#makes more sense since they’d be tripping all over the place with four legs flopping around🤔 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marmolady · 3 years

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New Horizons

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC, Graleister

Summary: Endless Ending. Liv and Reggie are starting school in San Trobida. Notes at the end!

Word Count: 9695

Chronology: After 'Growing Pains', before 'How the time escapes me...'

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic

Thanks for reading!

San Trobida, July 2035

“Hey, Auntie Grace!”

Reggie looked up from his book at the sound of his cousin’s voice, and hastily placed aside his shiny new copy of ‘A Guide to San Trobidan History’ so he could rush out into the hallway.

Grace was already wrapping Liv in a hug. “Hello, sweetheart.” She kissed the side of her niece’s head, before her eyes wandered down to a bloodied knee. “Did you have a mishap on your bike on the way here?”

“Yeah… I clipped the kerb and crashed,” Liv said, offering her aunt a better view of her wound. As she heard Reggie’s footsteps, she looked up to meet his eye and smiled.

“Youch!” Reggie offered sympathetically as he came close enough to peer over Liv’s grazed knee.

Liv shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

Grace, though, was more concerned. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell?”

“No, just scraped my knee. It does actually sting a bit.”

“Hmm. Well, I think we’d better put some anti-septic that knee just to be safe.”

The new house was a mess. Boxes and misplaced furniture filled every room, and the twins-- six years old-- had been making forts with the packing boxes that had been emptied so far. The family had been in the house for just over a day, and some good progress had already been made. There had been a lot that had been left behind. Neither Aleister nor Grace put too much value on material possessions, so most of what had come with them and the children to their new home in San Trobida had been essential furniture, and the mountains of photo albums and memorabilia from a life with the kids.

Grace sat Liv down on a wooden ottoman, and, after a little bit of rummaging, found the first aid kit.

“Okay, this might hurt just a little,” she said gently, and she carefully dabbed Liv’s graze.

Liv yelped, “Fuck!”, causing Reggie to gasp, looking to his mother for a reaction, and Erin and Immy to burst out giggling from inside their box-fort.

Grace raised an eyebrow, but her warm smile didn’t shift. “It stings that much?”

“Yeah…,” Liv said, flushing a little. “Sorry about the language.”

“I’m sure I didn’t hear a thing.”

There was the usual bustling around as Aleister got the girls into their shoes; Immy and Erin had decided that swapping one shoe with one another was the peak of humour, but eventually, their father managed to get them each into a left and a right-- even if they didn’t match. Six-and-a-half-year-old sisters, Reggie had come to realise, made just about everything more of a headache than necessary.

Eventually, though, they were on their way. His mom and dad, walking beside the twins as they pootled along on their bicycles, had the address, but Reggie rode ahead with Liv, taking her lead as she zig-zagged through the streets of Valle Brava. Having only set foot on San Trobidan soil as a new resident some twenty-four hours ago, everything aspect of his environment set his senses alight. This wasn’t like being back in America. Perhaps it was the tropical climate, but he was reminded much more of La Huerta-- of home. Liv certainly seemed right at home here. She and her mothers had settled a few weeks before, and Liv had been coming here pretty much all her life. There were just a few blocks between their respective houses, and the wide cycle paths along the bitumen roads made for an easy journey. This, Reggie had been told, was a newly developed area; much had been re-built since the war he knew his Tia Estela had been involved in. The cycle paths ended as they came nearer to Liv’s place, a little way out of the main township. The foliage on either side of the road became thicker, and there was less street noise, more birdsong.

“Beat you!” Liv announced as she planted her feet into the ground, forcing her bicycle to a stop.

Reggie grumbled, pulling up beside his cousin in front of a humble bungalow-style house with outer walls a vibrant azure blue against yellow accents. The sound of a dog barking-- unmistakably Liv’s Robin, was further confirmation they’d arrived. “You didn’t beat me, Livia. I was following you. I didn’t even know where we were going.”

“Jeez, dude. No one likes a sore loser….”

“I am not a--!”

The door swung open.

“Reggie!” Taylor wasted no time in sweeping her nephew into a hug. “It’s so good to see you! I can’t believe you still have the energy for cycling over here-- didn’t you move house, like, yesterday?”

Reggie laughed. “Hi, Auntie Taylor!” There was something about seeing a familiar face in this new environment that made the pieces seem to click into place. Family made it home. “I’m a little bit tired but mostly just excited. I did sleep in today, so I guess I won’t crash until later.” His sisters on the other hand… there was no way they’d last the evening without overtiredness rearing its ugly head.

“I’m guessing your mom and dad are on their way with the girls?”

“Yeah,” said Liv, “but they’re pretty slow. I don’t have to wait to give Reggie the grand tour, do I?”

“Knock yourself out, kid. Hang on, Liv? Walk your bike through the house, please.”

“I was gonna!”

Reggie could only smirk. Like hell you were….

“Aaaand,” Liv finished off with a flourish, “this is my room!” She opened the door to a good-sized bedroom. It seemed to Reggie that what floor-space wasn’t taken up by the bed was piled up with boxes.

“I mean, I can’t say the mess wasn’t a clue.”

Liv gave her cousin a look as she flopped into her bed. “Hey-- moving house is hard. You’ll see soon enough. You get started all excited, but once you start living your life, you kinda get… stuck. Mama Taylor says we’re going to just blitz it all next weekend, and throw ourselves a pizza party as a reward.”

Reggie got up onto the bed and crossed his legs. “Do you like it here?”

“I love it here! I always liked coming here when I was little, so I guess it doesn’t feel like something completely different. I reckon my tio abuelo is over the moon that we’re here for good; it’s like I’ve got a grandparent now.” Liv’s cheeks flushed pink, and she glanced away.

Understanding, Reggie nodded. Together, they’d grown up in a family that didn’t take the traditional shape. There were some things that simply couldn’t be explained to other friends; like why Reggie’s grandma could help him with his homework, but could never come in for grandparents’ day, and why Liv had a whole side of the family with no grandparents at all-- not even dead ones.

“And,” Liv continued, “people don’t really look at my Mama Estela funny. I noticed that years ago. I guess ‘cause of the war, people don’t look twice at someone who’s maybe a little bit banged-up. I got so sick of it back in America. Every time we met someone new, they’d put on that ‘God, what happened?’ face. Maybe Mom doesn’t want to explain the whole ‘revolutionary in a civil war’ thing to every random person who can’t mind their own business. Some people have scars-- big freaking deal. It’s better here.”

“Yeah, that would be a nice change. The amount of times I’ve seen you and Auntie Taylor look at a nosy idiot like you want to deck ‘em--”

Liv burst out laughing. “True, that.”

The sound of excited barking rang out from the backyard. It seemed pretty likely to Reggie that his parents and sisters had just arrived. When he and Liv arrived in the backyard, Erin had already joined Estela at the barbecue, desperate to be involved, while Immy was passionately talking to Nicolas about goodness-knows-what. Reggie made a mental note to rescue him in a few minutes; that kid could be intense, and the poor old guy had come out here for a relaxing lunch with his niece.

Nicely, but firmly, Reggie nudged the wriggling, writhing form of Robin the dog to the side so he could join his mother and Auntie Taylor at the large alfresco table under the porch. And Robin returned to his favoured position at the feet of the barbecue-- Erin was just a kid, surely, she’d drop something….

“Do you need a hand with the salads?” Reggie asked as he greeted his mother with a hug. He’d been seeking a lot of those. With so much changing, familial comfort meant a lot, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Perhaps more than anything, though, he was grateful to have Liv by his side. It was the way it had always been; from their toddler days on La Huerta, through elementary school, to their adventures in home-schooling. Some things might change-- some things might change immeasurably-- but he always had his cousin.

___________________________

La Huerta, 2028

Liv yelled out as she splashed down into the shallow surf. “Reggie!”

“I got her, Xiraana!” Reggie cried, and soon he was joined by a young Vaanti girl, who helped restrain their victim.

“No, no!” Liv squealed as she struggled. Vaanti kids, she’d long ago realised, were strong. “You’ll never take me alive!”

“Five-- four--- three….” Xiraana counted down, not letting Liv out of her grasp.

“Two-- one!” Reggie finished triumphantly, and he let his cousin fall unceremoniously back into the water. “The klaawyi ate all the meat off your bones. You’re one of us now!”

Liv pouted, but admitted defeat. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen; she was pretty good on Team Klaawyi anyway. Or, she would have been… had she not seen the figure of her favourite uncle descending onto the beach from the great tree of Elyys’tel.

“Tio Diegoooooo! Hiiiii!” Liv ran across the sand, almost tripping in her desperation to reach him.

“Hey, Livia!” Reggie cried out, indignant at being suddenly abandoned. “You’re meant to help us catch them!”

But Diego had crouched down to wrap Liv in a hug, and Reggie might as well be talking to a pile of rocks for all that was being absorbed.

“Tio, they got me! Reggie and Xiraana got me, and now I’m a klaawyi!”

“You?” Diego laughed. “You’re no klaawyi-- I’ve never seen a klaawyi that was ticklish!”

“Wha--?” Oh no. Once again, Liv was shrieking with mirth, this time dodging the tickling hands of her tio.

Still standing in the shallows, Reggie stomped his foot, which achieved little but splashing himself in the face. The game went on without them; games of Klaawyi Chase didn’t stop for anyone. The usual fun on the beaches outside Elyys’tel would go on like this every day… whether Reggie and Liv were there to join in or not. And Reggie didn’t want to miss out now.

“Come on, Livia!”

She just shook her head, not letting her adoring gaze up at Diego slip for so much as a heartbeat. “Nah,” she said. “I’m done.”

Torn, knowing that whichever direction he ran in, he’d lose out on precious time with friends, Reggie admitted defeat and rushed back to Liv’s side on the shore. He looked back over his shoulder and waved goodbye-- for what he’d been told would likely be a long, long time. Engrossed in their game, his friends gave just the most fleeting of farewells before continuing to race through the small waves that lapped the beach.

Liv, in contrast, had eyes only for her tio. She clasped his hand tightly; if she held on tight enough, perhaps he’d have no choice but to come with her to wherever her mothers were taking her in the big aeroplane.

Where exactly she was going, Liv didn’t quite understand. It was away from La Huerta, but they weren’t going back to live with Tio Nicolas, they were going… someplace else. Someplace with no Tio Diego and Varyyn, where all the other kids would be boring shades of pink and brown rather than blue and green, and where no one knew about the yeti-bear, or the magic crystal alien that made her mom, or about The Story of the Year the World Stopped.

“I want you to come, Tio Diego…,” Liv softly beseeched.

Diego’s eyes grew misty, her earnest words having tipped him over the edge after what had been a long period of emotional build-up. Goodbyes were never easy, and Liv’s family was his family. He squeezed her little hand gently.

“I’ll visit you, Livi-- I promise. Cross my heart. And your mommies will bring you over to visit us here too; you are going to learn so many new games at school that you can teach Xiraana and the other kids.”

“But I’ll miss you…”

Having rejoined Liv, Reggie peered up at Diego’s teary face with concern. “Diego, you’re making your glasses all foggy.”

“Ha. I know, I know!” Diego wiped his eyes. “You might have a point there, Reggie; I want to spend this last night with you guys actually being able to see you!”

Liv giggled and wrapped her arms around her uncle’s legs, only to be peeled off and hoisted into the air. “We can still have fun until bedtime, can’t we? Will you tell us a story?”

On the ground, Reggie danced around, his arms waving. Diego-time was the best story-time.

In the arms of her tio, her playmate since she was a baby bouncing on his knee, Liv was a mess of emotions; of fear and excitement, of merriment that competed with the looming sorrow. It was more than her little self had a clue what to do with. She was only five.

Sensing his cousin’s turmoil, Reggie reached up a hand and took hold of Liv’s, hanging down by Diego’s side. “Don’t worry, Livia! If you worry, you won’t enjoy story-time.”

Liv stuck out her bottom lip. That little nerd-face could be pretty smart sometimes. Tomorrow night, there would be no goodnight story from Tio Diego, but tomorrow night was not now-- now, everything was as it should be. Her wavering grin returned, and to her delight, it brought matching smiles to the faces of her companions.

“Do you think Varyyn, and my mommies, and Auntie Grace and Uncle Alli, and Auntie Grace’s tummy babies want to listen to the story too?”

“Yeah,” Diego said, letting Liv back down to the ground, where she immediately found another hug in Reggie’s arms, “I think everyone would really like that.”

_____________________________

San Trobida, August 2035

“I don’t get it,” Liv said thoughtfully, as the car rolled right on past the turn for her Auntie Grace and Uncle Al’s place. “It’s right on the way; wouldn’t it have been easier for us to pick up Reggie?”

“Hon,” Taylor replied, “I think Reggie wanted his mom and dad to take him to orientation. They’ll probably be better at helping with his jitters than we would be.”

“I guess.” Liv looked out the window, watching the surrounding vegetation thicken once more as the car followed the road up out of the valley. “Orientation Day shouldn’t be too bad, right? Just, like, meeting our teachers, learning where stuff is, that kinda thing?” And you’ll have to try and make friends. That would be a laugh.

By the time they pulled up at the Las Selvas Secondary School, however, Liv fully understood her cousin’s nerves, and realised that was probably why she’d been so disappointed that he didn’t share a car with her. Through every big change in their young lives, his presence had been a reassuring constant.

“Uggghh,” she groaned. “Can I change my mind? Home-schooling was all right; more of that, please.”

Estela leaned from the front seat and gave Liv’s knee a squeeze. “You know, I don’t think he’d ever say it, but I’m pretty sure Reggie would be really scared if he had to walk into this without you. Besides, you were so excited about starting here; you owe it to yourself to at least giving it a shot.”

Again, Liv groaned, this time even louder. “It’s so annoying when you’re right.”

“Story of my life,” Taylor laughed, while Estela smirked.

When they pulled up at the school, Reggie was already waiting, standing beside the car-park while his parents fussed over him.

“You have your phone?” Grace quizzed, checking for the fourth time since they’d set off.

“I told you, yes!” Reggie replied, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket to wave around for good measure. “I’ll send you a message when I’m ready to be picked up, I promise.”

“In that case, you just have a wonderful time, darling.” She wrapped him in a hug-- already Reggie was easily as tall as her. “Go well, and have fun.”

Liv rushed over, all smiles. Her own nerves were a whole lot less bothersome when she had the distraction of friendly faces.

There were a few more rounds of hugs exchanged-- and then, suddenly, Liv and Reggie were on their own.

“You wanna head over? Looks like people are already crowding around-- it’s probably gonna start soon.”

Reggie’s expression brightened, as if he’d been just waiting for a little push for his confidence to surge back forth. “Well, it will hardly be an auspicious start here if we miss the principal’s address. Get a move on, Livia!”

The morning passed relatively quickly. Liv placed herself next to Reggie at all times-- they’d been put in the same Grade Seven home room as requested, making him one of the eldest in the class, and her one of the youngest. The whole set-up wasn’t entirely different to the school they were accustomed to, other than the bilingual approach. They were given a small pile of boring paperwork, and outlines of what to expect in their new classes; as English was their first language, they’d be taking ‘Spanish as a Second Language’, and Liv was also excited about ‘Nature Studies’, a subject she’d never been offered in America.

