite wedding coordinator,” he asks and you smile.

“She’s fantastic. How’s my favorite handy boy,” you ask in return.

“He wants to know if he’s waited long enough for his kiss.” You laugh at him.

“He has. He should know that there’s a certain girl fully in love with him who would die for a chance to be his girlfriend again,” you say laying it all out.

Bucky smiles widely, “I love you too Y/N. It would be an honor to be yours again.”

Before you can reply to him he pulls you close and smashes his lips against yours. There’s so much want and need in the kiss and you can almost feel the years lost in it. He doesn’t hold back at all and reaches one arm around you to pull you as close as possible. The other holds your hand and he keeps his lips moving in time with yours.

And you know that it’s everything you need. He’s everything you ever need.

#wxntersoldiers6kauchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #catws

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princesspiratecat · 3 years

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The Rise and Fall of the Shepard Family Part 22: Spring, 1083

(This is a long one, but hopefully worth the read!)

Part 1& Part 2

Part 3 & Part 4

Part 5 & Part 6 & Part 7

Part 8 & Part 9 & Part 10

Part 11 & Part 12 & Part 13

Part 14 & Part 15 & Part 16

Part 17 & Part 18 & Part 19

Part 20 & Part 21

Never before had Gwendolyn felt so happy as she did when her sister had arrived to visit her at her little hovel. She hadn’t been able to stop the tears from flowing, and soon both of them were wiping them away.

After the servant had left, Gwyn had demanded to know everything, but Gwendolyn didn’t know where to begin. There was so much to tell, and all of it pained her to speak of.

“Is this really where you are now residing? This little hovel?” Gwyn turned a discerning eye towards the house as they walked nearer to it, and Gwendolyn felt herself blush with shame. She had tried to keep it neat and tidy, but there wasn’t much she could do without a proper set of tools. The hovel was just too poorly constructed for even the most basic of shelters. It felt like a blessing when the weather had finally turned and she no longer had to worry about rain falling on her bed. She could only hope it would not snow or rain again.

“I’m afraid so. The day of my birthday Marcelle hastily had my bags packed and drove me here in a covered wagon. He told me this would be my new home after we arrived. I should have suspected something that morning based on his behavior.....but I fear, I blindly trusted him.”

“Do not blame yourself. How could you have known what he was going to do? This has taken us all by surprise. When I found out you had been sent away, I could hardly believe it. It is Marcelle that must take the blame, not you.” As they reached the front room, Gwendolyn stoked the fire and began to prepare a meal, as the sun would be setting soon and she imagined her sister must be hungry. She immediately noticed how much food there was in the basket, and it was of better quality than what she normally was given.

“What do you mean, us? How did you come to find out that I was here in the first place?” They sat down to a nice hot bowl of soup Gwendolyn had made from a fat hare she had caught yesterday.

“I didn’t. Francine wrote about a month ago, and the letter had been given to me by Oswin.”

“Oswin? You mean, Oswald’s younger brother?”

“The very same, yes. I had thought it strange that she hadn’t invited me to visit her for such a long time, but in the letter she explained that she had suddenly been forbidden to see me by Marcelle, yet didn’t say why. In her next letter, she told me that the engagement had been broken off, and you had been sent away, but that she didn’t know where you had gone. When I confronted Aélfgiva about seeing you, she said she would talk to Marcelle. Not long afterwards, he wrote to say that a servant would fetch me in the morning to take me to you, and here I am.”

The humiliation that Gwendolyn had endured upon being sent off was awful in and of itself, but the idea that her entire family was now somehow tainted, and not good enough to associate with any of the Allards, hurt her even more. “ I had not thought that my exile had been extended to my entire family. This is worse than I had imagined.”

“What exactly did he say to you? How did he justify his actions!? How could he bring you to this shithole, in the middle of a forest?!”

Slowly, Gwendolyn revealed all that her sister did not yet know. She tried not to dwell on the parts of the story that were especially painful, and rushed through his unkind words when he had dragged their family down to the mud, implying that they were nothing. She found it was nearly impossible for her to say the exact words he had said about their father, because the loss of him was still fresh pain for both of them. But somehow she got through it all, and then shared how she now viewed everything.

“This hovel....this dung heap of a house, is his feeling about me, about us- made manifest and clear. But it’s worse than our house was. It’s worse than anything I’ve ever had to endure. And I was left alone to fend for myself when the snow storm came. I had to find food for myself, otherwise I would have starved.”

There was such anger on her sister’s face at hearing those words. “What about your dowry?! We had so many excellent animals. Surely it was worth more than this!”

“Oh Gwyn.....don’t you see? This is my dowry. This hovel is now all that I have....” Putting her troubles into words made them all the more real and soon Gwendolyn could not stop the sobs from violently shaking her body again. She got up and leaned her head against the counter, as the tears just kept on coming.

Gwyn said nothing, but silently cried as well.

“I’ve been clinging to the idea of Frances for months now. And I cannot understand why he hasn’t come to see me, even if it’s just to say goodbye. Am I really so terrible that I do not deserve such simple consideration? How can I be his future bride one day, and the next not even fit to say a single word to him? I cannot make sense of it......” she was sobbing so hard now that she could not continue.

“Oh, please don’t upset yourself further. I do not believe Frances has any idea where you are”, said Gwyn. That got her attention and her head snapped up.

“What!?”

“I do not believe any of them know. Marcelle must have kept it a secret from all of them, because if one of them knew, they would all find out. Frédérique would never keep a secret like that from her brother, nor would Francine. The letter that she sent made it clear. He could not write to you, so she wrote to me. And that is why Marcelle forbade any of them from speaking to any of us.”

“I had not considered that. But....you must be right.”

“Perhaps that is also why Marcelle sent me a map and allowed me to see you. He still thinks that his children will blindly obey him. Indeed, he must feel very comfortable with that idea, which is why he didn’t think it necessary to keep you and I apart any longer. If his children don’t speak to us, he has no reason to continue punishing you.”

“Yes. He may also not want to be seen as the type of man who punishes two young girls who have done nothing wrong. I noticed how he sent a lot more food, of higher quality this time around. He even sent linens. He has never done that before. He wants to appear the good benefactor still- at least to you and Aélfgiva.”

After a long silence Gwendolyn gained some composure of herself and sat down by the fire again, staring into the orange flickering flames. It gave her some relief to know that Frances didn’t know where she was, and perhaps hadn’t given into his father so easily. Everything her sister had said made perfect sense.

“I like to think that Marcelle has some heart left. I like to think that he still cares about us. Only his pride got in the way", said Gywn. Her sentiments may have been true, but Gwendolyn no longer wished to think about him. It was now time to turn their minds to the task of getting her out, and how they would accomplish that.

“I must speak with Frances. I must. I have had so long to ponder the situation, if I don’t get any answers, I fear I will lose my mind and go mad.”

"Of course you shall. And I will assist you in any way that I can.”

The next morning they poured over the map and calculated that Gwendolyn had been taken over twenty miles from the Allard estate to the hovel, which was in the middle of two very small villages that neither had heard of. Having no money and few resources, the main obstacle in her leaving would be where she would go. She could not stay at the orphanage, and of course going back to the estate was impossible.

“If only you had parted on better terms with Oswald, then perhaps we could ask his family”, Gwyn said.

“What better way could there have been? Oswald did not want to break off the engagement for any reason. I tried to spare his feelings as best as I could, but given that I hadn’t seen him for so long....it was difficult. I realized that day that he had changed beyond recognition to me, and I no longer knew him.”

“You have been engaged most of your life to someone, and yet still remain unmarried. Do you not ever wish you had married Oswald instead? At least you would not be alone now.”

Gwendolyn’s features clouded into sadness, as she had realized the same thing her sister spoke of from the very beginning of her troubles. Her life seemed to consist of always waiting, always hoping, always dreaming of having a family of her own and finding that she belonged somewhere, and she resented it.

“Maybe, but would I have been happy? What Frances and I had was real, and what Oswald and I had was a youthful fancy. I know that now that I am older. I can never go back.”

When they tallied up their resources, it was decided that Gwyn would return home when the servant came to fetch her, as was planned. She would then combine the meager allowance she and Edith were given at the orphanage, and income from the pelts of the animals Gwendolyn had caught, and try to procure a horse. Then she would ride back and come and fetch her sister, then they would ride to Grimsby. She would speak with Frances at any cost and Gwyn agreed that it was imperative that she do so- even if it meant further punishment from Marcelle.

The next morning was a cold one, and snow began again to fall upon the ground, but only lightly. Despite the foul weather she knew she would have to shelter herself from, she felt better than she had in months.

“You have Mama’s strength, and you will get through this. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She tenderly embraced her sister goodbye, and watched the wagon grow smaller and smaller as it slowly disappeared down the road, which was beginning to freeze. She sat down upon a log and got lost in her thoughts, contemplating how happy the visit had made her. It had brought her comfort, relief from her loneliness, and hope all at once. She was lucky that she still had some family left, even if they were orphans now. I’m not alone. I have the love of my sisters.

She turned to head into the house, but then heard a horse in the distance and stopped to listen. It was the sound of a single horse, and she wondered if something had gone wrong with the wagon. Was her sister in trouble? The sound grew closer and closer, and she headed back down the path to the road, shivering slightly in the cold. But it was not the servant or her sister on this horse. It was Frances.

#sims 2 stories #sims 2 challenges #new foundations

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

Life After Snowpiercer: Adjusting To The Everyday Life

Summary- 5.4k Curtis Everett x You. The new way of life is becoming routine, and your starting to adjust. Curtis does his best to help you along. Warnings- swearing, hints of smut, talk of pregnancy.

A/N- yea, it's a slower chapter, I suppose like a filler. But this was the mood I was in, so this is what happened.

A/N2- To see the story behind the picture, read this short- Surprise

Chapter 10 / Masterlist

Slowly the new room was becoming 'Home', it had been a couple weeks since Curtis brought you to the room, and together you two cleaned it out of the personal stuff that couldn't be used, and you took the time to bring down yours and his few belongings. Since settling in, he brought you two a couple changes of clothing, and for the first time in years, you were able to give both of your clothes a proper wash. A few things were just unable to be saved, one of his jackets, you just couldn't salvage, but the other couple you could. Part of you wished you were able to clean out your bunk in the tail-end. But it was a days travel through the deep snow to get back to the car, and you couldn't bring yourself to mention it to Curtis, not when there was so much going on.

Maybe someday.

But there was one thing you knew made it from the tail-end, cause Curtis carried it with him everywhere, and that was the slightly smudged charcoal drawing you commissioned back when you knew it was close to Curtis’s birthday before the riot, and you had seen him tuck it away when you two first moved in. So when you opened the drawer and it wasn't safely tucked in the folds of your few clothes, you felt your heart catch. “No, where is it?!”

Starting to pull out the items from the drawer, and shaking them out, your panic got the best of you, and you were searching among the bedding stored there when Curtis walked into the room to find you on your knees, looking under the bed, among all the stuff on the floor. “Baby, what is going on?” And he was shocked further to see you come out from under the bed with tears brimming your eyes. “Curtis I can't find it, and I saw you put it away.”

Confused, he used his boots to gently push stuff aside and squatted down next to you, gripping your chin to have you look at him. “Put what away Babygirl?” His brows are raised well above his beanie in concern and you sniffle in his hold. “The drawing of us, the picture. I could have sworn you put it in the dresser before your shower the other night, and now...” your hands pick up one of his shirts as if the picture will just fall out from underneath it. Curtis’s blue eyes snap in understanding and he lets you go, opening his jacket and pulling out a slightly bent out of shape paper.

“I got it right here, sorry Babygirl. I just usually carry it on me for safekeeping. I put it away the other day cause we were going to be working on the water, and didn't want it to get ruined.” He handed it over and your teary face turns into an uplifted one, careful when you took it. “Of course! Curtis, I don't know where my head's at these days. Everything is just... “ You sigh, and looked at him apologetically. You've been terribly emotional the past few days, and you've either been mad at Curtis or crying over nothing. Shaking his head, he grunted to move to a stand, taking your hands and drawing you up.

“It's okay, I don't need to carry it anymore.” He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at your cheeks. “What did you want to do with it?” You look at the picture and smile again, it simply made you happy and you pointed to a spot above the door. “Can you hang it up? Then this place can be officially home.” You held it back out and he took it, there was a lip of steel running along the wall just above the door, and Curtis arched to his toes to get high enough and set it on the beam, stepping back. “How's it look Babygirl?” His arm moving around your waist and pulling you in front of him. Letting yourself lean back against his chest while studying the picture sitting above your doorway, you tilted your head up to look at him. “Perfect, Welcome Home.”

It was so easy to make you happy, Curtis let his hands slide around to your midsection and just hold you there, kissing your tilted back forehead. “It is perfect.” He really couldn't remember when he had been happier, everything was going okay, the people were settling in and accepting this new way of living, the greenhouse was thriving, as well as the remaining animals that survived the crash. People were eating actual food, for the first time in 17 years, at least for the tail-enders. You actually we're coming around to more affection, although he would wake up to find you worrying yourself in the dark now and then, you were far easier to coax into his arms and fall back asleep. Assuring you that whatever happened, you two would deal with it together.

