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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

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The Winter Ghost - Part 13

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, some smutty thoughts...

w/c: 2.2k

A/N: Lucky number 13! I’m honestly so caught off gaurd by all the love Ive been receiving on The Winter Ghost. I see all your late night binge sessions and I am SO immensely greatful for your interest. When I first started writing this I didnt really think anything of it, but youve all lit a fire under my ass and for that, I thank you! So please, enjoy and reblog and like if you feel so inclined.

His hot breath fanned across your face, sending you into a frenzy like state you had never known before. Heavy breathing, mostly on your part as he placed excruciatingly slow kisses across your jaw. You needed him. More than you’d ever needed anything in your life. It made you sick.

“Are you afraid?” He asked in a low seductive voice. Swiftly he wrapped his metal fingers around your throat, applying enough pressure to make you gasp. You clawed at his chest, drunk on his murderous touch. You wanted him to make you hurt as bad as your heart did. You couldn't possibly hate a person more than you hated yourself right now.

“Answer my question.” He shouted, sending a ripple of ecstasy through your body.

“No. I could never,” You gasped, choking as the walls of your throat began to collapse.

“Liar.” He sneered.

You let out an involuntary moan.

“You good, Y/n?” Sam asked, sitting next to you on the couch as he, Nat, Wanda and Shuri all ate breakfast around the kitchen island. Your hand was lightly wrapped around your neck where Bucky’s was just a moment ago.

“Yeah, fine.” You squeeked.

But you weren't. You hadn’t been since that morning in the hallway with Bucky. You could still feel the sting he had left behind from his touch. What was wrong with you? You couldn't even begin to unpack that question. Psychiatric help would be a start, though.

After your memory had returned, the nightmares seemed to subside, only to be replaced with the image of Bucky, devoid of all emotion, seething in rage at your quips. By the third night, you would have gladly have traded, knowing that this was so much worse.

You couldn't keep excusing your vile thoughts as his fault. They weren't, not entirely. You were the one waking up a needy mess every morning.

“Hey.” Bucky's husky voice filled your senses causing you to stiffen at the sound. The team around you said their hello’s while you tried to refrain from gawking. You had done your very best to avoid him as much as you could, but there were only so many places to hide. Whenever you bumped into each other he would keep his head down and you would run in either direction.

“Steve’s on his way back today. He left to meet Vision and gather intel on an active Hydra base located somewhere on the border of Germany.” Wanda’s eyes lit up at the mention of the name. This must be the famous Android she's always gushing about.

“Pack up… We ship out first thing tomorrow morning.” Bucky declared, peaking your interest. It had been way too long since you had been back in the field, this was amazing. You could feel the excitement bubbling out of your chest vanish when Bucky’s eyes glanced at you.

“Y/n, you can uh, keep Shuri company while we're away.” You blinked at him, unsure if you had heard him correctly.

“No fucking way.” You scoffed. You were not missing out on this opportunity to give Hydra a taste of their own ‘serum’, so to speak.

‘Captain's orders.” He deadpanned, averting his gaze to the ceiling. You stared at him, lost for words with needy eyes. He’d never tell you, but it terrified him when you looked like that. Small, fragile, though he knew better. He would kill himself before he tainted you. But that didn't make the idea any less intriguing.

“And since when do you listen to Captain's orders?” Nat spoke up before you even got the chance. You nodded violently, looking back to Bucky who only sighed.

“You know very well why she can't go.” He muttered, fighting tooth and nail not to look at you again. You could sense his uncomfortability but you couldn't look away.

“She’s not going, then I’m not going.” Wanda sulked.

“Me too.” Sam mocked her tone. “Seriously, Buck. She’s a tank, we could use her.” He finished, more serious this time.

Bucky huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his flesh fingers. “You gotta take that up with Steve. He and I aren't really on the best of terms right now.” He spoke, annoyance dripping from the last sentence.

“Easy, I’ll take care of it.” Nat said to Bucky, but she sent a wink at you.

You were so excited you almost leaped from your seat. You couldn't wait to blow some shit up!

……………………………………….

The next morning you woke up extra early, just to get a jump on everything. Nat had fought with Steve all last night, but eventually he conceded on the sheer fact that if you were there, it would mean double the Wanda power. This was a big base, one he had known of for quite some time now, but it required extra attention. They had been working on recreating your serum, but so far to no avail. You knew exactly where they were going wrong of course. But Steve explained they had been testing it out of Hydra members. The lucky few who survived may not have your powers, but they were still strong. He’d need all the help he could get.

After you were packed you dragged your duffle to Shuri’s lab. She had been working on a few new weapons she wanted you to pack. Just in case, she said. You got there in no time flat, literally vibrating with excitement.

“You're sure about this?” She asked.

“Absolutely.” You beamed. She signed, and handed you a small ring.

“What's this?” You asked, holding the small band in your fingers.

“It’s a beacon. It will help you hold onto your borrowed energies for longer. It’s like a mini you, only better.” She paused, “Speaking of, are you going to tell me what's in that serum of yours or am I just going to have to keep guessing?”

“I think it’s better kept unsaid. That thing had already caused enough problems. No one should be burdened with it.”

“Maybe so.” She signed.

“Thank you Shuri. For everything.” You half heartedly smiled but before you could leave her arms were around you, pulling you into a hug. You sucked in a breath and tapped her on the back in reciprocation. Physically affection was never something you were good at showing, try as you may.

When you finally pulled away she sent you a soft smile, and wished you good luck on the mission before you headed out the door.

……………………..

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence.” Steve muttered, when you finally got to the jet when the rest of the team was loading up.

“It is, isn't it?” You spoke sweetly, throwing your duffle onto the jet. You still weren't really sure where you stood with Steve. Of course you knew of the famous Captain America, even if you didn't remember a few weeks ago. But never did you imagine he would be such a class act dick. Or maybe he was just that way with you? The idea made you smirk, knowing you were the only one to really piss off the Captain was honestly the highest form of flattery.

You boarded the jet and noticed the rest if the team already suited up. The tactical gear Shuri had made you was tight, and Natasha was living proof of that. I mean, it wasn't fair she had the body of a trained ballerina and New York supermodel. The woman was easily the most beautiful woman you had ever seen while your gear clung to you in all the least flattering ways.

You quickly shook off the self doubt. It didn't matter how you looked, you were here to kick some ass.

Well, not exactly.

That morning Steve had announced that while the rest of the team ‘kicked ass’ you and the Soviet spy would sneak into their mainframe and collect the data of whatever new evil scheme Hydra was working on.

Though you weren't thrilled to be stuck on recon duty, it was better than nothing. Besides, you were just a little rusty. Though Nat and Sam kept you busy and Wanda had taught you all her tricks, you weren't sure that if it came down to it you'd be able to pull the trigger.

Better safe than sorry.

“Are you nervous?” Bucky spoke under his breath, his voice deep and rough. You shivered at the sound. You hadn't realised until this moment that he was seated directly behind you.

“Are you?” You asked. You tried to add some bite to your words, but they left your lips softly. The tone seemed to surprise Bucky as much as it did you as he half expected to to tear his head off again.

“Sometimes. But, not now.”

“Oh yeah?” Words betraying you once again.

Ignore him.

Stop talking to him.

Stop. Talking.

Bucky's tongue slipped from between his lips, tugging on his bottom one slowly and effectively knocking you back from your annoying thought and to the glorious man sitting behind you.

“Yeah. Got this new girl on our side. She’s a totally badass. I know she’ll watch my six.” He shrugged causing a small smile to pull at the corner of your mouth.

“How do you know she won't just leave you for dead?” She asked, playing along. Part of you, however, was just a little curious. Part of you wanted to ask yourself the same question. In a second, would you protect the man who murdered Tommy? Honestly you weren't really sure.

“Just a feeling.” He spoke so casually. So sure, you wanted to believe him. It would be easy enough to feed him to Hydra, but you and him both knew you wouldn't have the stomach for it.

“Huh. You sound pretty confident in that.” You sneered sarcastically.

He just gave you a small shrug, leaning back into his seat and pulling his bluetooth earbuds out of his back pocket. He offered one to you casually. Before you could protest your arm shot out and took it, placing it in your right ear.

“I like to listen to music before a mission. It calms me.” He suggested, opening his phone, scrolling through his songs before the intro to Highway to Hell began playing.

A grin spread across your face “I love this song!” You beamed.

“I know. I remember you telling me something about spending an entire year listening to AC/DC cause’ your dad loved their music. I downloaded a few of their albums after that. Not exactly what I’m used to, but definitely good ass kicking music.” He nodded.

That stopped you dead in your tracks. You couldn't help the smile that faded quickly from your lips at his words. You were, to say the least, shocked. You must have mentioned your love for the band at some point, but honestly couldn't for the life of you remember when.

But he did. And he listened to it because you liked them.

“Huh.” You repeated, turning back around and trying to suppress the butterflies that began erupting out of your stomach. You could hear Bucky behind you drumming his hands on his thighs along to the song. You couldn't help but giggle at how offbeat he was.

“Take off in five minutes. Everyone ready?” Nat spoke through your coms. Everyone gave a thumb up as the jets engine whirled on, vibrating through the aircraft.

You listened carefully as your song faded away and the next one took its place.

Do I wanna know? If this feeling flows both ways?

You could physically feel Bucky’s mood shift behind you. The Super Soldier serum granting you access to his quickened heart beat and the lyrics mirrored the every present emotions you had been feeling this week.

Sad to see you go. Was sorta’ hopin’ that you’d stay.

You let your mind wander as you listened to Bucky hum along quietly to the song, low and soft. The sound sending chills down your spine as the memory of your dreams from the past few nights replayed over in your mind.

Baby, we both know. That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day.

Bucky’s lips trailed along your swollen throat, the feeling of pleasure over bruises he had left behind caused you to moan in ecstasy. The way he kissed you, not like before. This time full of lust and something dark. His hands dipped under your shirt, the feeling of hot and cold sending you over the edge as your eyes rolled back in your head. You wanted nothing more than for him to throw you against a wall, any wall and tear you limb from limb.

“I like this song too.” Bucky’s breath fanned across the back of your ear, rocketing you back to the Jet that was beginning to take off. You looked around the small space, praying that Bucky was the only one to notice your breath hitch in the back of your throat.

Any reminisce of the idea that you had to stay away from Bucky shattered into a million pieces. The hate, still ever present, but you knew damn well that would be the best part. It only fueled your desire. He was going to be the death of you.

Or even better, you'd be the death of him...

.....................................................................................................................

A/N: Gah! Thank you for reading! And thank you to @cutie1365 for being the best hype woman/ editor around lol. Leave a like or reblog if you wanna show some love. I hope yall’ are having a great week!

@kalesrebellion

@projectcampbell

@calwitch

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euphoriabled-a · 3 years

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KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

NAME: kaliya (kuh-lee-yah)

PRONOUNS: she/her

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: i primarily use tumblr to communicate with my rp partners, but if i really trust you or we’ve been interacting for a while... you may totally ask me for my discord !

NAME OF MUSE(s): i’ll be kinder and just say how many muses i have, okay? otherwise this will be very long and tedious for you to read ! i have 56 muses as of writing this!

RP EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): oh, geez. it’s gotta be at least adjacent to ten years now, huh? i believe i started roleplaying in...2011. holy shit. why does time-?

PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: okay so, most of this is embarrassing, but i’ll go chronologically! it all started when a friend introduced me to what it was over TEXT, then ask.fm became popular, and then i finally settled on FaceBook for a while (where i had 3 accounts: tohru honda, koriand’r, and toshiko sato... although i may have also written harley and molly in that era as well.) before moving to Discord and finally Tumblr. i still actually still roleplay on discord every once in a while because i have a quiet love of making servers.)

BEST EXPERIENCE: what i love most is seeing how excitedly everyone talks about the muses they write, and how passionate people are for the beautiful threads they contribute to. it makes my heart happy to see people come chat ooc, or get hyped about replies. :’)

RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: i personally really despise vagues and hateful posts about other writers. it bums me out and makes me really anxious. callouts about people who are endangering people in the rpc are absolutely an exception to this as safety comes first and i’d rather know everyone is comfortable and safe in the corner of the internet that i've made myself a home in. otherwise . . . stay kind and classy, y’know?

MUSE PREFERENCES

FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: i love fluff and angst a whole lot, i’ll be real. the complexities of the softer emotions are fun to write, and what comes before and after the storm of a painful event can also be so interesting to dive into! smut, for me, is like rain. if i had it all the time, it wouldn’t be as thrilling to exit my home/comfort zone and experience! i very rarely write it, but i’m not opposed to it. however, i’m quite picky about who i’d write it with. (tl;dr all angst all the time, forever a fluff writer, and rarely a smut stan)

PLOTS OR MEMES: i enjoy both very much!! it’s really hard to choose. i’d really say it depends on the day, but since i sometimes use my meme account, i have a soft spot for when memes are sent in. (but when i feel comfortable dropping in to plot with someone, i get really hyped to start a thread!) i guess... memes are a super easy way to start writing with me, even if we aren’t mutuals! same with open starters... coughcoughcough ;)

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: i tend to end up going overboard and writing a long response, but i really love both. as long as there is something to build upon or react to, it’s long enough to reply with! ...but yes i’m aware that sometimes my replies are quite lengthy... oops ?

BEST TIME TO WRITE: 🎶in the velvet darkness of the blackest night🎶 as a self-proclaimed nocturnal being, i write mostly at night to early morning. sometimes in the afternoons!

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): i don’t know!! i’m not very self aware! but my tinder profile some sort of short decription i’ve written about myself somewhere at some point describes me as a less organized annie edison with a pinch of max caulfield... so perhaps some? and i think tohru honda invented my personality when i was 9 or 10 years old. lol! overall, i think no. but i think there are little speckles of me in any muse i write because all the words are from my brain LOL. and i think there are speckles of them in my current decision making because i learn things about myself through writing... so its a give and take i suppose? (tl;dr: yes and no?)

tagged by: @killjoysanonymous

tagging: @celestiel @goxinsane @handpickedriot @jupitcr @multimuse-rp @meddled @radishflower @unbelong and you !

#♕ 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃. (dash games.)#thanks for tagging me!#<3

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always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years

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Hey y'all! So I wrote a relatively long oneshot (for me) in 24 hours or so (breaking my record for most words written in one day in the process), and I decided to dump it all on you. This is minimally edited and was posted with a cat on my lap, so if you spot any errors, please let me know.

Also, while it's not technically necessary to read all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me and all the things that you never ever told me, which are the fics which this is an alternate ending for, it will be really really helpful to understanding this. (All the smiles is here and all the things is here.) Do be careful of the warnings for those two, as they're quite dark fics. But then again, so is this, so...y'know.

Oh and please don’t question why the Cherri POV is present tense and the Newsie POV is past tense, idk either it just felt right.

Title: if i died we’d be together

Wordcount: 5316

Summary: Cherri Cola dies. NewsAGoGo refuses to accept this.

The Phoenix Witch is unhelpful (and an asshole, if you ask Newsie.)

Warnings: major character death, implied/referenced suicide, implied self harm, minor violence, an extraordinary amount of swearing.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

In this universe, the Phoenix Witch doesn’t come for Cherri Cola. He lies in the sand, alone and in pain, unable to move himself a single step further. He would get up if he could, he would go home, but he’s helpless. Alone and afraid, truly afraid for the first time in years. He doesn’t want to die alone. He doesn’t want to die knowing the people in his life will never know what happened to him. D, Pony, Newsie…

Cherri doesn’t want to die. Not like this. He was supposed to die helping his friends, not because he decided that life wasn’t worth living and let himself fade away into the heat of the desert. He doesn’t want to leave his friends, he doesn’t want to leave his family. Did they even know he counted them as a family? Does Newsie know he loves them like a sibling?

Cherri Cola dies alone, and the last words on his lips are “I’m sorry, Newsie.”

Cherri didn’t come back. Not after the mask discussion, not after Newsie’s talk with the Phoenix Witch, and certainly not any earlier than that. It was another week of silent dinners and endless, hopeless searching before Pony put eir foot down.

“Cola is dead.”

That was what ey said, breaking the silence of that morning’s breakfast.

Newsie couldn’t even manage the energy to snap at em. “No.”

“Cola’s gone, Newsie. You know it, just like me.”

“He can’t be fucking dead. I won’t- I won’t let it happen.” She hated that her voice shook.

“He is, though. Nothing we can do about it.” Pony’s usually cheerful voice was quiet, beaten-down.

“No!”

“Yes! We gotta accept it!”

“No, we don’t!”

“Maybe-“ eir voice broke on the word. “Maybe it was his time. Or fate or something.”

“Well fuck fate then! Fuck the Phoenix Witch and fuck her ‘plans’! It can’t just be right to fucking take him away, he’s got a fucking family!”

“Well- well- maybe you’re right, but what are we going to do about it?” Pony’s voice had gone quiet again, and ey was staring at the table like it might have the answers somehow.

“We’re going to find the Phoenix Witch and tell her to go fuck herself,” Newsie declared.

D sighed. “I don’t think that’s possible, Newsie.”

“Why not? Cherri’s met the Phoenix Witch, it can’t be that hard.” She got up from her seat, tossing the empty power pup can into the sink.

“I mean…they’ve got a point,” Pony said as D sighed again.

“See? Pone knows I’m right.” She made those words as firm as she could, filling them with all the confidence that she didn’t have but wished she did. “I’m going to go find the Phoenix Witch, flip her off, and get Cherri back.”

“Newsie-“

They ignored D’s worried voice as they went tromping into the back of the radio station, back to the room that used to be theirs and Cherri’s- and still would be, Newsie vowed. She packed up a messenger bag with a few supplies and located Cherri’s mask and ray gun, picking up the ray gun first. It was pink like hers, but a heavier weight in her hands. If she had been poetic like her brother, she would have said it was the weight of the task she was about to take on.

But they were no Cherri Cola, and they knew the real reason was that Cherri’s ray gun was a nicer one than theirs, taken from an exterminator he had fought back in the Analog Wars. It certainly wasn’t the newest model anymore, but it remained a high-quality weapon. Not that he ever used it anymore. Still, even however long after he had last held it, she thought she could feel the ghost of his hands on it, warm and rough as they guided her hands into place the first time she had ever fired a ray gun.

Newsie slid the ray gun into her spare holster and picked up Cherri’s mask. They debated putting it away into their bag, but that felt too much like they were bringing it to the mailbox for a final goodbye. Instead, they put it around their neck, where it bounced against their collarbone as they donned their own mask.

“Alright, Cherri. Let’s go bring you back from the dead.”

Show Pony and Dr. Death Defying didn’t try to stop her when she walked back through the main living space. D reached out as if to grab her wrist, but stopped himself in midair. “Newsie.”

“Don’t try to stop me.”

“I won’t, but I want you to take this.” He held out a crow feather, shining a gorgeous glossy black in the sunlight that streamed in from the window. “I met the Witch, once. During the Analog Wars. And she gave me this.”

“So you think it will help?”

D’s smile was dreadfully sad. “Worth a shot.”

Newsie hesitated a moment and took the feather. It was smooth under her fingers as she tucked it into her bag. “Thanks, D.”

“Of course.” He didn’t tell her to come back safe, and Newsie didn’t promise she would.

Pony skated up before she could walk out the door, handing her a packet of what looked vaguely like glitter. “I don’t have a fancy Witch feather like D, but take some glitter for the road. Because sparkles…”

“Make everything better.” Newsie’s throat burned. “Thanks, Pone.”

“Of course, GoGo.” Ey shot her a grin. “Bring back our Cola. Oh, and give him some shit for dying, would ya?”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Newsie muttered. They paused in the doorway, looking back at the other two. “Thanks, Pone. Thanks, D. Love you.”

“We love you too.” D’s face was sad as he watched them go.

Newsie hopped onto their motorcycle, grinning a bit to themself at the familiar noise of the engine. “Come on, baby, we’ve got an idiot brother to retrieve.”

What had once been called Death Valley was silent as Newsie hopped back off the bike, only a few caws of crows to welcome her. It was said that here, the lines between reality and wherever the Phoenix Witch was were even thinner than they were for the rest of the Zones, practically non-existent. No one could quite agree if it was because the Phoenix Witch lived here, or if the Phoenix Witch lived here because the lines were so blurred, but either way, she was said to dwell here in this aptly named valley. It wasn’t a place many people went by choice, not unless they wanted to risk the wrath of the Witch.

Newsie figured the Witch, her wrath, and all the superstition could all go fuck themselves. She was uneasy, yes, but the valley held no great fear for her. Only great fucking heat, given that the sun was blazing down and the air was almost unnaturally still. Couldn’t the Phoenix Witch have picked a nicer home? This was the closest thing you could get to hell on earth, with the exception of possibly whatever was beyond the Zones entirely. Not that Newsie particularly believed in hell, but she imagined it would be something like this. Blazing sun, still air, the faint haze of radiation, and the omnipresent sting of grief.

“Hey, Phoenix Witch lady! Asshole! Where are you?” The words didn’t even echo, absorbed into the stifling heat, and Newsie took another couple of steps. “I know this is your home- and you picked a pretty hellish one, if you ask me- so come on out and fight me!”

There was no reply, and Newsie dug through their bag to see if they had anything useful. Their hands brushed against a smooth…something, and they pulled out the feather D had given them. “Hey! Asshole! This is your feather, so come and get it!”

Once again, there was no reply, but the feather strained against Newsie’s grip, despite there being no wind. She reluctantly let it go, and it hovered above her hand, turning to point further into the valley.

“Holy shit. I guess I’m supposed to go this way?” She took a few cautious steps, and the feather almost seemed to bob in approval. “Okay, let’s go then.”

They zipped their bag closed again and started walking, following the lead of the feather. It was a longer trek than they really appreciated, across shifting sand through the hazy day. Every so often, the feather changed directions, and Newsie had to turn to follow it. Despite the fact that she guessed she must be out in Zone Seven by now, or possibly even further, the landscape never seemed to change. Rocks and sand and endless, burning heat, matching the burning of her eyes as the sand stung them. She would have been lost in a second if she didn’t have the feather, wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t lost anyways. They certainly didn’t know their way back.