As far as Liv was concerned, the most traumatic part of the session was being expected to stand up in front of a room of strangers and give a short spiel about themselves. The perfect opportunity to officially balls-up any chance they might have of making new friends, or at least that was how she saw it. She mumbled down into her chest; something about enjoying hiking and gymnastics, something about liking Batman, and animals, and then she hurriedly sat right back down with flaming cheeks. Reggie, she observed, handled the brief foray into public speaking with rather more poise. Even though he was shy-- perhaps even more than she was-- he seemed able to go into ‘school presentation’ mode, and breeze through. When he sat back down, though, his hands were shaking-- but that was for the eyes of his trusted friend only.

When the lunch break came along, Liv was ravenous; a new and challenging social situation could do that to a person. While Reggie sloped off to the bathrooms, she tested out the school canteen, emerging a little while later with a hot empanada. It wasn’t quite as good as her Mama Estela’s, but it was definitely a step up from what was on offer at her old school. Maybe she could get used to this place….

Liv watched this new world go by all around her as she ate, cross-legged beneath the tree she’d told her cousin to meet her by. Kids moved in their little circles, talking loudly, laughing. Most of them coming into Grade Seven had come from the local primary school, and many knew each-other. Liv and Reggie would be starting out on the outside… and that was daunting. She could not be more grateful that she wasn’t taking this on alone.

Or… at least, she shouldn’t be. The lunchtime queue moved on, the gaggles of kids spread out, and still Reggie hadn’t returned.

Damn, constipated on your first day. Sucks to be you, Reggie.

Tentatively, Liv approached the boys’ bathroom and, having ascertained that no one was watching, slipped in. Her footsteps were unheard, drowned out by the loud, frantic breathing of young Reggie, slumped over the sink. Alarmed, Liv rushed over. Tears were spilling down his cheeks.

“Reggie… it’s okay,” she said gently. A little unsure, she reached out a hand to rub his back, and to her surprise, he didn’t flinch away. Slowly, he seemed to regain control of himself.

“Liv…,” Reggie panted. “You know you’re not meant to be in here; this is the guys’ room.”

“Hey! Like it’s my fault you didn’t take your anxiety attack into the unisex bathroom. That’s on you.” Hmph. Ungrateful, much?

Reggie scowled, and dragged his cousin out of the toilet block by her arm. He slumped down by the wall, and scooched over to encourage her to join him.

“You’re a pain in the arse.” He was still shaking.

“It’s been said, yeah.” Liv huddled a little closer. “You don’t need to worry, okay? You’re not going to have any trouble making friends. Did you see they’ve got a chess club, and a photography club as well? At least that’ll get you talking to people.”

“That’s,” Reggie said quietly, “not exactly what I’m worried about.” When Liv looked at him expectantly, he continued. “When I was in a room with all those kids, my head just went back to being at our old school… and what happened. I know this place is meant to be progressive and all that, but that doesn’t mean that everyone’s okay. What if I think I’ve made friends with someone, and they find out about Erin, and they make it a big thing, and then some arsehole finds out….”

“Man, you’re really spiraling,” Liv observed, not especially helpfully. She wasn’t exactly surprised by what was troubling her cousin; getting into a fight in defense of his young transgender sister had completely unseated Reggie from the comfortable life he’d had at the last school. It had changed everything.

“You would too, if she was your sister!”

“Probably. But I think you should at least give people a go. It sounds like they’re really strict on any kind of bullying against minorities. Swinging back hard in the opposite direction after that fascist dictatorship.”

“Those are some awfully big words for you to be throwing around there, Livia; watch you don’t hurt yourself….”

“Hey! I know my stuff!” Liv demanded. “Do you think my tio abuelo would have it any other way? But anyway, I’m right. All the people who didn’t fit in before have come to this part of the country. Probably a lot of the kids have parents who saw really horrible things in the war; they wouldn’t want to send them somewhere that was bad like before. My Mama ‘Stel gave the principal the grilling of her life, and I bet she hasn’t been the only one. People are gonna want to make sure their kids are being looked after.”

A smile quirked on Reggie’s face as he imagined his aunt on a school tour. “I bet Tia Estela left Principal Sanchez quivering under the desk.”

“Yeah… after what happened in the last school, there’s no way they’d let us go anywhere unless they were sure it was a place that treated people right.”

Reggie knew that much. But his parents, and even his fierce aunt, could not shield himself, his sisters and his cousin, from everything. He contemplated silently, grateful for the patient companionship.

“I guess,” he said at last, “if no one gave anyone else a chance to be anything but the worst, then we’d be pretty lonely.”

“Yup. We should at least give it a shot. And if it all goes in the crapper, I’ll sic my moms on the fools that mess with us. And the freaking yeti.”

Reggie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. That had always been Liv’s answer to everything. “Livia, I hate to break it to you, but if you go around threatening people with yetis, everyone’s gonna think you’ve got a screw loose. Except me; I know you’ve got a screw loose.”

“So damn rude,” Liv growled. “Anyway, you really should eat something. It probably won’t help you feeling crap and light-headed if you’ve got an empty stomach. They’ve got arepas!”

“...I could eat an arepa,” Reggie admitted. There was only so much a young boy of thirteen could control; he couldn’t wave a magic wand and guarantee that his little sister would never be hurt by cruel, ignorant words, but he could look after himself, so that he was the best him he could be-- and the best brother.

_____________________________

USA, 2028

“You did a great job, sweetheart,” Taylor said kindly as Reggie delicately placed his knife and fork atop his small plastic plate, signaling that he’d finished. Immediately afterwards, the little boy’s small hand had dropped to his side to get a reassuring touch of his teddy’s scruffy fur. “It was nice of Big Bear to join us for dinner. Does he like lasagna as much as you do?”

Reggie yawned widely as he nodded to his aunt. He hadn’t known it was possible for a kid to be so full of yawns, but living with newborn twins had shown him just how big a tired feeling could be. “Big Bear likes to watch from the floor.”

“That’s nice of him to let you have the whole plate for yourself. We’re gonna have plenty to bring over to your mommy and daddy for them to eat tomorrow.”

Lasagna had been Reggie’s choice. This whole sleepover was to be all about him; giving him a welcome break from the stresses of being a new big brother to two babies at once. He’d been on many, many sleepovers at Tia Estela and Auntie Taylor’s place before, but this time felt different. Reggie knew that at home, his parents were busy with their other children… and in his sensitive state, it took no time at all for him to miss them.

Twins, Reggie had come to realise, were very hard work. They cried a lot… and his mommy cried a lot, and his daddy cried a lot, and he cried a lot. All crying and no sleeping was not a whole lot of fun. Reggie wanted so badly to get away from the babies, but at the same time he longed to be with his parents. However much fun it was to take a break at his aunts’ place, the worry in him just wouldn’t go away.

Side-by-side, he and Liv changed into their pyjamas. Five-year-old Liv, true to form, nattered away to him the whole time. Babies, of course, were the subject of choice.

“My moms say we’re probably not gonna get another baby. Maybe ‘cos you have two I can borrow one if I get lonely. Do you have one that you like best?”

Reggie shrugged.

“Maybe next time your mom and dad will have three. You could have all these babies like a baby army, and if someone’s ever mean to you, you will have like a hundred poopy diapers you can throw at them. No one likes poop.”

“I don’t want lots more babies,” Reggie said softly. I want no more.

“If you don’t like babies, you can come and live with us forever!” Liv suggested brightly, oblivious the the wobble of her cousin’s bottom lip.

When Estela popped her head around the corner to check on the kids, Reggie was in tears and Liv looked totally bewildered.

“Mommy, Reggie’s crying…,” she pointed out, rather unnecessarily, for her mother had already scooped the little boy into a cuddle.

“It’s okay, mijo,” Estela soothed as she gently rocked her nephew in her arms. “It’s okay to cry. This has been really hard. You know what? You have been such a good boy for Mommy and Daddy.”

Liv, not quite sure what to do, but nothing if not well-meaning, draped herself over Reggie and patted him on the back. “There, there. It’s okay.”

Estela took Reggie into the lounge room for some cheer-up time, and Liv took Big Bear. Taylor quickly joined them, and pulled Reggie into her lap for a cuddle.

“Are you feeling a bit sad, sweetpea?”

Reggie nodded. “Uh-huh. I liked it better how things were before. Everything’s different.”

Taylor gently rubbed the little boy’s arms. “Change can be really tough. It’s like you’ve got to figure out how life works all over again!”

“Yeah, it’s not nice.”

“So, it’s okay to have a good cry. We will give you as many hugs and cuddles as you need.”

“Reggie,” Liv piped up, “do you wanna play a game? That could make you feel happy?”

Reggie sniffed and nodded again. Pleased-- she had this cheering-up business down-- Liv plonked herself in Estela’s lap and leaned forward to her cousin.

“Do you wanna play… ‘Klaawyi Chase’?”

Estela intervened quickly. “Maybe something with a little less running around. It’s nearly bedtime, Livi.”

“Okay. Ummmm…. ‘Duck, Duck, Goose’?”

“Livita.”

Well, you’re no fun. Liv gave a soft huff and pondered. By her best guess, ‘Hide and Seek’ would be a ‘no’ too… especially as last time she’d hid, no one managed to find her for a full hour.

“How about,” Taylor suggested, “we have a game of ‘Fortunately-Unfortunately’?”

“I wanna play that one!” Reggie said enthusiastically. “Can I start? Fortunately, we all had ice cream for dessert.”

Liv bounced in her mother’s lap. “Unfortunately, the ice cream was smelly-feet flavour!”

“Livi!” Taylor exclaimed, rolling her eyes. Why was everything smelly-feet with that kid? “Okay, then-- fortunately, Robin Dog likes smelly-feet, so he ate all the ice cream for us.”

“Oh!” Liv cried. “I’ve got a really good one!” Hehe, Robin with smelly-feet farts….

“Unfortunately,” said Estela. “It was Mama Estela’s turn, and Miss Livita just had to wait.”

Liv turned and poked her tongue out at her mom, making Reggie giggle. He snuggled in against his Auntie Taylor’s chest, his mind far away from worries about his new role as big brother to a pair of very needy twins.

“Fortunately,” he said, smiling, “Furball was visiting, and he made us some new ice cream with no yucky flavours in it.”

“Unfortunately….”

_________________________

San Trobida, September 2035

It was the last weekend before school started, and a lazy warm day at the Montoya house. Estela was up a tree, hammering boards into what would soon be a playhouse for the kids. She’d already finished up a two-storey-high climbing wall on the other side of the yard, which, at Liv’s request, would eventually be connected to the new tree-house by a zipline. Then, there’d be a slide, and monkey bars, and a tyre swing, and a fire pole. Basically, Estela had made it her mission to put together the best backyard playground on the Costa Libertad. Taylor, meanwhile, had been busying herself with a vegetable garden, with the help of a fascinated Erin and her parents, who turned out to be quite clever when it came to soil chemistry.

Liv had been up and down her new climbing wall like a yo-yo, leaving her dog, Robin, running rings around the base and all but tripping Reggie up as he tentatively took his first steps towards ascending.

“Are you coming?”

“I’m trying! Your dog’s getting in the way.”

Eventually, Reggie managed to clamber his way up, with a little help from Liv who hauled him over the top.

“See; piece of cake.”

Reggie couldn’t quite agree, and now that he was up twenty feet, he was already dreading his descent back to solid ground. Keen to distract himself from the dizzying height, he passed Liv the rope that he’d carried slung across his shoulders.

“What do you want me to do with it?” she demanded. “You’re meant to drop one end back down….”

“I’m not going near the edge!”

“Fine. Immy! You down there still?”

On the ground, and trying to wrestle a squeaky toy giraffe from Robin’s mouth, Immy craned her neck up.

“Yeah-- but you’re lucky I am, Reggie was so slow.”

“Careful. I was careful. You should bloody well try it sometime.”

Immy rolled her eyes dramatically, but nonetheless took the rope end that Liv had lowered to her, and ran it over to Estela so the distance could be measured.

“There we go,” Liv said, after having marked the rope at the edge of the platform. “Done. Reggie, if you’re just going to look down, you might as well be on the ground. Come on-- check out the view!”

Begrudgingly, Reggie sat up properly and looked around.

“Woah.” Maybe he could see the appeal of being up so high, even if he was immensely grateful for the safety rails around the platform. “You really can see everything up here.”

“Isn’t it cool?” Liv beamed as she pointed her cousin towards the paddock behind the yard. “You wanted to see our horse? Right in there at the side of the sheltery-shed thing….”

“Oh, wow! Okay, fine, I believe you now. I guess she was just hiding earlier.”

“That’s Miel. She’s like, older than dirt; Mama Estela used to ride her when she was a teenager.”

“And she’s still alive?”

“Just about. I think she’s uh… nearly thirty? Pretty ancient. Mom found out she was all on her own after her friend died, and she bought her so she could retire here with us. She’s kind of a bitey asshole. Uh, the horse-- not Mom.” Liv quickly amended, glancing to the in-progress tree-house. “So, we’re keeping her, and if she wants to make friends with the new horses we’re getting, she can, otherwise at least she can, like, neigh rude horse words at them from over the fence.”

Reggie snorted. Weirdo.

“I’m super excited. I know Mama ‘Stel was kind of nervous about us moving over here because of how things were when she was a kid-- but it actually… feels nice. I love our new house. I love cranky Miel. I love that we’re gonna get chickens, and maybe a new friend for Robin. Even the school seems pretty good.”

Swallowing his fear, Reggie joined Liv at the railing, dangling his legs over the side of the platform.

“Yeah, I think I like it here, too. Mom and Dad seem really happy; Dad says he can make more of a good difference in the world here than in America. So, I guess that’s got to be good. Did I tell you we’re going to put a pool in?”

“You might have mentioned it. When you’ve been whining about the heat, for the hundredth time.”

“It’s so humid!”

Liv giggled. It was like being back in the tropics of La Huerta, and to her, that felt right. Granted, it might have been nicer if they could just pop on over into a neighbouring alpine region that was inexplicably right next to the hot, sticky jungle, but she really loved it.

“Well,” Reggie said, “it’s going to be great. And it should be done by the time Quinn and Michelle come to visit.”

“Do we even know whose house they’re staying at yet?”

“It should be my place.” Reggie puffed out his chest, as if to emphasise the rightness of his point. “You’re definitely getting Jake and Sean and Mikey. You can’t take all the visitors. And besides… we’ll have a pool.”

That was hard to argue with. “It’s up to the adults anyway,” Liv conceded. In the end, it didn’t matter; she was going to make the most of having her La Huerta family around even if it meant camping out in Reggie’s back yard. “But, I will be a much better San Trobida tour guide than you. I’m still showing you around.”

Reggie hmphed, and Liv laughed.

“Come on, Reggie,” she said, dropping gracefully down the side of the wall and taking up hand-holds. “I’m getting hungry.”

It was at that point that Reggie made the sobering discovery that going down, was rather more intimidating than going up a sheer vertical surface.

“Um, Liv…,” he said quietly. “I, uh, don’t think I can do that.”

“Oh!” Liv responded. “Sorry, I forgot you’re new to this. Maybe you should’ve started smaller. But don’t worry, I’ll get you down….”

“Okay…,” he murmured, clearly not remotely convinced.