That was the last part, waiting to see if you were actually pregnant or not. I could see it worrying you, making you fret when you thought no one was paying attention. And Matt. Matt, Curtis was at a loss of what to do with that fucker. He was still locked in the Car they stuffed him in weeks ago. But you insisted on once a day walks with him, and Curtis to. There was no way in hell he was leaving you alone with Matt. Brother or Not. Speaking of which, Curtis knew what was coming and you turned to look up at him, the question in your eyes.

“Can we go see Matt now Curtis?” you worried your bottom lip, always seeming to be nervous to ask, although he never told you no. Today was no different, kissing your forehead.

“Only if your up for it Babygirl.” He said with a bit of hesitancy, simply cause not even 20 minutes ago you had been in a full panic. But you nodded with affirmation, and grabbed at your jacket, and stuffed a hat on your head since usually you all went outside for the fresh air and sunshine, although still bitterly cold. So many years in the dark, you especially couldn't get enough of the sun. Curtis would find you often standing outside, lips blue with your eyes tilted into the sun, seeming to soak it in. The man pictured you soaking it in, light was drawn to light. Why you were drawn to him, he didn't know. Leading you down the aisle, his hand resting in the small of your back.

Snapping open the heavy door between cars, you leaped over the gap, and worked Matt's car open, and light spilled into the darkness to show Matt leaning against a wall. One arm hooked over his knee, lifting his head to scowl at the two of them, you went in wringing your hands and smiling hopefully. Curtis right behind you, a dark imposing figure scowling. The complete opposite of your hopefulness. “Hey Matt, how you feeling today?”

Matt snorted and tugged on the heavy livestock chains around his ankle. “Fucking fantastic Dear Sister. Living the fucking dream.” Curtis snarled out while digging for the locks keys in his pocket and handing you off a knife for protection in case Matt happened to overpower him. “Cut the shit, Matt. She didn't come here for you to be a little bitch.” Cutis squatted down and yanked his leg into the light enough so he could see the lock. Matt seemed to somber a bit. “Been better Y/N, thanks for asking.” His hand moved to his now bare ankle rubbing at the red ring. Curtis stood and reached to grasp Matts forearm, bringing him up to a stand.

This was ritual by now, You and Matt walking ahead just a little, Curtis not far behind. Close enough that should Matt try to put a hand on you, Curtis would snap your brother's neck. It was a promise he made to Matt when you first started this. Otherwise, Curtis didn't interfere with your conversation. Most of the time. Your hands were stuffed in your sleeves as you trudged along, your voice optimistic, hopeful that Matt would engage back. “The greenhouses are really thriving Matt, they survived the crash intact for the most past. A bit of the pipework bringing the water in got damaged, but we've been regularly melting snow to compensate.”

“You think You all will be able to keep up with that? Eventually, the water is going to run out. Without the train moving anymore, it's not gathering any to store in the tanks.” Matt smirked as if he was dropping some devastating news, looking between you and Curtis.

“Were keeping a close eye on the tanks, and only using that for stuff absolutely necessary. Everything else... well we're covered in snow.” You kicked at the Frozen snow covering the ground. But he was right, eventually the water would become an issue, just like the power. The whole train was temporary. Eventually they will have to move, see if they can find something more suitable for the group on the outside of one of the cities. Of course, they were estimating where they were on the tracks. Curtis, Edgar, and John having dug through Wilford's main car a few weeks ago and came across maps. If their estimations are right, they were somewhere in what was once Russia.

A massive landscape staring at the map. But dotted with cities. All Curtis had to do was convince the council that packing up a small scouting party and seeing if they were near any of the major cities, it would mean more supplies available to them. They had to get off the train, all its resources were going to run out eventually. Wilford never prepared for the Snowpiercer to ever be at a standstill. These worries were settled at the back of Curtis mind, but these walks with Matt, he was sure to remind them of it. Even you sobered a bit after Matts little jibe.

“We will deal with it when it comes up Matt.” You wanted to reach out, staring at Matt. God, he looked so much like your father, just not the coldness. Your father always so welcoming and open, Matt though sniffed either from the cold or distaste to your answer. “Well, we were able to deal with it till your man insisted on crashing the train. We would certainly not be stranded in the middle of fucking Russia. Couldn't have planned that a little better Curtis. Crashed us somewhere with resources at least? But you never think ahead, do you Everett. Always just brute Force and no couth, is there anything between those ears?” Matt hissed at him, his rage crossing his face once more.

Once more he got the best of your temper as he was bad-mouthing Curtis for those few seconds before Curtis could put a stop to Matts ranting, you pushed against your brother's chest, sending him sprawling in surprise. Curtis actually had to hide a chuckle of surprise himself, but you were furious and snarling at your brother. “Jesus Christ, your just... Cruel all the time, aren't you. Fuck you, Matt. Curtis, I'm done.” You turned away and brushed past Curtis, in which he shook his head, and went to collect Matt, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pushing him forward. “Ya know, you would think you would learn to at least treat her decent since shes the only one who gives a shit about you and why you're still alive.”

Matt snorted as he trudged back through the snow, following your quicker paced form as you reached the outskirts of the camp once more.

“Maybe it's time she grew up Curtis, quite thinking that any of us are out for more than ourselves.”

“Well your certainly proving that to her aren't you,” Curtis growled as they to reached the outskirts of the camp, the snow here all pounded down from people walking on it all day long. “When that day comes and she gives up on you entirely, what do you think is going to happen to you?” Curtis said darkly, and Matt eerily grinned. “Be the day I end up going free.”

“We will see about that.” Curtis pushed him back up the stairs and into the darkness of his car once more. Matt plopped on the mattress while Curtis went to lock him back up, Matt watching him closely, and to the open door, debating. Curtis even though he wasn't looking at him knew his thoughts. “Try it and it won't end good for you Matt.” Wait, we got to wait... The younger man thought, instead getting himself comfortable. Their guard won't be up forever.

You just had to get away, even managing friendly conversations was out of your wheelhouse right now, and you stomped back to your room, and slammed the door behind you as if you were a child all over again, grabbing a pillow off the perfectly made bed this morning and sitting on the edge of it, you screamed into it. What was it going to take to get the meanness out of Matt?! You have done nothing but be good to him short of letting him go free, had even managed to get Curtis to reluctantly agreed that if there was any change, they would see about giving him a bit more freedom. But nothing you tried softened him. Nothing. Ripping off your jacket and hat, you shoved them away into the chair when you sat down, and you just suddenly felt drained. All over, like it all just seeped from you.

Sighing, you lift your hands and rub at your face, glancing up at the picture hanging above the door. That made you smile, thinking back on earlier when Curtis hung it up for you. Maybe it's not all bad, and you shrug off the negativity being around your brother brings on you. Changing into something not as warm, you decide the best way to spend the rest of the day was helping in the greenhouse, and maybe the kitchen. Things would be okay, you were doing more than surviving, you all were actually living.

When you left the car and headed towards the greenhouse, you didn't even glance at the car that held Matt, giving it a wide berth, entering the greenhouse, immediately the earthy smell the plants gave off was as good to you as feeling the sun on your face. A musty heaviness of dirt, greenery, and water. All over the labors of the past few weeks showed with healthy trees bearing apples, bright and red. Green sprouts of leaves down rows and rows, all edible. Even now one of the people who worked the kitchen was picking bundles, piling them in her apron. “How do you know what is ready?” You asked, wandering down the aisle while piling your hair behind your head and trying it off.

“Easy child.” The older worker said, holding out a leaf that was full and vibrant for you to take. “Go ahead, taste it.” You ripped off a piece of it and slipped it in your mouth, when the tender leaf crushed between your teeth, vibrant fresh bitterness flooded your mouth, your taste buds still getting used to food. “When these bunches are all full like this, it's meant to be picked.”

“What is this?” Unable to help yourself, you ripped off another piece and chewed on it, getting the same overwhelming effect from before. “Kale. I will sautee this just a bit in some marrow, and put it in a soup for the camp today. Shave off some of that meat off a hock in the freezer, add those new baby potatoes we have at the end.” The older woman continued on, bringing you to where the rows of potatoes were hidden from view, her fingers digging into the dirt and dragging up the bulbs, shaking the dirt off them. “We get enough of them, and you have yourself a meal.”

You dug your fingers into the moist wet dirt, the sensation oddly familiar and weird, bringing back memories of planting flowers with your mother in the front of the house. The woman watched her with interest, taking in your reaction to it all. “Yer from the back, aren't ya?” You nodded slightly, and carefully brushed off the dirt encasing the baby potatoes. “Yes, one of the tail enders who came up with Curtis.”

“Ahh, yes. Thought you looked familiar. What your man did letting us go took a lot of guts, not many would have that. Trust me, very few of us have much to thank Wilford for or have any reason to give him loyalty. My name is Tess by the way.”

“It was touch and go, but it was the right thing to do. We can't start living a new life following the old ways.” You shrugged and Tess smiled at your words, her wrinkles lining around her eyes deepening.

“Like hearing wisdom come right out of the babes mouth. I could use your help if you don't mind. Getting this camp fed is a couple people process, It's my turn to water but I got to get this all started up. Feeding all these people is a lot different than just cooking for Wilford.” She continued placing potatoes in her apron. “all-day process, and the only way we don't burn through what we got stored. You mind watering for me?”

“Be a pleasure to.” You assured her and you took over where she had left off. Curtis came later to find you, having poked his head in earlier to see you were settled into a project after dealing with Matt, he didn't want to bother you. But now it was getting late, and after pouring over the maps in what they turned into a meeting space of sorts with the rest of the “council” they formed, passing ideas of where to go, and how to proceed, he was tired. The sky was starting to darken, and spending a quiet evening with you really was all he wanted at this point. Figuring you would be where he had left you, Curtis shrugged off his jacket as he went into the humid car, glancing around, and walking down the aisle, checking the rows till he found you, kneeling while using your hands to churn dirt, snipping off any dead leaves on each individual plant, a small trailer left behind you.

“There you are... was wondering where you had gotten off to.” Heavy boots thudded the floor and you looked up in surprise. Your hair curling around your temples and a streak of dirt across your forehead, you gave him the sweetest smile that Curtis would have sworn made his heart skip a beat. “You've been in here all afternoon, think it's time we call it a day.” Hand reaching for yours, you hesitate cause yours are dirty, but a wiggle of his fingers, enticed you, and you let him pull you up. “It can't be that late, it's still light.”

“In here, artificial lighting for the plants.” Leading you to a window, you leaned into his side, looking at the way the sky was painted in so many vibrant hues.

“Alright, maybe I did lose track of time. I only meant to stay in here for a couple hours.” You admitted and he laughed, his arm resting around your waist.

“Come on, let's go eat.”

As becoming another regular was all eating dinners together. Tess would bring out whatever, and those that didn't have something stored away would come to get a bit of whatever she made that day. Groups of you would sit together, and slowly it was a mingling of people. Today you sat at Curtis’s side, sipping from a cup he brought you, and across from you, Edgar and Yona did the same as you, Yona talking about what she was doing with the kids. The kids, it was hard to think of them as the trains orphans anymore. They simply seemed to just belong to everyone now, no longer separating the train in classes as before.

“Teach them some manners, the little shites.” Edgar teased Yona, and you nudged your boot against his leg to get his attention.

“Excuse you, you were no peach either Edgar. Always sassing when you didn't get your way.” You smirked back at him over your cup as you sipped from it, Yona giggling at his side, and he narrowed his eyes at You. “I was a great kid! I listened. Kinda.”

“Right. Just as good as you listen now.” Curtis laughed deeply, moving to get up, and held out a hand to take the emptied dishes to bring them back to the kitchen. You moved to a kneel, beckoning Edgar to turn around. “Let me look at your back, see how that scar is healing.” Pushing himself from the wall, he twisted, and hiked the back of his shirt up. You leaned in closer, tracing around it for a moment. “Sore any? It looks really good, considering what happened.”

He pulled away and tugged his shirt down, giving a roll of his shoulder. Whenever the matter of his scar came up, he would go quiet. “It’s a'right. Tender once in a while, especially when hauling stuff.”

“Yea, you probably should have waited to do the cleanup.”

“Well, it had to be done.” He stated, and Yona next to him frowned slightly studying him. But Curtis coming back distracted them from the conversation, and you yawned, pushing to a stand.

“Doesn't matter if it had to be done, still should have waited. Night.” Biding your goodbye to your companions, a hot shower sounded excellent, and Curtis came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle.

“You okay?” a soft kiss was pressed just at the hollowed curve of your neck, and you let your hands weave over the top of his around your stomach. “Yea, just super tired suddenly. Been feeling this way most of the day. I'm sure it's nothing. “

He lifted his head and frowned hearing that. “You sure you shouldn't go see Price? Could be something.” You turned just as you reached the door, and pulled yourself in close against him with a fist of your hands in his shirt, leaning up to tease your lips against his. “Handsome, I'm fine. Tired is all... I promise.” Blue eyes looked slightly doubtful, but he relented and the two of you went into the room.

“Would you tell me if you thought otherwise?” Curtis locked the door while you started stripping out of the dirtied clothing to escape into the bathroom. Curtis caught just a glimpse of your backside, and inhaled sharply. No sex for the past month and half was starting to in ways he didn't care for. But it didn't matter, there was no way in hell he was going to try anything until you were ready. Instead, he set about taking off his boots, sitting on the edge of the bed to untie them, make himself comfortable.