Newsie shoved that concern to the back of their mind. Right now, all they needed to focus on was finding Cherri. The rest could come later. Still, there was no sign of Cherri- or anyone else for that matter- as they made their way further into the dusty valley. It should have been lonely, but the faint hovering presence of someone or something next to her kept away that particular anguish. She really should have been more alarmed by whatever was in the corner of her eye, vanishing when she looked right at it, but the presence felt safe. Almost familiar. So Newsie kept walking.

They walked, and walked, and walked and walked and walked until the steps all blurred together under the infinite sun. It seemed like it should be nearly nightfall by now, but the sun didn’t seem to move, no matter how many steps she took. The landscape didn’t seem like it was moving much either, even though they must have walked miles and miles by now. Every step was harder than the last, sand stinging her eyes and nose and throat as her feet ached.

Still, Newsie was too damn stubborn to give up now. She followed the feather until the landscape did start to shift, the feather pointing towards…a tree? On a hill? It wasn’t like the tiny, scraggly trees that clung to existence in the wettest parts of the desert. No, this was what Newsie vaguely thought might have been called an oak, once upon a time, branches stretching towards the sky as the tree stood proud. The leaves were dark green, striking a sharp contrast to the faded blue of the desert sky and the endless beige sand, and the branches were thick and steady, growing in a pattern Newsie hadn’t seen before. It definitely wasn’t a tree that was meant to be in the desert, but...shade was shade.

She staggered over and flopped down underneath it, every muscle in her body screaming at her. “Hey, Witch, asshole, why do I have to walk so fucking far?”

The only reply she got was the rustling of leaves above her. They didn’t think the Witch was actually watching, but they flipped off the tree anyways, just in case.

She could have sworn she heard faint laughter at that, but it was probably her mind playing tricks on her. Water, she could really use some fucking water. Thank the Witch, or maybe just Pony’s quick thinking, they found a bottle of water when they reached into their bag. It was warmed by the sun and tasted vaguely of rust, but then again, most water in the desert did. Newsie was used to it.

She only got a few minutes to rest before the silence was shattered by a cry. “Help! Help!” It was a young-sounding voice, and Newsie groaned as they climbed to their feet. Having a moral compass was a real pain in the ass sometimes; they couldn’t just ignore a kid in need.

The presence by their shoulder seemed to have grown stronger as Newsie came around the tree and saw a few dracs holding a struggling killjoy who looked to be maybe thirteen or fourteen. She would have to be very careful in order not to hurt the ‘joy, given their close proximity to the dracs. Their hands shook as they pulled out their ray gun, reconsidered, and took out Cherri’s instead. They were pretty sure it had that gyroscope stabilizer (or whatever it was called) that some of the nicer ones were built with, and she would need every advantage she could get. This time, she was almost certain there were ghostly hands over hers as she took careful aim.

“Steady. Breathe,” a voice murmured in Newsie’s ear as they tilted the ray gun carefully. It would be only seconds before the young killjoy was dragged off, so she had to act now.

Newsie took a deep breath, releasing it fully before she pulled the trigger and took out one of the dracs holding the ‘joy, who was able to break free from the other one’s grasp as Newsie took that one down too. She might not have been Cherri Cola, but she was by no means a bad shot, and she grinned a bit to herself. Drac down, drac down, and that was the last of them!

“Fuck yeah, NewsAGoGo, you kick ass.” They figured they might as well encourage themself, since there was no one else around to do it.

That was met by what she could have sworn was another faint chuckle, but there wasn’t anyone else around to be laughing. Well, except the younger killjoy, but they were way too far away to have heard her.

Newsie shrugged and accepted that weird shit was going to happen on a quest in Death Valley. They had to keep moving, they decided, but first they should check on that ‘joy they’d saved.

“Hey, kid! You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thanks to you, I think.” Their voice was hoarse, and Newsie sighed as she handed them her water bottle. Cherri was getting his ass kicked for this, she decided. It wasn’t technically his fault that she was thirsty, but if he hadn’t up and died, she wouldn’t have had to quest after him and then she wouldn’t have ended up giving her water to some random ‘joy.

“Thanks,” the teen said, handing them back the water bottle.

She shrugged. “No problem. You going somewhere?”

“Yes, but not the same way as you.” Their head was tilted curiously. “You’ll have to go that way. Until you see the building.”

Newsie debated for a second if this kid was trustworthy, but ultimately decided it was no worse than following a fucking feather. “Thanks, kid. Good luck, keep running.”

“Keep running!” They flashed a smile and wandered away.

Newsie sighed and started walking again, this time in the direction the kid had pointed. Again, Cherri was so getting an ass-kicking for this. Their feet hurt.

Thank the Phoenix Witch- no, thank Destroya, she wasn’t thanking the Phoenix Witch for fucking anything right now- she wasn’t back on her feet for long. Compared to her earlier trek, it was quite a short distance, maybe a mile or so, to what must have been the building that kid was talking about. It was a small shack which looked vaguely familiar, even from a distance, and Newsie sped up a little as they headed towards it. Shade! Maybe even a place to sit that wasn’t sand! Of course, knowing her luck, the Phoenix Witch would show up and demand she go run some errand or walk another hundred fucking miles or something.

The presence that had been following her this whole time seemed stronger and easier to catch a glimpse of, now, but the was the least of their worries as Newsie approached the building and found it familiar. They could peer in through the window and find D and Pony sitting there in the living room, talking about music (she assumed, given that the only time D gestured so broadly was when he was giving opinions about music).

“D! Pone!”

They didn’t seem to hear her, and Newsie felt her eyes stinging from both sand and grief as she knocked on the door. There was still no reply, no Pony at the door or even sound from inside. But the two carried on their conversation, gesturing and laughing away.

"D, Pony…” If they were back here, that meant they had failed. They hadn’t gotten to the Witch after all.

Newsie gave up her knocking and turned her back to the door, sliding down to sit on the hard ground. Their feet hurt from standing and their legs hurt from walking and their hands hurt from clutching Cherri’s ray gun so tightly. The sun was still blazing, and their throat was dry and sore. Her collarbones were banged up where Cherri’s mask had been bouncing against them, and her hip was bruised from the bag bouncing against it, and everything fucking hurt. They had promised themself they weren’t going to cry, but now they were breaking that promise because their goddamn brother was dead and they couldn’t fucking do anything about it.

“I’m sorry, Cherri,” they choked.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” The words were only a whisper, but the voice was familiar.

Newsie’s heart skipped a beat. “Cherri?”

“I’m here,” the air next to her whispered, right where that presence had been hovering. “Not exactly, but close enough.” If they squinted, they could make out an outline of a familiar killjoy, smiling a soft, sad smile as he pushed his hair out of his face.

“Fucking bastard! Fuck! Fucking hell! You just fucking died on me and do you know how far I fucking walked?”

“Technically, you didn’t walk at all.” That was a different voice, belonging to the cloaked figured who was suddenly in front of Newsie. They could have sworn the person hadn’t been there just a second ago, which was damn inconvenient. Right as she was trying to catch up with her fucking brother? Really?

“Who the fuck are you?” They demanded.

“The deity you came to find, NewsAGoGo.”

Newsie hopped to her feet so she could stand on level with the bird creature, ignoring the ache in every part of their body. “Fuck you! Fuck you, Witch lady! Fuck you and your fate and your cryptic ways! What the fuck do you mean I didn’t walk?”

The Witch seemed faintly amused by her swearing. “I mean that in real-world distance, you went nowhere. You’re on the border, the boundary between this world and the next. Which is how your lovely brother is here, by the way. He belongs to the spirit world, and you belong to the ordinary one, but on this border and this border only, you can see and hear each other.”

“Great, now I’m taking him back to the real world.”

The Phoenix Witch tsked disapprovingly. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, NewsAGoGo. You see, Cherri Cola is dead. He belongs to my domain now.”

“Well fuck that! I’m not letting him go.” Newsie hadn’t walked however many fucking miles to give up now.

“Fine, fine, you can have him.” Newsie’s heart soared. “For a price,” The Witch added.

“And what’s the price?”

“The price is the people in that house behind you.”

“What?”

“Well, technically they aren’t there, per se. That’s not Dr. Death Defying and Show Pony, although it seems that way to you.” The Witch’s voice was annoyingly calm. “But my point being, if you can give up one of them, you can have your Cherri back.”

“Newsie, no,” Cherri whispered from beside her.

“Can you do it?” The Witch was still smiling. “Can you sacrifice one friend to save another? Could you live with yourself if you killed your friend to save your brother? And could you live with yourself if you left him here to save the others?”

“No, I can’t do it.” They knew their voice must sound very small and very tired as they leaned a little against the radio shack that wasn’t the radio shack. “I can’t choose the life of one of my friends over another. I won’t make that choice. I refuse.”

“So do you choose to leave him here? I’ll take good care of him, you know.”

“No. I choose to not choose. I refuse to choose.” She had no idea what she was doing, only that she wasn’t leaving without the lives of all of her family. “I won’t put Cherri’s life over D’s, or Pony’s. I won’t put D or Pony’s life over Cherri’s. They all deserve to live.”

“Oh, hon, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Well I’ll make it work that way!” A thought niggled Newsie’s brain. “What if…What if I gave you something else?”

“Like what?”

“Like my life.”

“No!” That was Cherri again, his spirit form flickering fiercely. “No! Newsie, just leave without me. Please.”

The Phoenix Witch was smirking, but she shook her head. “Sorry, NewsAGoGo. I can’t accept that offer, selfless as it might be. You’ve got things ahead of you, I can’t just mess up my plans like that.”

“Fine, then something else.” Newsie rooted around in her bag, desperately trying to find something to trade with the Witch. Empty water bottle, no. Can of power pup that she never touched, no. Their hand collided with a small, slightly squished packet of something, which they pulled out triumphantly. “Glitter. I’ll give you glitter for my brother’s life.” Newsie knew she sounded ridiculous, but it really was all she had to offer.

The Phoenix Witch threw her head back and cackled; it was almost more of a caw than a laugh but clearly a sound of amusement nonetheless. “Glitter! Glitter! I haven’t laughed so hard in years.”

Their hand was shaking. “Pony gave it to me. Because sparkles- because sparkles-“ Their voice wobbled and they couldn’t finish that sentence.

“Sparkles make everything better,” Cherri whispered softly from next to her. Newsie nodded, trying not to cry.

The mirth on the Witch’s face was gone, replaced by true, genuine pity. “You care so much.”

“Yeah, of course I fucking do. He’s my brother, asshole.”

Cherri’s form was flickering again, and Newsie wished she knew what that meant as the Witch smiled softly. It was a bit of a sad, pitying smile, which they really didn’t appreciate, but they guessed they did make for a pitiful sight. Sandy and dusty, tear tracks on their face as they leaned against a wall and offered a pitiful little pack of glitter in exchange for the person they loved most in the world.

“So…are you going to take the glitter?” Maybe it was dumb, maybe she should know the Witch would never accept glitter, but she had to try.

“Yes.”

Newsie gaped at her.

“Yes, I’ll take the glitter. Not as a reward, but as a symbol. You, NewsAGoGo, traveled uncountable miles of unreality, fought a squad of dracs, and dared defy me, a literal deity, for your brother. I am not a cruel goddess, I do not need to be. The world is cruel enough for me. And your Cherri did not deserve to die. Oh, he was asking for it, he was taunting me into swooping down to take that bracelet you gave him off his wrist and taking his soul on with me just the same, but he still didn’t deserve to die.”

The Witch flicked Cherri on the nose, or where Newsie thought his nose ought to be. “We’ve had some conversations about it, haven’t we? Because you didn’t want to die, Cherri Cola. You wanted to not be in pain. Something everyone wants. And your sister cares so much, so I’ll give you one more chance. This is your last one, lovely.”

“I understand.”

“Of course you do, hon.” The Witch turned back to Newsie. “Keep an eye on this one. He’s a bit prone to wandering off, but he’s yours again. He belongs to the land of the living. I’ll be keeping this, though.” She tapped the bracelet on her wrist, which Newsie recognized as the one they had given Cherri. “And the glitter, just for the hell of it. Tell your friend Pony they have good taste in décor, will you?”

And just like that, she was gone. Newsie was standing alone at the entrance to Death Valley, her faithful motorcycle next to her. At first, she thought the Witch had lied, since she did seem to be utterly alone, but before long, footsteps sounded from within the valley.

Newsie turned as a figure approached, her breath catching at the familiar face. Cherri Cola was exactly how he had been the day Newsie had left him at the radio station, not knowing she would come back to find him gone. His battered green jacket was just as ripped and dusty as ever, and there was a small scar across his right cheek, as always. The only immediately visible difference between Cherri of a few weeks ago and this Cherri was the pure white streak in his hair, white like bones and death and the salt crusted on some parts of the desert. Yet when she looked closer, she could also see a tiny spark of determination in his eyes that had been missing for a very long time.

Cherri came to a stop in front of her, smiling cautiously. “Hey.”

Newsie didn’t know if they should cry, yell at him, or hug him. They settled for a mixture of all three, sprinting over to hug him tightly as they unleashed all the bottled swear words and tears of the past few weeks. “Fuck you, Cherri! Dipshit! Bitch boy! Fucking rat bastard, you left me! You left me alone and I- and I was scared.” Their voice dropped on the last few words.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Cherri’s voice was very soft. “I should never have left.”

A bit of her fierceness came back at that, with another couple of swear words to unleash. “No, you fucking shouldn’t have! Asshole. Little shit! You died, you fucker! You died and I had to walk so fucking far to get you back, fuckface!”

“I’m sorry, Newsie. I’m so sorry.”

She sniffled, unable to stay mad for long. “Just never do that again. Ever. I’m not fighting a squad of dracs to save some child so I can get directions to a fucking fake radio shack and talk to a cryptic deity next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Cherri said softly. “I promise.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

He crossed his heart, giving her a very serious look. “I swear on my best poetry and Show Pony’s glitter stash.”

They let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Now you can never break it, Pone would never forgive you if something happened to their glitter stash.”

“Exactly.” His eyes were glimmering with tears as well, but he was smiling as Newsie led him back to her motorcycle with a “Hop on, fuckface.”

It felt safe to have Cherri’s arms wrapped around her again, his head leaning on her shoulder as she revved the engine. He was a warm, safe presence, just as he had been in the unreality-reality place, but this time he was a solid one. A real one.

They might have been tired as all fuck, but that didn’t stop them from grinning as Cherri muttered something about it probably not being safe for her to drive while this tired. “Hang on, fucker. We’re going home.”

Home was, as it had been for quite a while now, a (mostly) structurally sound radio station in the middle of the desert. It was almost nightfall by the time they pulled up in front of the radio shack, and Newsie was yawning as she climbed off the bike with another huge yawn. Cherri practically had to carry her to the door, but in her defense, he wasn’t the one who had walked however many miles, got in a firefight, and argued with a deity today. So they felt no guilt in leaning against him as he paused on the porch, using his free hand to knock gently on the door.

They were met by an exhausted-looking Show Pony, eyes red-rimmed and blood-shot as ey opened the door. “I’m sorry, no visitors today- Newsie?! Cherri?!?”

Cherri waved with his free hand. “Hey.”

“Am I just seeing things?” Pony’s voice was as shocked as eir face, which was very.

“Not seeing things, bastard,” Newsie yawned. “I said I was getting Cherri, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you’ve been missing a month, Gogo! D and I thought you were ghosted like your bro!”

It probably was not an appropriate reaction, but the first thing out of her mouth was “No wonder I’m so thirsty.”

Cherri started laughing at that, and after a second so did Pony, half-hysterically. “Well, we’ve got water, that’s for sure. D’ll give you plenty, he’ll be so glad you’re alive!” Ey led them inside, still laughing in a somewhat hysterical way. “D, we’ve got some rat bastards alive and back on our hands!”

“Fuck you, Pone.”

“She’s kidding, we love you,” Cherri yawned.

“And I love you too, but you can’t just- just up and disappear! The lot of you, honestly.”

D’s face was only slightly less shocked than Pony’s when he rolled into the living room, and Newsie had a feeling that was only because he was even more exhausted than em.

“Hey,” Cherri said again.

“Cherri- Newsie- Witch, you both, we thought you were dead!”

“Well we’re not, deal with it.” She was too tired for this shit. Shouldn’t arguing with a deity give you a pass? “Also, sorry, Pone, I traded your glitter away to the Witch.”

Ey only looked shocked for a second before eir usual grin returned. “Well, it was meant to be used somehow! Plus, sparkles…”

“Make everything better!” Newsie, Pony, and Cherri all chorused.

D sighed. “Welcome home, you two. Never scare us like that again, alright, Newsie?”

“I wasn’t the one who wandered off and died!”

“To be fair, you kinda threatened to fight the Phoenix Witch and then vanished, sugar,” Pony put in.

Newsie flipped em off, flopping down on the sofa. “My point was, give Cherri shit instead. I’m too tired for this.”

“Oh, I plan on it.” D’s voice was vaguely threatening, but his face cracked into a smile as he turned to Cherri. “You scared the hell out of all of us.”

Cherri stared at the ground. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“And we love you so much,” D added.

Newsie grinned at her brother’s shocked face. “Uh-huh, fuckface. We love you, even if you’re a rat bastard. Now I’m going to sleep for a week, see you all later.”

“Goodnight, Newsie,” Cherri said with a smile. If anyone else said anything after that, Newsie didn’t hear it. They were out like a light within seconds.

In this universe, the radio station is peaceful that evening, the family reunited at long last. Cherri Cola smiles to himself as he lifts Newsie off the sofa, giving D and Pony a thumbs up as he wanders into the back of the radio station. Their room is quiet, and Newsie barely shifts when he sets her down gently on the mattress. They do move, however, when Cherri tries to pull away, reaching out to snatch his wrist. Trapped, he has no choice but to lay down next to Newsie, earning a sleepy noise that sounds vaguely happy.

Cherri grins softly, even if she can’t see it, running his hand along the new set of scars on his arm. There will be time to think about those later, time for the conversations that have to come with that, but for now all they are is a reminder. A reminder that he’s a survivor, a reminder of what matters.

Cherri Cola falls asleep with Newsie by his side, and the last words on his lips that night are “I love you, Newsie.”

#cherri cola #newsagogo #phoenix witch #auri writes #ttlofk #danger days #danger days fic #ttlofk fic #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys

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axemetaphor · 3 years

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wwwhats up its 430am I cant sleep and I dont think I've ever done an annoying headcanon ramble for jdate on here so here we fuckin goooo I'm on mobile but I'm gonna try my damnedest to do a read more and if it doesnt work and looks stupid well sue me

amy is the one routinely awake before the other two. I dont mean shes always the first one to wake up, but her back pain is more likely to have her up in the early hours of the morning. shes also the only one who has anything thay resembles q sleeping schedule of the three as john is just like, completely fucked in that department and Dave's insomnia/depression-sleeping fucks him over sometimes. basically amy Has A Brain and also lost likely schedules it so that she can be falling asleep as her pain pills take effect.

amy also is the one who's like fairly into self care stuff like fuckinuhhh face masks and shit—look, I dont inow jackshit about self care, but I mean amy strikes me as the kind of person to actually maintain her appearance in a fairly regular manner. john will just like "forget" to take care of himself and then just Be Decadent for a week and then "forget" again (either going on a bender or just actually being normal for once) and all dave knows of self care is "when I get the urge to eat an entire pie, and give into that urge, That is self care"

anyways Partially because of that I headcanon Dave gets acne like Pretty Much All The Time and hes just kinda stopped caring about it. amy gets acne Sometimes because it just like Happens. john is that one lucky motherfucker who just is somehow naturally immune. perpetually clear skin on this man. I hate him

also dave Kind Of strikes me as the kind of guy fuckign "3 in 1" shampoo is targeted towards the man just Does Not Care. other girlfriends have tried to get him into actually using different kinds of soaps and not just defaulting to "3 in 1 wherever I think soap should go" but its amy who actually succeeds in breaking this terrible habit hes had.

also I think that Despite his hair being described as frizzy and all that, John actually takes care of his hair. except for times when hes Less Than Functional. and also yknow when the world is fuckin ending but I doubt anyone really has time for a haircare routine when they gotta be fighting monsters and shit

amy again is just a normal person about hair. but shes the only one who can actually cut hair and tbqh I think she does it Pretty Well! shes no professional but shes not john either that's for sure (if you let john close to your head with scissors, well— it's your funeral, man)

this is completely projecting and also like totally Useless but I just think it would be funny if Dave has exploding head syndrome. if you donf know what that is it's a phenomenon-or-something where right when you're dropping off to sleep your brain just liek idk gets bored I guess? and comes up with some phantom Loud Noises to startle the shit out of you. it's great! and by 'great' I mean terribly annoying! but in general I think Dave is a Very restless sleeper so him suddenly flinching himself awake isnt exactly Abnormal.

amy sleeps like a normal human being Mostly, I think she Might be one of those sorts who likes to sleep curled up in the fetal position which is so very valid. she gets night terrors sometimes though because ✨trauma✨. the best way to comfort her with that is a tight hug cause I feel like her Main fear would be that shes all alone again and a hug sure does help people feel less alone I think,

john either starfishes out when he sleeps (also I headcanon he likes to sleep at least Partially on top of Dave and Dave only pretends to hate it) or grabs hold of something and clings to it tightly. hes a very light sleeper, though, and snaps awake at any loud noise or especially if he gets bumped into too strongly. this doesn't always play well with Dave's restlessness and tendency to Sleep Fight but they manage.