“Mom!” Liv hollered, all but making her poor cousin topple over the edge in surprise. “Reggie’s stuck!”

Reggie felt heat rise in his cheeks as his sisters, hanging out on the grass below the wall at the worst possible time, burst out laughing. Like they could even get up this high to begin with.

Up in the tree-house, Estela looked up and wiped off the paint from her hands. Rescuing kids from scrapes had pretty much become her specialty at this point; twelve years with Liv had seen to that. “I’m coming,” she called back.

“I’m not exactly stuck,” Reggie muttered defensively, as his Tia Estela easily scaled the climbing wall to join him and Liv, who’d already rejoined him to offer moral support. “If I really wanted to, I could climb down; I just feel I should practice climbing up a few more times before I try that.”

“You’ll get there,” Estela said kindly. As far as she was concerned, the fact that her nephew had a realistic view of his own capabilities was only a good thing. “I’ll have that zipline going in no time anyway, so you’ll have no hurry to work it out.”

With his aunt’s back offered to him, Reggie took the cue and wrapped his long arms around her neck, and his legs around her middle. Getting rescued by one of the team of protective grown-ups? Basically, the story of both his and Liv’s lives.

“Hang on, Regito,” Estela laughed.

____________________________

La Huerta, 2034

The frigid wind howled against the cabin door, and it took all of Liv and Reggie’s combined might to wrestle it closed. Both kids were panting heavily-- and shaking like leaves-- as they nervously stepped away.

“Thank god this little hut was here, really,” Liv heaved. “I dunno about you, but I’d rather be stranded in a snowstorm with walls around me.”

Reggie said nothing, and just shivered, wrapping his arms around his own torso. He’d wrapped up-- as if his parents would let him go wandering into the colder pockets of the island without a heap of layers-- but the snow had wet his gloves through, and a chill was now spreading through his body.

“Hey,” Liv said, “we should… we should get a fire going. You look like you’re halfway turned into a popsicle right now.”

As his cousin busied herself at the fireplace-- thank goodness there was some firewood left-- Reggie fiddled with his emergency phone. His heart sank. No signal. His mom and dad were going to be so worried when he and Liv never came home….

“Uh, Liv… I think the storm’s screwed up the reception here. It won’t let me phone Mom and Dad.”

Liv looked up, and for the first time, she looked truly fearful, her usual intrepid spirit extinguished in a flash. “They’re really gonna panic,” she said softly. She shuddered. If their parents came out looking for them, it meant walking out into a blizzard, and all the danger that came with it. If she could just tell her mothers that she was safe, that she and Reggie had shelter… they could wait out the storm. Anything could happen, anything….

“Are you okay, Livia?” Reggie asked, and he handed her a heavy blanket as he sat down cross-legged in front of her feebly burning fire. “You look kind of spaced-out.”

“Hng?”

“They’ll find us; it’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want them to come and find us,” Liv snapped. “I want them to stay where it’s safe. They could get hurt or, or worse because we were stupid enough not to turn around when the weather changed.” She placed a stick too roughly, and her firewood tower collapsed, extinguishing the flame. “For fuck’s sake!”

Reggie, wisely, stayed quiet, letting his cousin fix up the mess and get a new fire started without interference. He watched her with concern as her eyes welled. “Livia…?”

She huddled close to him, but for a long while, didn’t speak.

“Reggie,” she murmured at last, “something really horrible happened a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t want to talk about it with you, ‘cause… ‘cause I didn’t even want to think about it…. It just made me feel too bad. But, uh.... I was… I was playing in the sea with Mama Estela. Just like we always do. We were just goofing off. Then, um, I got all tangled up in those freaking weeds. They grabbed me and held me under.”

“That must have been so scary….”

“Of course, Mom got me out of there. B-but there was a sea-snake in there. It bit her. It happened so fast… I hardly even saw what happened, but she suddenly just... could hardly even get out of the water. I somehow managed to haul her up out the water, but she was all limp and… and I gave her the anti-venom, and she just started having some kind of fit.. Like her body was jerking around, and her mouth was all frothy.” She gasped through a sob. “Then she… she stopped breathing, completely.” Liv shuddered as the memory filled her mind, vivid as if it were yesterday. She could feel Reggie’s wide, horrified eyes upon her. “I screamed. I screamed for help. Mama Taylor was up the beach, she couldn’t hear me. S-so I did CPR. My hands were shaking so-- so bad. And all I could think was ‘I’m gonna screw this up. I’m gonna screw this up and my mom’s gonna die’.” Her voice cracked and she sputtered through hot tears that she wiped away with her arm. Before she knew it, Reggie had his arms around her and was holding her tight. “I don’t know how long it was,” she said. “It felt like forever, but it was probably only a few minutes. Then she started breathing and I just… I cried, and cried, and cried.”

Reggie gently rubbed Liv’s back, and it soothed her.

“I, uh, I guess I always thought Mama Estela was invincible. To me, she always was. There was nothing I couldn't do either, because she would always be there to protect me. It was so close, Reggie… it looked like she was gone.”

“I… didn’t know it was as bad as that. My dad told me she’d been bitten but…,” Reggie mumbled. “You must have been so scared. Have you… have you talked to your moms about it much?”

Liv sniffed, and wiped her face again. “Yeah. You know what my Mama Taylor is like; we’ve talked it through lots, I’ve told them how I’m feeling. But I haven’t… like… had a big cry since it happened.” Until now. Now, she just couldn’t seem to stop the tears from coming. Reggie didn’t seem to mind; he just sat with her, and rubbed her back, and told her it was okay.

After what seemed like an age, her tears slowed.

“It is going to be okay, you know?” Reggie said gently. “Obviously, they’re going to come out looking for us, but they’re smart. They’ll be prepared; just like your Mama Estela was with the anti-venom.”

“Yeah…,” Liv said, her voice small. You could be as prepared as you wanted, but sometimes the world managed to stay one step ahead. The storm outside was wild and furious, battering on the roof and walls… and it was frightening. Liv could only snuggle under her cousin’s arm, and trust that whatever search and rescue party was out there would come through.

The two kids huddled together beneath their blanket, speaking little, but making their mutual support known without words. Just the squeeze of a hand through the most blood-curdling howls of the wind, and the simple offer of presence.

Somehow, the creak of the door shoved open cut through the dull roar.

“Oh, thank goodness!”

“Dad!” Reggie leapt forward and flung his arms around his father, his face lighting up further when Grace followed in behind. “Mom!”

Grace put her shaking hands to her son’s face, gently sweeping hair from his eyes. “Darling, are you all right?” Then she pulled Liv into a fierce hug, and in a moment Aleister had his arms around all three of them. “We were so worried!”

Liv whimpered against Grace’s shoulder. “Are my moms out in the storm?” She knew the answer already.

“Yes, honey. They’re out searching for you. Don’t you stress, okay? We’ve got a flare to set off so they’ll know we found you here-- and Varyyn and Diego too.”

“Woah,” Liv murmured, “you got a whole search party out.”

There was a buzzing, and the flickering of blue light, then Iris materialised.

Reggie beamed. “Hey, Grandma! So, a ‘whole search party’ is pretty much correct.”

“I will say, being able to scan for nearby lifeforms is quite handy in situations like these.”

So, find my moms and Tio Diego. Liv hugged tighter to her Auntie Grace, with no words pleading for help.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Grace said gently, stroking Liv’s face, while Aleister saw to setting off the flare. “It’s going to be just fine. We’re not far from Elyys’tel; we all fanned out from there, so no one is going to be too deep into the mountains.”

That… actually made sense. It was enough, just enough to keep Liv a step above panic-mode. She headed back to the fireplace, but as her backside hit the floor, a guttural roar rocked the cabin, and she leapt back to her feet.

“What the--?”

“You two stay back!” Aleister ordered, his voice shaking. Why, oh why, did the children want to go gallivanting out in the frozen wilderness when there was a perfectly serviceable tropical paradise right outside their front door? He was going to be old before his time at this rate….

Grace, though, was already hauling open the door, to reveal the hulking figure of the Mountain Guardian.

A growl rumbling in her throat, Arktos loomed in the doorway, looking down at Grace with a questioning gaze.

“Hello…?” she said cautiously. The gigantic bear-like creature was generally reasonably friendly…. “Did we… did we disturb you with the flare?”

Arktos grumbled, her furry ears flicking with curiosity.

“Our friends are out there in the storm,” Grace continued, certain that the yeti would understand; her past experiences had only supported the fact that this creature was incredibly intelligent-- and benevolent. “The flare was to bring them to this cabin.”

With a soft huff, Arktos shuffled backwards, and all of a sudden, it seemed as though she was surrounded by a force-field… a bubble that the wind and blinding snow couldn’t penetrate.

Understanding, Grace turned to Iris. “I think we’re going hiking again-- with a little extra help this time. Al, you’ll stay and watch the kids?”

“I--I--” Aleister stuttered. “Well, of course. Stay close to the… the bear thing.” Scrambling a little, he pulled off his outer layer and offered it to her. “I won’t have you catching hypothermia.”

And Grace stepped into the snow, Iris hovering behind her, and found shelter in the yeti’s protective shield. She looked up at the beast, now rearing up onto colossal hind legs to scout for signs of nearby human activity. “Thank you, Arktos. I guess… I guess, you choose the direction, and we’ll start the search.”

The unusual trio headed out into the storm, and within moments, they were invisible for the wind thick with snow. Aleister, a look of dumbfoundment upon his face, closed the door, and again, the cabin was quiet.

“Damn. Auntie Grace is a fricking badass,” Liv breathed, face alight in awe.

Aleister, recovering from his wife’s shock exit quickly-- he’d seen her steely courage in action enough times to just about take it in his stride, nodded. “Indeed.” He brushed the last flakes of snow from his coat, and looked around the room. “Well, I don’t suppose the wait will pass any faster with us standing around here. Reggie, did we leave any board-games here last time?”

“Uh, looks like we’ve got ‘Scrabble’?”

Well, Liv thought, I don’t have a hope in hell against these people. Should’ve left ‘Twister’ here….

Reggie sat himself down in front of the crackling fire and started unpacking the box. “Hey, Livia-- team up with me?”

He was clearly still a little worried about her. If there was an opportunity to thrash her at something, Mr Pedantic-Always-Right would take it without fail. Or so Liv had believed.

She plonked down cross-legged beside him. “Yeah? Yeah, all right.”

The two kids exchanged a high five, and Liv couldn’t help but grin. You are going down, Uncle Al.

___________________________

San Trobida, September 2035

As the car pulled up the neatly paved pathway to Aleister and Grace’s house, Liv excitedly rolled down the window.

“Reginaaaaald!!!” she hollered.

“How,” Aleister wondered aloud, “can such a small person-- and the offspring of Estela and Diego of all people-- sound so eerily like a bloody foghorn?”

A beaming Reggie followed his father out the front door. He exchanged hugs with both his parents-- and his two little sisters-- and then rushed to join his cousin on the back seat.

“Are you ready to go, mijo?” Estela checked in, suppressing a laugh as Taylor all but did a contortion act to give her nephew a hug from the front seat.

He had Liv, didn’t he? So, basically, he was ready for anything.

The short drive to the school saw the return of those pesky jitters, and Reggie knew from the way his cousin jiggled her leg the whole way there that he was definitely not alone in that. The school ground, filled only with kids their own age when they’d been there for orientation, was swarming with adolescents of all sizes-- and just about all of them were bigger than Reggie and Liv.

With an awkward hug and a kiss to her mothers in the front of the car, Liv bit the bullet and, bulging backpack in hand, stepped out into a brave new world. There was only one thing for it; Reggie would just have to take the plunge. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, and followed after his cousin.

“Welp,” said Liv, “here goes nothing!”

Reggie gave a nervous laugh and playfully bashed Liv with his backpack, putting a reassuringly silly grin on her face.

We’ve got this.

_______________________

NOTES

Little Xiraana is @mauvecatfic's baby. Check out her stories; you won't regret it!

If you read 'A Ride to Remember', you might remember Miel. She's the very same horse.

Aaaaand, the incident Liv is recounting during the snowstorm is the one you can read from Estela's perspective in 'Teething Problems: Part Two'.

#endless summer #playchoices #liv montoya #reggie hall #graleister #estela x mc #estela montoya #grace hall #aleister rourke #diego soto

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ericsonclan · 3 years

Text

Rockabye

Summary: Clementine and Louis are out in the woods when they hear a baby cry.

Word Count: 2856

Read on AO3:

“Been a long time since it was just you and me out here,” Clementine noted, smiling over at her husband as they walked through the woods together.

“That it has,” Louis agreed, flashing her his signature smile. “You could almost call this a date: you and I alone together, the ambient noises of the forest providing the perfect backdrop for a romantic moment or two to be stolen before we head back,”

“I would hardly call checking traps a date… but it is nice,” Clementine reached out, her hand taking Louis’. The pair let their intertwined hands swing back and forth lazily as they strolled deeper into the woods. With Maisy and Lee Kenny still so young there was rarely time where they could afford to both go out for the day. But Willy and Allison had promised to keep an eye on the kids and she and Louis had both jumped at the chance. Clementine loved her kids with all her heart but having some breathing space from the chaos was a gift to be enjoyed, one so rarely received she almost didn’t know what to do with it.

“We should take the scenic route. A little tiptoe through the tulips perhaps?” Louis grinned playfully, causing his wife’s nose to wrinkle in amusement.

“Alright. Five minutes. Then we get back to work,”

“But of course,”

Before Clementine could protest, Louis had swept her off her feet and was striding off the beaten path to a nearby patch of wildflowers. “Louis!” she exclaimed before devolving into giggles. “Put me down!”

“And risk you stepping on one of the flowers? No, my darling Clementine, leave it to me to safely navigate us to our final destination,”

“And where might that be?”

“That, my dear, is a secret,”

Clementine rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. Leave it to Louis to still come up with little adventures even after all this time. Nearly ten years together and she was just as smitten as the day they’d first crossed paths. After a few steps further, Louis placed his wife down upon a fallen log that lay near the wildflowers. Sitting down beside her, he took her hand once more. Clementine rested her head upon Louis’ shoulder, nuzzling it gently. “This is nice,”

“Best five minutes I’ve had in a long time,”

They were silent for a moment, enjoying the stillness and peace of the forest around them. There hadn’t been as many walkers around this past month, likely because most of them had gone with a large herd that had swept through the area a few weeks back. Clementine had never been more thankful to be surrounded by brick walls than when she saw the size of the herd as it slowly passed by. It had been somewhat difficult to stay behind those walls as the woods cleared out, but the time spent in lockdown had shown all of them how truly self-sufficient the school had become. Still, Clementine hoped they wouldn’t have to face anything like that again for a long time to come.

“Hold still for a sec,” Louis’ hand reached out toward her face, pausing at the corner of her eye before drawing back. On his index finger lay a single eyelash. “Go on, make a wish,”

“What?”

“Make a wish then close your eyes and blow the eyelash off my finger. Trust me, it’s a thing,”

Clementine considered her wish carefully. What did she want that she didn’t have? For years growing up on the road all she would have wished for was a home and now she had that. Not just a home, but a family that she could never have even dared to imagine. Truth be told, she didn’t really wany anything more. She just wanted things to stay the same. With that thought in mind, Clementine closed her eyes and blew away the eyelash.