In the bathroom, you turned on the water and slipped in before it got hot. Not wanting to waste any water, and tipped your head back to moisten your hair, and start scrubbing it, getting the dirt and sweat out from earlier. Then getting ready to wash your body, you looked down and saw red swirling by your feet. Your hands start roaming over your body quickly without thinking, a panicked cry out. “Curtis!” You twist in the shower, looking behind you to see if your cut anywhere and it hits you.

You had your period. If came... You weren't pregnant.

And that moment relief flooded you so intensely, you slid to the floor of the tub, somewhere between a cry and laugh of relief, Curtis burst into the bathroom, in response to you calling his name. “Y/M?! Baby, you okay?” He opened the curtain to find you sitting on the bottom, and immediately scanned you going to his knees. Cupping your face as you had it pressed to your knees, making you lift up to look at him. Your body shaking slightly under his hold. “What is wrong?” and that's when he caught the bit of red escaping down the drain. “Fuck, where are you hurt?” He is shifting you forward and you finally regain yourself enough to put a stop to him.

“I'm fine, I'm okay. Turn the water off and hand me a towel?” You ask and he reached over to turn it off, worried eyes finding you again and his hands seeking to look for whatever was causing you to bleed, but you grab his hands to make him focus on you. “It came Curtis. I'm not pregnant.”

His face is just stunned, his shirt half clinging to him from where he had leaned into the spray to check on you, and you couldn't help but giggle at the way he looked, blinking water out of his face before he repeated what you said. “You're not pregnant...?” the realization flooded his expression to relief and you nodded with a grin. “You're not pregnant!” He repeated and drew you into his arms, hugging each other out of relief. “Oh Babygirl, thank god. Are you okay?” He leaned back to look at you, and moved to get up and grab a towel, holding it open for you. Pulling yourself to a stand, you step into it, feeling prominently better then you had since you were raped.

“Relief Curtis, I just feel light as air. I didn't know what we were going to do if I was.” You pressed your face into his chest, breathing in deeply while he rubbed your back through the towel.

“We would have done everything we could, just like for any other child,” Curtis assured you, thanking everything under the moon and stars though that you weren't made to go through that as well as everything else that had happened. You mumbled in his chest, and lifted your face to look up at him. “I will go see Price in the morning, just to be sure.”

“Thank you.” Curtis kissed your forehead and let his hands cup your face, kissing you in that slow way that made your heart flutter, you opened to him, your tongue sliding with his and a soft moan between you two. Curtis pulled back and let his forehead rest against yours, his hands had fallen to your hips and his fingers flexed through the terry cloth. “You better get dressed Babygirl.” Both your eyes closed, merely breathing in each other before he moved to kiss your forehead and released you.

Curtis left you to pull on a large tee, it swept well down your thighs that you've been sleeping in as we as well as a pair of panties with a liner, brushing all your hair out, and debating about putting it up, you recalled that Curtis loved your long hair. Spreading it around your shoulders, you brush it out more till it's soft waves were shining, and once you checked to make sure any mess was gone. Flicking off the switch you came into the room being dark, Curtis sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to get in since you always slept against the wall. When he saw you, his hands opened up and you happily stepped into them, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

Nuzzling against your ribcage for a moment, and his hands sliding up and down along your sides, you let your fingers slide through the back of his head, and along his neck. “Today was a good day, right?” You ask softly while lifting your head to look at him. Your hands settled on his bare shoulders. Curtis lifted his head just a bit and looked up at you, flattening his hands against the small of your back and pulling you in closer. “It was a good day Babygirl.” His hands lightly pressed against the back of your thighs and you shifted to straddle him, letting your forehead rest against his. “Even with everything that happened today, it was a good day.” His arm tightened around you and shifted back with a slight roll so he could lay you down and shifted to his side next to you.

Loping an arm around your hip and kissing your shoulder, you slid in closer to his heat while he dragged the blankets that was collected. You felt him relax under your fingers playing in his hair, and although you didn't fall into the same lull that he did, his breathing turned shallower, soft snores rolling from his chest. Twisting to your side, his hand instinctively tightened around you, but you weren't going anywhere. Your gaze was able to follow the lines of his face from the window right behind your head, casting the room in a silver glow. Your thoughts drifted.

You were lucky, You knew it. Curtis had been with you since practically you came on the train, kept you alive and safe. You've done what you could to show your love back over the years, but you knew in this you wouldn't still be here if it wasn't for him. Even these past few weeks, surviving through the revolt, he didn't even realize it was coming back to him that saved her from the attackers. Everyone was so focused on surviving, they forgot why they survived.

If it wasn't for Curtis, they would be wasted away in the darkness, a forgotten memory of a past life.

And he never asked for anything in return. Not really. Not even during this time where you were slowly opening back up did he push for me. And another day, another time you would have fallen into that mind-frame that he no longer wanted you. But you knew better, just that morning you happened to see him relieving himself in the shower, barely catching whispers of your name, just under the sounds of his grunts. You knew he was trying to be quiet, not wanting to pressure you.

A soft shift and your name brought you out of your thoughts, and Curtis was leaning on his elbow, blue eyes searching your face. “What's on your mind Babygirl?” he had expected you to deal with some conflicting emotions since finding out that you were not pregnant, but you just looked at him with a soft expression, leaning into him and kissing him deeply, your hands clutching his shoulders and leaning back, bringing him along, and the kisses turned more feverish. Curtis groaned against your lips and down along your jawline, hissing softly against your neck. “Are you sure?” His head lifted, his hands cupping your face to search you for any doubt, any sign that you didn't want him to touch you and make love to you.

Your hands splayed over his chest raised just above you, spreading your fingers through the crisp dark scattering of hair and hummed softly in appreciation of the feeling against your palms, nodding. “Please Curtis... I miss you. But I'm scared.”

His head tilted and those kisses against your neck went to your face, each one a well placed soft brushed of lips warming you. “scared of what Babygirl?”

“What-what if I'm broken?” Your brows furrowed, and your fingers eased to his back, tracing along the flexing of muscles.

“Babygirl, you're not broken. I promise.” Curtis rubbed along your hip under your shirt. “But there's no rush Y/N.”

Your eyes roamed him and then your hands folded into your shirt and you pulled it off, letting it fall off the end on the bed.

“Show me.” You lean back into the pillows, and then Curtis shifted, wide shoulders blocking out the rest of the room as he leaned over you, leaving you gasping underneath him. Tilting your head back to give him access to your neck, outside, the stars.

There were so many stars and those desired kisses on your neck, his calloused hand sliding along your skin.

Your breathing came out in rushes, the stars going blurry in your vision. Curtis's hand grasped your chin lightly and made you look at him.

"Babygirl, I got you. Your safe."

@what-is-your-plan-today @p8tn0lish @jtargaryen18 @stardancerluv @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @fckdeusername @that-damn-girl @curtisbbq @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @thatweirdwalangpake @simsadventures

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cutieodonoghue · 3 years

Photo

dark gray (16/17)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

and also catch up on Tumblr!

///

Sixteen

Christmas Eve

Killian somehow finds himself more nervous than Smee is as they drive away from the Portland airport on their way to Storybrooke.

Smee mutters to himself, driving roughly ten under the speed limit because he’s nervous being on American roads. The effort is costing them time, but Killian knows it wouldn’t do him any good to ask Smee to push any harder than he is. The man had practically had a breakdown on the plane before they took off.

“Do you think Emma will be there?” Killian asks.

The question has plagued him for practically the entire trip. While it makes sense that she would be home, in Storybrooke, another part of him knows that this is an uncertain mission. She might be somewhere else entirely.

“Well,” Smee replies thoughtfully, “it’s Christmas Eve. I would think she’d be home. Wouldn’t you?”

Killian takes a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He holds in his hand the address Smee had been hiding from him, chicken scratch on a bright yellow post-it note.

He hasn’t given much thought to what his new life would look like. Maybe it’s for the best that he hasn’t been able to. When he makes it to Storybrooke, and he’s reunited with Emma and Henry, he imagines it will all fall into place.

Hopefully, that would happen sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know.”

Smee glances over at him very briefly a few times. “If she isn’t, we’ll just keep looking. I’m sure there will at least be someone who might know something… we’ll follow the trail until you’re with her again. I know how much she means to you.”

Killian looks out his window, teeth digging into his upper lip. “But does she know?”

Smee doesn’t have an answer for him, but Killian doesn’t need one.

His anxiety about seeing Emma again is something he hopes is without basis. They’d spent far too much time apart, but no one was to blame for that.

There would never have been a way Emma could have found him, unless she was able to get in touch with Smee. Smee, who still only uses a landline because he worries the cell phone will damage his brain cells- or something like that.

It would have been impossible. Or, at least, very nearly impossible.

Sighing, Killian stretches his legs out as much as he can in the cramped front seat. He closes his eyes, focusing on something hopeful: soon, he’ll be with Emma and Henry again.

“Do you feel alright? Do you need your medicine?”

“No, I feel fine.” Killian opens his eyes, looking at Smee. “Thank you. You didn’t have to stick with me all that time, and coming to America on an uncertain quest…”

Smee smiles. “That’s what friends are for.”

Storybrooke is not on the map that they’d found at the airport. It’s not even on the map at the first few visitor’s centers they stop at.

Thankfully, they’d been able to find someone at a gas station who gave them a general direction to move towards. After that, it had been a game of watching the road signs until they finally spotted one that claimed Storybrooke was twenty miles away.

The town is sleepy. Covered in fresh snowfall, the evening sun has colored the skies a soft orange and pink. The buildings lining Main Street sit idle, with hardly anybody moving to and fro. It’s calm and quiet, a solace he hadn’t thought he’d find.

“Where should we go first, do you think?” Smee asks nervously. “Is that a diner up ahead?”

Killian spots the neon sign that reads “Granny’s Diner” shining at them from the side of the road as if it’s an oasis in the desert.

“I know we should probably go to the address there, but, I’m starving, Jones.”

Killian nods. “Aye. Let’s pull off for a meal. Perhaps while we’re there we can ask for directions. I think I remember Emma saying this was her favorite place to eat.”

Smee hums thoughtfully. He pulls into a parking spot across the street from the establishment and Killian stares out at it, nervousness tickling at his belly.

“You alright?”

He turns to his friend, nodding. “Aye. Just… really hoping she’s in town.”

Smee offers him a gentle smile. “Like I said before. We’ll find her, even if this is just a stop along the way.”

Killian nods. “Thanks, Smee.”

Even with Smee’s support, Killian hesitates. He finds himself nervous to leave the car, to step into the future and his new life.

“I would bet she’s here.” Smee says, almost like he’s talking to himself. “I don’t get the feeling that she’d want to stray… you know, staying put so it’s easy for you to find them.” His friend smiles. “C’mon. Let’s go get something to eat. We can worry about finding Emma after. One step at a time, yeah?”

Smee pats him gently on the arm and then turns the car off. The immediate loss of heat from the air vents forces him to join Smee in opening his door.

It takes a minute to climb out of the car, and when he does, he leans back against it, chest tight as he catches his breath.

The air is frigid, but being in Storybrooke feels the opposite.

He’d heard Emma tell stories about this place for weeks. The aged brick of the buildings… the bare trees lining the streets… the banners on the light posts… it’s all as she’d described.

As he turns his attention to a nearby car with a Storybrooke bumper sticker, Smee comes alongside him, a wry smirk on his face.

“What’s that look for?”

His friend nudges his head toward the diner without saying a word.

Killian follows Smee’s gesture and finds himself staring directly inside the building through the glass door at someone so familiar that it makes his heart drop directly into his belly.

Emma.

He’s fast on his feet, practically running across the street toward the diner. Suddenly, every ache and pain he’d been feeling falls away. All he sees and knows is Emma.

She opens the door, a bell tinkling in her wake, and she doesn’t look up, typing something into her phone. He stops, wanting her to notice him, but she crashes straight into him instead.

“Oh!” She gasps, almost slipping as she struggles to keep her balance. She catches onto his arms and grips tightly. “Sorry. That’s the second time that’s happened to me in under an hour, if you can believe it.”

And she finally meets his eyes.

In a heartbeat, everything changes.

She shakes her head slowly in disbelief. “Killian.”

Emma wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly. He grunts slightly at the brute impact, but returns the hug, eyes squeezed shut.

“Emma. Emma.” Killian catches his breath, his grip on her tightening. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

She threads her fingers into his hair for a few seconds before pulling away to look at his face, thoroughly this time, which gives him the chance to, in desperation, study everything about her.

It’s only been a month, but it feels like it’s been an eternity.

Her hair curls in waves down her shoulders, the tops of her ears covered by her beanie hat, and she looks exactly as he remembers, though this time, she’s far less upset.

They laugh, still holding onto each other, and Emma shakes her head. “I can’t believe it. You’re here!”

“Aye, love.”

God, he loves her.

He opens his mouth to say as much, but she cuts him off with her lips on his, just as desperate and passionate as it had been the last time they’d kissed. This time, though, he holds on tighter knowing that they’d never need another tearful goodbye kiss.

When she pulls away, he leans into her, swaying slightly at the intensity of being here with her. He’d dreamed of this moment dozens of times, but never once did he think that it would feel like he could fly.

“I love you.” Emma says with absolutely no hesitation.

His heart skips a heavy beat. Killian can’t help but smile when he meets her eyes again. “I love you too.”