I feel like its fairly common to Assume john has tattoos but specifically I feel like a lot of his tattoos are things he or his friends have drawn, I wrote about it Once Or Twice but maybe not here so I'll just like say it again, I think he asks his friends to draw shit on him then goes and gets it tattooed later (or, hell, right then and there lmao) and it's like a Mark of Friendship. he claims Dave has drawn the most on him because Dave's his best friend but whether or not that's true, who knows. the first one was from Dave, though, and john did it himself stick-and-poke style the night of. that happened while they were still in high school and Dave was actually Slightly Embarrassed because what he doodled was just like really stupid looking and fuckin hell john now you're gonna have that on you forever what the hell man? but the rest of John's tattoos, if not done by friends they're either things he drew (I maintain he still draws in his downtime I love the idea of artistically talented john so much-) or weird shit he found online.

I honestly didnt think Dave would really get tattoos because he does state hes afraid of needles BUT as someone Also afraid of needles who paradoxically wants tattoos .. he could probably power through it and get like A Few. one of them is from John (stick-and-poke style, again,) and I am Not actually sure how many hed have but definitely less than John. amy only has that one tattoo that I keep forgetting when I draw her godfuckendammit-

John is the one who makes the most Food Monstrosities (Dave barely even bothers to cook) and he does this by making just the worst decisions both technical-wise (as in, hes Definitely the "just turn the oven temperature up to speedrun cooking" kind of guy) and taste-wise. dave on the other hand is likely to make terrible drinks like jack daniels + mountain dew which my buddy Ben so fantastically dubbed "jack and piss." the sheer Concept of jack daniels + mtn dew tho is thanks to that one kurtis conner video about becoming a country boy which is entirely unrelated but everyone needs to know. ANYWAY.

john and Amy like playing pranks on each other (and dave). they're in an ongoing low-key prank war and Dave is Mostly just spectating but sometiems they Conspire to commit mischief against him. it's annoying sometimes but ultimately more endearing than it is annoying so he never gets Too mad.

john and Amy absolutely have Gaming Nights(tm) that sometimes include dave as well unless they wanna play some like fps game, I'm fairly sure hes said he doesnt really like those. but they also can get Competetive which, dave tends to act as a bit of a buffer to keep them from getting Too into it ... but sometimes he gets a little competitive too. what I'm trying to say is them playing mario kart is absolute chaos and also an event i woudl buy tickets to

john has a youtube channel for sure. he is So obnoxious. he hardly has any audience because let's be honest his videos kind of suck— they're all either kinda boring vlogs or him recording the cases he and Dave go on (when he can convince Dave to let him) which are almost always declared Fake by the commenters. amy is subscribed to him. dave probably doesnt even have/use his own YouTube channel so he was not subscribed until john stole his phone and did it for him. (he never watches the videos) the videos are not edited much, I dont think any of them really knows too much about video editing shit.

dave cant fuckin do math.

John and Dave do Not know how to handle crying. like Dave's learned what helps Amy, in specific, but anybody else? clueless. Dave also just does not cry very often in general (shut up lemme project again LMAO-) and tends to just refrain from doing it even if he wants to/probably should, rarely ever actually breaking down and letting it all out; he'll stop himself from getting there/even crying much in the first place. he doesn't exactly have a Reason for it or at least not one he can recite (it's the bullying. we dont get details of how that was beyond The Locker Room Incident which I wont go into but I'm just going to project the rest of it was similar to shit I went through, It's The Bullying). John also kinda Doesn't Cry and actually hes even more restrained about it than Dave, because he won't even cry around either of them if he can avoid it and if it happens he 1) will Not address it, 2) prefers no one else acknowledge it, and 3) will Run The Fuck Away if it's acknowledged. they both try Really Really Hard to help amy when shes crying though, if shes crying for a Big Reason, cause they both also understand she just cries easily and doesnt always need or want comfort.

that,s all for now BUT if I come up with mroe. there will be a reblog. also these are not all like "I am the only one who's ever tho ig ht this" or w/e a lot of them are from me talking with other people or Absorbing much older posts on here because I read Everuthing I can find.

I sure hope I can sleep soon, this is probably mostly incoherent. gnight

#jdate #john dies at the end #not sonic #rambles.txt #do i dare ? i do indeed csuse several dave headcanins here are projection #kin

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years

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In The Quiet {Eijirou Kirishima}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Apologies if there are a few inconsistencies with the movie, I haven’t seen it since its opening night back in February! This was mostly written as a self-indulgent piece because I’ve been super stressed and anxious lately, and I think sometimes just saying you’re afraid is a big step.

She took a deep breath and focused on the mushroom in her shaking palm. It was the last one, she reminded herself. One last mushroom for the miso that would be served to the island’s residents in the morning. They’d long since retired to bed and the class had formulated a plan for the next day, but she’d felt there was more work to be done.

The mushroom began to split apart like an optical illusion with a mirror, blooming left and right as it peeled untouched in opposite directions. In less than a minute there were two identical mushrooms in her hand and her vision was beginning to blur.

“You didn’t need to make thirty extra,” the voice of Sato chided gently as her eyes closed to stop the dizziness.

“N-no, s’better that I did,” she breathed. “That’ll make five extra pots of soup in the morning s-so there won’ be a need to ration as m-much.”

He frowned. “You overworked yourself pretty badly; you need rest for tomorrow.”

“S’okay,” she said with a shake of her head, grimacing when she realized how much worse it made her feel. “Gotta make sure th’ plan’s ready, war room’s waitin’.”

She dropped the mushrooms into the small crate she’d been filling for the last forty minutes or so and stumbled to the doorway, Sato following closely. Out in the hallway she braced her hand against the cool metal and slowly trekked to the small office room they had all met in earlier in the night as the storm outside had raged. The thunder and lightning had dissipated, but the tense atmosphere hadn’t.

When she reached the room she slumped in the doorway, all eyes of the few lingering classmates turning to her as Sato steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Sero? Ur’aka? Wanna talk?”

The two exchanged a look before waving her over, then thinking better of it when she took a shaky step, went to her.

Kirishima watched them go to his girlfriend, brows furrowed in concern as he half listened to Iida go over their team’s plan for the seventh time. She looked pale and sick, her body trembling enough that he could see it from across the room. He could tell that she’d massively overdone it with her quirk and was likely on the verge of passing out.

“Hey uh, Kirishima?”

He snapped from his thoughts to see Sato in front of him apologizing to Iida, Todoroki, and Tsu for taking him aside. They didn’t fight it, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to focus with her looking the way she did.

“What happened?” he asked as they stepped away.

Sato sighed. “I found her in the kitchen multiplying food for the morning. She made enough for at least five extra pots of miso which is easily thirty-five or forty more portions because she thought it would help not to ration as much since the residents are gonna be in for a long day too.”

He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. Part of him wanted to be mad that she’d pushed herself far past what she knew her limit was, but the much larger part of him knew that he would’ve done the exact same thing if he could. Being a hero meant helping others and going Plus Ultra to do it.

Opening his eyes he gave Sato a weak smile. “Thanks for telling me, man. I’ll… I’ll make sure she gets some rest.”

They bid each other goodnight and he walked to where she stood with Sero and Uraraka discussing their roles for the next day in slurred syllables strung together with a tired tongue. Their classmates watched her warily, ready to catch her if she collapsed.

He slipped an arm around her waist and her body sagged against his in recognition, bleary eyes glancing up to meet his with a lopsided smile sliding across her lips.

“Hey, you two mind if I steal her?” he asked.

Sero shook his head. “No worries, I think we’re good for tomorrow. Have a good night, yeah?”

Uraraka smiled and quietly joined Midoriya at the table where the island’s map was still spread out with scribbled plans marking the canvas.

Not wanting as many eyes on them, Kirishima dropped his arm from her shoulders to place his hand on the small of her back and steered her back into the hallway so they could talk privately. Once they were a few meters away from the office he began to speak with cautious words.

“Sato said you multiplied a bunch more ingredients for the morning.”

“Mhm.”

“You had the energy to do that after multiplying what we had to make dinner?”

Her head lolled from side to side. “Don’t want anyone goin’ hungry.”

“Your heart’s too big sometimes,” he chuckled fondly.

“One’a talk, aren’t ya?” she replied.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he admitted. “The fact that Todoroki and I are taking the next shift to watch the villain we captured and stand guard probably doesn’t help my case. I should actually go back in and grab him, we have to meet Mina and Shoji downstairs soon. You should head to bed.”

She blinked. “No, ‘m waiting for you.”

“You need rest to get your energy back up for the morning,” he said quietly, feeling her slump against him. “C’mon, I’ll take you up to the room you girls are sharing before I go on shift.”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait up w’ you, s’only an hour. Then we’ll sleep.”

“No, you’re dead on your feet,” he replied. “Plus I can’t stay anyway, I don’t wanna make the others feel awkward being in the room with all of you. Look on the bright side, it’s only one night.”

“But it migh’ be the last one.”

He froze, her words sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

It… could be the last night, couldn’t it? He’d brushed off one night spent apart, not even considering there was a possibility they wouldn’t reconvene for the next. Was he spoiled with the routine of having her pressed against him beneath the blankets that he couldn’t fathom it never happening again?

Working as heroes in training while so young made them walk such a fine line in so many aspects of their lives. On one hand he knew how dangerous their current situation was with the lack of Pro’s to back them up and that there was a very real and high likelihood that injuries were going to happen. On the other, he wholeheartedly expected them to be okay, to be able to return to classes and the dorms and their routines.

He expected to be alive twenty-four hours from now.

But she was right, it was a possibility that one of them or even both of them wouldn’t be.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tried to figure out the right thing to say. “I… we sh—”

“I jus’ wanna be close to you,” she said tearfully. “I can pr-pretend s’okay if you’re wi’ me.”

“Believe me, I want to be close to you too!” he said desperately. “But I have a patrol with Todoroki in a few minutes and you need to sleep, baby. You’re practically asleep standing here and-and even though I don’t want to sleep apart either, there’s not much we can do.”

“Can’t do this righ’ now.”

He could see the gathering shine on her lash line and felt utterly helpless as she pushed past him to reenter the office once again. He tilted his head back with a deep sigh and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. The stress of the day had already had a headache forming but the last ten minutes had amplified it.

“Hey.”

The gruff voice from his right made him jump, dropping his hands to turn and face Bakugo who was leaned against the wall. Despite the unimpressed look on his face, Kirishima could tell he’d heard the end of their conversation at the very least.

“She looks like shit.”

“She’s exhausted. Sato told me she multiplied enough food for at least thirty or forty extra portions to serve the islanders tomorrow.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Of course she did; wouldn’t be your fuckin’ girlfriend if she wasn’t pulling some selfless shit.”

He frowned. “Do you have to be so rude just because she wants to help? Especially when we’re all on edge? C’mon, man. It’s bad enough I can’t be with her tonight when she’s not feeling her best on top of every other damn thing going on, so can you just stop?”

Bakugo stayed silent and his glare was steady. He wasn’t angry, not at Kirishima or his girlfriend but the entire goddamn shitshow situation this work assignment had morphed into. It felt like eons had gone by since he had been shyly asked for the millionth time if he was sure it was fine for her to come to their room at the lodge and share the bed with her boyfriend. He didn’t care—it wasn’t like either of them had the courage to screw around when he was barely a meter away—but he did notice how much better his best friend slept when she was tucked under his arm.

Between that fact and the easy assumption that she was probably the same way, he made up his mind.

“I’ll take your shift. Go to the office two doors down from the girls’ room, you’ll find a futon where you two can sleep.”

Kirishima’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about? You’re still hurt and why would there even be a futon in—”

“I wasn’t gonna sleep half on top of the rest of you assholes like we did at training camp so I found myself my own room but if she needs you, take it. And it doesn’t fuckin’ matter if I’m hurt, heroes push past pain to get shit done.”

“But where will you sleep if we take that room? I’m grateful for the offer but I don’t want us to take away the rest you need.”

Bakugo sighed in frustration. “The couch in the meeting room probably pulls out, its fine, now just go to her, fuck!”

He wouldn’t say it aloud, but he had heard her sleepy slur of how it may be their last night together and the heart everyone assumed was made of stone broke just a bit. Like hell was anyone dying if he had anything to say about it, least of all those two, but if she was worried it wouldn’t help her mental state in the fight that was waiting for them at daybreak. He wanted her sharp, that was the biggest reason for his generosity. It certainly outweighed the fact that his best friend and his girlfriend were disgustingly important to him and he wanted them happy.

“Thanks, Bakugo,” Kirishima said softly. “I really appreciate this.”

The blonde turned away and crossed his arms, ignoring the urge to wince. “Don’t read into it.”

Before anything else could be said he was trudging down the hallway and around the corner to the stairwell. For all his yelling and generally poor attitude he could be kind when he felt the people closest to him needed it most, but he’d be damned if he stuck around for more than a single word of thanks.

With a shake of his head Kirishima turned back to the office and walked in to find Uraraka sitting beside her on the small couch where Yaoyorozu had laid earlier in the night. Eyes red from exhaustion and what looked like a few tears blinked up at him blearily.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, thumbs brushing away the half-dried tear tracks. “Got a little surprise for ya.”

She cocked her head to the side but didn’t object, standing up on wobbly legs with a supportive hand on her lower back from Uraraka. He draped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close to his side, throwing a grateful glance in the other girl’s direction.

“Thank you for sitting with her.”

Uraraka smiled sadly. “Take care of her, Kirishima.”

He nodded, a tiny grin allowing the tip of one pointed tooth to peek out.

She waved them off as she went back to Midoriya, and he set out towards the opposite staircase that Bakugo had taken with her by his side. He half carried her up the dozen or so stairs before they had another expanse of hallway to walk, her weight nothing when she had to lean on him.

“Where we goin’?”

He smiled. “Bakugo got us a private room.”

Humming in confusion or acknowledgement—he wasn’t sure which—she closed her eyes, cheek pressed firmly against his bicep as he led her past the office the girls were going to share for the night. Stopping two rooms down just as he’d been told, Kirishima pushed the door open to see filing cabinets against the far wall and a desk that had been pushed to the side to accommodate the futon in the middle of the room.

Shuffling her in his arms, he lightly kicked the door closed behind them and put them into semi-darkness as he moved them farther into the room. He let her lean back against the desk as he removed her utility belt, boots, and the bulkier vest of her hero costume, then removed his own accessories, both his headpiece and shoulder gears set onto the desk next to her belt and vest, boots tossed aside with her smaller ones.

“Time to get some sleep,” he murmured, guiding her to lie down on the futon. The limited light from the corridor through the paneled window of the office door cast dull shadows over them both.

She curled up on her right side almost immediately, her body drawn to the far side so that he had a perfect space to slot himself behind her. It was as if they were back at the lodge in his and Bakugo’s room, taking their places for the night to rest for the long day ahead. That part, at least, was still true.

The morning would bring the difference. There wouldn’t be time to wake up slowly like they liked, blankets cocooned around them and their legs entangled, lazy kisses and easy conversation shared. There would be redressing in their gear then parting to take their positions with Kirishima going to the forest and her to the open fields.

He tried desperately to push the thought of being apart from her out of his head but its claws dug in deep, hanging onto him like a heavy weight. It made him scramble to his place on the futon and pull her back against his chest, their breathing synching to match her slower, more even breaths as it helped him focus on warding off the panic attack looming.

In the quiet of the night it was always hard to chase away the fear and worries he held, and on this night it was so much worse. The dark thoughts intermingled with all of the things he loved about her, teetering him on the edge of what felt like insanity.

Her eyes were beautifully determined when she fought and he hoped with everything he had that he would be able to see that look in her eyes again in the future when they fought together as Pro’s and not as the permanent set of her gaze from a twisted and broken body unmoving at the peninsula’s entrance. Would he be able to look into lifeless eyes even if they were the same ones that would’ve once looked at him so fondly?

She had always hugged him close with arms far stronger than they looked and they made him feel safe and confident and cared for. He always prayed that she felt the same when his encircled her waist and pulled her close but tomorrow he wouldn’t be with her and she would be so far from him and those strong arms of hers might not be strong enough to withstand the force of Nine. What if they snapped, bone splintering through her skin?

There was a brightness in her smile that set his heart on fire and grew even more blindingly beautiful the closer they became to one another both as friends and partners. He desperately needed to see that brightness continue its growth as their relationship grew—how it would look the first time they exchanged I love you’s or the first time they were intimate. How… how would he live if he never saw it again?

Somehow she cared enough to be with him despite his insecurities and low class ranking and weird group of friends, so if it was him who fell in battle the next day, she would be devastated. Could he expect her to stay strong if she survived only for Iida or Todoroki to show her his battered body and apologize for bringing the news of his death?

In the stillness of the office, he shuddered. The worries would surely plague him until the exhaustion won out and follow him to his dreams, nightmarish possibilities knowing no bounds. It didn’t matter, he had to remind himself. He would rise with the sun and fight regardless. He wasn’t a hero fully recognized by Japan, but he would be a hero tomorrow when he would stand by his classmates to keep the island residents safe. His resolve was more solid than his quirk.

Kirishima tightened his hold around her waist and breathed in deeply.

“’M afraid, Eijirou,” she whispered.

He bit his lip. “So am I.”

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated!

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foxtophat · 4 years

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just so you know this chapter is almost 10k words

SO HEY THERE BUDDY how are you? it’s been a while, huh? i thought for sure i had this chapter well in hand and then all at once i didn’t, now i’m a week behind my usual posting schedule and all i have to offer you is this fucking MONSTER

i don’t wanna get too into it because it’s pretty straight-forward, but let’s just say that nick and kim have a host of problems in this one bro. good thing that jerome is a guy who likes to be righteously better than everyone else right???

i had a lot of fun writing this despite how much trouble it was. the next chapter is gonna be more fun, with maybe even some alcohol and dare i even suggest it dancing??? perhaps... a good time???? highly unlikely in this day and age

well anyway, don’t wanna keep you any longer. thank you guys so much for reading my incoherent author’s notes and being so chill about this dumb self-indulgent fic of mine. i appreciate every comment, like, reblog, kudos or warm thought thrown my way, so don’t hesitate to lay it on me!!

as usual, the text is under the read-more. keep in mind that this chapter is very long so it might be better to read on ao3, but who am i to boss you around?

Pastor Jerome radios the Rye family late one night, so late that Nick had been just about to turn off the receiver when his voice comes down the line. Exhaustion has left a permanent mark on everybody, and Nick doesn't miss it in Jerome as they connect over the airwaves.

"A caravan is going to be passing through the valley tomorrow," he says grimly, with no preamble. "People heading west. There was talk of stopping by your home."

"What?" Nick asks. "Why?"

"People still look to your family for guidance, Nick. I imagine they want to say goodbye before they leave. Others are looking to trade, or just to reach out. It's been a long time. I suppose they'd want to leave on a positive note."

A year ago, Nick would have been excited for the company. Knowing a bunch of friendly settlers were coming around to say hello and help out before heading off on their own would have saved him plenty of pain and trouble in the past. But these days, other people coming around can be... complicated, and for reasons that Nick has trouble explaining even to himself.

That's probably the reason Jerome decided to reach out so late. They only got to talk briefly about it in town, since there were too many people to overhear them and honestly, Jerome hadn't seemed keen on having a conversation about John Seed almost a decade after the fact. But they had talked, enough that Jerome has trusted Nick to do what's best without interference until now.

"What do you think I should do?" Nick asks, sure that Jerome will know what he's talking about.

There's a lot of hissing and popping on the line before Jerome responds. "I don't know," he says. It sounds like an apology. "I can't imagine being in the position you're in."

Nick scrubs at his eyes, leaning back in his chair. He clicks the button to let Jerome know he's still there, but it takes a moment to come up with something to say.

"Do I know anyone coming through?" he asks at last.

"You will," Jerome replies. "If not by name, then by face. Hurk and Sharky have offered to escort them part-way. There are some resistance members who want to leave. A few who look like they might've gotten through baptism before the end."

Nick clicks his tongue against his teeth. That's what he was worried about. A couple of survivors who have let eight years rot their hatred would be okay. Hurk and Sharky aren't even that threatening, lawless raider shit aside. But former cultists are going to clock John immediately, and there's no clean way to explain that it isn't the Ryes who betrayed them, but actually John, who's abandoned the very principles that led him to cause so much suffering. Nick's almost okay with the guy, and even he occasionally feels a twinge of fury when he catches sight of the huge scar over his heart.

"Are you sure you know what doing?" Jerome asks. " Really sure?"

Nick chuckles. "Hell, Jerome, I've never known what I'm doing. But, uh... yeah. More than I was when we talked, anyway."

"Even with Joseph's reappearance?"

"Weirdly enough, especially 'cos of that. I know I'm askin' a lot of you, but you gotta trust me."

There's no chance that Jerome really means it when he says, "I do trust you, Nick," but at least he's committed to the lie. "If I can, I'll join them. Try to help keep the peace, when the time comes."

"If the time comes."

Jerome sounds disappointed. "You said you weren't hiding him."

"And we aren't!"

"You can't honestly expect everyone to take the news well."

"A man can hope, can't he?"

"That's about all he can do," Jerome replies. "I'll pray for you, Nick."

"Gee," Nick sighs, "Thanks. See you tomorrow, hopefully."

Nick turns off the radio. He stretches his arms out, as if maybe relieving his sore back will make him feel less tense and anxious about Jerome's news. Of course, it doesn't really help; there's still a caravan passing through tomorrow, and there's going to be some kind of reckoning when it shows up. Nick doesn't know what kind of fallout is going to come from it, but he knows well enough not to hope for the easiest outcome.

Carmina is already asleep when Nick comes up, sprawled out on the edge of the bed. It's not gonna be long now before she starts kicking them through the night, and then they're going to have to figure out a new sleeping arrangement, but Carmina seems as uninterested in changing things as Nick is.

"Just got off the radio with Jerome," Nick tells Kim, keeping his voice low and level so as not to alert Carmina. "Wanted to tell us about a caravan passing by tomorrow."

Kim frowns. "Oh," she says uneasily. "Have you told John?"

"Nah. Gonna wait until the morning. Don't want him trying to bolt in the night."

Even though neither of them think John is going to try to run away, Kim still nods in agreement. "What are we going to do?" she asks instead. It's funny, because he'd been about to ask her the same thing.