The sound of a baby’s cry carried through the forest. The sound immediately tore through Clementine’s heart. Her eyes shot up to meet Louis’. They were both thinking the same thing: the children. Sprinting toward the source of the sound, both ran with all their might, their minds frantic at the possibilities of what could have happened.

The cries were coming from the opposite direction of the school. It made no sense but there was no time to try to sort through how this had happened. Clementine almost tripped, causing Louis to pause to help her. “No! Go!” Clementine screamed. Louis looked torn for a moment then ran ahead, Clementine following behind as she struggled to match his pace.

Moments later they broke out into a clearing, the sounds louder than ever. Clementine’s eyes scanned her surroundings, searching for Maisy or Lee Kenny. Neither were there. Zachariah and Savannah were nowhere to be found either. She looked to Louis, but he appeared just as lost as she was. They ran through the clearing, still searching in a panic, but there was no child to be seen. Clementine paused for a second, trying to refocus her senses to hone in on the direction the screams were coming from. There, just across from them! Grabbing Louis’ hand, Clementine ran toward the cries.

They froze as they drew near. There at the base of a large tree were at least a dozen walkers all with heads and arms lifted toward the source of the crying: a basket that dangled from one of the lower tree branches.

“It’s not one of the kids,” Clementine whispered, eyes large in disbelief.

“No,” Louis shook his head. “It’s a baby,”

“Who the fuck leaves a baby in a tree?”

“Someone desperate? Either way,” Louis drew out Chairles, “We have to act now. If they haven’t returned at the sound of its cries, they may not be coming back at all,”

Clementine nodded. Drawing the compound bow, she aimed at the nearest walker. “As soon as I hit one, the rest will see us,”

“I’ll make some noise, draw a few of them off to the side,”

“It’s a risk. If there are more getting drawn in by the baby’s cries…”

“We can do this,” Louis gave his wife a look of determination. “We have to,”

He was right. “I’ll take the first one,” Making sure her aim was true, Clementine let out a centering breath before letting the arrow fly. It shot through the air and struck its target, braining a walker before it even knew what hit it. The corpse dropped to the ground, the sound temporarily drawing the attention of the other walkers away from the baby.

“Hey!” Louis shouted, walking away from his wife to get some of the heat off of her. “Over here, deadheads! Come at me!”

The walkers eagerly gave chase, their withered legs moving as quickly as they could. Drawing another arrow, Clementine shot another one. Her aim was a bit off though. Instead of going through the brain it knocked off the walker’s jaw, already dangling by a thread of sinew. Swearing under her breath, Clementine drew again. But this time there was another walker that was nearer with one more right behind it. With barely any distance between them Clementine shot an arrow directly between its eyes before drawing her knife to face the other.

“You’re doing great, sweetie!” Louis called over before swinging out to bash in a walker’s skull. The one that Clementine had de-jawed was now making its way over to him at the sound of his voice. “Oh, you want some more pain?” Louis quipped. Swinging upwards, he hit its head so hard that the neck snapped. The walker’s head flopped over to the side, still connected to the body but dangling as uselessly as its jaw had been. With the walker posing no more immediate threat, Louis kicked it backwards, sending it tumbling into the next two walkers behind it. Striding forward, Louis brained the collapsed walkers one after another.

The baby’s cries had picked up again, its wails more like screams. The sound was drawing the walkers back and from what Clementine could hear in the forest surrounding them there were more walkers nearby. Stabbing the walker she’d been grappling with through the eye, she dug in deep, twisting the knife to pierce the brain. The walker’s milky eye burst on contact with her blade, dribbling down the hilt of her knife and onto her hand. The walker collapsed as its brain ceased to function and Clementine quickly flicked the eye and brain matter from her knife before sheathing it and redrawing her bow.

Seeing his wife was aiming for the walker nearest the basket on the left, Louis headed right. Drawing back Chairles once more, he slammed it against the side of the nearest walker’s skull from behind before backstepping quickly. He needed to spread out the remaining walkers if he was going to be able to take them out without getting bit. A walker crumpled to the ground by the tree, an arrow embedded in the back of its skull. That was another one down. Four to go. Unless… Louis glanced backwards. A pair of walkers were approaching them from behind. Those needed to be dealt with before they got the jump on them. “Clem! We got some stragglers. You good with me stepping away for a sec?”

Clementine nodded. “Go!” She could see Louis running behind her out of the corner of her eye before she refocused on her next target. A particularly tall walker looked like it actually might have a chance at reaching the baby. Its outstretched hand brushed against the base of the basket, causing it to sway back and forth. “You get the fuck away,” Clementine growled. Her next arrow struck right on target, going through the walker’s brain and embedding itself in the tree. The walker’s corpse slouched lifeless, held upright by the very arrow that had killed it. Three more to go. Behind her, Clementine could hear Louis struggling. “Need help?”

“Nah, save your arrows! These two are just being extra cranky! Isn’t that right, fellas?” Louis looked up at the pair he was facing. He’d gotten a few hits in, but one had missed and knocked an arm off instead while the others hadn’t been enough to take down the nearer walker. “You, sir, have a remarkably thick skull. I wonder if that made it hard for your teachers when you were in school. It’s certainly an inconvenience for me,” Drawing close, Louis decided to take an alternate approach. Jamming Chairles into the walker’s mouth, he used the leverage to push the creature backwards. Kicking out the other’s knee to buy himself time, Louis walked forward, forcing the walker to stumble backwards till its back hit a tree. Perfect.

Chairles was lodged firmly in the walker’s mouth, so when Louis drew his weapon back the walker came with it. “Nice try, buddy, but no cigar for you,” Thrusting forward, Louis bashed the walker’s head against the tree before forcing it forward once more to prepare for another hit. The tree grew red with the walker’s blood before finally Chairles burst through the back of its skull, killing it instantly. Louis grinned proudly at his work before realizing his mistake. This walker was dead, but Chairles was now wedged inside its skull and there was another walker mere steps away. “Clem! A little help?”

Clementine spun round to see a walker about to grab her husband. “Louis!” The walker was inches away from her husband who was desperately trying to rip his weapon out of the dead walker’s skull. There was no time to think. Drawing her bow, Clementine immediately shot it, praying her aim was true. Before she could know, a grisly hand pulled her backwards. She’d let one sneak up on her. With a frantic cry, Clementine thrust her knife behind her, hearing a loud crunch as knife scraped bone then embedded in flesh. There was the warm feeling of blood spilling upon her shoulder before the dead walker collapsed, taking Clementine down with it and pinning her beneath its weight. Clementine groaned, her breaths labored as she struggled to get out before another walker reached her.

“Clem!” Louis was at her side in seconds. Her aim had been true after all. Grabbing his wife’s hand, Louis tried to pull her out from beneath the walker. But there were more pressing problems. A walker was approaching his pinned wife and looked intent on biting her exposed ankle. “Think again, fucker!” Louis yelled, leaping forward and swinging with all his might. The blow tore off the top of the walker’s skull. Its hair fluttered back and forth on the piece of bone dangling off the side of its head. That opening was all he needed. Sending Chairles crashing down from above, Louis obliterated the offensive creature. He then spun round to check on his wife. “Clem, are you-”

“I’m alright! Just help me get the rest of the way out!” Clementine grunted with effort, struggling to free her trapped prosthetic from under the corpse. Louis rushed over, lifting the walker just enough to let Clementine slip the rest of the way out before letting it fall once more to the ground. The couple smiled at each other before glancing over to the tree where the basket dangled. Only one walker was left, reaching for the basket in dazed desperation.

“Do you want the honors, my darling?”

“Nothing would please me more,” Withdrawing her knife one last time, Clementine snuck up behind the walker and thrust the knife deep within its skull. The walker went still and she tossed it to the side, finally breathing a sigh of relief. “We actually did it,”

“That we did,” Louis smiled proudly at his wife, stepping forward to join her. Both looked up at the basket. The baby was still crying, louder than ever. They didn’t have much time before all of this would be for naught and more walkers would come wandering in. The pair shared a look. Louis dropped to his knees. “Hop up on my shoulders. I think that’s our best bet to get the basket down safely,”

Clementine nodded and climbed on, gasping slightly as her husband got back to his feet.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Take a step to your right. One more…there,” Clementine looked down into the basket for the first time. The baby couldn’t be more than a few months old. It was dressed in a ratty, oversized t-shirt and wrapped in a blanket. Its dark skin was hot to the touch, from the heat or its prolonged screams Clementine couldn’t tell. She tried to calm it for a moment before realizing that was futile until they had it safely down. Holding the sides of the basket, she looked down at Louis. “Step back slowly. We’ll have to go bit by bit till we get it off this branch,”

Louis nodded and followed suit. Inch by inch they guided the basket off the branch as the baby wailed and writhed within it. The forest seemed quiet, but they knew that could change at any second. Clementine gripped the basket tightly, adjusting and tilting it slightly to get past the bumps and grooves of the branch. Finally after what seemed like a lifetime she pulled the basket the last few inches and it was free, the weight of the basket and baby shifting to Clementine’s arms. She held it close to her chest, smiling softly down at the baby as she shifted her grip to the handle. “Gonna hand the basket down to you then hop off your back. OK, Lou?”

Louis’ hands rose to receive it. “Gotcha,”

Once she was sure the basket had been safely transferred over, Clementine slipped down from her husband’s back. She circled round to look at the crying baby Louis now held in his arms. The baby was still wailing, clearly too overwhelmed to be comforted simply through cuddles. She needed food, water, maybe medicine. “We have to get her back to the school. Then we can head back out in search of any parents or guardians she might have,”

“Look,” Louis tugged on the corner of the blanket the baby was wrapped in. On it was sewn a single word in messy, tangled thread – a name. Juliet. “Think that’s her name?”

“Maybe,” Clementine pressed the back of her hand to the baby’s forehead. Her temperature was troubling. “You carry her. I’ll cover you with the bow,”

“Alright,”

“Just give me a minute to grab the arrows,” Walking round the corpses, Clementine retrieved her spent arrows. She wondered if the person who’d left Juliet was still nearby. Did they want her? They’d left her somewhere safe, but they hadn’t come when she cried. So were they dead or simply gone? Answers would have to come later. For now their priority had to be Juliet. Rejoining her husband, Clementine notched an arrow, bow at the ready. “Let’s go,” The pair headed out side by side, the baby still sobbing against Louis’ chest. One thing was certain: they would keep Juliet safe. No matter what.

#twdg #twdg louis #twdg clementine #clouis #twdg juliet #fanfic

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ladytrelaw · 4 years

Text

Ursus’ Lotions, Potions, and Puppetry Chapter 3: Your Broken Children

It’s 1am!! Have a chapter update <3

Thanks @siren-of-the-renown for brainstorming the flower crown idea with me!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25432372/chapters/62599669

“This one?”

“Buttercup. Like butter melting in your mouth.”

“That’s cheating!”

Grinpayne laughs at Dea’s scandalised tone, plucking the offending flower from her fingers and winding it into the half-formed crown in his lap. “It’s not cheating if that’s what it’s called! I didn’t name it.”

It’s a balmy afternoon, and they’ve been lying in the grass for an hour or so now, banished from the cart while Ursus tinkers with some potion or other. Neither of them mind; the cart is cosy in winter but stuffy in summer, and out here in the open air a languid sort of ease has fallen over them as they work their way slowly through the pile of wildflowers that Grinpayne brought back from his walk. What Dea does mind, however, is the way that Grinpayne has just wormed his way out of giving her a halfway decent description of the flower she held in her hand.

“It’s still cheating,” she says in as stern a voice as she can muster, but Grinpayne happily ignores her. He hums something under his breath as his nimble fingers work amongst the stems and petals of her crown, and she can’t stop herself from smiling. With a resigned sigh, she hovers her fingers once more over the flowers, landing on one with petals like crushed tissue paper and holding it up decisively. “This one?”

Grinpayne pauses his humming. “Chicory,” he says after a moment. “Like…” he holds the word thoughtfully on his tongue, and Dea imagines him tilting his head back to the sky as though he’ll find the right metaphor there floating above them. “Like arriving in a new town on a winter morning before anyone else is awake. When everything is so still and cold and quiet that the whole world feels like it’s holding its breath. Like it’s about to tell you a secret it’s never told anyone else.”

His voice is soft and in his words she’s transported; the chill winter air stroking her cheek, the frost crunching softly underfoot, the air tingling with something unknown, something magical. How, Dea thinks, with no small amount of scorn, could anyone ever expect her to long for her eyesight when she can see with all of her senses like this?

They move through the remaining wildflowers, the blossoms growing to life in her very hands as Grinpayne speaks; dandelions ringing with the mischievous shouts of street urchins, daisies bursting with the tangy sweetness of wild strawberries, and a pink flower that Grinpayne can’t name filling her lungs with the feeling of breathless exhilaration. “Like you’ve just run as fast as you can,” he says dreamily, “just for the thrill of it-”

He inhales sharply, a sound Dea knows too well, and she is instantly alert. “Grinpayne, your medicine-”

“It’s fine.” He says, a little too quickly. “Honestly, Dea, it’s…” he breathes deeply, once, twice, then exhales long and slow. “See? It’s gone. Just a twinge. Look, your crown is finished.”

Dea frowns, unconvinced, but Grinpayne’s breath doesn’t tremble, and when he nestles the crown amongst her hair his gentle fingers don’t shake, so she elects to believe him. The crown slips down to her ears and she reaches up to adjust it, the stems and stalks that Grinpayne has woven together an intricate pattern beneath her fingertips.

“Princess Dea,” he says, in a voice so pompous and ridiculous that she giggles despite herself. “With this crown of many colours I hereby proclaim you Queen of the Green Cart and All Its Kingdoms. Long may you reign. Hee Hoo Ha!”

He utters the royal cry so seriously that Dea bursts out laughing, covering her hand with her mouth as her shoulders shake, all thoughts of pain slipping happily away. She composes herself with some difficulty, and sits up straighter, tilting her chin to the sky the way she imagines nobles do.

“And what is your first order as Queen, Your Highness?” Grinpayne asks in his normal voice, though slightly muffled as he bows his head in deference.

“I should like a palace!” Dea says regally, and Grinpayne makes a contented noise of approval.

“Of course! The most grand in the country! And servants-”

“How many?”

“In their hundreds, Your Highness!” Grinpanye proclaims, and her lips echo the smile in his voice.

“And feasts!” she adds, adjusting her crown so that it sits more securely on her head. “Grand feasts-”

“Every night,” Grinpayne assures her, “with stuffed geese-”

“And wine-”

“And quails egg tarts-”

“And a whole roasted pig with an apple in its mouth!” Dea finishes, her regal persona falling apart completely as she is overcome with a fresh wave of giggles at the image she only knows from Urus’ fairy stories. She leans against Grinpayne, feeling his own shoulders shake with soft chuckles. But when their laughter tails off into silence, something else settles in its place, something darker. Dea can’t pretend she doesn’t know why they were both so quickly distracted by daydreams of food. It’s been days since they left Oxford, and hunger has become an unwelcome but constant hitchhiker in their little cart, clinging to each of them like a shadow.

“Father told me I have to go hunting with him today,” Grinpayne says softly after a moment, his thoughts clearly having travelled the same road as Dea’s own.