Selfishly, Emma tells Killian to wait out by the dock for her so she can get some time with him before introducing him to her parents, who still sit at their table at Granny’s finishing up their meal.

With Henry still in her lap, Mary Margaret meets Emma’s eyes first thanks to a little wiggle Henry gives at the sight of her.

“I thought you were going back to the house.”

For the life of her, Emma can’t wipe the dumb grin she has on her face. Killian is here. He’s here and everything is changed, for the better. She feels like she can see clearly for the first time in a long time, no longer burdened with grief or loss.

“I… was thinking I could take Henry from you. Maybe take a quick walk.”

Her mother narrows her eyes. Clearly, she’s being far too obvious that everything is more than okay again.

“Okay…”

She collects Henry, taking time to dress him to go out into the cold.

“Are you sure you’re alright, honey?” David asks. “Just a few minutes ago you were ready to drive up to the airport and leave town.”

Emma peers up at her father, nodding. “Yeah. I’m fine.” She looks at her mom, who still seems unconvinced. “Seriously. I’m fine.”

Mary Margaret grabs her tea and has a sip. Then, as Emma puts Henry in his stroller, she says, “You know… there’s a nice view outside from here.”

Emma hums, unwilling to budge on telling them that Killian’s currently in Storybrooke until they’ve had a few minutes to themselves. There’s a lot that they need to talk about.

“Yeah. It’s pretty out there.”

Her mother hums back at her. “One might say it’s mistletoe weather.”

David seems confused, tilting his head at his wife. “What…”

“I’ll meet you guys back at the house, okay?” Emma smiles at them both, trying to move as quickly as she can so she doesn’t leave Killian out in the cold by himself for much longer.

The minute Emma can see Killian sitting in her favorite spot, Henry giggles as if he can recognize him.

“Henry!” Killian grins, pivoting with his arms held outward.

Emma smiles happily when the two embrace, Henry squishing Killian’s face between his two hands so he can give him sloppy baby kisses.

“Oh, thank you. I’ve missed this.” Killian laughs, gently moving Henry away from his face to instead sit in his lap.

He meets Emma’s eyes briefly and she sits down beside him. He extends his arm to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

“I would’ve come after you right away, but...”

She squeezes his hand where it rests over Henry’s belly. There will be time for explaining later. Right now, she just needs him to know that she’s here for him.

“It’s okay. You’re here now.”

They sit in silence, watching the boats on the water, and Killian sighs, sitting upright. Emma joins him, turning so she can see him again.

There are so many things she wants to ask him. Stories she wants to hear. People he needs to meet, and places he needs to go. But she needs one answer more than the rest.

“Are you going to stay with us?”

Killian raises an eyebrow, laughing like she’s crazy. “Where else would I go, darling?”

Emma searches his eyes, not feeling soothed yet. “The island was your home. You built it up with your brother…”

She doesn’t mention the losses of Milah or their child, knowing that their graves are on the island, too.

Suddenly, all she feels is guilt. He shouldn’t have had to follow her here.

The weeks she’d spent aching and yearning for him to come here to her were so selfish. If anything, she should’ve poured more time into finding him, in being there for him, and staying by his side no matter what.

Especially now, with the knowledge that their lives are going to be entwined in such a powerful way, it feels as if she’s failed him. Emma isn’t sure how she wants to tell him about the baby, but she can’t do it yet. Not until things slow down again.

“You didn’t have to come here.” Emma whispers. She closes her eyes with remorse and pulls away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you if you weren’t ready to leave.”

Maybe it’s her past abandonments coming back to give her one last swift kick to the gut, but she has a hard time believing that he’d actually be here because of her. That he’d want to be with her so much that he’d leave his entire world behind to live in hers.

“Emma.” Killian reaches for her hand again, warmly interlocking their fingers. “I’m not supposed to be here right now. I was concussed. I have four broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. I have an almost upsetting smattering of other smaller injuries.”

The bruised and healing features of his face are more pronounced in the silence that follows. He’d been through hell. This much is clear.

“I wasn’t pushed to leave,” he says, holding her gaze intentionally. “I very much want to be here. So much so that I dragged Smee across the ocean so that I could be with you for Christmas day.”

The weight falls off of her shoulders and she closes her eyes in relief.

“Smee is terrified of flying, by the way. That was... fun.”

She can’t help but laugh at the tone of his voice.

They both turn their attention to Henry. He plays with Killian’s zipper, content in his lap, happily babbling with his head tipped upward.

It hits her then that this is her family. No matter what happened, if she’d gone after him or not, if he’d stayed on the island or not, they would always be a family.

Killian takes a moment to stare at her. “You were right. I didn’t want anything to interrupt my life… but I needed you to.” Her breath catches at the honesty of his words. “You and Henry are my home. Don’t doubt that, Emma.”

She sighs and slides closer to him on the bench, her cheek finding his shoulder blade. He smells just like she remembers. And he’s oh so warm.

Emma can’t help but think ahead of what’s still to come. He has to meet her parents, her friends… find a job here in town. And she still has to tell him about the island’s parting gift to them: a baby.

There’s one thing she knows he definitely has to do today, and it’s far and away the most terrifying of everything else.

“Are you ready to meet my parents?”

When she pulls away from him, there’s something anxious she finds in his gaze.

“I'm nervous about how they’ll look at me. I’m not a hero by any means. You know that better than most.”

Emma frowns, tilting her head to the side a little. “You are a hero, though, Killian. Look at what you did to protect us.”

He clenches his jaw and adjusts his grasp on Henry. The baby starts to cry, probably getting a little too cold, so Emma takes him from Killian and settles him in the stroller.

“He’s cold,” Emma explains. She starts to feel it herself, the cold air nipping at her cheeks and nose. A chill runs through her body. “Mom and Dad are at the diner. We can go there, or we could go home. You’ll have to meet them either way, though. I don’t think I can hide you from them forever.”

Killian stands, joining her. He seems hesitant, maybe a bit bashful, tucking his hand and blunt wrist into his jacket pockets. “Let’s go meet them at the diner. I’m hungry.”

Emma nods, smiling at him. “I’ll protect you if they make it too weird.”

He chuckles and plants a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, love.”

Walking with Emma and Henry back up the sidewalk toward the diner again, Killian feels anxious.

It’s different, being in the place she’d spoken so fondly about, about to meet the people she’d longed for the most during her time with him on the island. He imagines she’s told them about him, but isn’t sure what exactly was shared.

“Do they know that we…”

Emma meets his eyes, laughing a little. “Yeah. Um… I told them we’re together.” She pauses. “But I… it was only a few days there at the end, so maybe we can back off on it until we’re settled in more and can be serious?”

Killian can’t help but smile wryly. “Well, darling, I don’t usually tell people I love them if I don’t intend to be serious about it.”

Her answering blush is sweet.

“I do, you know,” he adds, “I do love you.”

They slow to a stop just outside of Granny’s Diner, Emma turning to him with her pretty green eyes sparkling ever so slightly. She presses her palm against his chest and pushes up onto her toes to kiss him, ever so chaste.

“I love you too.” Emma turns toward the diner, taking a steadying breath. “Okay. Let's do this.”

The bell above the door tinkles when they open it, and once they’re inside, he’s brought back to his childhood, when he and Liam would venture out to a corner cafe. The smells of coffee and grease, mixed with the fresher Christmas scents, like vanilla and peppermint, fill his nostrils. Christmas music plays over the radio speakers.

The diner isn’t very full. A waitress at the bar cleans while a few patrons talk in quiet tones scattered throughout the small space.

Emma leads him to the back of the room, to a booth in the back corner. He’s surprised to find a familiar face in Smee, who chews eagerly on a cheeseburger beside a stranger.

The stranger, a woman with dark black hair and bright eyes, seems to notice him first, a smile filling her lips in the kindest way.

Emma pushes Henry into a position where he can see the people at the table. “So… um… I guess you already know.”

The man sitting opposite the pretty dark haired woman perks up, turning to look at Killian without saying anything.

Emma tilts her head, smiling at Smee. “Hi again, Smee.”

“Miss Emma. It’s nice to see you.”

Emma takes a breath. “Mom, Dad, this is Killian.”

Emma’s mother immediately gasps excitedly and pushes out of the booth, clamoring to get her arms around him as quickly as possible. He can’t help but laugh at the gesture, finding the woman as endearing as anyone he’s ever met.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She pulls away from him, meeting his eyes with intention, her smile wide. She has kindness in her eyes. “I’m Mary Margaret, Emma’s mom. And this handsome charmer is my husband, David.”

Mary Margaret turns, gesturing to the man who now stands beside them. David, much like his wife, smiles at him with kindness in his eyes. He holds out a hand to shake and Killian obliges.

“It’s good to meet you. We can’t thank you enough for being there for Emma and Henry.”

Killian shakes his head. “It was a privilege they found me when they did.”

David hums. He pulls his hand away and gestures to the booth. “Sit. Are you hungry?”

“Actually, I am. I’d like to eat if it’s not any trouble.”

“None at all.” Mary Margaret insists. She’s off in a flash, going to get something from the waitress at the bar.

He and Emma sit together, Emma having grabbed Henry again from the stroller. David slides in opposite of them, next to Smee.

“They flew in just a few hours ago,” Emma shares with her father.

“Portland?” he asks, seeming genuinely curious.

“Aye. Yeah. It was an interesting trip.”

Mary Margaret arrives at the table then, handing him a menu. “Here you go. Granny said she’ll be out in a few minutes to get your order.”

“Much obliged.” Killian smiles. He sets about studying the menu, nervous to be sitting in silence with Emma’s parents.

“You’re here in time for Christmas!” Mary Margaret says happily. “That’s wonderful. It’s the best holiday of the year. We have a lot of traditions we can share with you.”

“Oh, Mom,” Emma speaks up before Killian can say anything. “Can you tell your cousins to come some other day this week? I don’t think we should have a crazy full house this year.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes widen. “Oh. Yes, of course. I’ll send them a message right now.”

“Most of the presents are for Henry,” David says. “Just preparing you, Emma.”

Killian stares at Henry, the little boy happy to play with a little noise-making toy that he shakes. His heart squeezes fondly, joyful that he’s able to be here with them again.

Emma laughs. “I know. Henry deserves it. It’s his first Christmas.”

The light conversation continues for a while. It’s easy to talk about Henry and about the weather, or about the best things to order off of the menu. But that’s not what Killian finds himself the most nervous about.

Once he places his order with Granny, he keeps his left wrist and right hand beneath the table, anxious to show his blunted wrist off too much to Emma’s parents. The hook had been taken from him, and the hospital had tried to get him fitted with a mechanical hand, but he hadn’t wanted it.

“So, what happened all these weeks, Killian?” David asks. “Emma told us there were pirates.”

He hesitates. This is what he’d been nervous about. This, and sharing why he wanted to be on an island by himself.

“They took me,” Killian admits, looking at Smee because he’s really the only one who truly knows what happened. “Held me hostage. I’m sure you can guess that they beat me, by the look of me.”

He feels Emma’s hand on his arm beneath the table. Looking over at her and Henry, he takes a breath.

“I only survived because I kept thinking about how I needed to get back to them.”

Emma smiles ever so slightly. He imagines that hearing about what he’d been through isn’t the most pleasant thing, so he decides to keep his answer at that.

He turns back to her parents and adds, “I don’t know what Emma told you about me and my time as the lighthouse keeper, but, I’ll just be honest with you and say that it was a hard time in my life and I wanted to be alone on that island. And then, there was Henry, and there was Emma, and suddenly, everything I thought I wanted was changed.”

Mary Margaret gives him the most gentle smile. “It seems you were meant to find each other.”

Emma rubs Killian’s arm and he looks at her. She’s so pretty. He loves her so much.

“So much happened to get you there at exactly the right time,” Mary Margaret says wistfully. “It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it, David? We almost didn’t go on that trip.”

“I know.” David nods in agreement. For whatever reason, Emma’s father seems to be a little wary of him, even though he’s put it all out on the table for them. “So you’re in Storybrooke now. What are your plans?”

“Dad…”

“What? It’s a fair question.”

“Killian’s had a long day.”

“It’s alright, love,” Killian smiles at Emma. Turning to David, he thoughtfully considers his next words. “I’m planning on taking it one day at a time, but I thought I’d get a job in town.”

“And how do Emma and Henry factor in?”

“Dad. Honestly.” Emma shakes her head in disapproval. “How about we let him settle into his new life here and once we know what’s going on, we’ll let you know?”

David sighs. “I just want to know that you’re not here for the wrong reasons.”

“I assure you, I’m not.” Killian promises.

The silence is almost deafening. Smee perks up, having cleaned his plate.

“Would you folks happen to have a spare bedroom or two?” Smee wonders. “I hate to ask, but I spent quite a bit of money getting here, so...”

“Oh, of course you can stay with us. Both of you.” Mary Margaret smiles, looking between him and Smee. “We have a guest bedroom and a pullout couch.”

Smee grins. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Nolan. I promise I won’t stay long. Can’t say the same for Jones, though.”

Killian takes a deep breath, looking at Emma. Henry has captured her attention, having curled his fingers into her hair. Laughing, she meets Killian’s gaze after a second of detangling his fingers.

He’d kiss her smile, but doesn’t want to embarrass her in front of her parents. After all, they’re still trying to figure this whole thing out.