"Hell if I know," Nick sighs. He climbs into bed at last, Kim moving over to take the center of the mattress. "But I'll come up with something."

Nick doesn't come up with anything all night. By the time morning rolls around, he's had more ideas than sleep and none of them are anywhere near perfect. They all come down to deciding whether or not John should face the parade of people about to come to their door or not, and he is evenly split on the matter. After all, it could be fine; there could be some yelling and some drama; or there could be a full-on fire-fight. There's a not-outside chance that someone might shoot John before they have a chance to explain themselves. There's a chance that they might shoot Nick, too, for harboring him this whole time.

He knocks on John's door right around sunrise, waiting long enough that he almost knocks again before John grunts something incoherent from the other side of the door. He looks like Nick just woke him out of a relatively good dream, too, which is particularly bad luck. Well, John wanted to pay some kind of penance for his bullshit, right? Might as well start now.

"Sorry," Nick says, even though he's only sort of apologetic. "We, uh... have a problem."

"Oh, good," John groans, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor. "Just the sort of thing I like to hear."

Normally, Nick would be glad for a distracting snappy argument over John's attitude, but he doesn't know exactly how much time they're going to have to get ready and Nick doesn't know if anyone's going to radio him ahead of time. John being a catty dick first thing in the morning is the least of Nick's problems right now.

"Look, Jerome radioed in last night. A caravan's gonna pass by on their way out of Hope County."

John's bleary irritation evaporates at the words. "Oh," he says.

"Yeah, oh . You still wanna get back to your beauty sleep?"

"What am I going to do?" John exclaims, lurching halfway to his feet before thinking better of it and sitting back down. He looks up at Nick, who isn't prepared to feel like the only responsible adult in the room, and asks helplessly, "What should I do?"

For once, John's stressed-induced obedience seems reasonable, trying to show restraint instead of hoping for Nick to feed him instructions like some kind of machine.

"You... have a plan, don't you?" he asks.

"I have plenty of plans," Nick replies. "Problem is, they all suck. I guess we could set you up somewhere for the night, so nobody finds you... or, well, we don't. The caravan's mostly leaving for good, but not all of 'em are gonna stay gone, and if they find out I lied to their faces..."

Nick chews on his cheek to keep from rambling on, but the truth is that he doesn't want to lie if he can help it. It wouldn't be right.

"If I stay, they'll kill me," John counters, pretty compellingly all things considered.

"That... might happen, yeah," Nick admits reluctantly. "I mean, not if I can help it, but I don't know what kind of people are gonna show up. Maybe they're the reasonable type."

Sighing heavily, John scrubs a hand heavily over his eyes. Nick is weirdly reminded of Kim in the middle of an argument about classic movie plot points. "I think you overestimate the average person."

"Hey, I'm an average person, and I take offense to that."

John scowls at Nick for a moment, and Nick is again reminded of Kim mid-argument. "No, Nick. You're not."

Nick... doesn't know how to respond to that. "Uh, okay, well," he says, stalling out.

John runs his hand from his eyes back through his hair. "Whatever you think is best," John says at last. He almost doesn't seem to realize it when he says, "I trust you."

"Oh," Nick says. He wants to say more, probably should say more, but he can't think of anything to say. "Well, uh, that's good, I guess. I could still use your help, uh, figuring out the logistics." He points his thumb back over his shoulder and asks, "You, uh, want some coffee? 'Cos I need some."

John huffs. "Yeah," he sighs, knowing full well that he doesn't have much of a choice. "Sure."

It's obvious from the beginning that hiding John isn't going to work. Nick word-vomits about how uncomfortable the idea makes him for a solid two minutes, only to receive a few short agreements from John that are barely better than noncommittal grunts. From the start, John is nervous and uncomfortable, the coffee doing nothing to ease his anxious jitters, but at least Nick can talk out a plan with him without feeling like he's hurling words at a brick wall.

By the time the sun has reached vaguely nine-AM, they've decided that they can't simply drop the news like a bomb, and they know that John is going to hide out in the hangar until Nick decides it's time to fess up. It's a bare-bones plan that has no consideration for logistics, but at least when Kim wakes up, they'll have something to offer other than worryingly asking for her help.

Kim comes downstairs without Carmina, who's probably happy to sleep in for another half-hour or so before the sun nails her in the face and forces her out of bed for good. Kim looks like she barely slept, but she smiles warmly at Nick when she sees him, and groans thankfully when he gets up to get her a cup of coffee.

"So," she asks after she gets a cup of coffee, "What's the plan?"

Nick wouldn't call it a "plan" so much as a "vague idea," but he explains the thought-process anyway. John, who has already heard everything Nick has to say about stowing John away until the "right time" occurs, excuses himself with some half-assed excuse about cleaning the fire pit, ducking out back to probably pace around until he collapses under his own discomfort. Nick can't blame him, really; they're hanging his entire life on the end of a branch labeled "going with Nick's gut," after all.

"What exactly is going to make it the right time ?" Kim asks.

"Well... I guess once we know everyone is here. After we figure out just how badly they might react. If they're real aggressive about it, we can always just... wait until Sharky and Hurk come back, and tell them."

"Yeah, I don't think either of them are going to be happy to know we hid John from them." She sighs, adding reluctantly, "I guess it's a good back-up plan. In case things go really badly from the start."

"God," Nick sighs, draining his cup of coffee, "I hope this doesn't blow up in our faces."

There are footsteps on the front porch, followed by a knock on the door. The two of them freeze, staring at the door for a hot minute until a recognizable voice calls from the other side: "Nick? Kim?"

"Jerome?" Nick calls, pushing himself up from his seat and heading to the door.

At first, he only opens the door a crack, enough to check that Jerome is on his own. When he's pretty sure the caravan as a whole hasn't shown up, he opens the door wide enough to block the entrance with his body.

"What are you doing here?" Nick asks. "The caravan can't be coming through already."

"No," Jerome replies. He looks winded, sweaty and dirty from what looks like a long walk. Nick hopes he didn't come all the way from town by himself on foot — that's more risk than it's worth, with all the wild animals out there. "They won't be here for hours yet. But I... I couldn't sleep. I had to get here before them."

"Jesus, why ?"

It takes Jerome a moment to find the words, but as soon as he gathers the strength, he blurts them out before he loses his nerve. "There has to be something I can do to convince you not to throw everything away like this. Your family has been vital to the county, and I cannot let you ruin your lives when we need to stay together the most ! You're going to turn everyone against you! A monster like John Seed as no right , asking you to risk your family like this!"

Jerome looks to Nick for some kind of reaction, deflating when he doesn't see what he wants. "He cannot be worth it," he finishes miserably.

"Hey, now," Nick says, unable to help sounding offended. He hopes Jerome doesn't take it the wrong way, but from the scandalized look on his face, he most certainly has. "I know what I'm doing, okay?" he amends, feeling a little bad for lying.

A hand touches his back, and so Nick opens the door wide to accommodate Kim standing next to him. "Jerome," she says gently, as though she hadn't heard his outburst a moment ago, "Why don't you come in and have some coffee?"

"This isn't a social visit," he says, startled.

"You can still have a cup of coffee," Kim replies, nudging Nick out of the way. "Come in so we can talk."

Kim takes point from there, leaving Nick to shut the door while she brings Jerome to the table and has him sit, coffee already poured for him. With the living room cleaned up and Jerome sitting at close to his usual spot at the table, Nick finds himself transported backward in time. For a second, maybe even less than that, Nick can see the house the way it used to be — the way it might've been, if maybe they had been less wrapped up in the cult bullshit and more worried about the disquieting news coming in from outside their small ecosystem.

The moment passes, and Nick is still in this uncomfortable situation with a house that's falling down around him. Figures that he can't enjoy the fantasy for even a moment.

Nick mostly keeps to himself, hovering near the support beam while Kim does her best to explain the situation with John to an increasingly upset-looking Jerome. She rehashes the stuff he already knows, about how Nick found him, and the ultimatum that's kept him sheltered and fed for more than half a year now. She even mentions some of the work John's done for them, although she doesn't go into much detail. After all, not many people are going to be impressed by John sorting nails and repairing fences.

What she does focus on is John's reaction to their demands. The way he'd agree to anything, working himself well past the point of exhaustion, falling into mute obedience — Kim tells Jerome everything, listing his strange, unsettling habits like a worried mother talking to a pediatrician. He doesn't sleep. He talks to himself, struggles to focus past the things that have consumed his mind. She's worried about it, and what it means about his time underground. She's seen how people break. Despite everything, she thinks he sincerely is trying, but he won't open up and she can't help but worry that it might cause more problems down the line.

Nick doesn't know how comfortable he can be, listening to Kim discuss John's progress like a teacher talking about a troubled student. He manages to stick it out for a few minutes, but when Kim starts talking about Joseph, and the trembling wreck his appearance had turned John into, he finds himself making a measured retreat for the backyard. Somebody ought to tell John that Jerome has come by, right? And that somebody might as well be Nick, who can't stand to hear Kim worry about John goddamn Seed for another minute.

There isn't much to do in the backyard. Most of the fence is in place by now, and the debris has been pulled around back of the hangar, leaving the yard an empty wash of dirt tamped down by their daily movement. Even the fire pit has been cleaned up, thanks to Carmina taking her chores seriously yesterday. If John had come out here to try and find something to distract him, he's going to be hard-pressed.

For his part, John has taken up a spot by the planters. Kim and Carmina have planted some soy beans in the second planter, but they haven't taken off yet and none of them are sure they will. In the meantime, John plucks out some errant weeds, careful not to disturb the few sprouts that seem to have taken root.

"Hey," Nick says.

John barely looks Nick's way at the greeting. "I thought I heard something," he says instead, which at the very least saves Nick an awkward segue.

"Uh, yeah." He scratches the back of his head. "Jerome's just inside. I thought you'd want a head's up. The caravan shouldn't be here for a while, though. A couple of hours, anyway."

John swallows heavily. "That isn't much time."

Nick nods, looking around the backyard to avoid long eye-contact with John. "Not like we'd have anything to do if it were further away," he points out. "Things here are about as good as they're gonna get."

"It won't be enough." John fixes Nick with a dark look, one that reminds Nick that John's list of past transgressions is miles-long. "This isn't going to be enough for them."

"I guess you'd be the expert on repentance, huh?" Nick knows it's kind of a dig, but at least that ugly look on John's face is replaced by one that's more simply offended. "Look, I know you don't think we... punish you enough around here or whatever, but..."

"Don't say it like that ," John groans miserably.

"Hey, the point stands whether or not I say it! Just — trust us, okay?"

John shakes his head. He doesn't seem willing to admit to it again again, but that's okay. Nick knows he's got John's trust, even if it's been given mostly against John's better judgment. Considering this is the same guy who thinks Nick should have left a few prominent scars to convince strangers of his atonement, maybe Nick doesn't care so much about his judgment here.

"They won't be satisfied," John mutters.

"Maybe that's just your dissatisfaction talking. Most everyone around here are good, decent people, even after everything they've been through. Anyone who thinks we didn't beat you enough is better off getting the hell out of my county. We don't have time for that kind of shit around here."

John is quiet for a bit after Nick's outburst. Nick's not surprised, since John seems incapable of understanding Nick's pacifism, but at least he isn't immediately refuting everything on principle alone anymore.

"I need it to be enough," John finally says hoarsely. "I can't have all of this be for nothing. I can't ."

For once, Nick doesn't bother to stop his knee-jerk reassurances — John looks like he could probably use them. "Even if nobody else is convinced, uh... you should know, we do believe you. Sort of," he clarifies hastily as John casts a horrified look at him, "At least, I don't think you're bullshitting me right now."

John swallows thickly and nods. Words don't seem part of his acceptance, but that's all right, Nick doesn't need them.

The back porch creaks unhappily behind Nick, who turns to find Kim and Jerome standing there. John sees them too, half-rising to his feet before seeming to think better of it and sitting heavily back down on the planter.

"John," Jerome says. He doesn't sound happy, but at least he doesn't sound like he's about to chuck a Molotov in John's face.

"...Pastor Jerome," John responds, looking nauseous.

Jerome steps off of the porch. "We have some things to discuss."

Instinctively, John's hand reaches up, as if to stop Nick from abandoning him, but he aborts the gesture quickly, digging his fingers into the tire treads instead.

"...You're right," John admits. Even though he isn't trying to stop Nick from leaving physically, he looks like he absolutely does not want to be alone around Jerome. Unfortunately, Jerome's expression tells Nick that whatever words he has to share with John, they are private, and they're just going to make Nick wish he'd never heard them.

"It's gonna be fine," Nick tells him. He mostly believes it, too.

The front of the house has mostly been left to rot, which had been fine when Nick wasn't expecting a half-dozen cars to show up in his drive. With John and Jerome busy out back and Kim getting Carmina prepared for company, Nick is left alone to clean up the tumbleweeds that have made their home against the dilapidated remains of chain-link fencing. He could probably leave it — after all, nobody is expecting perfection these days — but somehow he can't bring himself to leave a poor first impression. What John said must have gotten to him, because here he is, looking over a patch of dirt and trying to see how he can make it seem like enough . Proof that he knew what he was doing when he saved John, proof that he knows what he's doing now, trusting the guy with his reputation and that of his family.

Unfortunately, there's not much to save in the front yard, and Nick's bottle of weed-killer is six-years expired and empty to boot. They're all just going to have to work with what they've got.

Carmina comes out at some point to help, mostly by distracting Nick with lots of questions. Are there going to be kids coming? Is Grace going to show up too? Can she trade The Wizard of Oz for another book? Will they mind that John is here? Shouldn't he be hiding? What if Grace does show up, too? Is she going to be okay?

"Honey, I don't know," Nick replies to most of it. Thankfully, he taught her early on that adults saying "I don't know" is actually a good thing — mostly because Nick says it too much to have his daughter think he's being dumb.

"All I know is that we're gonna do our best to be hospitable," he clarifies, because that's a lesson Carmina still hasn't learned anything about. "This is the first big caravan of the year. People are gonna be passing through a lot more as things get back to normal, and they'll always be a grab-bag. Uh, that means it'll be a surprise, what kinda people will come through."

"So there could be kids?" Carmina asks hopefully.

"Sure," Nick smiles. "Kids, dogs, friendly old ladies who'll pinch your cheeks too hard. All sorts of people. But this one is... extra important, you know?"

"Because of John?" Carmina asks. "That's what mom said."

Nick sighs. "Yep," he says, "Because of John." Maybe that's a little harsh, but it's true. Still, Nick tries to sound less exasperated when he continues. "Some of the people coming through probably won't be happy to see him. That's why Pastor Jerome is talking to him now — to see if he can help."

"I thought Jerome didn't like John," Carmina replies.

"Nobody likes John," Nick clarifies. "That doesn't mean we aren't gonna try to help him out."

" Why ? If nobody likes him..."

Nick sighs, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Because it's the right thing to do, Carmina. If somebody needs help, you oughta help them if you can. You know, even before the bombs, everyone out here relied on each other when things got tough. It might not be much, but that's one thing I'm not gonna give up on." He looks around the yard, mostly to avoid his daughter's eye-contact, but eventually, he offers her a smile. "You get it, right?"

"Sure," Carmina says, most likely not getting it at all.

It's not that much longer before the first car shows up. The dark blue sedan that rolls down their drive has heavily patched tires and a crack through the windshield, but the engine sounds plenty capable of a long drive. A mattress and a wardrobe box are strapped to the roof of the car with ropes, and the back seat is full of boxes, but Nick sure hopes they have more supplies on hand than what he sees.

"Go tell your mom," Nick tells Carmina, who nods and jogs off to warn everyone that it's show time.

Nick guides the car around a deep crack in the drive, and he's privately relieved to barely recognize either of the people in the car. The couple that climbs out is passingly familiar — Nick has a clear vision of the man at Lorna's, for some reason — and they seem excited to see Nick, but honestly, he couldn't name them if he tried.

"I sure hope Jerome sent word we were coming," the lady driving says after she dusts herself off. She's got her hair shaved up short, and a long welted scar runs from her temple to her nose. Nick remembers her, minus the scar, but he can't remember her name. Joan, maybe? Georgia? Something like that...

"That he did!" Nick offers her a friendly smile, gesturing towards the house. "We got everything all set up if you wanna make yourselves at home. Uh, he didn't tell us how many were coming, so I dunno if we got enough space, but..."

The guy, whose name Nick definitely doesn't remember, waves a hand in an attempt to ease Nick's worries. "Don't worry, it's just a couple of cars. Us, a couple guys who found a working Honda, and the Halls. They've got a big-ass truck, though, and a trailer, so they might need help with that ditch."

Kim comes around from the back before Nick needs to come up with more small talk. Pleasantly surprised as she recognizes their guests, she calls, "Julia, is that you?"

"Kim!" Julia exclaims, going in for a hug that Kim is glad to give. "It's so good to see you again!"

With the ice successfully broken and Kim taking point on hosting duties, Nick slowly feels himself start to relax back into the role himself. Julia and Clark are long-time Hope County residents, and they seem just as happy to have a brief return to normalcy as Nick is to indulge in it, so for the next few minutes, the conversation stays light and upbeat.

Clark can't give them a head-count, but he talks about the Hall family and their plan to head as far west as possible, implying the whole time that most people found the idea to be too risky to actually take on. When Carmina comes downstairs only to be disheartened by the lack of kids around, Julia is quick to reassure her that the Halls have a boy about her age. It's probably that news that keeps Carmina docile as Julia proceeds to fawn over how big she is.

Sure enough, the next car to come in is a large, beat-up F-150, the bed's sideboards painted with faded apple orchard logos. The family Clark and Julia mentioned are sitting up front in the cab, while three more people take up space in the bed. Nick helps them down the drive, careful of the small trailer they've got with them. The whole time, Carmina is waiting behind him impatiently.

Before Nick can join Kim in introducing Carmina to one of the few kids her age in the area, he's distracted by the third car rolling into the yard. The Honda is another four-door, although it looks more comfortable in the back than Julia and Clark's car, with or without the boxes. Nick catches sight of a toddler sitting on a woman's lap, which will probably bum Carmina out, but at least she can get some practice in with babies.

The headcount comes to ten people, minus kids, which is a lot less than Nick's worst fears expected. What's more, they all seem like reasonable people. The problem, though, is that Jerome definitely mentioned Hurk and Sharky tagging along, and Nick doesn't know how many people might be riding with them. Plus, they've been openly experimenting with the Mad Max raider thing, and Nick isn't 100% sure just how hard they're leaning into it. Escorting a caravan full of families with minimal weapons doesn't exactly scream cutthroat bastards , but the worry sticks to the back of Nick's mind.

Things are calm for the next hour or two. The three people who came with the truck all seem eager to keep moving at first, but they slowly relax once they're seated inside at the dinner table. With a couple of the windows unboarded and the back porch fully open, the inside of the house is filled with light. They had to get rid of the couch when they unburied it, but now Nick wishes they had more seating in here.

"The place looks great, right?" Julia asks one of the girls at the table. Neither of them have ever been here, Nick doesn't think, but they play along.

"Most of the houses collapsed," Katrina comments. She's the most jittery out of the three sitting at the table, and so far Nick only knows that she's from California and has been wanting to get back there since the bombs fell. "You guys got lucky."

"Things are way better once you get out of close-range areas like this," the girl sitting beside Katrina says. She calls herself Merit, and it's clear from her worn-out gear and her heavy goggle-lines that she's been traveling for a while. Nick wonders if she just happened upon the caravan, or if she helped put it together. "Some towns barely look any different."

"It took a lot of hard work to clean it up," Nick offers awkwardly. "You should've seen how much dirt we had to move."

It's weird, taking credit for John's work. Nick takes an immediate dislike to it. He would look to the third person at the table, a gruff and quiet man named Everett, for some kind of distraction, but the guy doesn't seem interested in conversation.

"You think Helena is going to be better than this?" Katrina asks Merit.

"Oh, hell yeah," she says.

As soon as Merit launches into hypothesizing what the next towns might be like, Nick makes a quick exit for the back porch. Carmina and the Hall kid — Liam, Nick's pretty sure — are drawing big shapes out in the dirt with sticks, gossiping as best they can without any daycare socialization to help them. Kim seems satisfied with it, anyway — enough that she can dedicate most of her focus on trading gardening tips and general life-hacks with the two other mothers in the group. Jerome rejoins the group for a few minutes, but after he drifts briefly through the conversations, he seems to disappear again. Nick isn't sure if that's a good sign or not, but he's gonna have to trust himself while he flies blind for a bit.

Nick doesn't know which is louder on Hurk's arrival: the three roaring motorcycle engines, or the cacophony of black metal that comes with them. It's a whole lot of presentation for three guys on some busted old Harleys, but it sure does the trick of drawing everyone's attention. By the time they rumble down the drive, everyone has congregated to the front of the house, just in time to witness an almost coordinated stop beside the truck.

The music blares from an old stereo on the back of one of the bikes, so killing the engines doesn't do anything to stop it. He doesn't take off his helmet, but Nick recognizes Hurk swearing a blue-streak as he tries to shut the music off with as little noticeable fanfare as possible.

"Party train's in town, bitches!" he hollers, as if they aren't watching him beat up a cassette player in real-time.

The two guys with Hurk take off their helmets, and Nick immediately pegs them for ex-cultists. There's something about the way they look at the house, as if the last time they saw it they were busting in the doors at John's command. One of them, nearly as big as Hurk, the only hair on his head his long, untamed beard, looks like he never quite came off the Bliss, his eyes glassy and vacant. The other fills out their stereotypical raiders unit with his wild locs and big, unhinged smile, giving off real wild-card vibes in a pack already chock full of Jokers.

Neither of them are Sharky, which is... weird. Truthfully, seeing Hurk without his cousin is a little jarring — after all, they've been together since the world ended.

Hurk must notice him looking around because he's quick to put any worries to rest. "Sharky's gonna show eventually," he says. "Likes taking the road less traveled, y'know? Since all the roads these days aren't traveled, though, he's gotta get real weird with it." He waves a hand as though swatting away a troublesome fly. "You'll hear him before you see him."