Ah. Guilt nips at Dea, and she tries desperately to school her features into neutrality, because the hunting trip is not news to her. In fact, it was she who had cornered a guilty Ursus in their cart that morning while Grinpayne was distracted outside; she who demanded that he make good on his promise to talk things through with his son; she who had suggested they go hunting in the first place. But of course, she’s not about to tell Grinpayne that.

“See if you can shoot me that wild boar for roasting,” she teases gently, before adjusting to more realistic standards with a wrinkle of her nose. “Or perhaps just a rabbit.”

“Doesn’t take two people to hunt a rabbit,” Grinpayne mutters, the slightest trace of petulance in his voice. Dea frowns, leaning back on her elbows, not daring to lie flat for fear of crushing her newly adorned crown.

“He wants to talk. That’s a good thing, Grinpayne, it’ll be good for you both.”

Grinpayne huffs unhappily, flopping down on his back in the grass next to her.

“What if I don’t know what to say?” he murmurs distractedly. “I can’t… I’ve already apologised-”

“Just talk,” Dea says gently. “You both want to fix whatever’s broken. You’ll find the right words.”

Grinpayne hums noncommittally, as though he doesn’t quite believe her. “So” he says after a moment, and Dea recognises from the tone of his voice that the conversation is over, for now. “This palace of yours, my Queen…”

***

Ursus steps outside, squinting in the sunlight after so long spent in relative gloom, a quiver and bow over one shoulder and a second pair held loosely in his hands. From the other side of the cart the gentle sound of voices floats on the breeze, and he trudges towards it, trying to keep the arrows from jangling together too much as he walks. Dea and Grinpayne don’t hear him approach, lying in the grass together and murmuring closely in that private way they do. A wreath of wildflowers is sitting wonkily in Dea’s hair, and Grinpayne is lying on his side next to her, plaiting blades of grass together absentmindedly. They look so relaxed, so calm, so young, that Ursus is tempted to sneak back around the cart before he is seen, to leave them to their afternoon and try again tomorrow. But it’s been four long days, and he's a little scared of what Dea will do if he waits much longer.

“Grinpayne.”

He’d meant to say it softly but it comes out clipped and brusque instead, and Grinpayne and Dea startle slightly at his sudden appearance, looking up with identical sets of wide eyes, one deep brown, one white. Almost immediately, a cloud moves over Grinpayne’s features, the air of calm relaxation that had surrounded him vanishing entirely. Dea also looks uneasy, disappointed at Ursus’ unintentionally stern tone, and he curses himself inwardly but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Wordlessly, he holds out the spare quiver and bow in his hands, trying not to rise to the way Grinpayne rolls his eyes so far back in his head that he seems at risk of losing them entirely. He pushes himself off the floor, muttering something to Dea as he goes, and Ursus bristles slightly. It had sounded far too much like ‘wish me luck’ for his liking, and somehow he doesn’t think Grinpayne is referencing the hunt. As he trudges towards Ursus and silently takes the proffered weapons, Ursus looks past him to Dea, still sitting cross-legged in the grass.

“We won’t be long. Keep Mojo close by and don’t talk to anyone.”

She scoffs a little, and Ursus wonders for a moment whether maybe she’s spending too much time with Grinpayne.

“I know, Father,” she says, fiddling with the flowers in her hair. “I’ll be fine.”

Ursus huffs, turning back to Grinpayne who is waiting with his quiver slung across his back, watching him with guarded eyes. “Ready?”

Grinpayne gives one short nod and Ursus hefts his bow, trudging past Grinpayne and leading them both off the road, into the woods beyond.

***

They’ve been going on hunting trips like this since Grinpayne was barely taller than the bow he's now carrying. In those early years he had driven Ursus to distraction by scampering through the trees and firing ten times more questions at his father than arrows at prey, but as he grew older he became a skilled and responsible hunting partner, and Ursus treasures the memory of those days more than he’d likely admit. Back then they’d walk together for hours in companionable silence, speaking only to point out a half-smudged paw print in the dirt, or a tuft of fur caught on a branch. With most of their time spent in the choking smog and cacophony of towns or cities, the woods became a sort of refuge for both of them. A sanctuary.

Things are very different now. They walk for a while without speaking, but the silence is heavy and brittle, each of them hyper aware of the movements of the other. Grinpayne walks ahead of Ursus, his shoulders high with tension, his footfalls unusually heavy. A few days ago Ursus would have snapped at him for the careless way he’s placing his feet when he knows Grinpayne knows better - his son can move totally silently when he wants to, slipping through winding streets and woodlands alike with all the noise of a shadow, all the presence of a ghost. But the days since they left Oxford have been long and tense, and, left alone with his thoughts in the dark of the night, Ursus’ anger has given way to a hollow sort of guilt.

He swallows nervously. He’s never been good with words, and he knows how much is riding on this conversation; knows how urgently he needs to bridge the gap that is growing ever wider between him and his son. The vision of Grinpayne on the ground in the square, hands coming up to protect his head as the furious crowd loomed over him, haunts Ursus nightly. If he’d arrived even a few minutes later… but that’s in the past, and it won’t do to dwell on it. They’ve both made mistakes recently, both been tetchy and short with each other, but Dea is right; it’s foolishness. He can fix this. He has to fix this.

***

He calls Grinpayne’s name, and watches as his shoulders tighten impossibly further, like he’s bracing for an attack. When he speaks, his voice is carefully neutral.

“I think the track goes this way-”

“Leave the track for a moment,” Ursus says, cutting him off. Grinpayne turns to face him with all the excitement of a man headed for the gallows.

“Father…” he starts, something almost pleading in his eyes. “I don’t… we don’t have to do this-”

“We have to have it out, my boy,” Ursus says grimly, though he’s fighting the urge to just abandon the whole idea now that he’s faced with actually, well, talking. “I can’t have another day of Dea pestering me-”

“Dea?” Grinpayne echoes incredulously, and Ursus realises his mistake a moment too late as he watches Grinpayne’s eyes widen, betrayal written as clearly across his face as if he’d scrawled the word in ink. He winces; another foot wrong, another mistake to add to his rapidly growing collection.

“She didn’t mean-” he starts, backpedalling, but Grinpayne cuts across him.

“I knew it, I knew you’d talk about me behind my back.” He mutters bitterly. “At least you tell me how much of a burden I am to my face.”

Well. That’s not fair. That’s not fair at all.

“For God’s sake, boy,” Ursus says frustratedly, “it’s exactly this that’s worrying her! All this constant sniping at each other-”

“And whose fault is that?” Grinpayne scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. It’s a challenge, plain as day, and Ursus subconsciously stands up taller in response, even as his heart thumps uneasily in his chest. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

“Both of us!” he replies, struggling to keep his voice level. “The fault lies with both of us-”

“It’s not my fault that you shouting at me upsets her,” Grinpayne interrupts coolly, eyes like tempered steel, and Ursus feels his resolve start to slip. If he can take responsibility for his part in this mess then so can Grinpayne, but instead he’s being childish and moody as usual, and Ursus tells him so. Grinpayne laughs, but it’s a cold, cruel sound; brittle and cutting.

“Oh, of course! Now you’re the reasonable one. When it suits you, when it comes to dear darling Dea, then you’re ever so logical.”

He rolls his eyes skyward again in the disrespectful way that has always annoyed Ursus, the way he knows annoys Ursus; the sight like a red scarf to a bull.

“What’s that supposed to mean-”

“It means -” Grinpayne sputters, losing some of his steely composure, “it… it means you act like you’re so calm and collected and I’m, I’m just this wild animal that can’t control himself but-”

“Behave like a wild animal and you’ll be treated like one.” Ursus growls, taking a step forward. He’s distantly aware that he’s fast losing control, that this is the opposite of what Dea wanted, what he wanted, but Grinpayne is being so unreasonable that the frustration flooding through his veins sweeps that thought away like driftwood on the tide. “How could you be so stupid, Grinpayne, you could have gotten yourself killed-”

Grinpayne begins to interrupt but Ursus cuts across him with a sharp noise of frustration, holding up a hand. “I should never have let you go on your own.” He snaps. “In fact I’ve half a mind to stop your shows altogether.”

From the way Grinpayne reacts, Ursus couldn’t have made a much worse threat. His eyes widen with horror, mouth dropping open in shock, but he recovers quickly and as he takes a step toward Ursus his features twist into something deeper than fear, something angrier.

“You can’t do that,” Grinpayne says darkly, though there’s a glimmer of something vulnerable in his eyes, something pleading behind the bravado. “You can’t take that away from us Father, it’s all we have, you can’t - ”

“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe then so be it!” Ursus says sharply, trying to regain some ground, but Grinpayne ignores him.

“I won’t let you break Dea’s heart like that!” He snarls, nearly shouting with frustration. “I know, alright, I know all of this is my fault, I know how much easier things would be for you if I just disappeared, but-”

He breaks off as suddenly as if he’d been struck, gasping as a shudder runs through his body, pain snatching his words away. It’s a familiar sight but that doesn’t make it any less painful to witness. Ursus starts forward automatically but Grinpayne staggers away, holding up a trembling hand to ward him off, and he stops short, heart pounding. It’s a moment before he registers what Grinpayne has just said, and when he does his blood runs cold.

“How can you say that?” he bites out, watching as Grinpayne leans on his knees, taking short, shallow breaths as he rides out the wave of pain. “How can you possibly, possibly think that I’d want that-”

“Because it’s true” Grinpayne growls, glaring up at Ursus. “It’s like you said, Father, everything that’s happened, everything that’s ever happened to us has been because of me, how could you not want me gone-”

“I have never said that,” Ursus sputters, choking on a sort of horrified fury. “Don’t you put words in my mouth, don’t you dare say-”

“You’ve never needed to say it!” Grinpayne snarls, forcing himself upright with some difficulty and taking an unsteady step towards Ursus. He reaches up to rip his bandages off with something wild in his eyes, something unfathomable, and dread sweeps over Ursus so strongly he almost chokes on it. As Grinpayne’s bandages fall away the dappled sunlight streaming through the canopy highlights every curl and dip of the jagged scar tissue gouged into his face like an awful spotlight, each gash and cut so familiar to Ursus, far too familiar, and he is struck utterly dumb.

“I can see it, Father, you can barely even look at me!” Grinpayne chokes, breath ragged, eyes glittering. “Life would have been so much easier for you if Mojo hadn’t found us that night, wouldn’t it?! If you didn’t have to drag this monster around with you? Look at me and tell me I’m wrong!”

Ursus opens and closes his mouth for a moment, rendered speechless. Because that’s it, isn’t it. That’s the wedge that’s been growing between the two of them like a tumour, that’s the knife that has twisted deeper into Ursus’ heart with each year that passes, the truth he has tried to ignore. Because as Grinpayne has grown older, as the puppy fat has melted off him and he’s grown into the tall, lean figure that stands trembling with rage and pain before Ursus now, it’s become so much easier to see who he could have been. The handsome young man he would have been, if not for that dreadful night so long ago. In some distant part of his brain Ursus realises, perhaps for the first time, the way that the pain buried so deeply in his heart has been festering; quickening his temper and shortening his patience; poisoning almost every conversation he has with Grinpayne. And as Ursus looks into his eyes, eyes that are searching desperately for reassurance even as they blaze with anger, he is dimly aware that he has a choice.

Perhaps a stronger, braver man than Ursus would choose differently. But then, a stronger, braver man than Ursus would not have the choice to make at all. He grits his teeth.

“You’re being childish,” He snarls. His heart cracks painfully as he watches a spark in Grinpayne’s eyes flicker and die, but he’s in too deep now, far too deep, and he sees no way out but through. The alternative, of truth, of confession, is too terrible to bear. “Take your medicine.”

“So you admit it?” Grinpayne pants, leaning on unsteady knees for support.

“I admit that you’re being a petulant, naive fool, yes, and you’re looking for another fight because clearly you didn’t learn your lesson the last time-”

“That has nothing to do with-”

“ENOUGH!”

Ursus’ shout echoes through the woods, and Grinpayne flinches back like he’s been slapped.

“We can never go back to Oxford now, do you understand that?!” Ursus rages, horrified at himself but entirely unable to stop, fear getting lost and muddled somewhere between his heart and his mouth and turning to ruthless fury. “Do you understand what you’ve done, boy, what we’ve lost?!”

“Father-” Grinpayne stammers, but Ursus ignores him.

“If you hadn’t got into that stupid fight the Duke might have let us stay, hell, if you hadn’t been doing the show at all he might not even have known you were there-”

“Father-”

“I’ve been such a fool, I should have known, I should never have let you-”

He breaks off suddenly as Grinpayne makes a choked noise of agony, spine bending under the weight of pain as though a giant unseen hand is forcing him down. He doubles over for a moment before his knees buckle and he sinks to the ground in an agonised crouch, reaching one trembling hand to the earth as he desperately searches for a stable centre of gravity to cling to, eyes tight shut, gasping as his own nerves attack him with a cutthroat mercilessness.

Ursus feels as though a pint of cold water has just been dumped over his head, as though he’s just woken up from a very bad dream. He drops to a crouch besides his son, shame curling in the pit of his stomach as he fumbles for the crimson lethe in his pocket, his anger evaporating.

“Here” he mutters, pressing the little pink bottle into Grinpayne’s hands and ignoring his weak protests. “Drink. Grinpayne, drink .”

In too much pain to resist, Grinpayne takes the bottle, tipping his head back and drinking deeply. Ursus watches as he swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of a shaking hand, blinking slowly as his tense muscles begin to loosen. His eyes glaze over for a moment, and Ursus feels a familiar pang of emotion that he dare not name. It is helping him, he tells himself firmly. It is healing him.

However, he doesn’t have long to dwell on it, because at that moment a voice rings out from behind him, a stranger’s voice. All thoughts of Crimson Lethe or sinking ships or even Grinpayne himself are wiped from his mind as he registers the strange accent, and whirls around to meet its owner.

“Crack the skies…”

#this chapter took some WORK oh boy oh boy #it's still not perfect but I wanted it to be done #Ursus' lotions potions and puppetry #potions and puppetry #tgm fic #the grinning man #the grinning man fic #the grinning man musical

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hmsjiara · 4 years

Text

glitter's sparklin on your heart now, darling (jj + kie)

request by @rcsales: prompts for Jiara!!: 74. “Why don’t you just sit there and look pretty?”, 80. “How do you get your skin to be so soft?” and 92. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

i figured i should write something fluffy after my last one shot lol, and i aso wanted to write something for pride so here you go :) hope you like it, thank you for the request!

read it here on ao3.

•••

“Are you sure we should be doing this?”

Now, that was a first. JJ, who just last week had done a wheelie with his motorcycle off of the dock at the Chateau, telling Kiara she was being reckless.

“JJ, you endanger your life on a day-to-day basis,” Kiara says, rolling her eyes. “Going to a pride rally is the safest activity you’ve done all week.”

“No, it’s just— I mean won’t your parents be pissed?” He asks, frowning at her from the passenger seat. “I heard your mom— she didn’t sound happy.”

When Kiara had come out as pansexual, her parents had been... supportive. They’d smiled and nodded and said that’s nice, sweetheart. But apparently, her attending a pride rally was taking it a step too far. It had escalated into a screaming match the night before, the gist being it’s fine to like girls, but talking about it publicly is crossing a line. She’d ignored it, because her parents reputations weren’t her concern, but JJ always got weird around shit like this. She’d explained it to him already: parents got mad at their kids, that was normal, they weren’t going to disown her over it.