“How long are you staying?” she wonders, clearly teasing.

Sighing playfully, he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I was thinking… maybe forever?”

Emma grins at that. “Good.”

#cs ff #cs au #cs fic #captain swan #dark gray #my writing #i've edited this chapter a zillion times #i really hope it's good

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pl-panda · 4 years

Text

Damienette arranged marriage: part 22

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 part 14 part 15

part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Part 21

Damienette arranged marriage: part 22

-------------------------------

“I can assure you me and your father can take care of ourselves.”

“Against normal villains yeah, but what if someone scarier comes. Or a particularly vicious Akuma?”

“What do you want to say sweety?”

“Maman… I want you to join the miraculous team.” Marinette stated and pulled a small box from her bag.

--------------------------

“Oh sweety.” Sabine took the box and opened it. Inside laid a panjas bracelet with tiger mark in the middle. “You didn’t have to. Your old lady can kick ass without such things.” She smiled and put on the bracelet. A dark pink spirit reassembling a tiger appeared.

“Oh! Hi there. Hi hi. I see I have a new wielder.” Roaar turned to Marinette. “Thank you guardian for choosing me for this. I am sure we will achieve great things together.”

“No problem Roaar. I hope you two will get by great together.” The girl smiled at enthusiastic Kwami.

“Uh… Hi little spirit. My name is Sabine.” Mother spoke, getting Roaar’s attention.

“Ah. Pleasure to meet you. Hi Hi. I am Roaar, the kwami of power. I can grant you the strength, speed, agility or endurance in battle.”

“Roaar is also very friendly. You told me that you wish to have someone to read books with like the old times but I am always busy. She said she loves adventures. I am sure you will have a perfect time together maman!” Marinette was beaming. She could already see that her mom and the kwami would match each other perfectly.

“That is indeed very considerate Marinette. Thank you for this gift. I can assure you we will do our best to help you sweety. And kick Chat Noir in the ass the moment I see him.” Sabine smiled overly sweet at the thought.

-----------------------

The next two months passed without much progress. Police disregarded the evidence whatsoever and all attempts to infiltrate Agreste manor ended with failure. The new heroine Pink Tigress joined the permanent rooster of heroes in Paris. Ladybug offered her father a miraculous too, but he decided that he will leave this stuff to the awesome girls in the house.

Marinette spent most of her days either with Damian or Chloe. The girl didn’t pester Marinette for a miraculous like she expected and even covered for the young heroine when she needed it. She declared that she will earn her right be hero properly this time. But she was still her sassy self.

Alix indeed shifted sides, but so far she was unable to convince anyone else about Lila’s lies. Any attempt would end up with some Akuma and later the person would not remember what caused it or would eat up Lila’s lies. In the end it seemed that the liar was rooted too deeply to remove her. It didn’t really disheart neither Damian nor Chloe from trying. The two made it their personal mission to at least make Lila fear for her little empire at each step, albeit with little success besides few Akuma attacks. Marinette had no way of persuading them to stop.

On the bright side of things, Sabine got in contact with Cass. At first the girl was reluctant to trust her newly discovered aunt, but as the relationship progressed the two woman got on the good side. Roaar also helped. Even if the sprite was not visible on camera, she still spoke on the phone and somehow the curious cat made Cass open up just enough for Sabine to make a connection.

---------------------------------------

With the trip rapidly approaching, Ladybug called the war council. All of the active heroes (and Chloe) gathered in Hotel Grand Paris since it was easier and less risky. They all came in civilian clothes under different excuses. Only Pink Tigress actually used her hero persona to enter. And Chat Noir was not invited. Nobody wanted him and Tim decided that he had some revelation about the cat.

“Okay. We can begin.” Tim said as he activated the scrambler. No transmission could now enter or leave the room without his permission.

“Yes. As you all know soon Damian and I will have to leave for Gotham to finalize some of the… matters.” Marinette started, but her husband interrupted her

“tt. We are formalizing the marriage.” Damian bluntly explained.

The girl blushed, but continued anyway. “Yes. And it will be hard to keep fighting Akumas on the distance and with the time difference.”

“Maybe give someone else the earrings for the time.” Stephanie disregarded the matter. “I mean look at how many heroes there are here. I am sure we can deal with this.”

“Actually, the only two staying will be Ryuko and Viperion.” Sabine quickly dozed off the girl’s hopes.

“What?” Stephanie was surprised by this.

“Miss Bourgeois...” Damian stopped himself from saying ‘Yellow Menace’. Just because the two worked against common enemy (Lila) didn’t mean they had to like each other. They both rivalized for Marinette’s attention. So far Damian still got most of it, but the girl made sure that Chloe didn’t feel neglected. She always made sure to invite the mayor’s daughter to all group activities and things that weren’t dates. Or at least what she didn’t think would be dates. That was one weird evening.

“Chloe is going with the class. And I am very sorry Chloe but I am still hesitant to trust you with Miraculous.” Marinette stopped Damian from saying something that would turn the war council into just war.

“No worries Mari-bug. I know I acted utterly ridiculous! and I still must work for the trust. And I have some business in Gotham that I couldn’t really miss.” Chloe grinned maliciously.

“Do we want to know what is that you seek in the city of crime, miss Bo… Chloe?” Kagami asked. She was still not used to referring to others by their first names.

“Nope!” The girl stated smugly, popping the ‘P’.

“Maybe it would be best to look back at Paris right now.” Luka decided to remind them why they were here between humming some songs.

“Yes! But before the Hawkmoth matter, “ Marinette looked at the older Wayne in the room. “Tim, you said you had something about Chat Noir.”

“Right. Just let me get some coffee first” He stood up but Steph and Damian pulled him down.

“No coffee for you before this is over Drake. Some of us had evening plans.” The glare Damian sent him could only be rivaled by his fathers one, but Tim just shrugged. The boy was either bravest person on earth or just much too tired to care about his health. Given the amount of coffee he drank, it was almost certainly the second one.

“Fine Demon Spawn. Way to ruin the mood.” Red Robin instead displayed the video of fight with Chat d’Amour from various cctv cameras. “One thing bugged me about this one. He was akumatized to go after Mari, but it doesn’t make much sense. What would get him upset?”

“I… Actually I have no idea…” Marinette admitted.

“Oh! I can have few ideas.” Chloe chimed in. “But none are good. The best one is that this leather-clad jerk was just self-pitying himself so much that he attracted Akuma. But the other one is much worse: he actually followed you around and got angry with the fact you were dating Damian. It means he is even more creepy.” At this idea Marinette couldn’t help but notice that Kagami and Damian instinctively grabbed their swords. The fencer now carried a katana around. Her mother was pleased when the girl extended her repertoire and Damian had a sparring partner. Plus both looked less awkward if both brought swords to school. What Mari failed to notice is her mother slipping one hand into the sporting bag she had and pulling a rather large knife. It only got her attention when Sabine started sharpening it while looking about as casually as Chloe when she was applying make-up. She seemed natural.

“Uh… I apreciate the protectiveness, but I think you are scaring someone maman.”

“Don’t worry sweety. I just remembered that I forgot to do this back home.” Mother said casually, trying to calm her daughter. “I asked your aunt to get me one with Cat motif on it.”

“Maman!”

“ekh.” Damian faux-coughed, getting their attention.

“Right. So what is the real reason Tim?”

“Well, I did some thinking and I came to the conclusion that while both reasons are probable, neither match the timeline.”

“Get to the finish line hon.” Stephanie urged him.

“Chat Noir is Adrien Agreste.” Tim sighted.

“I take it back. Explain.” The dumbfounded expression on Spoiler’s face spoke volumes.

“So first I back-tracked the time of his akumatization. Based on the moment he crashed your party I put it against how long it would take him to get there from each point in town and how long it would take Akuma to get from the spawning zone to him in that location. All times were average and I factored in the uncertainty. But no matter how you look at it, to match with this exact timing he had to start from this circle.” To make it easier to understand, Tim displayed the map of Paris with maked Hotel, the spawning zone as they came to call area from where Akumas supposedly originated (now even smaller than before with Agreste Manor close to the center), and a ring around the hotel. “As you can see, the ring goes directly through College Francoise Dupont. It would make sense if he was actually in the building or at least close. We also already knew that Chat Noir was around the same age as Marinette. This leaves us with three options. He would either need to be home-schooled, attend the college or not go to school at all to be able to be there. That is unless he was skipping school, but it is improbable.”

“And why is that Sherlock?” Chloe interrupted.

“Because it would be too hard for him to skip school enough to stay Chat Noir. I checked his arrival time on other Akuma cases. There is no other school in close enough proximity for him to attend if he didn’t constantly skip classes just to patrol the city or more specifically shadow your class. Take that Queenie!” He raised his hand in the air before resuming his serious tone. “Anyway. Based on this and the fact he was always close to his class I came to conclusion that he was a student at the school. Then I just went through all the male students that weren’t akumatized and compared their confirmed locations with Chat Noir sightings. I admit the Gorrizilla case threw me off track for a moment, but then I noticed that Chat was not present for the most of the case until Adriens head was covered by a helmet. It just so happened that our model just so happened to meet his look alike on that day. Coincidence? I think not!” He screamed.

“That is indeed some revelation…” Kagami started, but Tim shushed her.

“That’s not the end. I believe that Chat Noir is now working with Hawkmoth!”

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty @dahjokester @crazylittlemunchkin @novicevoice @justafanwarrior @eliza-bitch @schrodingers25 @tired-butterfly @toodaloo-kangaroo @redscarlet95 @miukiiu @sassakitty @corabeth11

#mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat au #marinette x damian #arranged marriage au #order of the guardians #guardian!marinette #league of assassins #redeemed!chloe #evil!adrien #damienette #batman #miraculous lb #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #fanfiction #crossover #maridami

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pisceserena · 4 years

Text

The End (Part 2)

Part 1 here

A/N: So this is posted a bit late-r than I planned. But here is part 1 anyway! This is quite long, and I hope you take the time to read it. Thank you guys so much for reading my fics!

wordcount: 1,779

AndromacheTheScythianxReader

No one knows how long it’s been since Andy and (Name) have actually interacted. The two have resulted to going back to how they were before. Cold, and with walls greater than the Great Wall of China. The two only speaking when needed, they are still a team after all.

Behind the strong facade (Name) puts up, is a person who is broken inside. Only letting herself go in the comfort of her bedroom or her bathroom. After countless nights of tears, and the discomfort of not being able breathe well due to their nose getting clogged, they’ve decided getting over someone won’t be possible if they’ll always see Andy. Not to mention the fact that being with her in missions results to her losing focus. No matter what happened between them, they wanted her alive...for as long as possible, even if it won’t be with them. It was the day after that (Name) has decided they was done breaking down, Quyhn will live a long life, and Andy would be there till her last breath. They should move on. And distance is needed if they wanted it fast. It was the day after that, they decided to go on missions on their own. They could take care of themself. They didn’t need anyone.

“I want work alone Copley.” Not all for it at the start, but after a few persuading and the “Not like there’s much that can be done with me, I can’t die” line from (Name), he eventually gave in. When the team asked about it, all Copley saud was that it was they wanted and that his hands were tied. In his defense, (Name) could be scarily persuasive if they wanted to be.

“Copley wants to see you in his office.” The sound of the throwing knife hitting the bullseye echoes in the room. “Are you working on missions alone?” Joe inquires, concern etched on his face. Taking a deep breath, (Name) throws the knife, not bothering to look at the target. “ I figured it would be best to be as detached as possible.” Not knowing what to say, Joe lets them walk past him, seeing the knife they nonchalantly threw at the target embedded on the bulls-eye. They were strong, but so broken inside, everyone sees that, Andy just chooses to turn a blind eye. She was with Quyhn, and wasn’t it (Name) that broke up with her? She hasn’t realized herself that she was in denial.

Quyhn at first was clueless, she didn’t know what was going on, why there was tension and why the two acted the way they did. It took a few days, but she was finally able to pick up on what was going on. She didn’t mean to intervene. She didn’t want to be the cause the two didn’t end up together. When she confronted Andy, she’d always brush it off. Saying that they were broken up, and it was just a short thing.

“This is your mission-” Copley starts, handing her a file and and ipad with a satellite map pinned. “that warehouse, in the outskirts of London, just a few miles from here, is where 3 daughters of a very important person is being kept hostage.” Their brows furrowed. What is it with men always targeting women? They looked through the file. Seems pretty easy. “You just need to take out the men, and get the girls to the car that will wait for them outside the facility gates.” They nod in understanding. “How many men?” Copley stares at them handing over the keys that they’ll use to drive themself to the location. He decided that in order to keep the warrior’s profile lowkey and what they were were doing a secret, (Name) couldn’t be the one to take the 3 girls back to their homes, hence the separate car with a clueless driver.