It doesn't take long for that to backfire spectacularly in Nick's face. Not three minutes later, Nick catches the distant roar of an ATV somewhere out in the trees. He isn't the only one; pretty much everybody else swivels to nervously eye the woods until Sharky's caterwauling eases their deeply ingrained flight instincts. Like before, the entire crowd migrates towards the noise, following it into the backyard.

Nick tries not to worry about it as Sharky comes up from the wrong side of the hangar. After all, Sharky's probably gonna drive right by the hangar without so much as a second glance, and anyway, Jerome is there to run interference if things go south. Sharky's mellowed out since the apocalypse — surely he'd listen to reason. Right?

It's all Nick can think about while he and Sonny Hall talk about the potential hazards on their way out. He almost convinces himself that things are going to be fine by the time the ATV engine cuts off, writing it off as nothing more than a random habit of Sharky's to park in the most inconvenient places.

There's no way to rationalize the terrible crash from the hangar, followed by Sharky's blood-curdling holler of, " What the fuck !"

Sharky himself rushes from the hanger via the utility door, practically spilling out into the dirt wash between the two buildings. He rushes towards them with his mouth agape and his face pale from shock; he pulls up short as he catches Nick visibly flailing from his discovery.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck John Seed is doing in your fucking hangar ?" he asks, voice cracking as it fails to contain all of his outrage.

Nick opens his mouth to say something, anything to ease the blow that's coming, but Hurk cuts him off at the head. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he scoffs loudly, waving a dismissive middle finger in Sharky's direction. "Do you know how fuckin' nuts you sound right now?"

Sharky's face turns beet red, fists clenching as he locks eyes with Nick for a brief, furious second before about-facing for the hangar. His betrayal and fury sting like a bitch.

"Sharky," Nick calls, but the guy is definitely not listening to him right now. He looks where Kim is standing, her hand tight on Carmina's shoulder, but she's just as lost as he is. They'd planned to segue into this, for God's sake! This isn't anywhere near what they planned!

Shit. Nick can't let Sharky be the first one to reach the hangar. He needs to get in front of this, before everyone swings into mob mentality and tears John to pieces. As he jogs in Sharky's furious wake, he can feel the group closing in behind him, fear and curiosity and utter disbelief drawing the whole goddamn posse down at once.

Sharky flings open the door and disappears into the hangar. Jerome tries to calm him down, urging him to hold on, but it does nothing to slow the guy down. Nick reaches the hangar in time for Sharky to shove John through the door, knocking him to the dirt in front of Nick's feet.

"Jesus Christ !" someone shouts from behind him. Nick just knew that haircut was going to get them into trouble — as if John's tattooed arms aren't bare and visible to the crowd.

"What the fuck is this shit!" Sharky shouts as he clears the door.

John remains on his knees, keeping his eyes fixed on the dirt beneath him. A flurry of anxious chatter goes up around Nick, who finds himself suddenly standing in a strange no man's land between John and the crowd he'd been part of just a minute before. It's a terrible feeling, watching everyone pull back from him like he's got some kind of disease or something.

Nick fumbles with the words that he wants to say, unable to have practiced for this awful scenario. "I, uh, can explain," he says.

"You'd better ," one of Hurk's riders shouts.

"Look, okay, so..."

Nick is positive they aren't going to like the truth, but it's all he has to offer them. They never got a chance to see John lying in the brush like a wasted corpse — all they see now is the end result of all of Nick and Kim's hard goddamn work, trying to find some kind of real human being under all of the rot. He never should have kept John a secret — he should have forced everybody else to look at the work the three of them have had cut out for them, and then maybe they wouldn't be looking at him like he's some kind of monster for admitting that John had just been too sick, too close to death already, for Nick to bring himself to pull the trigger.

"It wouldn't have been right to leave him there," he sighs.

"You should have put a bullet between his eyes!" Katrina shouts at him.

"Don't you think I considered that?" Nick snaps. "It was the first thing I thought!"

"Then why the fuck didn't you?"

He throws his hands up, feeling crazy for having to shout, "Because I didn't want to !" He's been thrown into some horrible alternate universe where people don't think twice about shooting first and never asking questions. "I've never wanted to kill anybody ! I didn't want to back then, and I sure as hell don't want to start murdering people now ! And I couldn't just — I needed to know how he'd survived, if maybe Dep had..."

"Don't finish that sentence," Sharky warns.

"Or what ? You think that they would've done it differently?" Nick points at John, who sits with his head bowed. "I found this sorry bastard struggling to breathe in the dirt! You tell me what Rook would've done differently if John hadn't given them a good damn reason to pull the trigger!"

"A reason ?" Sharky spits in disbelief.

" Yeah , a fucking reason! I'm not a goddamn murderer, Sharky, and that's what it would've been!" He takes a breath, desperate to keep his cool. "We gave him an ultimatum," he continues. "He could stay with us if he did everything we said, if he swore off of the cult — and he did. He has, I mean. He isn't with the Peggies, he isn't with Joseph —"

"Yeah, until that sonuvabitch shows up and takes him back!"

"Joseph can try ." Nick scowls, glancing briefly down at John, who still hasn't moved, not even to look his accusers in the eye. "C'mon, John. Tell them."

"Like I'm gonna believe a word that fucking maniac says!"

John swallows. But for whatever reason, he manages to find enough words to begin defending himself. "The Project was a mistake," he rasps. "It was a pointless endeavor from the start and somewhere inside I knew that."

Katrina surges forward as though she might burst through the crowd and personally beat John to a pulp. Merit's hand on her arm is the only thing that keeps her from doing it. "You fucking monster!" she howls.

"Yes," John replies. He doesn't look up, too scared to, but Nick knows he means it when he says, "I'm sorry."

"Fuck your apologies!"

Jerome, standing quietly in the doorway until now, steps forward. He doesn't quite kneel, but he reaches down to put a firm hand on John's shoulder. It's not a comforting gesture — if anything, Jerome is holding him in place.

"I know," John rasps. He lifts his head at last, revealing a fresh black-eye, which is no doubt Sharky's doing. It takes him a moment to find the words, but he's resigned himself to the mercy of the crowd, and he doesn't try to plead with them.

"There's no forgiveness for the things I've done. There's no... fixing it. I should have died. When Nick found me, I should have forced his hand, but I... couldn't."

"You had eight years to kill yourself," Everett points out grimly. "You should have done it then."

John swallows. "Yes," he says. "I really should have."

Nick can't help muttering an uncomfortable, " Hey ," but Jerome cuts him off just by looking at him. There's plenty of time to freak out about the suicide talk later, hopefully once John avoids being executed entirely.

"I was a coward," John says. The words come out with the force of a long-held confession. "I've always been a coward. It's why I joined Joseph when he found me and followed every word. It's why I listened to Nick when he told me to choose between being shot in the head or helping him. Everything I've ever done has been — just mindless self-preservation."

John swallows. Nick isn't sure who he's looking to, exactly, but he speaks to one person in particular as he says, "I tried to tear my sins out of you to save myself. Manual labor, mending fences — it's never going to be enough to make up for that."

"You bet it isn't," Everett says.

"You probably have enough skin for us to return the favor," Katrina says. Nick doesn't know if she's carrying a weapon or not, but he's pretty sure he'll be the only one to object if she pulls one on John now.

"Hey, now," Nick interjects, unable to help himself and absolutely unwilling to stop himself this time around. "We're better than that."

"Fuck you! You keep him around like a pet farm-hand on land that could keep us all safe and fed, forcing us to go fend for ourselves while you harbor a goddamn monster under your roof!" She points accusingly at the house. "Yeah, real nice place, you fucking traitor !"

"Who do you think we made fix everything !" Nick exclaims, throwing his arms wide. "The only reason we've got all this usable land is because of John, goddamn it! And you all want to leave. You said so yourself, you're not even from here! If you think you can just roll onto my property and act entitled to it, I'll teach you the same goddamn lesson I taught those Peggies nine years ago!"

"More like cult property," some jackass says, as though shouting something loudly enough makes it true. Nick scans the crowd for the culprit, but there are honestly too many guilty faces to choose from.

"Eden's Gate is dead," John says, as if somehow he's the person to bring reason and civility back into the conversation. "Whatever Joseph thinks he's doing now, it's a crippled organization of people more desperate than you. There aren't enough believers left to allow the Project to become a threat. Even if he wanted it, he could never take this property."

"As if I would believe you ."

"You don't have to believe me," John replies, shrugging off the disbelief. "It's true either way. I know what the Deputy did to the bunkers. The most faithful were being held there — if they weren't destroyed with the gates, then the Collapse would have left them feeling like sinners. And I know what eight years of isolation away from Joseph can do to a person's faith. He'll never have the numbers he wanted, much less the numbers he had before the Collapse."

Nick knows that most of the people standing here are never going to forgive him. They're never going to forgive John, either, and one day they might come back expecting the worst from Nick's bad decision. But at least for now, John's honesty seems true enough to reassure the best of them. Everett hasn't left to get his gun yet, anyway, and Katrina hasn't tried to burst through the crowd and flay John alive. That's something, anyway, right?

"What if you're wrong?" Sharky asks. He still looks pissed, but his arms are crossed defensively over his chest and he doesn't look willing to start a fight right now. "Not saying I believe you," he adds, just in case anyone had any doubts. "But if I did ."

John doesn't hesitate. "If I am, kill him. Of course, his followers will martyr him, so you'll have to kill them as well." He clenches his jaw for a moment, as though he doesn't want to say it, and then admits, "Anyone who would follow Joseph now has to be completely devoted to him. They'll take any outside aggression as a reason to attack. If you move on Joseph, you'll have to be willing to exterminate the whole group."

"That sounds like a whole lotta work," Hurk points out pragmatically.

"Sure sounds like you're telling us to let Joseph do whatever he wants," one of his biker pals adds. It's also a pragmatic observation, but Nick has no doubt it's meant as an accusation. "We show up here and find out John Seed is still alive, and he's telling us to just leave it alone , and you want us to believe you're not part of all of it?"

Nick doesn't realize at first that the guy is talking to him . "Are you kidding me?" Nick asks. "Are you forgetting who shot this sorry fuck out of the sky? He tried to rip the pride right outta me —"

"And yet here you are, defending him!"

"Of course I'm defending him! Nobody else is gonna do it!"

With his blood about ready to boil, it's a good thing that Kim arrives before Nick says something stupid. He's not sure when she rejoined the group, but now she cuts in front of the strangers in their home, resting a hand on his shoulder as she steps up beside him. He grabs it immediately, maybe a little too tightly, but he can't afford to lose his cool any more than he already has.

"I know, it's a lot to handle," she says. "It's been a lot for us, too. But Nick is telling you all the truth. It has nothing to do with the cult. We aren't being manipulated, and we aren't trying to betray anyone. Nick found him when he needed help, and we helped him. It's as simple as that."

She offers them an apologetic smile. "Things after the bombs have been hard on all of us. But the past still haunts me. It's been almost ten years and I still have nightmares about it. I want this world to be better than the last one, but there's still so much of me left back there. When Nick found John, I thought — I thought we might not be done, honestly. I felt the same way you all feel now. But then I thought, maybe if somebody like John could change, then maybe that meant better for me. For all of us."

Hurk, frowning heavily, crosses his arms over his chest as Sharky slowly uncrosses his. "You really wanna put that much hope on that guy?" he asks.

"Well — yes," Kim admits. "I know that maybe it doesn't seem like enough — I know it doesn't seem like enough to him — but John has been trying. And I can't afford to give up on anybody who wants to be better than the person they were."

Nick realizes that Clark has disappeared from the group. The family from the Honda is nowhere to be seen either; Mary Hall is standing at the back porch with her hands on her son's shoulders while Carmina stands next to them.

For a moment, the silence between the two sides seems insurmountable, and Nick worries that they might have to be ready to move or otherwise defend their home from an angry mob. But eventually, after a few tortuously long seconds have gone by, Sonny Hall comes to a decision.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter what happens in Hope County anymore," he says, scratching his chin. "Only time will tell if we'll have to deal with Eden's Gate in California. Still... Might be best if we get moving sooner, all things considered."

"Guess we're getting out while the getting's good," Merit tells Katrina, who looks like she still wants to pick a fight, even with a wide-open escape at her back. "Don't worry, nothing from this podunk piece of shit is gonna affect anything, ever!"

Katrina stares at John like she's memorizing a mortal enemy. "You better hope not," she tells him, although she looks at Nick when she says it.

Sharky doesn't move as the group begins to retreat, leaving Hurk to awkwardly stop some feet behind and wait for him. He stares at Nick like he doesn't recognize the ugly thing he sees standing there.

"It was a real low blow, bringing the deputy into this," he says. "You know that."

For the first time today, Nick feels truly guilty. True or not, throwing anything Rook-related in Sharky's face is definitely a low blow. "Yeah," he says. "I shouldn't have done that."

Deflating at Nick's apology, Sharky scowls in John's direction before eyeballing the Ryes. "Lucky for you, I like Kim," he says at last, sniffing dismissively. "Otherwise, we'd have a real problem here."

"Thank you, Sharky," Kim replies. "Be safe, okay?"

Nodding reluctantly, Sharky turns to join his and Hurk's small gang. Nick watches them all go, unable to decide whether or not that was the best possible outcome, or simply the least bloodthirsty. He can't help but worry who they're going to tell what , but at this point, it's out of his hands.

"I'll go get Carmina," Kim says after a brief silence. "It might be better if they don't see us before they leave."

"I'll do it," Jerome says. He breaks away somewhat guiltily, but Nick can tell that he wishes he could join the caravan right now and get as far away from this mess as possible. Hell, after the way things went today, he still might try.

It's only once Jerome is gone that John speaks, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. "It's not really over," he says, "It can't be."

"Well, we'll have to go through that a couple hundred more times," Nick points out, "But... I mean, yeah. It's over. Sorry I wouldn't let them flog you or anything."

It's probably too early to joke, but he manages to draw a sigh from John, which is better than nothing. He's saved from having to respond as Carmina jogs across the yard, bouncing from foot to foot once she comes to an antsy stop in front of them.

"Is everything okay?" she asks. "They're all leaving!"

"Everything is fine," Kim tells her. "They want to get some distance before night-fall, that's all. Did you have any luck trading with Liam?"

Kim distracts Carmina from the escaping caravan by talking about her new book, as well as some potential ways to find new reading material. Nick and John both remain in the same spots that they'd defended themselves from, until the last car rumbles out of the drive and Jerome reappears on the back porch.

"What now?" John asks.

"I dunno," Nick replies. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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cilliansaccent · 4 years

Text

The Peaky Designer - Cillian Fanfic, Chapter 6

Hello, welcome back. Below is the next instalment of my fanfiction!

Leave a like or a comment if you liked it, or if I can do anything better! Please, it would mean the world and to understand if anyone is enjoying my writing. Also, sharing/reblogging would be even better.

PLEASE READ:

I will not be including Cillian’s family as it’s kinda weird since he has children lmao. Just a mention of his parents and a previous lover.

I will indicate in a chapter if there is smut in the beginning and before the actual scene!!

I will add trigger warnings if there is any!!

There is a variety of levels of swearing during a chapter, I will not hold back, everyone swears.

The timestamp for the Fic is now 2016 and onwards!!

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Background: Gabrijela Babic is a Croatian girl from Sydney, Australia. She is born in the year 1991 on the 24th of December. She studies a Fashion degree in a University with a major in Game Design as well. Her teacher in the fashion designer class managed to nail an Internship on the set of Peaky Blinders with the shows very own Costume Designer, Allison McCosh. There, she travels to London for under a year to learn how to be one, working alongside the actors as well the man she admires, Cillian Murphy. But, her platonic feelings for the man begins to grow into something more, and she wonders whether she should pursue them or let him go for fear of her strict parents and her three older brothers…

Characters:

Swantje Paulina as Gabrijela Babic (swalina on Instagram)

Cillian Murphy

Word Count: 2,507

!!Warnings!!: Smut at the end.

Date: March 2016

Chapter Name: It’s Only a One Night Thing

Brief Chapter Outline: Gabrijela heads out for a birthday party with Logan before it ends on a very pleasurable note...

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From Wednesday onwards, it was crazy. She had never worked so fast nor so busy. Her work back at home she was a full-time sales assistant in a lingerie store, and it wasn't as busy like how she worked here.

To be honest, she wasn't sure if she was cut out for this type of stressful work. She was exhausted by the afternoon, and she hadn't been able to meet with Cillian much as filming became more intense and scenes had to be adjusted or changed.

Lunchtime began to be whenever you had the chance to stop and eat, so she had alway's prepared herself the morning coming in. Though Logan managed to catch her during her breaks and they hung out a lot, even after when the day was over she had invited him into her apartment and started on watching Supernatural.

It was quite nice, being with Logan. They watched well into the night, and both had fallen asleep on the couch with empty bowls from the chips or popcorn she had made for them. Gabrijela felt comfortable around the man, and they didn't shy away from talking about their desires and their life achievements.

They both had the same issues of trying to impress their strict as hell parents and their decisions on what to do with their life would be a forever damnation, according to Logan's mother and father.

She giggled at that, and he as well.

Came Friday evening, Gabrijela was allowed to go home early. But she wanted to find Cillian before she left to see how he was going.

He was walking off set and she caught his arm gently, "Hi!" She smiled.

"Hey, Gab. Long-time no sees," They moved out of the way.

"Indeed." She laughed softly, "I wanted to see how you were going." She asked.

"Good! Good, never better. But a tad little tired but I'm used to this." He said, pulling off his cap and tucking it into his coat's pocket.

Another reason why she hadn't seen him much was that they had moved to another city at some point during the week, and then it wasn't any time to talk to him.

"I see. But you're doing a fantastic job, Cillian." She nodded, eyes shining with admiration.

"Thank you. You seem like you are going somewhere?" He asked noticing the bag. Cillian had also felt sad he hadn't been able to catch up with her much nor see her, her presence always made him feel good and happy.

"Yeah. Allison let me off early today, said I deserved a bit of an early mark." She giggled. "I wanted to tell you that in case you got worried if I wasn't around later."

"Oh thank you for telling me that. Appreciate it." He also appreciated her kindness and her genuine self. She had always brought him coffee in the morning, or his favourite sandwich for later in the day. It was the little things she did for him that made him like her even more.

"But call me later, okay?" She gripped his gloved hand.

"Always. Hey, before you go, did you want to go to dinner tomorrow maybe? Or we could go to a gig or..." He offered as he trailed off.

She pouted, "I'd love to but I'm going to Logan's birthday tomorrow night. How about Sunday?" She asked.

"Party? Huh, okay. Yeah, we can do Sunday then. I'll call you tomorrow again for the details." He said, "Where are you going for the party?"

"Uh, it's somewhere near Trafalgar Square it seems. I forgot the exact place." She shrugged.

"You be safe, hm? Don't want you getting into any trouble." He pulled her into a hug and she wrapped her arms around him.

He was so warm and smelled so fucking good. She couldn't help but bury her face into his neck a little. "I will, I promise." She murmured, he squeezed her gently.

They pulled away and she kissed his cheek lightly and turned to walk away.

Cillian placed a hand on his cheek, his smile growing. This girl was rubbing off on him and he couldn't help but become worried about her. He remembered what happened last time he took her out and he wasn't to close with the Logan boy she talked about. Or did he know about his circle.

But Cillian couldn't fret over her too much or it would seem like he was overpowering her. But he would keep an eye out on her.

Cillian headed off to get ready for the next scene.

Saturday Night...

Gabrijela had her hair in a high ponytail. Her chosen outfit for tonight was a black mini skirt with a black long sleeve mesh top with golden stars. She had a simple bra for it.

She was putting make-up on when her phone rang, she pressed the answer button without looking, "Hello?"

"Hey Gabrijela," Cillian replied.

"Oh hi, Cilly." She felt her heart jump. It always did when she talked to him.

"How are you?" He asked it sounded like he was driving somewhere.

"I'm alright. Getting ready." She said as she applied her eyeliner on.

"Oh that's right, you're going out tonight." He mused. "Excited?"

"I guess so. It's not my first time clubbing, but a first in London." She smiled as she concentrated on putting on her fake eyelashes.

"You sure you don't want me to come?" He kidded.

She let out a heavy sigh, "Cillian, I'm gonna punch you when I see you next."

"Joking! God, don't get so antsy." He mocked, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

"It's up to you if you want to come, it doesn't bother me. But I don't know about Logan." She said casually. She kinda hoped he would come.

"Nah. I'm gonna have a night into myself, have some red wine, listen to music and have some cheese." He said with relief. "Been a long week."

"It has. And you deserve it. Besides, we'll have tomorrow together. I can't wait to see Bath." She said with clear enthusiasm.

"Good. It's a beautiful town." He said, "You'll definitely love it."

She saw a message said that Logan was walking down, "Hey I gotta go. I have to get dressed." She said as she added finishing touches to her face.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, have fun." He said and hung up.

Gabrijela changed into her outfit, sprayed on her favourite Tommy Girl perfume and pulled up her thigh high heeled boots.

She grabbed her jacket and her sparkly bag and headed down when Logan called her he was here.

Logan was dressed in a casual but nice outfit, black jeans and a tucked-in blue with a mixture of a green, red and white floral patterned shirt. His black hair was combed back and curled at the nape of his neck.

He whistled when he saw Gabrijela, "Wow." He said as they embraced, "You are so fucking gorgeous."

She laughed, "Thanks man, you look dashing as well." She nodded as she checked him out as he did a little turn with wide arms.

"One sexy Scottish boy on the menu. Ready to mingle." He flashed a perfect smile.

She blushed and he called an Uber, a couple of minutes later they piled in and off they went to the club.

The club was underground and the music was electric, pumping a hard beat. People danced, some grinding against each other no matter who it was.

Just like home, she thought with a slight shake of her head. She was used to this type of things, as the majority of the young people in clubs, they're looking for a quick fuck.