“It’ll be fine,” she tells him, looking over her shoulder as she backs her car up. It was well past midnight— she had decided it would be best to leave while her parents were asleep. The parade started at eleven in the morning, so she’d booked them a room at a nearby hotel. This way, she could avoid an awkward confrontation with her mother, and they’d be able to get an earlier start the next day. JJ had texted her when he was in her driveway, and she’d crept downstairs with her pre-packed bag and grabbed her keys. She’d parked her car around the corner from her house as a precaution.

Kiara had worked herself up so much trying to figure out how to tell the Pogues that she was pan that their reaction to her whiskey-triggered, blurted confession while they were chilling on the hammocks at the Chateau had been somewhat anticlimactic.

John B had smiled, told her it was cool and passed her a joint, and that was that. Pope blinked once, as if downloading the information into his brain, and then nodded like it made perfect sense. JJ, however, had frowned and said, “Pansexual? What? Did you have like a giant crush on Peter Pan as a child?”

“No, JJ,” she’d said, trying to sound annoyed even as she gave him a fond roll of her eyes. “It means that I’m attracted to people based on who they are, not what’s between their legs.”

“Oh, well we knew that,” he said, shrugging, his eyes glazed and hazy from the alcohol and weed as he stared at her. “So, what I’m gathering is... this means that even though you were macking on that Kook chic last week at the Boneyard, I still have a chance?”

Pope had shoved him out of the hammock, and JJ had fallen to the ground with a grunt. John B threw a towel at his head, but Kiara just laughed, rolled her eyes.

It was the usual JJ pigheadedness she was used to, but she had felt strangely comforted by it in that moment. She’d been so afraid they’d treat her differently, but the Pogues had acted like her announcing her sexuality was barely news at all.

It was a nice change from her parents, and even though JJ’s initial reaction had been utterly idiotic, since then he’d been nothing but supportive.

So, when Kiara mentioned that she was going to her first Pride alone, he’d volunteered to come and keep her company.

It was sweet, the kind of gesture JJ was prone to masking with cocky remarks and his usual deflections surrounding anything to do with emotions.

Either way, JJ certainly makes the trip more entertaining. It’s late, and the drive would normally be boring and lonely, but he hooks up her phone to the aux and blasts her Pride playlist. He keeps flipping through the songs, unable to choose one, but he finally settles on Born This Way by Lady Gaga.

JJ’s carpool karaoke is actually impressive— he can sing, which she knew, but there’s something about him screaming Gaga lyrics that makes Kiara’s heart jump. Then, Vogue by Madonna comes on, and he rolls down the window and starts screaming the words at passing cars. She has to tell him to stop, uses driver veto power to roll up the window, because he’s distracting, and she doesn’t want to start the weekend off by getting in a car crash.

The drive is already three hours long, but JJ insists that they stop for Taco Bell even though he’s already had dinner, claiming that it’s the least she can do, which Kiara finds ironic since he was the one who offered to come with her.

Their arrival at the hotel is just as chaotic as she expected. Kiara checks them in, her duffel bag on JJ’s shoulder as he whispers comments in her ear about the lobby’s patrons. She has to swat his hand away from the candy bowl, gives the receptionist a slightly manic, apologetic smile.

The woman’s own smile seems genuine, and as she hands them their keys she shakes her head and says, “I hope it’s not too forward, but you two make an adorable couple.”

Kiara opens her mouth to correct her, but JJ throws an arm around her shoulders and steers her away from the desk before she can protest.

“You hear that, Kie?” He asks as they wait for the elevator to arrive, his arm still on her shoulders, his breath warm against her ear. “She thinks we make a cute couple.”

She shoves him away from her, threatens to lock him out of the hotel room as a punishment. He pulls the key card from his pocket, somehow having swiped it from her, and she regrets it instantly when he presses every elevator button in retaliation. She tries to stop him, but he blocks her with an arm, and Kiara refuses to jump to reach the card he’s now holding above his head.

Instead, she moves to the other side of the elevator and pretends to be pissed, giving him the silent treatment.

JJ starts apologizing by the seventh floor, and is looking throughly ashamed by the tenth. She considers it a job well done, but his embarrassment only lasts for the duration of the elevator ride, and he’s racing her to the room when the door opens.

She swears traveling with JJ is like traveling with a five-year-old. Actually, the five year old would likely be better behaved. And she can’t put JJ in time-out if he annoys her.

Kiara had purchased the hotel room before she’d known JJ was coming, upgraded it to two beds when he’d told her. She’d convinced him it was too much of a hassle to split the bill, reminded him he was technically doing her a favor by coming and she should get the chance to repay it. The truth was, she had more than enough money, and she wasn’t going to let him spend his limited amount of cash on an expensive hotel room. It wasn’t like she required this kind of shit, she would have been just as content staying in a trashy motel, this was just safer and closer to the parade.

Still, when they enter the room, with it’s two queen beds and an en suite bathroom, the floor to ceiling windows showing a view of the city below, the PNC Plaza towering above the other buildings, and JJ goes quiet, she understands it’s because he’s never been in a place like this before.

He seems almost unsure of himself and some people might consider it embarrassing, but to be honest Kiara finds it endearing. He asks her which bed was his, and when she tells him he can pick, he beams at her like a child who’s just been given a free lollipop. He flops down on the bed by the window, his boots hitting the white sheets, and Kiara knows that her mother would faint if she saw it.

She had assumed that they would both be tired from the drive, but JJ is as restless as ever, unable to sit still as he examines every part of the room. She takes a shower while he explores, has to forbid him from going to the hotel pool at four am when he asks through the door, reminds him that they have to be up by nine.

JJ had rolled his eyes when she told him, said it was unnecessary to leave two hours before the parade started, but when she came out he was still lying on his bed, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

She’s brushing her hair when he says, “Do we have signs?”

“What?” She asks, frowning at him.

JJ looks at her, eyebrows raised. “Did you seriously forget to bring signs? Isn’t that like the one thing you bring to a parade?”

Kiara stays silent, and he seems to understand that it‘s an admission of guilt. Okay, so she was bound to forget something, this just happened to be it.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, sighing as he grabs her keys off of the the table and starts typing something into his phone.

“Where are you—“

“Don’t worry about it.”

Kiara wants to tell him that she has to worry, because it involves him, but he‘s gone before she can say anything.

She shakes her head, resigned to the fact that JJ is almost an adult and that she can’t really control him. Even if the idea of her reckless friend driving her car to an unknown location in the middle of the night makes her nervous.

She decides to try and relax, changing into one of the hotels fluffy bathrobes and applying a sparkly face mask while JJ isn’t there to tease her about it.

When she hears the lock click, she’s lying in bed, making a list for the morning on her phone.

JJ bursts through the door, and it takes her a second to comprehend the sight of him with an armful of colored paper, glitter, and markers.

“What did you do?”

“Posters,” he says with a shrug, as if that explains it. “I went to a drug store to get supplies, since you were unprepared. ‘Cmon, Kie, get your ass over here.”

It was the same quiet, subtle consideration that had made him come with her, and Kiara had always admired that about JJ— his life was hell, but he hadn’t let that damage his character, his natural instinct to help the people he cared about.

So, she pats the spot beside her on the bed, let’s JJ lay out his supplies, and spends the next two hours telling him to put caps on markers and fighting over tubes of rainbow glitter.

She ends up making her sign the colors of the pan flag, writes the words Pan and Proud on it. JJ is strangely secretive about his, and she starts to get nervous when he is hiding it from her, but she smiles when he turns and she sees the words Hearts Not Parts written out in different shades of glitter.

He grins at her reaction, starts searching for a marker to sign his name, and she has a moment where she is studying him: lounging beside her in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, blonde curls mussed from running his fingers through his hair, his lips between his teeth as he focuses on writing his name, and she thinks about how easy it would be to lean over and press her lips to his.

But she ignores that urge, excuses herself to the bathroom and splashes cold water on her face, and when she returns JJ is in his own bed, finally ready to go to sleep.

The bed seems colder without him, but she resists the desire to ask him to join her again. Because they were just friends, and she wasn’t going to ruin the weekend by being selfish.

The problem, ironically, she thinks as she stares at his sign, is that JJ’s heart is exactly what’s made her like him so damn much.

•••

The next morning is more hectic than she wanted it to be, but with JJ, she should have expected it.

Kiara had built an extra hour into their schedule just for this purpose, but she sleeps through her alarm and wakes up thirty minutes before the parade starts.

She trips on JJ’s discarded boots when she stumbles out of bed, swears as she almost face-plants on the hotel floor, shakes JJ a little harder than necessary to wake him up.

They end up sharing the bathroom as they’re getting ready, and Kiara complains about the steam from his shower ruining her hair, yells at him for getting in her way. JJ is still ready twenty minutes before her, and he lays on the bed while she’s panicking, infuriatingly calm.

Kiara’s so flustered that she forgets her car keys, but JJ grabs them, pushes the elevator button with a pointed look at her wedged heels.

Okay, so they’re not the most parade appropriate attire, but at least they’re cute. Kiara’s shirt, which reads easily distracted by all genders, is tucked into her jean skirt, and her hair is braided with rainbow beads, her eyeshadow a blended version of the colors in the pan flag.

She spent a good deal of time selecting her outfit, but when she gets to the car, she realizes that she’s overlooked one crucial thing: JJ.

Besides the sign, there’s nothing to distinguish him as a member of Pride, so she insists on pulling out her glitter when they’ve arrived at the parade and parked on the side of the street.

She thought he would refuse, but JJ just says he’ll do it if he can do hers as well. She agrees, and then they’re brushing rainbow glitter on each other’s cheeks, leaning over the console so that their faces are inches apart. JJ keeps moving, tapping his fingers against the seat, bouncing his legs, reaching up to itch his nose so that Kiara has to swat his hand away.

She just tries not to think about his fingers on her face, how the blue glitter on his cheeks makes his eyes pop.

JJ is adorably focused, eyes narrowed as he applies the glitter, and then he says, “How do you get your skin to be so soft?”

Kiara shivers as he brushes a finger over her cheekbone, as if he can’t help himself. “It’s called moisturizer, JJ,” she explains, smirking at him as she starts to list all of the skincare products she uses. JJ loses interest soon enough, applying a little more blue and pink glitter and then declaring that his work is finished.

To her surprise, they make it to the parade with time to spare. It was as if a rainbow had exploded on the streets of the city, everyone was carrying signs and laughing and dancing and getting brightly-colored drinks from the stands lining the sides of the road. The sun is shining above, and Kiara starts looking at the UV index on her phone, tries to make JJ put on sunscreen. He refuses, says it will mess with the glitter, let’s out a cry of outrage when she presses dollops of it onto his cheeks anyway.

She thought he would be uncomfortable surrounded by all of it, but JJ seems perfectly at ease, studying their surroundings with genuine interest and curiosity. They buy drinks from the vendors who barely glance at Kiara’s fake ID, which makes sense since the alcohol is basically water compared to what the Pogues ingest on a daily basis.

A few people compliment their signs, and music is blasting from the speakers, and Kiara finds that she’s actually able to relax, laughing as JJ spins her around with an arm.

They get food from the trucks, JJ buying anything with the word meat in it while she opts for fish tacos. He chugs from the water bottle she brought them, the one he insisted they didn’t need, makes Kiara do a Jell-O shot.

It escalates from there, until they end up at a bar, exhausted and sun-soaked, and Kiara takes off her heels and rests her sore legs on JJ’s lap under the bar while he orders them drinks. He claims the beer will help with the ache in her feet, and it does, because thirty minutes later Kiara has pulled him away from the bar and onto the dance floor. They’re both a few drinks in at this point, and although Kiara hates it, her weight means she gets drunk faster than he does, so she’s reasonably tipsy.

It’s a blur of laughter and bright colors and rainbow face paint, all writhing limbs and bodies bumping hers. Someone calls for shots, and Kiara screams at the top of her lungs, slips her hand into JJ’s and raises their arms into the air.

Eventually, a girl with a warm smile and tan skin, her blonde curls dyed pink, grabs Kiara’s hand and starts dancing with her, hips rolling and tongue out between purple-lipstick painted lips. JJ just watches them without commenting, sips from his drink, raises his eyebrows when Kiara starts grinding on her.

The girl tugs her towards the bar, and Kiara follows, tells JJ where she’s going over her shoulder.

“Kie,” he whines, pouting at her. “What am I supposed to do? Just stand here while you go hook up with her in the bathroom?”

“Why don’t you just sit there and look pretty?”

He glares at her as she shoots a pointed look at the glitter on his face, but Kiara just laughs, leaves him standing in the middle of the dance floor.

She returns a few minutes later, a purple lipstick print on her cheek, and JJ pretends to be pissed at her, gives her the cold shoulder as the girl lays her arms on Kiara’s shoulders and starts swaying her hips.

But then a boy with black shorts and no shirt appears, a rainbow painted on his chest, screaming as he runs his hands through his brown curls and knocks back a shot of tequila. He’s obviously hammered, but it doesn’t make it any less hilarious when he wraps an arm around JJ and hugs him, presses a kiss to his cheek. “You’re adorable,” he whispers in his ear, nuzzling into JJ’s neck. “Wanna fuck?”

“Uh, no, er, I’m good thanks—“

Both Kiara and the girl she’s dancing with start cackling as the boy stumbles away, giggling at JJ’s dumbstruck expression.

Kiara throws herself at him, wraps her arms around his neck, the buzz from the tequila allowing her to whisper the words wanna fuck? in his ear.

He doesn’t push her away like she thought he would, instead he tugs her closer and let’s her take a sip of his drink, press a kiss to his cheek.

In fact, after that, they don’t stop touching.

JJ stands behind her at the bar to keep people from bumping into her, and Kiara sits on his lap when they return to their seats, clings to his hand when they eventually stumble from the bar and into an Uber. They’ll pick up her car tomorrow, she thinks faintly, when the world stops spinning.

Kiara has rainbow glitter in her hair and her feet feel like they’re about to fall off her body, but her chest is filled with this strange, warm feeling that only grows when she rests her head on JJ’s shoulder and says, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asks, glancing at her, his blue eyes heavy with exhaustion and alcohol, his voice softer than usual.

“For this,” she tells him, gesturing to herself, the signs at their feet. “For today. For always accepting me for who I am.”

It’s cheesy, and they don’t do cheesy, but she’s drunk and JJ doesn’t seem to mind as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Always, Kie. You don’t have to worry about that.”

#obx #outer banks #jiara #jj x kiara #jiara fanfiction #kiara carrera #jj maybank #jiara fic #outer banks fanfiction #my writing

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banditthewriter · 5 years

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Choose Your Fate - Logan Delos - 11

Part eleven! You all wanted to receive the information before you left the east coast, so that’s what we got. What information? Well...

Just a few more parts before the end!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

Logan looked a little like he had just been told your house held all of his worst fears. He was staring at the large front doors with an apprehension you’d never seen on his face before. It was a little endearing.

“It’s just my family,” you said as you went back down the stairs to where he had stopped walking.

“God what I wouldn’t give for a joint right now,” he said with a grimace. When he met your unimpressed stare, he grinned. “I’m joking. Definitely joking.”