He zooms in on the satellite map and points out the possible entries and exits. “There are 2 guards at a bird’s eye view that you need to take out before the 2 infront of the facility’s main gate. Otherwise, the rest will be alarmed and you’ll be out numbered-”

“Because being outnumbered can really do me some damage” They roll their eyes before sarcastically gasping “what if I get killed?” They joke chuckling to themself. Unimpressed, Copley sits down and rests his hand together on his desk. “There’s 3 in the 2 entrance and exit points of the warehouse. Once you get in, there will be 6 surrounding the girls.” He finishes “Should be easy enough” They say standing up, Copley following suite. “Get what you need and load up. Not that you’ll think of it as much but, Goodluck, and come back safe”

Grabbing a DLQ33, (Name) tests to see if the the scope was clear and in good condition. “Need some help with that?” Nicolo’s voice loud that she could hear, but soft that it does not echo in the room. “I got it” They reply continue to move around putting the weapons she needed in bags, strapping herself with her throwing knives and such. It was silent for awhile, Nicolo watched as the broken warrior attached an extended mag to their AK117 “You don’t have to do this alone caro” his pet name made them pause. Oh how they missed the team. But as quickly as it came, it was pushed back just as fast. “I can do this Nicky” They reply adding the stock for penetration and the red dot sight for better aim. Grabbing more bullets, and stuffing it in the bag, they stop to turn to Nicky. “I just need to let all of these feelings go Nick.This is the only effective way of me releasing all the bad thoughts and negative emotions. Let me cope...please” Their voice getting soft, pleading towards the end. Silence once again embraces them. Their eye contact breaking when (Name) zips up the bag and hauls it over their shoulder. They take one last look at Nicky before proceeding to head upstairs towards the garage.

“(Name)? You dropped this” Nile says handing to them the car keys. “Thanks” they reply walking faster and towards the car. “I can help you (Name) atleast take me with you” smiling and ruffling Nile’s hair, “I’ll see you when I get back champ” they smile reassuringly and unlock the car.

“Need some help?” Booker asks, being the one to load up the car. “You’re going against 17 men (Name)” His words not bothering them as they open the driver’s side and start the engine. Rolling down the window, (Name) smiles at Booker. “Don’t worry, I can handle it.” That was the last thing Booker heard before they drove out of the garage.

The phone connected to the car starts to ring. Not bothering to look at the caller, they still gotta drive safe, they press the answer button. “New updates?”

“Be careful. I want you alive more than you think” Andromache says before the call ends, not giving (Name) any chance to speak. This wasn’t the first mission they went on alone. What was up? Shaking it off, they focused instead on what lies ahead. The sun has just set, and night was falling upon them. Perfect.

Eyes sharp, their AK117 in hand, they enter the warehouse. How incompetent is the police, this door is waaay too easy to breakdown. Taking a deep breath, they knock the door down with a strong, hard kick. Bullets were flying, their knife, hitting another man’s chest. The screams of the girls adding to the noise pollution. Everything was going well until (Name) decided that the girls needed cover, pushing a table over they lead them to hide behind it. What they didn’t notice, was a man getting up and grabbing them from behind, locking their arms. Before they got to break free, another man got a hold of their knife, and without hesitating, plunges it into her side. Crying out in pain, and finally being able to break free, they tackle the man and stab him in the head. His blood, splashing on their face. Another pain ran through their body, and they realized that they’ve been shot. Having enough, they throw the knife, hitting the right spots, killing them instantly.

Silence followed. It was creepy, and at the same time comforting. Taking a step towards the girls, pain shot through their side. The stab wound didn’t stop bleeding. Their brows furrowed. Inspecting the gunshot wound, they see that it’s not clotting. Imposible. Brushing it off, maybe they weren’t healing as fast. Quickly gathering the girls and taking them to the car infront, they leave safely. As promised.

Getting into their own car as well, the pain becomes unbearable. This is impossible. “I’ve got to get back to Copley” they mutter thinking quickly. Driving was difficult, and their vision was starting to blur. The pin was agonizing. The car seats were covered in red, as well as every possible thing that could be used to cover their wounds. Perhaps they didn’t realize it, but there were cuts littered all over, their body, and the gun shot wound giving her a difficult time breathing. Damn those guards really got me. Was their last thought. Before they passed out, Andy’s blurred figure came into view. “Hey, I made it”

As soon as they all heard their car stop outside, they jumped to their feet to greet them. The team speechless at the sight before them. Andy was the first to reach them, just as they were about to pass out. “They’re not healing” Booker states. “They’ve lost too much blood.” Nile adds seeing the fatal wounds on their body.

Copley didn’t know how to tell the team. He himself was devastated. So, when he looked up from the mini recovery room in the safehouse, they all knew. Some went into shock, like Quyhn and Nile. This was Nile’s first tie losing someone who’s become like family to her since she joined...she didn’t know how to take it. She was devastated and angry and sad. She should have gone with them.

Nicky had his head in his hands, in denial about the news, Joe trying to reach him, trying to be strong for his significant other, but deep inside, he was crushed. They’ve lost a best friend.

Booker lost a drinking buddy, a laughing partner. They’re memories played in his head, and as the news sunk in, he collapsed into a nearby chair.

Tears fell from Andy’s eyes, her body frozen “I never got to tell them how much they actually mean to me...how much I wanted them back.”

#the old guard #the old guard 2020 #netflix #andy #quyhn #nicky and joe #booker #nile freeman #andromache the scythian #sebastian le livre #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #imagines #theoldguardimagines #reader #writer #pisceserenawrites

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guardianofjunmyeon · 4 years

Text

Finding Atlantis (part 6)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description: 20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt began.

A/N: I meant to update last week but my VPN wasn’t working! I couldn’t access tumblr bc it’s blocked here in china but i finally got it fixed lol. This one is long! WARNING(s): Smut + Character Death (??)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

After hours of discussion and blindly heading southeast, you all were finally able to somewhat crack the code of the rhyme and the map.

“Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. That’s clearly about the Atlantis return song. It’s the most important part of all of this. If we don’t get a better handle of when it appears and when it doesn’t we won’t get through the rest of the trails.”

“Trials?”

“Yes, there are three different trials masked in the lyrics of the song. The way back isn’t easy. If you leave Atlantis, you have to prove that you truly want to return,” Yeri replies.

You squint at the map now covered in writing.

“She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue,” Sehun reads. “It’s about a storm. A very big one by the sound of it.” He points to an area of the map with nothing but water. “You see this area? It’s known for its unruly currents and unnatural weather patterns. It ranges from snow to thunderstorms large enough to wipe out entire islands.”

Junmyeon grazes his fingers over the map, passing the spot Sehun mentioned and further southeast. “Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through…if we continue beyond the location of the storm we’ll be set to approach Isla de Sirena within a week.”

“Shit,” Baekhyun murmurs.

Yeri looks on in confusion. “Why shit?”

“Isla de Sirena is an island known for luring ships underwater. They crash ships among the rocks with song. They appear as the most beautiful creature that you can imagine; whatever you subconsciously find the most alluring. I don’t know how they do it. Different people can look at the same one and see different things; they trick you that way. Mermaids…sirens, whatever you want to call them. Freaky little bitches.”

“Baekhyun,” Junmyeon admonishes.

“What? They are!”

“So we’ve got to face…beautiful singing women? Oh no the horror,” you gasp jokingly.

Baekhyun pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are so horny, and so stupid all the fucking time.”

“You’re one to fucking talk-”

“Children!” Junmyeon scolds. “Can we please hold off on the flirting until this is over?”

“We aren’t flirting-”

“Anyway!” You and Baekhyun close your mouths in embarrassment. “We’ve gone near Isla de Sirena, once,” Sehun adds grimly, eyebrows pitching angrily. “If you’re able to ignore their voices then you can see them for they are. They’re the ugliest creatures I’ve ever seen in my life.” He shivers.

“So what’s the final trial?” Baekhyun asks, back to contributing to the conversation and not being a pain in your ass.

“She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began…” Yeri reads. A sigh. “We aren’t completely sure. It’s something about a rebirth?”

You scratch your chin.

“Maybe it’s about being drowned.”

Everyone turns their eyes to you.

“What?” you ask; your wide eyes look back at everyone staring at you as if you said something crazy. You point to the map in the general area where you think you all may end up. “There’s no land anywhere near here, and the city is underwater. Born from water, taken away from water, and then reclaimed by the water. If you leave, you must be drowned and reborn into an Atlantian again right? Why else would you forget your memories and connection to the sea the longer you’re away?”

“You are reborn in the place where life began…” Baekhyun mumbles. “You might be right. The final trial is a drowning of some kind. There’s a reason only Atlantian’s are the only people who can reach the city.” Baekhyun smacks you on the shoulder. “You’re not completely useless!”

You frown and hold your shoulder.

Bastard.

~~~

Candles cover the deck of the ship as the sun sets on the horizon. You watch somberly as each member of your crew places an object that reminds them of Taemin, of Amber, of Kun, and of Jaehyun in each of the four caskets meant to sail them to the other side.

Their bodies are wrapped in cloth to save everyone the trauma of facing their decomposing faces. Flowers, candies, articles of clothes surround each body with the things that made them who they were in life.

And will hopefully comfort them in the land of death.

Your most artistically inclined deckhand, Ten, places a portrait of each of them in their respective boat. An image to match the body.

“Jaehyun was always smiling; he worked hard as a gunner. He’d hoped one day to be master gunner of the ship.” Mark stands over the casket. “He uh, he never said much but he had the most imaginative mind of any person I ever met,” he says with a sad smile. “When the cannon backfired and killed him, it was quick, so at least he didn’t suffer for long. Farewell friend. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Luna takes over where Mark left off, standing in front of Amber’s casket. “I’ve known Amber since we were kids. She was a strange one,” she laughs. “She was very head strong and opinionated even when she was wrong. We both knew that working in the artillery was going to be rough, that it would be dangerous, but I know that she loved this job more than anything. She had a family with us, and she died where she would have wanted, I think.” Tears fill her eyes as she sits back down in the circle of crewmen.

“Kun…was like an older brother to me. He would tell me that I was getting on his nerves, but he would always take care of me…uh…take care of all of us in the best way he could. Every meal he served, every wound he healed, was done with care. Unfortunately, sickness isn’t as kind. He tended to Taemin with his last breath, tried to heal with all he had until he had nothing else to give. I’m going to miss him and his cheesy magic tricks.” Ten takes in a deep breath to keep his voice from wavering. “I hope he’s taken care of with as much love as he gave us.”

You can hear people holding back their tears. Sniffles and soft sobs escaping into the air every few seconds.

This time you stand as the representative to send off Taemin. You avoid everyone’s eyes and focus your gaze on his wrapped body and the trinkets around him. “Taemin was one of my earliest crewmen. I may have owned the ship, but Taemin was the one who knew best how she moved. He piloted with a grace and confidence I have still yet to achieve. I don’t have a single doubt that he’ll be able to guide himself to the other side without issue. He had a natural skill for movement.” You focus on an object nestled snuggly at his side. “I just hope he doesn't lose any of the things we’re sending with him the way he always loses his money pouches.” You manage a smile.

A couple of people chuckle softly, sadly.

“As Captain of the Storm Chaser, I release the four of you from duty.” You raise your gun in the air. “I couldn’t have asked for braver, hardworking, and loyal men.” You fire a single shot into the air.

It rings through the night.

Everyone stands, begins to close the wooden coffins, and Junmyeon soaks them in gunpowder and oil.

You watch the coffins get lowered into the water one by one. As they begin to float away, you, Mark, Luna, and Ten line up along the edge of the ship.

“Ready,” you all cock your guns. “Aim.”

“Fire.”

The coffins alight with flames. Yixing lights a single firework and it shoots into the air and covers the sky in bright yellow sparks.

May these lights guide them on their future paths.

No one moves until the coffins are far out of sight, their flames no longer visible. Until nothing but darkness rests in the distance. With heavy eyes, and heavier hearts, you all pull away from the railing.

Those who were close to the ones sent away cry openly and you allow everyone the rest of the night to rest and mourn as they see fit. Crying, shaking, screaming.

People cope in different ways.

As everyone disperses below deck you see Yixing rubbing Jongin’s back as the two of them cry clinging tightly to the other.

You know that Yixing grew up with Taemin. Yixing had been the one to recommend him for the crew because of their shared history. Knowing now that Yixing knew Jongin at the same time, you realize that Jongin must have known Taemin closely as well.

Leaving them to console one another, you walk away.

The stories of their deaths, of their lives, makes your heart a bit less heavy. Knowing that they died doing what they wanted, and not because life was stolen from them in situations counter to their personality eases a bit of the pain.

Minutely.

It still hurts, but the anger is no longer there. Just sadness.

This is the life of pirates after all.

Junmyeon has hidden himself away somewhere on the ship, as he always does when he wants to cry without being found, so you make your way towards the food storage for a drink. You need it after today.

People cope in different ways.

The stairs creak as you descend. One of the lanterns is already on, bright near the liquor storage. It shouldn’t surprise you. You wouldn’t be the only person who wants to drink to numb a bit of the pain.

What does surprise you is who you find hunched over with his face in his hands.

“Baekhyun?”

His head lifts and you immediately take notice of the red in his visible eye and face in the dim lighting. He seems alarmed to have been caught. He looks away in shame.

You sit down in front of him.

The bottle of whiskey at his side is half empty; you reach for it and take a sip.

For your men.

Silence shrouds you both.

You feel the need to speak. To clear the air. Whether you are doing it for him or for yourself you aren’t sure. “No one blames you, you know,” you say so softly that it almost blends into the silence. You hope he doesn’t hear.

But of course he does.

He looks over with anger. “I never said it was my fault.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re down here drinking alone after a funeral. This screams ‘this is all my fault’ you emo fucker.”

He snatches the bottle from your hands.

“Look, okay. No one thinks it’s your fault. You heard the stories. Yeah, you guys shot my ship, but their deaths weren’t directly a result of that. Things went wrong; I will accept that it was just a shot to immobilize us. If any of us thought you a murderer, in this case, we would have hung you by your neck long ago.” You forcefully grab the bottle back with a frown. “There’s plenty of other shit for you to feel guilty over. Like the time you shot me…or stabbed me…or left me on that island for dead.”

“I swear to the Gods-”

“The point is…this one isn’t on you. You don’t need to carry this guilt. Not this time.” You take a quick drink. “If however,” you point your finger at him menacingly, “this was on purpose, then I take all that back and I will kill you right fucking here I swear to the Gods.”

The bottle is taken back. “It wasn’t,” he admits, softly, angry. A swig. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he says again tiredly.

His honesty takes you by surprise. Baekhyun has killed just as many people as you have in your life. If he had tried to kill them, well that would be expected. But for him to be this affected by the accidental deaths? That’s surprising.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” he asks.

“Do you really think you’re the only person on this ship who hides down here drinking? You’re talking to the master!” you boast. “And it’s my ship you ungrateful wrench.” You finish off what’s left of the whiskey and reach for a bottle of golden rum tucked securely on a shelf. Uncorking it with your teeth, you hold it in the air between you. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun!”

It burns like hell itself going down.

You hold it out for Baekhyun with an expectant eyebrow raise. You wait.

He grabs it gently. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun,” he repeats in a murmur. He makes a noise of pain as the alcohol burns its way down his throat. “What the fuck is this?”

You shiver as the alcohol settles uncomfortably in your stomach. “It's the bad rum I think.” You cough violently. “Oh fuck I think I’m going to die,” you say clutching your stomach.

His wild laugh echoes in the dark space. A bit of the gloom lifts.

You let your hands fall from your stomach while you take in the relaxed happiness on his candlelit face. His eye crinkled in a crescent, shining with mirth. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh like that since the first time you met him.

He’s pretty. You’d have to be stupid not to admit it. From his soft and shiny hair, to his cheeks that bunch up when he smiles. From his big dumb ears to all of the little moles that dot his body.

The bottle goes back up to his ridiculously pink lips and he laughs as it hurts his throat just as bad as the first sip.

All it takes is a second of thoughtless, drunken courage for you to lean forward and quickly press your lips against his, cutting off his giggles.

When you pull pack, the happiness on his face has made way for shock and then once more to nothing.

“Don’t kiss me,” he says tonelessly. His voice is serious, but you see the spark of challenge in his eye.

Ignoring the part of you that always tells you that jumping headfirst into him is a bad idea, you lean in again, slower. You brace your hands on his thighs and feel them tense beneath your palms. He stares at your lips and you watch enrapt as his tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip.

You can feel your skin vibrating from the proximity to him, and you freeze; a breath away from meeting skin with skin. Your eyes glance up to meet his and you can see the want, the restlessness, and something else you can’t quite place in the dark.

As if waiting any longer would be torturous, he leans forward impatiently to press his lips against yours. The bottle of rum falls to the ground and spills onto the floorboards of the storage room.

You don’t care.

You push harder; open your mouth to let his tongue slide against yours in a way that sends tingles through every nerve in your body. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the touch of sadness, but something feels different about this time.

You crawl onto his lap, driven purely by instinct and press every inch of your body against his. Heat seeps through your clothes and you pant longingly as he pulls you closer by your neck, his other hand grabbing you roughly by your ass. A wanton moan escapes your mouth and he pulls you closer, rougher. Breaths puff into each other’s mouths as you messily connect your lips over and over again. It’s uncoordinated. It’s wet. It’s exactly what you need.

You thread your fingers in his hair and yank his head back; diving to lick and suck along the column of his neck, to the sensitive spot behind his ear that you know drives him crazy. His grip on your body tightens as he releases a shaky groan and rolls his hips up against yours. Anticipation thrums through your body. To every noise, to every touch your body responds in earnest.

This is nothing but a distraction. For you. For the both of you, you don’t care. Neither of you have to think as clothes are removed. The sadness can be ignored as you claw against his skin and coax his tongue into your mouth. It’s all movement. All feeling. All lust.

People cope in different ways.

It always happens like this. You argue. You fight. You threaten each other. You fuck until you’re both exhausted and too tired to care about the years of hatred between you. For these few moments all you are, are bodies. Bodies moving in tandem, kissing the right places, touching the right spots, connecting at the right angle. Like this things are easy, wordless.

You each just understand how the other works.

Every movement is matched in urgency, in desperation. Touch for touch. Kiss for kiss. Sound for sound. Push for pull. Gasps, moans, whimpers are muted as best you can in the quiet of the storage. You don’t realize that you’re subconsciously avoiding aggravating the stitches that lie there, still fresh, in his side as your hands leave burning paths along his skin.

Just for now, you can allow yourselves to feel that maybe you don’t hate each other as much as you let on.