Gabrijela had never had a 'quick fuck' with anyone, guy or girl. Just foreplay and that was where she drew the line. She couldn't think of someone being buried within her, especially when she had thoughts that drifted back to her ex.

Her parents still to this day didn't know the mental abuse she endured through the prick, not even her best friend nor her friends knew about it. Gab worked her way through the pain after the messy break-up, she took counsel on her own and in secret. It helped to ease off the shit of her shoulders, but still, she would remember the dark nights.

Silence was not the key but she didn't want to dwell on it now, or ever. She was a free girl and she would find someone who would love her as she was, appreciate her body and her emotions.

Sitting with the group of friends Logan had invited, the drinks began to slide through. She chatted and laughed with the ones around and even danced with the girls.

Tonight was good, she agreed, no one seemed to brush up against her or pester her. Everyone was in their own world and in their own groups, having the time of their life.

More drinks, shots, anything.

Then it was time to move on, the rules here were not as strict as in Australia so by midnight they had gone to four different pubs. Gabrijela had taken easy on the drinks but she could feel the alcohol messing with her head a little.

Logan had watched her all night and wouldn't leave her side. In their last pub of the night, they were all over each other. Their lips in a heated lock of tongue and teeth.

Cillian had been in the same club with a few of his mates, drinking and chatting about home. He had seen Gabrijela enter with the group, and had to watch her suck face with the damn Set Designer. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealously wash through him. He thought back to when he had his fingers inside her, the way her lips felt on his and the sounds he managed to drag out.

Now Logan would have to hear those very sounds, and Cillian did not like that.

But what could he do about it? He wasn't going to go there and break them up, for what? Because he was annoyed that Gabrijela may end up in bed with the boy and not him?

Logan's hand went up her skirt, and Cillian picked up that thrust of her chest. He knew the boy found her treasure.

Gabrijela pulled back and whispered something to him and his smirk grew as they got up. Logan parted ways with his group and left the pub with an arm around his- around Gabrijela. Cillian's heart squeezed.

She was young, and she was to be with someone her age. Someone who wasn't going to be an old man in a few years, who wouldn't be able to keep up with her needs.

But he couldn't help but feel jealous.

Back in the Apartment...

They laid on the bed, Logan above her and holding her close as he touched her breasts and played with her pink, hard nipples.

Her soft moans filled the air and he kissed her neck, "Gabe." He murmured and helped her pull off his shirt.

Gabrijela admired the hard planes of his stomach, letting her fingers brush down his chiselled chest and to his belt buckle.

Was Logan going to be the one to break her drought of proper sex? She hoped so, he was like a Greek God of some sort.

Well, Scottish God.

She giggled, "Fuck you're so hot." She moaned as she undid his belt.

"And so are you." He murmured, his long fingers yanked off her top, and then her bra. Better access now.

"I want you." She moaned as his fingers flicked her nipples.

"I'm all yours, beautiful." He said as his jeans joined the clothing on the floor.

They helped each other undress whatever remaining clothing they had, and she was now laid on the bed, bare.

His dark blue eyes roved over her body, Gabrijela was not entirely skinny. She had some curve and thickness to her body. But it made her all the most beautiful.

Gab looked down his god-like body and the huge, thick cock that wanted some attention. "Lay on your back." She said to him.

He nodded and did so as she moved between his legs. With a hand, she gripped him, with her other she began to touch herself.

"Oh... Gab..." He sucked in a breath as she began to pump him slowly. She gripped him tight enough that it felt like he was inside something. His eyes shot to what she was doing between her legs and he let out a loud groan.

She moved her hand faster, "Logan, you are so big. Holy fuck." She pushed two fingers in herself and moaned.

"Mhm. I hope I can fit in ya." He chuckled breathlessly.

She smiled, "Of course you will." She said, "But I want you to cum first when I do this." She leaned down and took him into her mouth.

She sucked lightly on his head and she saw his fingers curl into her bedsheets. She began to take him right to the base. He was deep in her throat.

"Holy fuck." He gasped, "No one- Oh fuck!" He couldn't talk as she bobbed her head.

Her mouth was warm and tight, and she took him like a pro. Logan was close already, he was sensitive when he was drunk.

Gabrijela fingered herself fast, moaning loudly around his shaft. She only pulled back to breathe before she went back to sucking him off. She went faster, eyes shut and for some reason she imagined Cillian.

Logan let out a cry, his hand in her hair as he came inside her mouth. His load was thick and heavy before she gagged and came as well.

She pulled back hastily, a bit of his cum leaking down her chin. "Logan." She pulled out her fingers and brought them to his lips so he could taste.

"I want to ride you now." She said, moving to straddle his hips.

"Ride me all night long." He said and held her hips.

But she had paused above him, his cock in her hand and poised to go in. Her heart hammered in her chest, she suddenly felt... Unsure. The whole situation wasn't right despite how clouded her mind was.

"Gabrijela?" Logan's gruff voice brought her back to reality, "You alright?"

She looked at him, concern was in his eyes. She could see he was not going to hurt her, there was no malice in his eyes. She could do this. She was going to do this. She can. Screw that fucker.

"Perfectly fine." She said with a dazzling smile and pushed him into her.

They both let out a moan as he sat up and wrapped his arms around her.

She did what she wanted to do and rode him all night with him finishing it off with him on top.

They both fell asleep in a tangle of arms and legs well into the early mornings.

#cillian murphy #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #fanfiction

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unproduciblesmackdown · 5 years

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@uberoll-oystercrackers late night (early morning?) posting here but this is super nice ty and also again retroactively thank you additionally for all the long replies & kind tags you give

like really yeah it’s like, on the one hand, it’s fairly sucky having to have this thing where im always jumping the gun on considering someone Maybe An Friend and then having to remind myself / be reminded of the fact that like no probably not, which is true and yet sucks, which is just how some stuff is!! like sometimes stuff just is Not Good and is not ever going to Not Hurt, despite the fact you can kinda get better at living with it. and like this one isnt a huge deal even tho the larger problem of when ur like, lonely &/or isolated is kind of a whole real deal……

like it’s strange having these contradictory problems with it…..like, Being Myself has never really just been something i can Naturally do, so even just trying to be nice is like oh lord am i being ~manipulative~, and im always too prone to treat interactions like ive got to placate the other person, and then also just like….not having amazing social skills anyways in the sense that i know a lot of times i come across ~off~ to people and can’t really do a lot about that, but also, i feel like i’m always overcompensating for like, enthusiasm and just the fact i like to Get Silly and maybe i’ll act too cool~n~collected or come off like im trying to be all Smart and Smarmy and like jeez no……it doesnt help that when i was younger i generally preferred interacting with adults and so probably was trying to come across as clever and when i was wanting someone to like me i’d be real nervous and try to go too hard in seeming the opposite lol……oh the legacy of the time i found out my mom’s childhood friend who was funny and cool to us thought i was bookish (true) but like also snobby or something lmao like ah jeez i probably made too many sarcastic jokes about things….but oh well i was just like 10-ish at the time.

anyways tho i feel like that still kicks in and when i get the sense someone is cool and it’d be cool if they thought i was cool too i’m like Well So Then i gotta PLAY it cool!! and then like oh no am i coming across as a jerk? or an trying-to-be-an-intellectual?? i always have a lot of thoughts and i do go off when its like, also tied in to Opinions of mine, so im like, oh no am i coming across as trying to tell someone i think they should think exactly this?? or if i try to Be Witty and Tell Jokes are they just coming off as snarky b/c i hope not especially since a lot of times my actual Lighthearted Snark gets read as “i hate this and think its dumb af” lol. ahhhh i just do not know!! like, i wanna sort of dial back my Warmth b/c i can get enthused fast and i have a tendency to get too attached to ppl too fast, which really only sucks for me, but still!! yet i dont wanna rein it in too much and try to overcompensate and come off like im Eternally Unimpressed and don’t really care and etc etc and just…..idk its wild it’s hard to tell how i may be socializing awkwardly lmao ahhh….and on top of it all, i manage to be godawful at realizing when other ppl actually like me. like, that sort of sounds like The Opposite but i guess its just more of that problem of thinking that im going to always bother people….a lot of times it takes me like, months or a year (or two or three) to realize that someone who willingly interacts w me during that time probably does genuinely like me and is maybe a friend. wrow

uhhhh anyways lord that was all just. tangentially related. im Tangents

UH more to the point!!!! the good news is that yeah i don’t have to think “oh we’re totally real bffs” about anyone to really enjoy and appreciate Our Interactions…..and like i do have real appreciation and gratitude for basically all nice attention lol like, if a single reblog of smthing has kind comments, if someone cool just Likes a few posts, talking on occasion or like, ever at all. cuz for real The Little Stuff has always been a really good thing for years now, especially since there’s been plenty of times i havent really had anything happening In Person that was like….good interactions or ppl who were able to hear my actual thoughts and feelings about whatever and still be interested in interacting with me. cuz in terms of not being isolated and in what i find it easy to talk about and how, Online Interactions have been genuinely important and impactful in a positive way for like a solid decade now since i was able to be consistently Online and have my own accounts and stuff in the first place

so like yeah totally i really do appreciate stuff like that. i think its pretty incredible whenever anybody just like, thinks of me, and likes me. having None Of That Feeling is supremely trash and i so appreciate that i don’t have to feel like there’s nothing and that nobody out there in the world is aware of me, and yet i don’t need it to be that like, anyone is Constantly aware of me and like, intensely invested, cuz that’s just not how it goes lol and even kinda meaning a little bit to someone and having my tiny presence in their life be a positive one is a great thought and i really do appreciate it. Unfortunately for like….my entire life, The Contempt Of Others has been a consistent #thing i’m dealing with and it’s not great!! like yeah fortunately ive had the “felt so bad about myself that it eventually circled back around and now self loathing isnt too much of an issue for me” thing, but it still sucks experiencing it lol…..having any testimonials that like, whatever shit im talking about @ myself is fun to read, or i seem okay, or its fun to talk, etc etc, like thats fantastic really

and the kinds of leaf thoughts too, yeah, that kind of thing is nice to know too lol. i was hoping you were ok like, ten hours before i saw you posting again lol…..we’re out here……..

like yeah ldmbgglh whatever my weird problems are with being overexcited abt any Potential Friendship, and also being bad at realizing if people do like me, and also just being Weird and not great at talking, and overcompensating for whatever and maybe coming across too Coldly when rly im a fiery dumbass, wanting friends but also wanting not to be burned by getting ahead of things and being reminded that most ppl aren’t like, as starved for even just friendly interactions……..i’m better at navigating and handling it in some ways but c’est a m’ess!!! aaaggbfg

really what im trying to say is i do appreciate that sort of thing a lot yeah. i could very well Not be thought of by anybody and that would suck and the fact that i get to know that i am is a really great thing. maybe i couldve said this all better last night cuz i was kinda in my feelings abt Life a little but then also it was in a sort of déspresso way so, maybe this is okay lol….

also i worry i don’t express affection and appreciation enough!!! it’s not that i’m like Oh i don’t want to Commit to Being Friends ew…..it’s that i don’t wanna be the one pressuring someone else into being like uh oh i have to play up being invested in milo!! but then maybe my playing-it-cool just makes other ppl do the same thing or think i don’t care or something. like oh i appreciate this person a ton and think they’re great and they’ve been kind to me but if we only talk so often and obviously im not There for them and involved in their life in the way a ~real friend~ would be, maybe it would just ring hollow to say i love them, for example. lord lol……. it’s all “oh don’t dial down your kindness and affection” and yet also “but don’t wanna inadvertently push other people or Be Weird or get myself invested in something where i don’t mean as much to the other person not cuz they suck but because like, of course im just a fun internet acquaintance, which is fine!!” ahhhhhh the challenges. anyways!!!!!!!

the point is well i do like ppl yeah and i really appreciate ppl liking me. every now and then they do it online or even in person and thats just a Joy and i wish things were more secure!!! i also have to not even necessarily want ppl to get invested in me in case things go to shit too soon or whatever and it doesnt help that ~being open~ means talking abt depressingass stuff sometimes that like, i don’t mind being open about, but i also don’t want to put on other ppl. which, sidenote on that, im feeling relatively alright all these recent months even if im not technically thriving; it’s okay. it’s a hot mess! but that’s just How It Is sometimes!! it’s what it is. and ive had support from ppl in big and small ways that i know i could have had to go without and all the ways ppl are nice to me count for a whole lot and i have appreciated it, and do appreciate it, and will continue to appreciate it.

tldr 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

#7:05am who up!! im nocturnal. im a vampire. a cool vampire. jk not sexy enough #unsexy vampire rights!!!#unsexy nocturnal me getting reckless and saying into the mic: Hey. I Love Y’all. Yeehaw

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a-splash-of-stucky · 6 years

Text

A Messed Up Place | Epilogue

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A wedding and a surprise

Warnings: flooffy goodness :’)

“Professional” Notes: The last ever AMUP update is being posted on Bucky’s birthday — I feel like that’s appropriate, somehow. Also, this was supposed to be a short and sweet epilogue but whOOPS 4k words happened somehow. Self-discipline? Don’t know what that is, never heard of it. #noregrets

“Emotional” Notes: I’m sobbing, I’m screaming, I’m hysterical, I’m not ready for this gAAHHHH!!!!

I’m feeling like a bundle of raw emotions rn. A Messed Up Place has been a labour of love ever since October 12th, 2017, my 19th birthday and the day I posted the AMUP Prologue. Now, nearly 5 months later, it’s coming to its official end. Thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me throughout this journey — your reblogs, comments and reactions have truly meant the world to me. To share this story with you, to see all the love that has come out of it, to have had this story bring me closer to some of my faves…there are no words to describe how I’m feeling. Honestly. Thank you so much, all of you.

Also, I’m sorry I broke your hearts and made you cry — I hope it was worth it all in the end.

AMUP Masterlist

“My point is, I’ve known Tony for a long time,” says Rhodey. He pauses and cocks his head to the side, before barking out a short, dry laugh. “Actually, now that I think about it, it hasn’t been that long year-wise, but man, with the amount of sh—I mean…stuff he’s gotten himself into, it sure does feel a lot longer.”

As Rhodey takes a sip of his champagne, he catches Bucky’s gaze out of the corner of his eye and gives an almost imperceptible quirk of his eyebrows. Bucky flashes him an easy smile and gives him a subtle thumbs-up, showing his thanks for the quick save.

Steph’s at the age where she just adores repeating basically every word that she hears. The last thing Bucky needs is for the word ‘shit’ to be added to her repertoire of favourites, alongside ‘laun-de-reee’, ‘no’ and ‘cat dick’.

Though, with a room full of adults in various stages of tipsiness, not adding a swear word to Steph’s vocabulary is proving easier said than done. There have been a few too many close-calls tonight. Why did Bucky ever think that letting Steph stay for the reception was a good idea? Her sleep schedule’s going to be fucked up for the next week.

Bucky pauses, registering his train of thought. God, he’s such a dad.

“I remember when Tony was an insufferable know-it-all,” Rhodey continues, his voice drawing Bucky back to the present. “Oh wait — he still is an insufferable know-it-all.”

That pulls a chuckle out of Bucky and causes a titter of laughter to ripple through the room. Tony gives his best man an affronted look.

“Yeah, but I guess back in the day, he was a hundred times worse,” Rhodey amends, once the audience has settled again. “I mean, c’mon! He was schooling all of his professors in MIT! Gave a lecture of his own, at one point — after hijacking the lectern in true Tony fashion, of course.”

“I’ve watched him as he lived the life of a CEO playboy. I’ve seen him learn what responsibility is. I’ve seen him at the lowest of his low points and the peak of his high points. And I thought I’d seen all the parts of him there ever was to see — until he met you, Pepper.”

The customary wave of ‘aww’s’ sweep through the room. Bucky watches as Pepper — in an uncustomary public display of affection — scoots her chair closer to Tony’s and rests her cheek on his shoulder. Pepper’s strawberry blonde hair has started to fall out of her bun, curled tendrils hanging loosely around her face. Her cheeks have a rosy glow to them that match the happy glimmer in her eyes. She looks relaxed and in love and more at peace than she’s ever been — just like her new husband.

“You bring out a whole different side of him, Pep,” Rhodey says, the fondness evident in his tone. “He’ll deny this to his grave, I know, but you make him soft at heart. You’re good for him and hopefully — he’ll be good to you. May the both of you live a long life, have a healthy marriage and please, for the love of god, don’t let any of your kids get their hands on Tony’s suits. To the both of you,” he declares, raising his champagne flute with a grin on his face. Amidst waves of laughter, Bucky catches the toast being echoed by the rest of the wedding guests.

Bucky pushes off from the wall he’s been leaning on and walks back to the centre of the dance floor. He takes the mic off Rhodey as their paths cross, murmuring a quiet ‘well done’ as they brush shoulders. That’s the last speech of what has been an eventful night, filled with tears (of the happy sort), lots of laughter and two separate occasions of Tony nearly setting Pepper’s dress on fire.

But besides those instances of near-catastrophe, the whole affair has been rather low-key and chilled. It’s clear that Pepper’s done most of the wedding planning. The entire event is being held in the back gardens of the compound. An enormous marquee has been set up, with fairy lights, lanterns and all manner of flowers strung from the ceiling. There’s a dance floor on one end and tables taking up the rest of the space. Everything is pastel coloured and tastefully decorated.

It’s nice. Really nice.

“So, that marks the end of all the speeches we have lined up for tonight,” Bucky says, addressing the assembled crowd. He’s the MC of the reception, tasked with the trying job of facilitating seamless transitions between the nights’ entertainment.

Bucky’s really glad that his work is almost done.

“I’d just like to say a quick thank you, on behalf of our newly married couple, to everyone that’s made this event what it was. And to Tony and Pepper — I’m sure you’re sick of hearing this, by this point, but congratulations,” Bucky says sincerely, flashing the two of them a warm smile. Pepper returns the gesture and Tony nods his head in acknowledgement.

Just then, Bucky hears the tap-tap-tap of patent-leather shoes darting across the floor. He beams when he catches sight of his daughter rushing towards him at full speed, arms outstretched, fine blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders and chocolate cake smeared on her chin.

Typical, he sighs internally. Well, at least there’s no chocolate on her white dress.

As Stephanie runs to his side, Bucky crouches down to welcome her with open arms. He hoists her up in one smooth motion, perching her on his waist. She enthusiastically wraps her arms around his neck and flashes him a toothy grin.

“Hello gorgeous,” Bucky murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. Bucky spots you sitting beside Pepper and arches an eyebrow in your direction, before looking pointedly at Steph; a silent what’s she up to?

You shrug exaggeratedly, hands raised and palms facing outward. How the hell do I know?

“Daddy,” Steph whines, patting Bucky on the cheek to get his attention, “Wanna go dancing again.”

Bucky’s heart might just have melted a little. He ducks his head closer, “Almost done here, gorgeous, then we can go dancing again, okay?” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of Steph’s ear with each word. He smiles when she giggles and pushes his face away with her pudgy hands; his baby’s always had ticklish ears.

Steph leans back and puts her palm on his cheek, schooling her features into a more solemn expression. “Daddy, I haff something ‘portant to tell you,” she says seriously.

“Oh?” Bucky asks, arching an eyebrow in amusement. “Okay, but is there something you want to say to Tony and Pepper first, gorgeous?”

Stephanie seems to think about it for a minute, brows drawing together and lips pursing as if she’s sucked on a lemon. When it clicks, she claps her hands excitedly as an exuberant grin spreads across her face.

“Yeah!” she cries, making grabby hands for the mic, “I gotta say something!”

Bucky chuckles, holding the mic closer to her mouth. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says.

Steph twists around so that she’s beaming brightly at the crowd of expectant faces. As the one and only flower girl in attendance, over the course of the night, Steph seems to have won over the hearts of everyone present.

Who can blame them, really?

Bucky catches sight of you, sitting in between Wanda and Pepper, watching your daughter with a bemused smile on your face. You’ve got your chin propped up on one hand, a glass of water poised at your lips. You meet Bucky’s gaze and flash him a cheeky wink, just as you take a sip.

“Ev’body? I’m gonna be a biiiiiig sistah!” Steph announces proudly.

What?

It’s lucky that Bucky’s eyes are trained on you, because your reaction to Steph’s revelation is priceless. You choke on your mouthful of water and burst into a coughing fit. Wanda turns towards you to thump your back, whilst simultaneously shooting Bucky an is this for real? expression. Pepper and Tony have bolted upright, their haze of marital bliss disrupted by the commotion. Natasha and Sam look like they’ve gone into shock, and everyone else’s gaze is focused on Stephanie, who is seemingly unaware of what she’s just done.

A stunned hush descends over the room.

“Uhm,” Bucky mutters weakly. He clears his throat and shifts Stephanie on his hip. “Uhh—gorgeous…I think you had something else you wanted to say to Tony and Pepper, right?” he asks. “Remember? You were practicing it this morning?”

Stephanie cocks her head to the side and narrows her eyes. “Oh! Oh, con…gra…chu…lay…shuns?” she says slowly, carefully enunciating each syllable.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, his voice strained. “Yeah, um…why don’t you go sit back down with Aunty Nat, gorgeous, and let Daddy finish this off?” he suggests. Steph nods agreeably. Bucky sets her down and watches as she toddles off towards the head table, where Natasha is holding a hand out for her. Bucky runs his metal hand through his hair and takes a shaky breath.

“Okay, well…um,” he starts, “I—guess there’s not much more for me to say. Congratulations, Tony and Pepper. May you have a good marriage and all that.”

He’s pretty sure his words fall on deaf ears. As Bucky hands the mic back to the DJ hovering at the back of the dance floor, he spies you hurriedly weaving through the tables and slipping out of the marquee via one of the side flaps. Sam shoots Bucky a pointed look and jerks his head in your direction; a clear go after her, dude. Steph seems to be well-occupied by Natasha for the moment, and so, silently praying that his daughter isn’t going to start spouting out more secrets, Bucky quickly dashes after you.