“Let’s not joke about drugs when you’re ten feet from my front door, please and thank you.”

“Oh come on, it’s not even illegal,” he said with a roll of his eyes. Then a little more seriously, “I’ve never had to meet someone’s parents as a romantic partner. Benefit of keeping things to casual sex I guess.”

You held your hand out and waited for him to take it. Then with a grin, you tugged him forward with you.

“Time to put your best foot forward Logan,” you said softly, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. “Just don’t make an references to the fact that you’ve seen me naked or our sex life and it’ll be fine.”

Logan pressed a kiss to your temple before the two of you made your way up onto the porch. You gave his hand another comforting squeeze before you knocked on the door.

When it opened, your mom gave you a strange look.

“Since when do you knock? Get in here,” she said with a wave of her arm. As you tugged Logan with you, she gave him a more discerning look. “Ah, this must be Logan Delos. Good to finally meet you after how many times I’ve heard your name in the last few days.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks and you tried to tug Logan through the door with you but he held his ground.

“You have a lovely home, Mrs Y/L/N. I’ve met your husband on a few occasions but never had the pleasure of meeting you.” He took her hand in a brief handshake, giving her that smile that usually made your IQ drop about ten points.

Your mom blinked at him for a moment before she turned to you with a grin.

“Oh he’s good,” she said before she finally stepped back to usher Logan in. “Come on in. Your father and Jo are waiting in the living room.”

Logan breathed out a sigh of relief as he led him through the foyer.

“One down, two to go,” he whispered in your ear with another squeeze of your hand.

You’d talked to Jo about Logan being there for dinner. She hadn’t minded him knowing about her accident and her injury; she also hadn’t been surprised when you shyly admitted he already knew. You were pretty sure that Jo was already on board with the whole you and Logan thing, but you hadn’t admitted that to him just yet.

Didn’t want him to put his guard down. He’d need it with your dad.

In the living room, your mom moved past you to head back into the kitchen. It left you and Logan with your dad and Jo. Jo was grinning at the two of you and your dad… well he looked resigned, but not upset. He actually looked a little amused.

“Mr Y/L/N,” Logan said with a nod in his direction since they’d met before. Then to your sister, “And Miss Y/L/N. I’ve heard a lot about you from your sister.”

Jo shook her head with a laugh, rolling over to the two of you and offering her hand.

“Just call me Jo,” she offered as they shook hands. Then with a grin, she looked between the two of you. “Relax guys. It’s dinner, not the Spanish Inquisition.”

Your dad stood up and moved to offer his hand to Logan.

“Logan,” he said with a nod, careful not to address him by his last name as Logan had done. “Thanks for joining us.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Logan said as he looked from your family back to you. “I know you probably have a lot of reservations about my relationship with Y/N, but it means a lot to both of us that you’re willing to try.”

Your dad nodded, meeting your eye for a moment before he leveled Logan with a stern look.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my daughters. Nothing,” he repeated with emphasis.

As far as shovel talks go, it was pretty understated.

“Dinner is ready,” your mom called from the other room.

Your dad grabbed Jo’s wheelchair to push her into the dining room. You turned to look at Logan and gave him a grin. His eyes were still wide, but you could see some of the tension had left his shoulders.

“They really are trying, aren’t they?”

You looked over your shoulder to make sure no one was watching before you leaned in to give him a kiss.

“Welcome to what a supportive family should look like,” you whispered against his lips before you leaned back once more. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

It was going to be okay. This, at least, was going to be okay.

------

Logan and your father were lamenting about a mutual acquaintance who neither of them liked to deal with. While they usually stayed clear of work topics, it seemed like they were doing okay.

That in mind, you left the two of them alone. It had been over two weeks since you'd first introduced Logan to your family and each visit had gone spectacularly. Logan slowly got more comfortable until you noticed he wasn't on edge anymore. He was as comfortable around them as he was around you.

"He's charming," your mom said from beside your sister on the couch, giving you a grin. "I can see why you fell for him."

You flopped down on the couch with them, tossing your legs over your mom's lap. Jo reached over and pinched your toe, grinning at you when you jerked your foot away.

"I don't know about falling," you said as you tucked your legs under you.

"Don't be an idiot Y/N. You obviously love the guy," Jo said in a low voice so that the men wouldn't hear in the other room.

You felt that warmth that usually sit in your chest start to grow. You hadn't wanted to give a name to the feeling, but your sister wasn't wrong. You'd definitely fallen for Logan.

And it wasn't so much that you thought Logan wouldn't feel the same. You just thought it was too soon.

"Let's talk about something else," your mom said as she squeezed your knee. "Where do you think we should go for Christmas? Your dad was thinking about going to the cabin."

The three of you talked about options. You were surprised by your mom reminding you to tell Logan to check his calendar as well. Usually these trips were just the four of you.

They really had taken him into the fold.

"Y/N?" You looked up at the sound of your name, frowning as your dad came into a room with his phone. "Have you checked your phone? Something came through."

Your phone was probably on silent. He handed you his phone and you looked at the alert.

A large scale heist had taken place. The things that were stolen were mostly scientific equipment and other lab equipment. The thieves had targeted multiple companies, including Delos and Y/L/N.

Now you could hear Logan in the other room on the phone. He must have gotten the news too.

You went to your phone and sure enough, you had about seven missed calls. It seemed like everything was going up in flames and you were on the other side of the country.

The next hour was spent talking to the authorities back home as well as your people. It had been an electronic hack, with information being pulled off from the archives. It meant the thief—Marco, it had to be Marco—had access to every project Y/L/N had ever worked on.

Logan came in to tell you what had happened on their end.

"Looks like some of our expo warehouses were broken into. They stole equipment, materials, and plans." He looked at you with a frown. "It's all the items needed to build hosts."

Marco. If you had any doubt before, that was all erased.

"He had to have help," your dad said as he typed something on his phone. "No way he's stealing from as many places as he is without it."

"But who? A Delos employees? Y/L/N?"

Logan came over and put his hand on your back.

"It's probably more than one. It wouldn't surprise me if it was from both our companies either."

You thought all your employees loved working for Y/L/N but maybe it made sense. There's always people who wanted more.

"I've got to get back out there. Dad is calling a board meeting to discuss what's going on."

You knew that would happen. You squeezed his hand with a tense smile. It wasn't like you thought you couldn't do this without him. You just didn't want to.

"You should go too," your dad said, surprising everyone. "As much as I want you safe, the company needs you at the helm. Go out there, be safe, and hopefully this will all end soon."

Logan gave your hand a squeeze before he released it.

"I need to go back to the hotel and pack. And I need to call the jet and make sure it's ready. Want me to pick you back up when it's time?"

You leaned in to give him a quick kiss.

"Just call me and tell me when to be there. I'll have someone bring me."

He gave you another kiss and then went around to say goodbye to your family. Your mom gave him a hug which looked like a surprise to Logan. Jo kissed his cheek and gave his hand a brief squeeze.

Your dad shook Logan's hand as you both walked him to the door.

"Be safe out there son. And take care of my little girl," he said with a serious nod.

Logan wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your forehead. There was a little surprise on his face, either from being called son or the easy acceptance in your dad's voice.

"I plan on it."

When Logan left, you turned to look at your dad who was shaking his head.

"That is a good man," he said quietly, looking over at you. "Better than his father, that's for sure."

You looked up at him with a small smile.

"Is that approval I hear?"

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"By God, I think it is."

------

Your dad offered to bring you to the air strip. He was quiet the whole way which was a bit of a surprise. You had thought he'd be talking your ear off about strategy.

When he pulled up to the small private airport where the private jet was parked, he placed his hand on your arm before you could get out of the car. He leaned forward and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a revolver.

"Dad!"

"Look, just because you have to be out there doesn't mean I have to let you go without being safe. Put it in a box in the closet for all I care, but take it. It'll put your old man's mind at ease."

You put the gun in your purse after you made sure the safety was on. Your knowledge of guns was pretty limited but you weren't completely ignorant.

"Good thing we aren't flying commercial," you joked tensely as you closed your purse. "I'll keep you guys updated. Hopefully with Marco making more trouble for himself, he'll be caught soon."

"Can't be soon enough for me," your dad said. He leaned in to kiss your cheek and then laughed. "I think your man is about to come get you."

Sure enough Logan had finished talking to the pilot and had started towards the car. While he leaned in to talk to your dad, you grabbed your bag from the back seat. Logan grabbed it from you as you both waved at your dad before he escorted you towards the plane.

"How is your dad handling everything?"

Logan scoffed as the two of you sat down on one of the couches to prepare for take off.

"He's less certain it's your company now," he joked before he rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I don't know Y/N; if this shit had happened two or three months ago, I probably would have shrugged it off. Corporate espionage and a guy who was unpredictable, it's titillating but it's also boring. Stealing from multi million or billion dollar companies? Who cares. But now?"

You waited for him to continue. When he didn't, you gave his hand a squeeze.

"But now?"

He sighed and turned to look at you.

"Now I actually care. Not just because it's happening to you and I obviously care about you, but I actually care what happens to the company. I've done more work for them in the last two months than I have in all of the years I've been on the board."

You smiled at him, raising an eyebrow a bit.

"That's not saying much considering your last name is on the building," you said as you knocked your shoulder into his, "but it's good you care. It's your company too. And one day maybe you'll be running it. You or Juliet."

He shook his head as he looked at your joined hands.

"Jules doesn't want it. She's holding on for dad to step down or for us to vote him out, but she doesn't want to be involved. That company is what ruined our mom. She only sticks around because she uses her money and name to make a difference. That and because I’m still there."

Logan had told you a bit about his mom. She was in a facility, almost unable to care for herself. She had fallen into alcohol and pills very badly after being left by the great James Delos.

It worried you how much Logan seemed to be like his mom, but if you had anything to say about it, he'd never reach rock bottom.

"Delos will be in good hands once you're in charge," you said as you raised your clasped hands to kiss his knuckles.

Talking about his mom did make you think of something else.

"You know, I don't think I've seen you touch anything harder than alcohol since you and I got together."

He stared at you for a moment, an honest smile starting at grow on his lips.

"I told you before, the drugs and the sex was all just to pass the time. Reality didn't seem to matter, everything was routine." He squeezed your hand before he added, "Then I met you and I realized that reality can be better than fantasy."

It was such a line, but you felt like he meant it. He had said he had lied. And it made you think of what you, Jo, and your mom had been talking about.

You did love Logan. You weren't ready to tell him that just yet, but maybe you could one day. And just maybe he'd say it back.

------

You slumped onto the couch next to Logan, whining a bit as you did. He tugged your feet onto his lap and started to massage one, digging his thumbs into the bottom of your foot.

"You had a bad day too, huh?"

Logan had called you earlier about his day. James Delos was on the warpath over everything that had happened. And Logan understood that but he didn't think firing an entire department was the way to go.

"We are sifting through the archives that were accessed but we can't tell what was the point of entry or what the target was. We have consultants coming in to do more digging. I left Buckley in charge since I haven't slept in two days."

Logan made a noise, his thumbs pausing on your foot.

"Buckley is the head of the division, right? He took over from you when you became the CEO."

"Took back over, technically. He was the head before I took over and so I just promoted him back to it."

Logan nodded slowly.

"Was Marco in the running for the position?" he asked, staring intently.

"I mean, he was a step below me I guess, but Buckley had been in the position before. I just thought he was a better fit."

He nodded his understanding. He gripped your ankle lightly, his thumb rubbing against your skin.

"What if we have this all wrong? What if Marco isn't stalking you because he's obsessed with you? What if he's mad that he got passed up for a promotion?"

You bit your lip as you thought about it. It made sense, in a way. You weren't certain that's what it was though.

"I still think we're missing something. Something that would answer all these questions of why he's doing this."

Logan grabbed your arm and tugged you into his lap.

"We'll figure it out. Together."

------

The lab was set up exactly how the plans had shown. All of the necessary equipment and materials were nearby. There was a wall of computers running the programs that were necessary for what the plan entailed.

Marco walked up to one of the plans and started to flick through photos he had uploaded. Y/N and Logan. Y/N and Logan. Logan and Y/N. Logan. Y/N. Logan. Y/N.

It was time to begin.

A post for voting will be up right after this.

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#logan delos #logan delos x reader #logan delos imagine #logan delos fanfic #choose your fate #choose your fate logan delos #my writing

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galfridus1 · 5 years

Text

Happy Birthday Diana!!

Happy birthday @x-strokeofmadness-x!!

As said, proper present coming tomorrow for Escalin Week but in the meantime have some Deribeth. Thanks for getting me into this ship! Hope you have an amazing day!

“There you are, sir. That’ll keep for twenty-four hours in the fridge. Are you going to be okay getting it home?”

Elizabeth smiled warmly at the man, who was carefully maneuvering the large cake box into an oversized bag. The gentleman flashed her an uncertain grin in return, before biting on his lower lip. “I… I think so,” he stuttered. “Um… I guess, I don’t know. It just looks so delicate.”

“It isn’t particularly robust,” Elizabeth agreed, her eyes wandering to the remaining princess cakes on display in the small chiller cabinet. The confections stood proud, pale green domes of marzipan delicately decorated with thin swirls of chocolate and drops of ruby red jam. “It’s mostly custard and cream inside,” she explained. “But it should be fine if you keep the box upright, and make sure it doesn’t tilt.”

Another uncertain smile, then the man took his leave, gingerly conveying the box through the narrow doorway. He took a few careful paces down the worn, stone steps and disappeared into the waiting crowds. Covent Garden was packed at this time of the evening, when the hordes of tourists were joined by commuters grabbing a few items from the shops on their way home, and students preparing for a night out in the nearby clubs. Even Rose Street was bustling with life at this time, despite being hidden away from the covered market.

Elizabeth smiled and began to clean the countertop, before turning her attention to the espresso machine, making sure the milk frother was shining and the used filters were removed. The shop was tiny, a compact room with shelves piled high with loaves and sugared buns on one wall, three worn, wooden tables set alongside the other, the mismatched furniture squashed together to take up every last inch of space. Patrons had to squeeze through the narrow gap to get to the till and the chiller cabinet where the cream cakes were displayed.

Bageriet was one of London’s best kept secrets, which was just as well given there was barely anywhere for customers to stand. Still, the shop did a bustling trade thanks to the more adventurous tourists who strayed off the main streets and the few canny locals who knew the coffee and cakes served were the best in the area. The stone steps were worn with foot traffic and the queue for confections sometimes stretched out of the door and into Rose Street, a place as quaint as its name suggested. Still, the pace of life was generally peaceful, the customers were polite and relaxed and gave good tips. Elizabeth had found it an ideal place to earn a bit of extra cash while she finished her degree.

A shadow fell across her vision and Elizabeth looked up with a smile on her face, ready to greet the new customer. The face that looked into hers was so unexpected that Elizabeth heard herself gasp, her mouth falling slack as she struggled for words. The woman before her was so exactly the same: untamed, golden hair; a lithe, muscular physique; dark eyes flashing with an emotion she did not recognise. How many years had it been since she had stood together like this?