~~~

“Get your own fucking telescope!”

“Where am I going to get one? We’re in the middle of the god forsaken ocean; do you expect me to pull it out of my ass?”

“You should have brought yours with you if you wanted to use one so bad! That doesn’t give you permission to just take my shit whenever you feel like it. You aren’t Captain here.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“I’ll do worse than that. Seulgi, get me my pistol.”

“Captain I don’t think-”

“You think you’re going to shoot me? Chanyeol where’s my gun?!”

“I’m gonna shoot you right in your last fucking working eye you dirty fucking son of a-”

A hand covers your mouth before you can finish your curse. “Baekhyun, you’re needed in the kitchen. Kyungsoo is asking for you.” You and Baekhyun share one last deadly glare before he stalks off and you’re released.

“What the hell Minseok?” You turn on your gunner, anger from your argument with Baekhyun being projected instead onto him. It has to go somewhere.

He crosses his arms over his chest, unbothered.

“So you’re in love with him right? That's why you’re acting like this?”

Your eyes bulge out of your skull. “I’m sorry, what did you just ask me?”

He sighs, grabs you by your arm and drags you all the way to the infirmary. You’re forced to sit down stupefied as Minseok stares at you expectantly. “The two of you are exhausting to watch. If you weren’t two of our most capable men we would have tied you both up and put you in the brig until we found Atlantis days ago,” he says evenly.

You scoff, mouth agape.

“I would tell you to fuck and move on, but seeing as that seems to be what triggers a fresh round of arguments, I’m going to ask that you two refrain from ever having sex on the ship again in the future.”

You splutter embarrassed. Your skin heats at having been called out so boldly. “W-what?! How- Wh- How’d you find out?”

“Any time the two of you have sex, you spend the next month or so telling all of us how much you hate him, how you’re going to kill him, blah blah blah. After a while you stop being as vocal about it, but then we make port, usually at Arae, and he happens to be there, then BAM we're back where we started. You’re obsessed with each other.”

You flush. “We are not,” you try to deny. His face is unimpressed. “I don't know where you got the idea that either of us feel anything but pure hatred for the other. Okay yeah, we’ve had sex a couple of times. So what? It doesn’t mean anything. I’ve had sex with half of Arae.” You cross your arms defiantly.

“As soon as this is all over, we’ll part ways...in 6 months we’ll go to Arae for a bit, as we always do, you’ll have ‘angry hate sex’ yet again and then spend the next month being pissy over his existence. No one who genuinely hates someone spends so much time a) around them willingly and b) obsessing over them when they aren’t around,” Minseok says matter-of-factly. “I think you should both admit you’re in love with each other so we can all move on.”

“Minseok!”

“I agree,” Jongin’s head pops up from behind the singular bed in the room.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, heat again filling your cheeks at the extra witness to this interrogation.

“I work here?”

“I mean hiding behind the bed!”

“Oh…I uh tripped and then the door opened and you guys started talking and I was too afraid to get up and interrupt,” he says quickly.

You squint in judgment.

“This whole…” Minseok waves his hand around as he searches for the word, “…archenemies thing is getting old, Captain. If you really wanted to kill him, you would have done it already. And I’m sure the same goes for Byun. Right Jongin?” he turns to face the younger.

“Yeah,” Jongin agrees with a shrug.

You can’t believe your ears. “He just…hasn’t done anything worth actually killing him over yet. He’s useful sometimes…for information…” you murmur lamely. The excuse is weak even to you.

“You are both dumb and annoying…and also super transparent. Whenever you injure the other, it’s always in a place that won’t kill or do permanent damage. Don’t act like it’s just been luck that you’ve both managed to miss any kind of serious blow from the other. You’re both deadly fighters, you know how to kill someone if you want them dead.”

“He ditched me in cuffs on that island-”

“You had the key to the cuffs,” Jongin chimes in unhelpfully.

Minseok rolls his eyes at your words. “Yes, and again, in a survivable situation. Was there not food and shit on that island?”

You open and close your mouth pathetically.

“Exactly. It’s not like you’re an incompetent dumbass. You would be able to find your way off even if you hadn’t been found. He didn’t blow the ship to bits like he could have a month ago, you haven’t slit his throat like you could have many months ago. You both dance around injuring each other, making the other’s life difficult, and fucking. You’re in love, please just accept it. I don’t care if you’re into BDSM and blood play or whatever freaky shit gets you guys off, but I would at least appreciate it if you kept it in your bedroom.”

Jongin nods from the back. “I just think it’s obvious,” he adds simply.

“Pff…Psh…Tch…I’m-I am appalled that you would talk to your Captain like this.”

“I know, I know. You could have us hanged, shot, thrown in the ocean, whatever…but the fact of the matter is that you aren’t going to do any of that, and you know that we’re right. Now, I’m going to go make sure Chanyeol hasn’t shot any of my men with any of my valuable pistols, and I’ll leave you to your duties, Captain.” Minseok nods his head with finality and exits the room.

Mutineer…

You glare at Jongin for ganging up on you. He flushes timidly. “I’m uh…gonna go see if Kyungsoo needs any help…Captain.” With a nervous smile he dashes from the room.