When he steps outside, Bucky discovers that the twilight hour has come and gone. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, Bucky spins around in a circle, trying to find you. He spots you sitting on the concrete steps leading into the main building, your elbows on your knees, hands clasped in front of you and forehead pressed against your wrists. He sighs, slowly walking towards you, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his crisp white shirt as he goes. Bucky plops himself down a couple of steps below you, body angled in your direction.

“She’s only three,” you say weakly, not bothering to lift your head up to acknowledge him. “What did I expect? Ugh, our daughter is terrible at keeping secrets.”

Bucky’s heart does an excited little flutter. “So she was serious?” he croaks out.

You drop your hands. Your mascara’s smudged underneath your eyes and most of your lipstick has rubbed off, this late in the day. But, you’ve still got a smile on your face and to Bucky, you look as beautiful as ever.

“I found out a few days ago,” you admit quietly, “Realised that my period was late and took a test.” You laugh softly, “Got the shock of my life when I saw it was positive.”

Bucky inhales sharply.

“I thought it’d be a nice to have Steph tell you the news,” you continue, eyes flicking up briefly to meet his. “I’ve been practicing it with her and—,” you break off with a groan, burying your face in your hands. “Fuck, why did I ever think that was a good idea? Now everyone knows that I’m pregnant and I wanted to tell you first in private before—and, and now—,”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bucky interjects, pushing himself onto his knees and catching your wrists in his hands. He pulls them to his chest, ignoring your weak protests, leaving you unable to hide your face from him. When you tilt your chin upwards, Bucky sees the glimmer of unshed tears in your eyes. The watery smile on your lips tells him that they’re not tears of sadness, though. In this moment, Bucky feels like there’s a gurgling pressure behind his sternum, a bubbling spring of emotions itching to spew free.

“For real, princess?” he asks quietly, barely able to contain himself.

You laugh breathlessly, the corners of your eyes crinkling with joy. “Yeah, honey. Really.”

Bucky swallows, then leans in close until his forehead is resting against yours, until his nose brushes your cheek and your breath ghosts over his face. You slip a hand out of his grip and curl it around the back of his neck, fingers combing through his ponytail.

“Tell me again, sweetheart,” Bucky says, voice hoarse, thick with tears. With your palm pressed to his chest, he has no doubt that you can feel the mad thumping of his heart. “I need to hear you say it.”

Your hand on the back of his neck tightens its grip. “I’m pregnant,” you whisper.

Bucky lets out a half-sob, body surging forward to crash his lips against yours. Inside his chest, he feels the dam burst, allowing a tsunami wave of emotions to course through his system. The kiss is heated and sweet and meaningful, all that same time. His brain is spinning, his body is floating, his heart is soaring, his soul is singing. He’s overcome with feelings and he just—he can’t put any of them into words.

“Sweetheart,” he says breathlessly, brokenly. It’s the only word his brain can think of right now. Fuck—he has so many things to tell you. I can’t believe it, he wants to say. I’m terrified, maybe. I’m so fucking happy. I love you so much. “I—oh my god—,”

“I know,” you say fervently, meeting his lips for another urgent kiss, “I know.”

And perhaps, he just doesn’t need to say anything. Maybe you’ve heard all those unsaid words anyway. Maybe, after all this time, you just know.

“Again,” Bucky demands, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other arm encircling your waist. He darts in for another kiss — fuck he never wants to stop kissing you, ever — as he leans forward, forcing you to brace your elbows against the step above the one you’re sitting on. “Tell me again,” he begs, gently nipping your bottom lip as he pulls back to look at you.

He takes in your kiss-bitten lips, your darkened eyes and your messy hair. You curl your fingers into the lapels of his jacket, just as your lips curl into a private smile, for his eyes only. “I’m pregnant,” you repeat, your voice quiet, sincere.

Bucky drops down again, brushing his lips against yours. “I love you so much,” he says, in between kisses, “So fucking much, you know that?”.

“Love you too,” you reply, throwing your arms over his shoulders to hold him close.

Where words fail, actions speak.

Bucky pours every ounce of love surging through his body into every press of his lips, desperately hoping that each kiss is enough to telegraph the extent of his emotions. Words are not enough, actions are not enough — he wants you to know how he’s feeling so bad. His world is shaken by this news — for better, for worse, who knows?

The only certainty he’s holding onto right now is you.

Bucky blankets your body with his, moulding his body to yours and wishing he could do the same to your souls. He kisses you and tastes the salt of your tears, the mint on your tongue. He feels the hammering of your heart, hears your barely-audible sighs and greedily drinks in the exultant joy radiating out of every fibre of your being.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathes, cradling the back of your neck with his flesh hand and pulling your mouth closer, kissing your lips like you’re the oxygen that Bucky has been starving for. And maybe that is what you are, Bucky thinks desperately, a fleeting thought in his dizzy mind. Maybe you’ve been his oxygen all this while. Because it’d certainly felt like an agonisingly slow death, enduring all those months without you.

The two of you lose time like that, sprawled out on the steps, tangled in each others arms, rucking up your fancy clothes. You trade kisses and soft touches, murmured promises and meaningful stares. There’s a simmering heat in his belly that Bucky could turn into something more if he stoked the fire and gave it some attention, but for now — this is enough.

From somewhere on his left, someone clears their throat obnoxiously.

Bucky startles, quickly rolling off you as he reaches for the knife strapped to his left calf. When he sees who it is, he allows his posture to relax, although a hot rush of embarrassment does race through his veins.

“If we’d walked out a second later, I’m fairly certain we’d’ve stumbled across you two defiling our porch steps,” Tony remarks dryly.

Pepper gently elbows him in the side. “Tony!” she chastises, “Be nice.”

“Sorry, darling,” Tony says quickly. Bucky doesn’t miss the dopey look he shoots in her direction.

Seriously. Were you and Bucky ever this bad?

Bucky glances down at the gold ring welded onto his metal ring finger, casts his mind back to a warm summer’s day on the beach, sun on his face, sand between his toes, his arms around your waist and thinks no — the two of you were worse.

“Anyway,” Tony drawls, “I must say, your daughter sure does have a knack for dramatic timing.”

“He did learn from the best,” Pepper comments sarcastically, giving him the side-eye. Tony squawks in protest.

“Tony—Pepper, I’m so, so sorry,” you say quickly, sitting up and brushing you skirt back into place. “I—I really didn’t mean to steal your thunder, or anything like that, I swear, it was—,”

Pepper holds a hand up to silence you, a benevolent smile on her lips. “No harm done, Y/N,” she says reassuringly, “Really, we mean it. Yes, it was quite the shock, but—that just makes the night more memorable, no? We’re not mad, honestly.”

Tony snorts. “Speak for yourself,” he grumbles. “Sorry, sorry,” he adds hastily, when Pepper narrows her eyes into a murderous glare. Turning his focus back to the two of you, he clears his throat and says, “Congratulations, and all that good stuff, I suppose.”

Pepper rolls her eyes. “Yes, congratulations, you two,” she says emphatically. “And technically, it is past midnight, so you didn’t really steal our thunder.”

You make a sound that is a cross between a laugh and a groan. “I’m never going to forgive her for this,” you mutter darkly, “There goes her Stark tablet privileges for the week!”

“You say that, but you know she’ll just do something to make you forgive her in the next day,” Bucky points out. “Kid’s got us wrapped around her finger.”

With a resigned, full-bodied sigh, you slump against Bucky’s side. “It’s the thought that counts,” you say morosely.

“Well, I think we’ll leave you two to rejoice in peace,” Tony says decisively, pivoting on his heel and striding back to the party. “Just don’t traumatise any of our guests when they come out here!” he calls over his shoulder.

“Tony,” Pepper says, in a voice that is both fond and exasperated. To the two of you, she adds, “Seriously, no offence taken. I’ll make sure that Nat’s keeping an eye on Stephanie.”

“Thank you, Pepper,” Bucky says, as Pepper glides off towards her husband, her periwinkle blue wedding dress swishing with each step.

The two of you sit in silence, watching as Tony and Pepper slip back into the marquee, hand-in-hand. When the coast is clear, you peel yourself away from Bucky’s side and climb into his lap. Bucky chuckles in surprise, but plants his feet flat on the step below, allowing you to straddle his thighs.

You pay no attention to the fact that your skirt has bunched up in your lap, nor to the fact that someone from the reception could stumble out and see you two at any second. Bucky rests his hands on your waist and tips his head back to look at you, awestruck by the reality of the situation and the enormity of this new adventure.

“How the hell are we gonna manage with two little ones?” he asks quietly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your hipbones. “We can barely get by with just Steph!”

You throw your head back and laugh, drawing Bucky’s attention to the elegant column of your neck. Compelled, he leans forward and presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, letting his lips linger for a while. You hum softly, looping your arms over his shoulders and scooting forward a little, so that your chest is pressed against his.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” you murmur, “Things always seem to have a way of working out.”

When your lips finally meet, the kiss is tender — languid and lazy, like a sluggish breeze on a sweltering hot day. Bucky’s arms tighten around you, the fingers of his flesh hand tangling in your hair, his metal hand tracing patterns across the skin of your bare back. He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and swallows your breathy sigh. You mouth opens so easily for him and before long, he finds you rolling your hips against his in slow, sinuous motions.

Bucky’s mouths a trail of wet kisses across your jaw and down your neck, coming to a stop above your pulse point. He feels your thrumming heartbeat against his lips, seemingly beating in time with his own heart.

“D’you think it’s okay if we ask Nat and Sam to take Steph for the night?” he asks, only half-joking, “Y’know. For celebration purposes.”

He feels the rumble of your laughter vibrate through his chest. “Bucky,” you giggle.

“What?”

“No,” you say. Bucky’s fairly certain he heard your eyes rolling, that time.

“Aw—c’mon, honey—,”

“No,” you repeat firmly. Before he can protest further, you cup Bucky’s jaw in your hands, tilting his head back until he meets your eyes.

Your hair is disheveled, falling around your face in messy strands. There’s a gleaming brightness in your eyes that makes the marquee lights behind you seem pale in comparison. You brush your thumb across Bucky’s stubbled jaw, an absentminded smile playing on your lips. “Not tonight, at least,” you tell him.

Bucky swallows, reaches his flesh hand up to catch your wrist. He turns his face to the side and presses his lips to the heel of your palm, registers your sharp intake of breath. “I’m gonna hold you to that promise,” he murmurs.

You huff out a laugh and lean forward, nosing a path down his cheek. Bucky turns his head and finds your mouth again, pressing his lips against yours in slow, unhurried movements.

“Tell me again,” Bucky whispers, as his flesh hand comes to rest on top of your belly.

You rest your hands on top of his, before swallowing audibly. You hold his gaze, your eyes bright with sudden tears, a pure and hopeful smile on your lips.

“I’m pregnant, sweetheart. We’re gonna have another baby.”

Bucky thinks he’ll never be as happy as he is right now, sitting on some concrete steps with you in his arms, stealing kisses from your lips whilst the sounds of laughter and upbeat music float across the gardens.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few months later, on Steph’s fourth birthday, when he sees the look of delight on his baby’s face as she sets eyes on her unicorn-themed birthday cake. They’re surrounded by their super-family, a collection of opened presents and shredded wrapping paper littering the floor of the common room. Stephanie manages to get pink frosting all over her face, making Bucky laugh until his cheeks are sore. You try to keep the smile from spreading across your face, but it’s a futile effort when you have a daughter as sweet as Steph.

You have a hand resting protectively on top of your burgeoning belly, and the sight only serves to make Bucky’s heart swell a little more.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few months after that, as he cradles his son in his arms, gently rocking him back and forth as he makes his way over to your side of the bed. You take him from Bucky, cooing softly as you stroke your knuckle over his chubby cheeks. Steph, perched on your other side, peers at the baby curiously, as if trying to decide what to make of her little brother. Warily, tentatively, she brushes her index finger over his pudgy fist, gasping in surprise when he wraps his little fingers around it and holds on tight.

“I think I could love him,” she whispers.

Bucky’s glad he stands corrected a few years down the line, as the two of you bring in the last of the boxes and set them on the kitchen counter. The house is a mess, the kids are wreaking their usual havoc and the last thing he wants to do is walk up a flight of stairs to check on them. Both of you are gross and sweaty, but Bucky loops his arms around you and pulls you close nonetheless, planting an enthusiastic kiss on your lips. Moving in has been stressful and exciting, to say the least, but Bucky is eager to start writing this new chapter in your lives. He can’t wait to fill these walls with memories and make this house a place to call home.

Unable to fight the grin spreading across his face, Bucky picks you up and swings you around in a circle. “Welcome home, sweetheart,” he breathes.

Bucky loses track of how many times he stands corrected, as the years go by. Day after day, he smiles until his cheeks hurt and laughs until his sides ache. The years are filled with birthdays and babies, missions and milestones, ups and downs. He watches his children go to school, grow up, get married, have lives — take on the world like they were made of gold dust and vibranium.

“What a life, huh sweetheart?” Bucky asks softly, as another chapter comes to its end.

Time has a funny way of slipping by in the blink of an eye, he’s noticed. Many things have changed over the years, but the one faithful, unshakeable constant he’s held onto is his love for you.

Bucky thinks of this as the two of you lie tangled up on the sofa, your body slotted between Bucky’s legs, your cheek pressed to his chest and his chin resting on top of your head.

“Yeah, honey. What a life,” you murmur, as you slip your fingers underneath the hem of his t-shirt, splaying them across the small of his back. “A crazy, wild, tumultuous, messy life.”

You pause to pull away from him, sitting up a little and craning your head back to look into his eyes. “But worth it all?” you ask.

Bucky grins, feels that joyous fluttering in his heart as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips. “Yeah, my gorgeous. It’s all been worth it.”

End A/N: Am I bawling my eyes out? You betcha :’)))

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky imagi #my writing #a messed up place

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livingthroughchoices-blog · 6 years

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The Marshmallow Chronicles (Ch. 13: Hunting for Love)

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Author’s notes: Hi! Sorry this took so long! As I told a lovely anon, I had been working on it for a while and it was deleted so I had to recover from the frustration.

Thanks to the people who like, reblog and/or comment. You guys are the reason I’ve kept going <3 Huge thanks to @starstruckzonkoperatorbat, @notoriouscs, @simplyaiden-blog, @snyggflicka, @asprankle, @speedyoperarascalparty, @mirivalencia, @mymandrake and @asobigokoro2018 for asking me to tag them!

Love you guys <3

Rating: T

Pairing: Drake x MC

Words: 5,943

Drake retired to his room early, not feeling up to enjoying the festivities.

God, this sucks. I have to get this under control. Am I just gonna feel like shit all the time now?

Out of a sense of self-preservation he reflected he should probably keep his distance from Riley for the foreseeable future. He was shocked to realize that the thought of not being around her was more painful than seeing her with Liam.

I guess I do want Adams to be a part of my life...

He flopped down unto his bed, trying to think of something that could distract him, when he felt his phone vibrate twice in his pocket.

He pulled it out and read, “Hey, Drake! Where did you run off to?”

And then a separate message, “It’s Addams 😊”

His stomach did a somersault, seeing her call herself the nickname he called her. He’d already known it was her; Liam had given him her number “just in case”, as he put it, but Drake could never bring himself to text her. It would have felt like an even greater betrayal of Liam’s friendship. He had, however, spent more time than he cared to admit with his fingers hovering over the keyboard, staring at her picture and holding himself back from typing.

“You know me, Addams, always sneaking off”

“Yeah, but you could’ve asked me to come with you ☹️“

Right, like she wasn’t having fun with Liam.

He was wondering whether there was a way to phrase that so it was less obvious how bitter he was and then she texted again.

“You’re welcome btw”

“For what?”

He noticed she was already typing the moment he sent it. He was glad she didn’t play games with texting, didn’t wait long to reply, didn’t mind double-texting.

“For not making you my court jester! You would’ve looked cute in that cap tho lol”

“Funny. So why didn’t you?”

“Well, you only made that bet to motivate me”

The three dots were still on the screen so he waited. She seemed to be thinking especially hard about this text, as she took inordinately long typing it. Drake’s palms were sweating.

“And... tbh, as soon as they said a cup-bearer is someone you trust I knew I had to say you”

Drake was thankful he couldn’t choke or stutter through texts. He threw his phone on the bed and put his head under his pillow, completely overwhelmed. He couldn’t stop smiling, yet he felt close to tears at the same time.

Pull it together, man.

He took a few breaths to steady himself and grabbed his phone. He caught a glimpse of his dopey smile reflected on his phone’s dark screen before he unlocked it.

“You’re making me blush, Addams”

“You’re going soft on me, Drake ;)”

“Hey, thanks. I trust you too”

“No prob, I’ll have plenty of chances to beat your ass lol”

He could practically see her smirk.

“Ha, we’ll see about that”

“Well, I'd better go to bed, my alarm clock is waaay too chipper in the mornings”

“Is being queen even worth Maxwell waking you up every day?”

“I’m starting to doubt it haha”

He knew she was kidding, but he still couldn’t help the stupid, senseless hope he felt at that.

She texted once more, “Thanks for everything, Drake, I mean it. See you tomorrow?”

“Any time :) see you tomorrow”

He set his alarm for the next morning feeling a little more optimistic. That was it, he just had to find the right balance with Riley. He could give her a break, for starters. Since his feelings would not be ignored, he could use them to be nicer and act like a real friend to her, for a change. Yes, instead of wallowing in his unrequited crush, he would try to grow and improve through this.

With this in mind, he turned the lights off and went to sleep.

The next day he got up unusually early, determined to be a better version of himself. He started by finding Liam, who was enjoying a rare quiet moment in the stables.

“Hey, Liam!”

“Drake! This is a pleasant surprise! What brings you here so early?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t hung out in a while and I thought...” he trailed off.

I really have to get better at this friendship thing.

Liam looked touched, so much so that Drake felt his embarrassment grow.

“I’d like nothing better! How are you? Any news of Savannah?”

“Nothing. Radio silence. And her trail’s gone cold so...” he sighed.

Liam put a supportive hand on his shoulder, “Listen, if there’s anything I can do, all you have to do is ask. I’ve asked Bastien to look into it, but he seems to have a lot on his plate lately.”

“Oh, so it’s not just me?”

“That he’s been short with?”

“Short? More like a dick! Do you know he yelled at me yesterday for no reason?”

Liam raised a skeptical eyebrow, “No reason?”

“Okay, so I teased him a little but Liam, I swear, it was nothing compared to the pranks we used to pull on him!”

Liam chuckled. “Remember when we locked him out of the training room?”

“Or when we put those balloons behind the door?” Drake snorted.

“He was so startled when they popped he pulled out his gun!”

“Yeah, in retrospect I can see how that was actually pretty dangerous and not super fun for him,” admitted Drake, though he was still chuckling.

“It was very irresponsible,” agreed Liam. “We should really show him some sort of appreciation soon, especially if he is under pressure.”

“Good idea, but you should leave that to me; you’ve got enough shit to do.”

“Do I? Other than choosing a queen for Cordonia and my lifelong partner, my schedule is wide open,” Liam joked.

They heard footsteps getting nearer and Drake peeked out to see King Constantine approaching the stables. That’s my cue.

“I’d better take Morello, then.” He strode to one of the stalls, where a jet black horse whinnied excitedly. “Hey, boy.” He led him gently outside, grabbing a saddle on his way back to Liam. “Well, if there’s any way I can help you, just say the word.” Drake clapped his back.

“I know, Drake, thank you.”

Drake waved goodbye and exited, his horse walking behind him. He briefly stopped to give the King a perfunctory bow. He ambled around the grounds, at peace for the first time in what seemed like ages. He’d missed Liam’s company. He was used to long periods of only seeing each other for quick conversations, but lately, his once-easy friendship had felt anything but. Now, with a clearer mind and knowing what he intended to do about his silly crush, it all seemed as simple as it used to be.

In a secluded spot, he saddled Morello. He caressed its muzzle and the horse nickered affectionately. “I missed you, too, buddy. It’s been busy around here, you know? Busier than usual. New people and everything.”

He scratched behind its ears, lost in thought. He looked back towards the stables and saw most of the group already mounted. “All right, seems like everyone’s on their horses. You ready?”

Morello neighed, which Drake took as a yes. He swung expertly onto his saddle and took the reins. “Now listen, if there’s ever been a time when we gotta look good, it’s this one, okay?”

The horse snorted and Drake patted its neck.

Nothing wrong with trying to impress the suitors. It’s not like I’m making a move or anything. I just want her to know I’m good at something.

He directed Morello at a slow gait toward the others. He’d decided to stay in the back, should anyone need any help.

Nobles don’t tend to be good at much.

He smiled a little, remembering when Tariq had gotten his foot tangled in the stirrup a few years ago and sighed contentedly.

Yeah, today might be a good day.

He saw Riley up ahead and had already raised his hand to urge Morello forward with the reins, then thought better of it.

You’ll go up to her if it’s natural. Stop forcing it.

He settled in the last spot. After a few minutes of riding at a ridiculously slow pace, his gaze started drifting more and more often towards Riley, until he was fully staring at her.

I’m such a creep.

Try as he might, though, he couldn’t help looking at her, the shapes her lips made when she talked or smiled, how beautifully her hair moved in the breeze...

I’m gonna make myself sick.

She was currently having what looked like a surprisingly civil conversation with Olivia.

Yuck. She’s such a better person than I am.

A few minutes later, Hana was the one to approach her.

Lovesick idiots that we are.

He shook his head fondly at Hana.

God, I hope you come out of this better than me, kid.

Hana moved back to talk to the rest of the suitors. At the same time, Drake noticed Lady Kiara trying to catch his eye and ignored her as politely as he could.

Out of desperation – fine, and also because I really, really want to talk to her – he called out to Riley, “Addams!”

She turned towards him, grinning. He returned her smile and waved her over. She immediately slowed down and let others pass her until she was at the back with Drake. He was pleasantly surprised at how well she commanded her horse.

Okay, here we go. Friends. We’re gonna be friends.

“There you are. You look like you actually know how to ride a horse.”

That’s something a friend would say, right?

One of Riley’s hands flew to her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh my gosh, opening with a compliment?”

“Careful, don’t want you falling off your horse now.” Drake smirked, though he still regarded her uneasily.

Friends worry about their friends!

“I’m surprised you’re out here with all the nobles today.” It was phrased like a statement, but there was a question behind it.

Well, obviously the truth is out of the question.

“Turns out, I had an opening in my schedule today.” He grinned. “And there’s something oddly satisfying about watching nobles fuss over their stuffy blazers.”

Riley giggled. “Is this why you’re not frowning... as much as usual, anyway.”

Drake didn’t know whether to shake her or kiss her.

It’s you! You’re the reason! Okay, how do I make that friend-appropriate?

“It has more to do with the company I keep.” That was probably the most sincere he’d been in the past year.

“A second compliment!” This time, Riley didn’t pretend to be shocked, she actually was. Her eyes shone as she looked at Drake, delighted.

“One more and you win the jackpot,” he winked.

If only I could actually give her anything.

“I hope it’s all your whiskey,” she teases.

It was Drake’s turn to act horrified. She pushed his shoulder and he smiled with a sigh.

“You know, when we first met, I wanted to dislike you so badly...” He was not sure why he was saying this.

I guess I want our friendship to start on a clean slate.

Riley’s eyes were wide. “You WANTED to dislike me? Why?”

Of course she finds it unbelievable that anyone could dislike her, cocky jerk.

He smiled to himself.

“You were crashing Liam’s bachelor party! It was supposed to be our last night out together before all of this... We’ve always been like brothers, doing everything together...” He thought of that morning, how spending a few minutes with him had felt like a privilege.

“Now I’m lucky to see him for five minutes without a noble girl throwing herself in front of him,” he finished bitterly.

After a moment of silence, he realized she might think he meant her and hurriedly apologized, “Sorry. I didn’t mean...”

She put her hand on his for a second, her eyes understanding, “I know what you meant.”

Drake could not comprehend how the smallest of her gestures could calm him, make him feel better, like he mattered.

I have to stop getting so pathetically emotional over every little thing she does.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I know we got off to a bad start, but somewhere along the way... things changed.”

Okay, stop it right there or you might go too far.

“Hell, Addams, I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.” He rubbed a hand on his face, embarrassed at this outpouring of honesty.

Riley spoke, “Drake, I wanted to dislike you too.”

He looked up from his hands, taken by surprise, although he had no reason to be. “You did?”

“Yeah, I mean, you were a total jerk to me!”

Understatement of the year.

“But now...”

Drake hated how his voice practically trembled with hope, “Now?”

“It took time... but I figured out that you’re actually human under all those scowls,” she poked him.

Of course. She barely even sees me as a friend, how could I have thought... Well, it doesn’t matter, being friends is already more than I deserve after the way I treated her.

He spotted Liam with his parents ahead.

There’s someone else I need to be better to.

“This has all been touching, but I need to rescue Liam from his family for a couple minutes.”

He heard Riley utter a small “Oh” as he rode ahead, and felt a twinge of guilt coupled with that insufferable emotion he’d been feeling constantly as of late, hope.

He reached them just in time to hear Queen Regina sing the praises of Madeleine, much to Liam’s apparent chagrin.

“Do you see what I am saying, Liam? Wouldn’t you agree that she is the superior choice?”

“She would certainly make an excellent monarch, son,” chimed in the King.

“She is a lady with many merits, yes,” replied Liam diplomatically.

“So is she the suitor you are most leaning towards, then?” prodded the Queen.

“I–I...”

“Liam!” Drake called, startling the three monarchs, who had been so absorbed in their conversation they had not noticed his arrival. “Wanna race ahead?”

“Loser does 30 push-ups!” Liam exclaimed, already urging his horse forward.

Liam was, of course, an accomplished rider. There really weren’t any rich people things you could afford to be bad at when you were a royal. However, Drake had spent more time in the stables than he had. And so, despite Liam’s exceptional instruction, he didn’t share the bond that Drake and Morello did.

All this to say, by the time Liam caught up with him, Drake had time to pretend to be looking at an imaginary watch on his wrist.

“Liam, Liam, Liam,” he said, with shakes of his head. “You’ve really got me to thank for your abs, you know that, right?”

Liam chuckled. “That’s my secret; I lose on purpose so I can stay in shape.”

Drake snorted. “You keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

“Drake, thanks for that.” Liam’s relief was palpable.

Drake sobered. “No problem. You looked like you’d rather be at the bottom of the canyon so...”

Liam gave a humorless laugh. “Not quite, but almost. I don’t think they understand that I’m conflicted enough as it is.”

Drake perked up at this, “Are you? I... thought it was a done deal. That you were choosing Riley, that is.”

Liam shushed him. “Not so loud!” He ran his fingers through his hair. “What can I say? In my heart, it is, but unfortunately that is not nearly enough.”

Drake’s heart sank.

Even if he doesn’t choose her, he’s in love with her. And he’s your best friend.

“Stop worrying so much, man, what’s that gonna do? Look, let’s just enjoy the feast today, huh? You still have a few events left to decide. Not to mention a Beaumont party to look forward to!”

“I’ll try. Although I must say, I am definitely looking forward to that! Their parties are really unparalleled.”

“That they are.”

He and Liam rode on in companionable silence until they reached the mountain village. It was charming and rustic, with its little cabins and huts surrounding a vast filed in which long tables had been set out, laden with food.

Once everyone had gathered round, King Constantine welcomed them, “Everyone, we’ve reached our hunting lodges. Our forebears would dine on the day’s hunt here, and though we no longer hunt, we will still have a great feast. But first, we race to celebrate our ancestors. The first to reach Prince Liam will be served first at the feast! Begin!”

Drake was torn between wishing he could participate – he was starving – and excitement at seeing the suitors race and possibly make a fool out of themselves. Except Hana, obviously. And Riley, he hoped... though that would provide an incredible opportunity to tease her.

No. Friends don’t want their friends to look dumb.

He needn’t have chided himself, for Riley did well. She didn’t win – predictably, it was Hana who did – but she did a good job for her first time, in Drake’s opinion.

An image popped up in his mind, uninvited, of himself teaching Riley how to ride properly. They were all smiles and laughter...

Stop it, brain.

He forced himself to concentrate on what King Constantine was saying, “That’s superb horsemanship in action. Servants, prepare the first plate for Lady Hana. Now, then. Let’s all take some time to rest. Dinner will begin shortly.”

The crowd broke into smaller, more relaxed groups. He dismounted Morello and tied him to the hitching rail where all the other horses were drinking water and chewing on oats or grazing. He saw Riley talking to Tariq, weirdly. Liam was engaged in conversation with Olivia – no, thanks – and then he spotted Maxwell and Hana.

“Congratulations, Hana! That was some riding,” he admired as he approached them.

“Yeah, you kicked ass!” Maxwell agreed enthusiastically.

She blushed, “Thank you. I am glad I could put something my parents made me learn to use. If only to eat first.”

“I think that’s the best prize you could get, I’m starving! Right, Maxwell?”

Maxwell was looking out at Riley, who was talking to Liam, with an uncharacteristically pensive expression on his face.

Drake waved a hand in front of his face. “Maxwell? Everything okay, man?”

“Wha–? Oh. Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Sure.” Drake eyed him suspiciously and shared a puzzled look with Hana, who broke the tension.

“Why don’t we go see what they’re up to?”

The three of them walked over to Liam and Riley. Liam was, as Drake had come to expect, smiling widely, completely engrossed in whatever Riley was saying.

“Hey, the feast is being put out.” Drake pointed out when they’d joined the pair.

“And they’ve got dishes supposedly blessed by the spirits of the nearby ruins,” Maxwell informed them.

Hana’s face instantly lit up. “Oooh! I’ve heard legends about those ruins! They sound magical. People travel from all around just to see them.”

“It’s a shame we’re not scheduled to see them,” Liam frowned.

Thank God! Bunch of old rocks.

Hana’s face fell as fast as it had brightened before. “We aren’t? I was so hoping to...”

Maxwell put a comforting arm around her shoulders and suggested, “Why don’t we just go anyway? Sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to miss out on delicious food, maybe.

“Are you sure we should?” Hana asked, cautiously eager.

No!

“It’d be nice to spend some time together without this crowd around,” Liam said. As always, he turned directly to Riley and asked, “What do you say, Riley?”

Riley had that familiar mischievous look she got when she was ready to break the rules. “Let’s have an adventure!”

Drake came close to protesting this decision, until he noticed that her face was practically glowing with excitement.

Fiiine, I’ll go. Crushes are so stupid.

He shook his head at himself but kept quiet, not wanting to spoil the others’ fun.

“Alright!” Maxwell fist-pumped.

“I’m excited to visit another piece of Cordonian history,” gushed Hana.

Liam took the lead and gestured for them to come. “Follow me. I know how to get there.”

They walked away from the crowded field and into the adjacent forest. At least this I can enjoy. Drake took in the lush trees, the leave-strewn path they were following and the mysteriously soothing sounds of nature surrounding them. He tried to see if he could spot any forest creatures, but aside from a few shuddering bushes, he didn’t see any; they had probably been spooked by the humans’ presence.

He breathed in deeply, feeling a bit better, despite the hunger. He realized he’d been walking next to Maxwell, who had been quiet the whole time.

What the hell?!

“Hey, Maxwell, you know I’m not buying that ‘everything’s fine’ bullshit, right?”

“What? Why? Everything is–”

“Stop it. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Maxwell sighed. “Okay. I need someone’s opinion on this, anyway. You know how I’m sponsoring Riley?”

“You can skip the intro, Maxwell, I am the same guy who’s been here for everything,” Drake rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry.” Maxwell was cracking his knuckles nonstop at this point. Drake grabbed his arms and forced him to stop.

“What is it? It can’t be that bad.”

“It’s not bad, it’s complicated. Riley might not be sure about this whole thing anymore.”

Maxwell looked so conflicted that Drake put an arm around his shoulders and said, “Well, being queen is a big deal, dude! Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll come around!”

“It’s not that. Or at least, not just that. It’s... it’s Liam, too.”

Drake almost stopped walking and had to remind his feet to keep going.

Maxwell kept talking and Drake listened to him half-heartedly. “So I don’t know what to because on the one hand, she’s my friend now. I don’t want to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to! Especially something so big! And I know she feels pressured... I mean, who wouldn’t, with Bertrand? But on the other hand, House Beaumont desperately needs a win, now more than ever... er, for no particular reason.”

Drake was busy trying to calm his buzzing thoughts.

She’s not sure about Liam! Could it be that–?

No. There’s no way it’s because of you!

You can’t know that!

So what? Even if it is, you think she’s gonna give up a kingdom?

His internal argument was interrupted by Maxwell taking a huge breath and continuing, “And then there’s Liam; he really, really likes her and he probably thinks she likes him back and I know it’s not my place to tell him but I feel terrible.”

Right. Liam. You couldn’t do that to your best friend, either way.

There was no argument there.

“Drake? Are you going to say anything or...?”

“Oh, uh, yeah! I don’t think there’s that much to say except, Addams is going to choose whatever she chooses, okay? Even if Bertrand is pressuring her, she’ll do whatever she wants; she’s stubborn like that,” he smiled fondly. “And I guess you gotta trust that she knows.”

“Knows what?”

“Well, that she understands both the reason you brought her here in the first place and that you’re her friend. I’m sure she’ll do whatever she can to help House Beaumont and be happy. She’s one of those people that always finds a way, you know what I mean?”

“I do and I hope you’re right.”

“Psh, when am I not?”

Maxwell pushed him away. “When you said I wouldn’t dare ask the Queen to breakdance with me.”

Drake snorted, “You got me there. I underestimated how inappropriate you can be. And this is from a commoner.”

“I still think she secretly wanted to.”

“Right, maybe she just needed a few more glasses of champagne. Why don’t you try again at the next Beaumont party?”

“Don’t think I won’t.”

They spent the rest of the way laughing and coming up with stupid plans to get the Queen to breakdance.

“Here we are,” Liam announced from ahead of them.

The group moved forward out of the trees and into a clearing. Imposing, mossy stone ruins littered the place, most of them unrecognizable as buildings after so long.

“It’s so beautiful and serene,” Hana breathed out.

Without distractions, Drake’s hunger had returned with a vengeance. “Yep... sure are a bunch of old things here,” he shrugged.

Liam shook his head at him. “It’s so much more than that. There’s something so calm about this place. Can’t you sense it?”

They stood there for a few seconds, their own silence swallowed by the noises made by thousands of bugs and other small critters accustomed to their solitude.

As he’d come to expect, Maxwell broke their silence first, “The only thing I sense is about a million snakes and probably a couple of rock monsters getting ready to attack us.”

Hana’s eyes widened. “Rock monsters? Do you have any rock monsters in Cordonia?”

“It was a joke... just forget it.” Maxwell sighed in defeat.

“I want to find some ghosts,” said Riley, putting her arms up in a “spooky” stance.

“Ghosts?” Hana looked worried, again.

“Maybe one will tell me my future,” piped up Maxwell

That’s not how ghosts work.

“Or devour your soul,” Drake replied in a creepy voice.

Riley shot him a look, “Drake.”

He smiled at her and shrugged. “I’m just saying, that is the likelier outcome!”

“Since some of us,” said Riley pointedly, “seem determined not to take this seriously, why don’t we split up? That way we can all explore however we want.”

“Or not explore,” grumbled Drake.

Riley rolled her eyes at him.

They went their separate ways. Too hungry to be curious, Drake found a rock that looked like it might be halfway comfortable and slumped against it.

Hana’s already quiet footsteps were further muffled by the leaves and dirt, so he jumped when she addressed him, “Hi, Drake.”

“Hana! You scared the crap outta me!”

She giggled, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well, next time clear your throat or something.”

“Understood.”

She slumped – somehow making it look graceful – next to him.

“So how are you?”

“Same old. Acting like a dumb teenager with a crush, you?”

“Me too... although I never got to be a ‘dumb teenager’ so I wouldn’t know.”

“What are you gonna do about it? I just... I have no idea how to act or what to say or not to say.”

“I don’t think I’ll do anything about it at all. I am here as a suitor and that is something I must keep in mind. Not only that, but she’s my best friend... I don’t think I am prepared to risk our friendship.”

“Well, at least you have some sort of claim, you know? She’s your best friend. I’m... what? Her boyfriend’s best friend?” He scoffed.

They settled into a gloomy silence until Drake spoke again. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’d be risking your friendship. If she doesn’t... feel the same way, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Hana thought about it for a long moment. “You may be right. I’m not certain I’ll have the courage, though.”

“Are you kidding? You came here from so far away and you’ve tried so many new things; of course you do! You have more guts that Liam, Maxwell and I combined. With Addams you might be evenly matched,” he chuckled.

Hana smiled. “Thank you, Drake. I only wish there was a way this could end favorably for everybody.”

Drake didn’t think that needed an answer. They all wished that. Hana patted his shoulder and left as quietly as she’d come.

Almost as soon her barely audible footsteps receded, Drake heard somebody else approach.

“Hey, Addams,” he greeted her.

She stood in front of him. “You look like you’re having a good time exploring,” she said with an arched eyebrow.

Drake grimaced. “Archaeology isn’t really my thing.”

Plus, I’m fucking hungry. Bordering on hangry.

“You could at least look around.” Riley gestured at the ruins. “It’s not like you come here often.”

“I looked around. There’s some old buildings. That’s about it.”

What happened to being friendlier, dammit?

“Hmm...” Riley considered what he’d said as if he’d actually made and interesting point instead of just sarcastic whining.

“Don’t you want to know where you come from? And what about insight into how people lived long ago?”

She sounded so fascinated it was almost enough to get Drake interested. Almost. “They could’ve ridden dragons for all I care. It doesn’t mean much now.”

There’s enough shit going on in the present, and shit to worry about in the future. Why look at the past?

He could see Riley was getting tired of his attitude.

Hell, so am I.

She put her hands on her hips. “So why did you come out here if you don’t really care for these sorts of things?”

Because you looked adorably excited about it?

As had become common for him, he went with a different version of the truth, “I don’t think we’re going to get many more times like this.”

Riley tilted her head, “Like what?”

“I mean... Liam is going to be king soon.” He swallowed painfully. “And you could very well be his queen. Everything’s going to change.” He bit the inside of his cheek and looked down. What was he going to do the day of the Coronation if he could barely handle the thought?

To his surprise, Riley’s next words were, “You know, you’re right.”

He looked up to see a fierce look on her face, “We don’t need to associate with the riff-raff. I mean, really, what could you even provide for us? A sense of grounding and humility?”

Drake shook his head but couldn’t help smiling a little. “I see what you’re trying to do here. It’s not going to work.”

“Or maybe someone to sneak us out of the palace? Why would we want that when we’re drinking champagne and shaking ambassadors’ hands?”

She sounds so sure. There’s no way Maxwell’s right, he probably misunderstood. She’s gonna be queen.

His stomach clenched and he had to make an effort to focus on their back and forth.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep on punching down.”

Riley’s voice softened and she stepped closer. “Or maybe we’ll need a reminder that no matter how tough someone may seem on the outside, there’s a big, lovable softie on the inside.”

“Hey!”

She put her hands on both his shoulders and gave him a goofy smile. “Come on, Drake. There’s a smile inside you somewhere.”

Drake gave up and smiled with a laugh. “You’re the worst, Addams.”

“Would you have me any other way?”

She’s gonna make me say something I’ll regret if she keeps asking those questions. Fuck no, I wouldn’t have you any other way. You’re amazing.

“Addams... We may have had some ups and downs between us, but I want you to know that I’ve enjoyed this little adventure with you. Not just the ruins, but the whole thing since I walked into your bar in New York.”

He looked her straight in the eyes and tried to say something nice in the least romantic way possible. “You’re... you’re not bad.”

Riley seemed more moved by that than he’d expected.

Maybe she understands I mean so much more than that.

“Awww, Drake, I care for you too.”

Goddamn. I care so fucking much and I can’t stop.

“Addams... I...”

Don’t say anything. Think of Liam.

He shook his head and sighed. He let himself meet her eyes; there was such an intense, yet soft look in them. He felt his gaze slowly make its involuntary way down to her lips. He couldn’t remember wanting anything as badly.

“You’re something else...” he choked out.

He heard her inhale sharply through her lips. She blushed, breaking their eye contact and putting her arms down.

I went too far.

“Now, we really need to get you out of here before you completely lose it.” The conversation was light-hearted again. “All this reflecting isn’t healthy for you.”

“You’re right. If I stay much longer, I might melt into a big ball of mush,” he shuddered. He had to stop putting himself in these situations; he’d come so close to saying or doing something he shouldn’t...

“Let’s go find the others.” He started walking towards the edge of the forest without looking back. Everyone else was already there.

“That was lovely,” said Liam.

“There weren’t any ghosts,” Maxwell complained.

“Why are you sad about that?” Hana seemed to grow more confused by Maxwell the more she knew him.

He shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m kind of curious what a ghost would have to say. Would’ve made a good story.”

“You can always lie. I’ll back you up,” offered Drake.

“There’s an idea!” he exclaimed.

Unexpectedly, Riley wrung her hands nervously, “Maxwell, please don’t tell me any ghost stories.”

“I won’t tell it to you. You’ll be a supporting character in the story.”

“Do I survive?” she asked with hope.

“No.”

“Aww...”

“Hah,” Drake mocked her.

Maxwell put an arm around Riley and reassured her, “Drake is the first to die, though.”

“Hey!”

Liam chuckled along with everyone but Drake, and then said, “Alright, everyone. It’s time to head out.”

Riley took one last look at the ruins, sounding resigned, “These ruins were bigger than I thought.”

“Could’ve used an open bar in my opinion,” muttered Drake.

Maxwell, who apparently was almost as hungry as Drake, urged them on, “The feast is waiting for us back at the village! Let’s go!”

“That’s the best idea you’ve ever had. Including sponsoring Addams,” said Drake, earning him a push from Riley.

The walk back to the field seemed much longer to Drake, eager as he was for something to eat.

When they eventually reached the banquet tables, he was relieved to find them still heaping with food; he’d been anxious it would all be gone by the time they returned.

“Wow... That’s a lot of meat!” Riley’s mouth was watering as she looked at the many cloches piled with different types of roasted meats.

“It’s not exactly a feast without it.” Drake said this as he loaded his plate with everything he could reach.

“A little more fruit couldn’t hurt,” Hana murmured, eyeing the comparatively few options a little sadly.

“I wouldn’t mind putting a bunch of fruit on a stake and waving it around like a sword.” Maxwell was already looking around the tables, trying to find something stake-like.

“Alright, let’s grab our food before Maxwell gets any other crazy ideas,” Drake interrupted.

Maxwell spotted a watermelon and grinned. “And then I could wear a watermelon as a helmet...” He smirked. “I’d be unstoppable.”

Drake had to forcibly remove Maxwell from the table before he could carry out any of his plans. Riley got him a bit of everything – except for watermelon – and brought both her and Maxwell’s plates to where Liam and Hana were already sitting.

Maxwell revealed a champagne bottle he’d managed to swipe from the table before Drake took him away.

“I’ll go get glasses!” Hana volunteered, and darted to the table to get five of them.

Maxwell popped the champagne and poured some for everyone. He then stood up and raised his glass.

“A toast to all of us and to our friendship!”

“To friendship!” chirped Hana.

“Ugh... to friendship,” agreed Drake reluctantly.

It’s only all I’ve thought about today.

Liam smiled at them all and said, “To friendship.”

“To friendship!” exclaimed Riley.

They clinked their glasses and drank.

Damn, if I didn’t get lucky with these people.

#trr #the royal romance #drake walker #drake x mc #prince liam #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #playchoices #choices #pixelberry #pb #fanfic #ch 13 #the marshmallow chronicles #long post

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