This is mutiny…

~~~

The ship sails southeast for days before anything alerts you all of the impeding first trial. The weather is normal, the water is normal, and then all of a sudden, the winds become violent.

“Captain, I think we’re getting close to whatever the first test is…” Yixing says tremulously.

The wind whips around you and the sails of the ship flap violently. There’s no way to tell which way the wind is blowing from as it whips from what feels like every side simultaneously. The ship tilts dangerously to one side.

“Junmyeon…that song telling you anything right about now?” You ask anxiously.

Your first mate looks out on the horizon with worried eyes. “We’re going the right way…” is all he says.

“Helpful,” Yixing murmurs sarcastically.

There is no visible sign of a storm; nothing seems out of the ordinary outside of the unnatural winds. The crew is already reefing your regular sails and raising the storm jib and trysail. If the winds get any stronger, which they will, they’ll catch your regular sails and capsize your ship before the waves even begin to hit.

“Who can man the helm? Who’s the best pilot on board right now?” you ask Yixing.

Yixing looks around a bit panicked. “I don’t know… I don’t know Captain.” The ship lurches to the side.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you scan the ship. Most of the men are working on preparing the proper sails, securing any moving parts, and making sure the wind alone won’t turn the ship on her side. You see Baekhyun working with Wendy on securing lose lines. You haven’t talked to him since your lecture from Minseok all those days ago. “Junmyeon, go check to make sure we have enough ballast in the hold. We’re going to be rocking and we need to pray that we have enough weight to keep us as stable as possible.”

He rushes away; you try to think of what else you can do to prepare. There’s no way to tell how long this storm is going to last, how bad it’s going to be, and you would rather prepare for the worst.

A sea anchor.

“Johnny!” The boatswain is immediately at your side. “Take whoever you need and deploy the sea anchor. We should have one somewhere in the hold. I need you to work fast, but be thorough.”

The ship is going to have to sail against the wind and against the waves. The wind will push the ship off course, but to survive a storm like this the ship needs to keep its bow to the waves. If a wave catches the ship on her side or back, there’s no chance for survival. You’ll have to use your sea anchor and just pray that the Gods are feeling merciful.

“Baekhyun!” you shout. He turns immediately at the sound of your voice. “How good are you at the wheel?”

“I’m decent.”

“How’s your tracking? Your jibbing? Can you keep the ship from capsizing in this storm?”

He looks up in the sky when the sound of thunder shakes the floorboards. “My jibbing isn't the best, but I think I can keep her afloat,” he promises.

The feeling of static fills the air. The hair on your body rises to attention. Another rumble of thunder rolls across the ocean, louder than before. The sky is darker than it was 5 minutes ago.

There isn’t much longer until the storm hits.

“I need you at the wheel. I’m trusting my ship to you. Don’t let me down.” With a determined nod, Baekhyun is off. You see your first strike of lighting. Bright blue and not far off.

Chanyeol runs up to you to assure you that all of the cannons, ammunition, and artillery are properly secured. “Tell Minseok to get all his men below deck in the storm rooms. Secure any hatch and pray to the Gods that we make it through this,” you instruct. He nods and runs off.

When a storm hits, it hurts more than it helps to have people above deck. Three people would do the job just as well as all 20. Half of weathering a storm is the training and skill of the crew; and the other half is just pure luck.

The beginning patters of rain begin to pelt the ship. You run back up to the helm where Baekhyun has stationed himself.

The ocean gets choppy, picks up ferocity. The ship leans starboard. Baekhyun has never steered your ship, and truthfully, you have no idea whether or not he can actually steer through a storm. You’ve never seen him at the wheel of any ship in all the years you’ve known him.

“Do you think we’ll make it through this?” you ask.

“Honestly…I don’t know,” he admits. “We have enough sea room; we won’t crash into anything this far out. I just hope we can pick up enough speed before the waves start to grow.”

Junmyeon reappears, with Kyungsoo at his side, both out of breath. “We’ve prepared all that we can. The sea anchor is deployed, we’ve got a decent amount of ballast, the jib is ready to be backwinded, and the crew is all prepared for the rocking. What’s the plan?”

“Heaving to,” Baekhyun says simply. He swipes at his bangs, heavy with water and clinging to this forehead. “We keep the bow to the waves, keep close to the wind, and then lock the helm in place.”

“Won’t we broadside?!”

“No, if we were to lie ahull, we would broadside,” Kyungsoo supplies, blocking his eyes from the rain picking up in ferocity. “By heaving to, we can keep the ship from going parallel to the waves and capsizing. We’ll have to stay above deck to correct it if the wind or waves suddenly change. Since you’ve got a sea anchor we’ve got more chance of keeping the ship sailing straight into the waves rather than along them.”

“If heaving to doesn’t work, we try to run off downwind. As the wind increases we’ll have to slow down the ship as much as we can so that we don’t dive straight into the wave in front of us.” A bolt of lightning hits the waves. The rain gets harder.

“We would die…” You say unhelpfully. Lighting blasts in front of you and the waves crash angrily against the ship’s sides.

“Exactly. So if we run off, we’re going to need more than the four of us to throw whatever heavy lines you have off the stern,” Baekhyun’s voice rises to be heard over the increasingly loud winds and waves.

“As a last result, we’ll lie ahull and just fucking pray that when we capsize the ship holds for long enough to keep all of us alive,” Kyungsoo shouts.

You exhale shakily as another three bolts of lightning flash across the sky.

Poseidon be kind to us all.

You leave Baekhyun with the job of steering the ship against the waves that grow in size and power by the second.

At Kyungsoo’s instruction, Junmyeon is in charge of keeping the jib backwinded, and you reef the trysail as soon as it becomes clear that it’s going to be a hindrance in the grand scheme of things. Kyungsoo stands at Baekhyun’s side correcting course when he gets thrown off balance. Baekhyun does the same as Kyungsoo is knocked to the side in turn.

The waves become brutal, rocking the ship so hard that it’s nearly impossible to keep on your feet for more than 10 seconds at a time.

The wind finally sets in a single direction, fiercer than anything you’ve faced, and the general direction of the waves becomes apparent. The ship rocks violently from side to side and then immediately forward and back. You’re thrown into the foremast by the unexpected direction change with enough force to knock the wind out of your body. You gasp in pain. You get up on wobbling legs and try to breathe even as the water falls so fast and heavy around you that it feels equivalent to drowning.

You can’t see more than two feet ahead of yourself.

Think. Think.

There is rope at your feet, secured to the mainmast of the ship. You untie it with cold, wet fingers and hold it tight as you walk to the helm. The ship crashes into another large wave and you fall to your knees as water washes over the bow of the hull, covers the deck in freezing water and pitches the ship forwards. You stand up, shivering but determined. You tie the rope around your own waist to help you keep note of where you’ve come from.

Getting to the helm is a challenge, but you make it. Junmyeon is helping Baekhyun and Kyungsoo lock it in place.

“We should head below deck!” You shout as loud as you can. Thunder and lightning work in tandem to drown out your voice. To remind you of who is louder. Who has more power. You’re soaked to the bone.

Each man above deck is in a similar state. “We’re going below deck!” Junmyeon shouts. “We think heaving to may work.” The ship lurches dangerously to the right.

“Quick! Let’s go,” Kyungsoo screams, hair clinging to his forehead in inky black tendrils.

You use the rope to guide you. It feels as though you’re swimming through the air with the amount of resistance the winds and rain are putting up. Kyungsoo makes it to the hatch that leads below first. You follow behind, climbing down the ladder with shaking limbs. Water leaks through the boards, but it’s a welcome change from the brutality of facing Mother Nature directly.

You gasp for breath, finally able to breathe without also inhaling water, and look around the space for the ship’s emergency supplies. The ship dips, your stomach lurches.

Freezing water streams into the room from the open hatch above. You realize belatedly that there are only two of you in the compartment. Baekhyun and Junmyeon haven’t made it down.

You’re thrown to the ground when the ship dips without warning.

Clattering catches your attention as Junmyeon is swept into the room with a fresh rush of water. “Baekhyun fell overboard!” Junmyeon screams. He crashes against the ground. The sky screams.

What?

Kyungsoo turns away from opening the hatch down to a lower level of the ship to gape at Junmyeon’s words in horror.

Gasping, soaked, Junmyeon looks around the compartment frantically.

You’re moving before you have a chance to think.

You vaguely hear your name being called out from behind, but you don’t turn around. Rope still secured around your waist, you run, slip, stumble, over to the closest life boat. As fast as your shaking hands can work, you cut yourself free of the mainmast and tie the end of the rope not tied to your body to the dinghy.

You slice through the thick ropes holding the dinghy to the side of the ship with an urgency you’ve never felt. Water hits you head on, chilling you to the bone.

The final rope snaps and you and the dighy fall into the water with the force of landing on cement. Something is broken, but your adrenaline is pumping so violently that you can’t feel the pain. It doesn’t register.

Doesn’t matter.

You look around frenzied. The water is pitch black and moving too fast. The rain pelts your skin. It stings, burns, blurs your vision.

The waves are too big for him to survive out here on his own.

They’re too big for you to survive in your search for him.

The sky roars.

The waves crash, flip your boat once, twice.

You settle upright for the second time when, by the grace of the Gods, you see his white shirt illuminated against the dark water by a strike of lightning. You row frantically as a wave begins to swell. You nearly scream in relief when you reach him, but the sound dies as your heart sinks.

He’s not moving.

And he’s face down.

With all the energy you can muster, you pull him into your little boat. You take a few seconds you catch your breath, then you realize the height at which the wave has lifted you. It begins to cascade down; instinctively, you wrap your arms around Baekhyun’s unmoving form and brace yourself for the crash.

It’s dizzying.

It hurts.

It’s terrifying.

You hold your breath, close your eyes, hold onto the man in your arms with all you have, and wait for the water to stop jostling you around so violently. The water seems to calm slightly, so you open your eyes.

The water is dark, and then bright. Black, and then illuminated by lighting.

Your chest tightens as your need for oxygen reaches desperation. You maneuver yourself beneath the water enough to hold Baekhyun with one arm and swim to the top with the other.

You break the surface and gasp for air desperately.

You pull your rope and the boat appears at your side, thankfully upright. You lift Baekhyun aboard first, and then with heavy limbs, you topple on top of him. You don’t give yourself a chance to catch your breath before you’re leaning over him checking for signs of life.

You lower your ear to his chest. You can’t tell if he’s breathing. If his heart is beating.

“Come on Byun. Don’t die on me like this,” you beg. You repeatedly push against his chest, the way you were taught to restart a heart. After a few beats you press your ear to his chest again to listen for a change.

Nothing.

“Fuck. Come on…come on,” you pant.

You pinch his nose and lean down to cover his mouth with yours, filling his lungs with the air that he’s unable to take in on his own. His chest rises each time you exhale into his mouth. You go back to pumping your locked hands against his chest. A wave knocks you on your side. The boat stays upright.

You exhale into his mouth again, once, twice. You beg the rain to let up. You beg the waves to grow smaller.

You beg his heart to start beating.

He jerks and water spurts from his mouth. Relief hits you so hard that all the energy left in your body is expelled and you sag forward and land directly onto his chest.

You can finally hear the dull thumping of his heart. You can feel the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

At last, you can take a second to just breathe.

The small boat continues to jerk around, but it’s clear that the worst of the storm has passed. The waves now are shallow and choppy. The rain has lessened to nothing but a drizzle. The thunder rumbles farther and farther in the distance.

And Baekhyun’s heartbeat gets stronger.

You close your eyes, and let exhaustion overcome you, lulled into sleep by the beat of his heart and the rocking of the boat.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfics #exo imagine #exo pirate au #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fanfics #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun smut #exo stories #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun stories #baekhyun pirate au

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snowdice · 3 years

Text

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 61]

Pls story. I just want to get out of the sidequest. I’m just going to go until I finish up the sidequest. It’s been too long.

Chapter 29

Virgil finished eating the breakfast Patton’s mom had sent for him. It had been going on a week since she’d made the menu for him. She sent up little cards with each meal and he was supposed to rate each thing she sent on a scale from 1-5. Logan would read it to him before he ate, and Virgil mark the little box on the card. Usually, he would put a 4 for everything (he had tried to do 5, but Logan had told him 5 was reserved for things like chicken alfredo). Three was for things that he was neutral on, 2 was for things he didn’t like but could tolerate, and 1 was for things he didn’t like. So far, the only 3 was the unseasoned porridge she’d sent one day.

“Finished?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

“Sounds good,” Virgil said. “I don’t care what we do today though.”

“Well, there are a few options,” Logan said.

“What do you want to do?” Virgil asked.

Logan made an expression, and Virgil titled his head. “I’m don’t have anything in particular I want to do,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Virgil said immediately.

“You would not be interested in the activity I wish to partake in,” Logan said.

Virgil squinted at him. “I’d be interested in laying on the ground and staring at the ceiling.”

Logan chuckled. “No, truly. The activity I would do if you were not present would involve reading.”

“You can read to me,” Virgil suggested.

“…In Sanskrit.”

Virgil frowned at him. “Isn’t that, like, some sort of dead language?”

“It is,” Logan said. “I taught myself to read it to read a specific book called the Pragilium Text. It’s an encoded book that leads to a magical location that I have been trying to decode for years.”

“That’s fine,” Virgil said. “You can do that.”

“It would be in the library,” Logan said.

“Okay.”

“But…” Logan said. “It would in no way be interesting to you.”

Virgil shrugged. “Like I said. I’m content to lie on the floor for a few hours.”

Logan frowned. “I can’t make you do that.”

“You wouldn’t be making me,” Virgil said. “I want to go. Maybe you can find me an easy book I could try to read?”

“Are you certain?” he asked.

Virgil nodded, decisively.

“Very well, get dressed and I will show you the library.”

Virgil stood to do so and a few minutes later, Logan was leading him out of the royal wing.

Both of the guards greeted him kindly, and Virgil hunched his shoulders in a bit, but said a soft “hi.”

The library didn’t end up being too far away. It was through the small dining hall and to the left where the staircase to the kitchen was to the right.

“This is not the main library,” Logan said. “It is just a smaller one. The royal librarian comes here only about once a week to organize. Some other castle residents might come in too, but it is usually mostly empty.” Virgil could tell just by listening for a few seconds that the place was likely empty (unless someone was lying in wait).

“I’ll look and see if there is something simple for you in case you’d like to read. You can explore a bit if you’d like,” Logan said.

Virgil heard Logan’s footsteps approach from down an aisle. “That’s the Pragilium text,” he said.

“It’s pretty,” Virgil said, looking at the design etched into the cover.

“You can read that?” Virgil asked.

“I can,” Logan said. “Very few people can though.”

“Wow, you’re really smart.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a smile.

“Now,” Logan continued. “I found you a book. I apologize as its subject matter is for younger children, but it has many pictures that can help give you context when you don’t know something. You don’t have to read it if you do not wish to, especially as we haven’t gotten very far in our lessons, but I thought you might like the challenge.

He handed him the book and Virgil took it with a smile. “I’ll try to read it,” he said.

“Well, you have free reign of the library. Feel free to continue to explore and to interrupt me if you need to.”

Virgil nodded and took the book before deciding to finish his sweep of the library. It turned out that appearances were not deceiving, and the library truly was empty. Once he was certain about that, he looked around for a comfortable place to settle down and try to read the book Logan had handed him. He found a sturdy looking bookshelf near where Logan was reading at his desk. He scaled it quickly. It was a little bit dusty at the top, but it wasn’t a bad place. It was close to the ceiling and kept him hidden pretty well, but still gave him enough room to pop up onto his elbows. If he looked left, he could see Logan down bellow with his head in the book, but if he looked right, he could see the entrance to the library.

It was an interesting book even if he couldn’t read it and it was obviously made for small children. Judging by the pictures it seemed to be detailing how plants, or at least, flowers grew through some kid planting and caring for a flower over the course of some amount of time.

Virgil had, of course, known flowers grew from seeds, but it was interesting to see things about how the stem would pop out of the seed in the ground and things about the roots growing.

He more looked through the pictures than read it the first time but had flipped back to the front to try to read the words when he heard the library door open.

Virgil perked up in awareness, but then settled when he recognized Patton’s footsteps. Virgil tilted his head to watch as he walk directly to Logan’s hideaway.

“Hi,” he said, gaining Logan’s attention.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied. He glanced at the window and must have seen that time had passed because he closed his book and shuffled his papers.

“The guards said you came here,” Patton said, glancing around. “Where’s Virgil?”

Instead of letting Logan answer that question, Virgil pulled himself forward, with the book in one hand and slid off the bookshelf to land lightly on his feet next to Patton.

Patton screamed before slapping a hand over his mouth.