[[READ MORE]]

“So it’s you.” Elizabeth felt her heart sink as the other spoke, the hostility in her words plain. The weeks and months of anguish she had experienced after Derieri’s abrupt departure from her life suddenly came back to her in a rush; the endless nights with her phone held close to her face, tears falling like rain as she prayed for the other to respond to her messages. After that last meeting, the one with the shouts and the anger, she had received no communication of any kind. Elizabeth had even taken to haunting their favourite spot, the roller skating park at Bath Pavillion in the hope of running into her, but to no avail. It was as if the other had just vanished.

Elizabeth had thought she was over it, that she could just set the loss of the person she had cared for so much as one of those things. But as she looked at Derieri as she glared from the other side of the counter she knew she had been lying to herself. The pain she felt was so sharp it was as if she had been stabbed.

“W-what are you doing here?” Elizabeth managed to stutter, her cheeks growing hot and flushed as the other scowled. “I thought…”

“I’m here for a coffee, and that’s all.” Derieri glowered, her arms folded across her chest. “I knew I shouldn’t have come in here,” she muttered to herself. “It looks just the place for asswipes.”

Elizabeth felt her face glow even more warmly, but she ignored the other’s uncouth remarks. Derieri always had been a trifle vulgar. Elizabeth bit her lip as she remembered the time she and Derieri had tried out the spa, and the way the other had sworn so loudly. She could practically taste her embarrassment, even now.

“Filter or espresso?” Elizabeth asked as calmly as she could, tripping slightly over the words. All she received was a stare in return so she set about compressing the powder into the machine, the distraction of making the espresso not nearly enough to make her heart stop pounding. Derieri was here! After all these years. Surely she should at least get an explanation for the silent treatment she had been dealt with.

Setting the coffee before Derieri, Elizabeth stood back from the counter, relief running through her as Gowther made his way from the kitchen into the shop. “Can you watch the till for a bit?” Elizabeth asked before Gowther could say anything. “The rush is over. This is an old school friend of mine and we need to catch up.” At this Derieri snorted loudly, causing Gowther to cock his head to one side.

Without waiting for an answer, Elizabeth grabbed the coffee, which she had placed into a small porcelain cup. Before the other could protest, she carried the coffee to one of the tables, squeezing onto the bench set alongside the wall. Derieri opened her mouth as if to protest, then she cast a quick look at Gowther, who was staring at her with unashamed curiosity through his large round glasses. With an exaggerated sigh, Derieri took the seat opposite Elizabeth, and knocked her espresso back in one go. “Make it quick,” Derieri growled, as she scraped her chair back, her eyes darting to the door.

“More coffee.” Elizabeth looked up in surprise as Gowther set two large mugs in front of them along with a ringed cake wrapped in plastic and a knife. “This is cardamom cake, on the house,” he continued, making the peace sign as he did so. “It’s good,” he said in a deadpan way before returning to his position behind the counter, leaning an elbow on the wooden countertop as he watched the two women. Elizabeth sighed, and looked pointedly at the coffee machine which Gowther reluctantly began to clean.

Elizabeth looked pleadingly at Derieri. “How have you been?” she asked timidly.

“Cut the crap,” the other replied, her lip twisting with her ire. “You have something to say to me, spit it out.”

Elizabeth felt her breathing quicken, panic starting to rise in her chest as the other began to rise to her feet. “Why did you leave?” she blurted out in a rush, her hands working furiously under the table as she held back tears. “I… I really missed you,” she just about whispered. “You just disappeared and…”

“What did you expect, you ass?” Derieri practically yelled, and Elizabeth heard the clatter of cutlery as Gowther was startled. “I told you! I told you I wasn’t going to put up with your shit any longer. You chose not to commit. You left me…”

“It wasn’t like that at all!” Elizabeth protested. “I…”

“I told you. No hiding. No sneaking about as if we had something to be ashamed of!” Derieri’s chest rose and fell with her agitation and Elizabeth found she could not meet her eyes. “You were my girlfriend,” she said even more loudly, and Elizabeth could sense Gowther spin on his heels to observe the drama. “But did you act it? Did you fuck! It was all ‘my friend this’ and ‘my friend that’. I wasn’t gonna put up with that shit…”

“When did I ever say we had to keep things secret?” Elizabeth asked, as the tears ran down her face. “I didn’t want to either! I said…”

“Then why didn’t you ever introduce me to your friends and family, huh?” Elizabeth looked down at the table at this. “Thought so,” Derieri said triumphantly. “You were ashamed of me, because of my sex. You didn’t want to tell your perfect friends and perfect sisters you were in love with a woman…”

“It wasn’t because of that,” Elizabeth said reluctantly, her fingers twisting together.

“So you admit it! You kept me away from them?” Derieri demanded.

“I… I just…”

“Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

“No!” Elizabeth stood up from the table, her legs knocking against the wood in her haste. “Please, would you just let me try and explain? Please?” Her eyes met Derieri’s, and she saw the other soften, her features relaxing slightly as she fell back into her chair. “I… it was the way you speak,” Elizabeth managed to whisper, her insides curdling.

“The way I what?” The words were deadly quiet, and Elizabeth held her breath. “Are you saying…”

“I just wanted to warm them up to the idea first,” Elizabeth said miserably. “They’re not used to swearing you see and I thought they’d be… upset,” she added weakly.

There was a pause, and then a chuckle from the other side of the table which gradually built into a hearty guffaw. “Elizabeth,” Derieri said with exasperation once she had managed to control her breathing. “I wouldn’t have sworn! For fuck’s sake!”

Elizabeth swallowed, trying to think of a reply as Derieri flopped more firmly into her chair, still giggling. Taking advantage of the lull in her anger, Elizabeth unwrapped the cake Gowther had set in front of them, cutting two slices. “Try some,” she suggested, her voice sounding tentative in her ears. “It’s really good.”

Derieri looked as if she were about to refuse, before she shrugged her shoulders and picked up the slice, taking a small bite. “It’s alright,” she said grudgingly. “Can’t have too much though. My career relies on me looking like this.” She tapped herself in the abdomen as she said this, and Elizabeth could hear the knock of knuckles on muscle.

“I’m working as a personal trainer at the Fitness First down there,” Derieri said into Elizabeth’s silence as she gestured out of the door. “Just started this week. I was looking for Soho when I ran across this place. London is a fucking maze!” she complained.

“Oh! Well, Soho’s not far from here,” Elizabeth said as she set her own slice of cake back down on the plastic, her eyes straying to her thighs. She wondered with yet another blush how much weight she had put on since Derieri had last seen her. “I… um… could show you if you like?” she suggested.

“You mean you’re willing to be seen in public with me?” Derieri spat, her face once more hard.

“I… yes. I am,” Elizabeth gulped. “You were right to be angry, I know that. I love you, and I shouldn’t have cared what anyone else thought. I’ve wanted to apologise for years, but you never answered your phone! You never replied to my messages! I- it was very hard.” Elizabeth trailed off, a lump in her throat stinging painfully.

“You said love,” Derieri said slowly and Elizabeth looked into her eyes. They were deep brown, sparkling with warmth. “Not loved.”

Elizabeth found she could not say a word but this time it did not seem to matter. Derieri stood, and held out her hand. “So, you ass, are you coming?” she asked as she looked pointedly at her proffered palm.

“Yes,” Elizabeth managed to squeak and she wiped her hand hastily on her skirt before sliding it into Derieri’s. She did not look back as Derieri led her out of the door, and so missed Gowther’s knowing smile.

#nnt #derieri #elizabeth #deribeth #gowther #fanfiction #happy birthday diana #long post #the read more links on mobile don’t work anymore #i mean i added one but i bet it doesn’t work

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squirrelly831 · 4 years

Text

Grieving [Taekwoon and Hongbin]

Angst and super long. I’m apologizing now… It’s super long…

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED! MENTION OF WIFE DEATH, GRIEVING, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS! DO. NOT. READ. IF. YOU. WILL. GET. TRIGGERED!!!!

Enjoy~

When he found out his wife was pregnant, he didn’t think of anything bad happening. The pregnancy went perfectly and they were days away from meeting their new addition. They were excited to see their child after planning for so long on expanding their family.

Their wife opted in doing a c-section as she was told it would be safer for her as an anemic to go through. He was there with her during the c-section. He watched their baby delivery with hearts in his eyes. Their baby was perfect. They cried as the nurses handled them and cleaned them up. What none of them knew what tragedy was about to come as they celebrated the new life.

He was in his wife’s hospital room holding their child when he looked up at his sleeping wife. It had been a number of hours since the delivery and he noticed something was off about her. “Babe?” He called out to her noticing her pale complexion. Her eyes fluttered open and he leaned to her, “What’s wrong?” She tried to speak, but her eyes rolled back and her vitals began to drop. He jumped up waking his child in the process as he hit the emergency button. “HELP! SOMEONE!” He reached down and touched his wife’s hand and felt an instant abnormal chill.

The nurses ran in and took the baby out as well as led him out as they tried to figure out why she had declined so fast. They rushed her back into the operating room and he followed until they went inside.

He paced outside the room as he could still heard the machines scream in his ears. The doors opened in the operating room and he straightened up, the doctor walked out of the room with a disappointed look. He didn’t need verbal notification of what happened. He could tell–he could feel that his wife was no longer with him. A single tear slid down his face as the doctor explained the cause. That during the c-section, the doctor who was delivering their child, had accidentally nicked her bladder and she had bled out internally. They were too late to try to save her. Their joyful celebration became a mournful heartbreaking moment. He felt like his life had just unraveled before his eyes and he didn’t know how to fix it.

Taekwoon

The last three days were overwhelming for Taekwoon. He was between checking on his twins, Hyunwoo and Jiwoo, as well as caring for his step-son, David, who he had sole custody of and took part of the ceremony for his wife’s, Imani, passing.

David was his main concern of all else. He was eight and understood well enough that his mother wasn’t coming back to him. Taekwoon was thankful David was there to help him with his younger half siblings. He helped feed them or when they’d cry he’d try his best to comfort them as best as an eight year old could. However, he was a kid himself, and a kid who was raised basically alone with his mom before Taekwoon entered the picture. The funeral was hard for him and there were times David would break down in tears wanting nothing more than his mom to hug him only for Taekwoon to be the one who took him in his arms.

Taekwoon was exhausted by the time the funeral ended. He didn’t have time to mourn. He told himself he could mourn later but he had to focus on the kids. continued this thought for three months. He took care of his kids flawlessly, but he didn’t take care of himself. His parents prepared for a trip, but they hesitated on going. Taekwoon told them he would be fine, but just to make sure, they got in touch with his friends and asked to keep an eye on him.

Taekwoon’s lack of mourning hurt him more than helped. He held in the toxic emotions and they consumed him. He couldn’t eat, sleep, or breath without thinking of Imani and her lifeless body. How she died right before his eyes. He couldn’t cry. He felt numb. Even with his kids, he felt a dull pain in his chest each time he held his children or looked down at them. They looked so much like their mother it made his stomach turn. David had also spent his fair share of nights screaming or crying for his mom due to nightmares or out of sheer anguish. It took a toll on Taekwoon as he didn’t know how to handle David’s mourning nor his own.

Wonshik decided to pay him a visit. He knocked on the door and waited a few moments. The door slowly opened revealing his pale faced friend who looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. Taekwoon sluggishly walked back into the living room and Wonshik followed him.

He flopped on the couch and gulped down the water on the table before him. Wonshik hesitated, but Taekwoon spoke first, “I can’t get over seeing her… I see her when I sleep… When I eat… Wherever I look, she’s there.” Taekwoon’s sunken eyes twitched as he looked around, “I want to remember the good times, but I keep seeing her eyes rolling back– her skin” he choked on his words, but no tears fell.

“Hyung… When was the last time you ate or slept?” Wonshik looked around the room, “Where are the kids?”

Taekwoon shook his head. He was out of it and the questions didn’t make sense to him. The questions muddled into one in his head. “The kids… I didn’t eat them…?”

If he didn’t know Taekwoon, Wonshik would have assumed he took drugs by how out of it he was. Wonshik approached Taekwoon and took his shoulders in his hands, “Hyung, focus.” He shook him. Taekwoon’s sunken dead eyes met his, “The kids. David. Hyunwon. Jiwoo. Where are they?”

“Asleep… At least they can sleep. David is in the nursery with them… He’s been sleeping there instead of his bed… They don’t have the image of their dead mother constantly in their heads. Her cold skin— why didn’t I notice the signs that she was dying? Why?”

Wonshik watched his friend fall apart as he picked up his phone to call the others. He was concerned about his friend’s safety and well-being of the kids. After he spoke to Hakyeon, he sat back with Taekwoon, “Hyung, you need to rest and eat. The guys are coming.”

A cry rang out in the nursery and Taekwoon stood on wobbly legs, “I should feed Jiwoo before she wakes her brother.”

Wonshik stood and gently pushed Taekwoon to the couch, “I’ll feed her. You just wait here for the others, okay?”

When the others got to Taekwoon’s house, they found him at the dining room table with his hand holding up his head. He looked at them with tear stained cheeks before his eyes drifted. They would stay around Taekwoon’s place for the next week and a half caring for the kids and him. When his parents returned from their trip, they took the kids and the members took Taekwoon to get help at a hospital.

Hongbin

Hongbin could remember the day of Hyemin’s passing like it was yesterday. Mere months had passed since that dreadful day. He never imagined he would have to raise their two kids, Mina who was four and Joon the newborn, alone. He had to be strong for his kids especially Mina.

Mina cried and cried when she was told mom wouldn’t return and Hongbin’s heart broke. At the funeral, his mother held infant Joon as Mina sobbed for her mom in Hongbin’s arms. He could only hold her close and whisper how much he and her mom loved her. He pressed kisses on her head and cheek as his own tears fell.

It had been months since that day and Hongbin had tried his hardest as a new single dad. But there were days he struggled. Days when Joon was crying more than usual or when Joon wouldn’t sleep when he needed him too. Days when Mina threw a fit and screamed or sobbed or when she woke up so early in the day that she was in crying fits by midday, but refused to sleep.

Both of the kids were sleeping one night. Hongbin locked himself in the bathroom and broke down in tears, “Hyemin, I need you here… I can’t do this alone. I need your help… Please… I don’t know what good I can do for them?” He cried as he sat there on the ground.

There was a knock on the door that caught his attention, “Daddy?” Mina’s sleepy voice echoed. She knocked again, “Daddy?” She whispered as if not to alert baby Joon.

Hongbin wiped his cheek as he got up and opened the door to see Mina with her favorite stuff animal, a bunny, in hand. He swung it open and bent down to Mina, “What’s wrong, baby?” Mina said nothing as she reached out and hugged his neck. Hongbin’s tears fell again as he hugged his daughter closer. “You wanna go sleep in daddy’s bed tonight?” She nodded as she buried her head in his shoulder. He felt the pain in his chest slowly subside as he took his daughter to his bedroom. Hongbin knew he wasn’t alone nor was he the only one that was broken up about the passing of his wife. Mina crawled up Hyemin’s side of the bed and pressed her head in the pillow. Hongbin chuckled as he watched her eyes close. He lay down on his side of the bed and hit the lights.

“Daddy…” Mina mumbled.

“What baby?”

Her eyes fluttered, “Mommy and I and Joonie love you lots.”

Hongbin gave her a small smile as he watched her give in to sleep. He leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead, “I know, baby. I love you three so much too.” He kissed her head once more as her hand grasped his shirt. He looked out his window and wiped his tears, “Was this your answer to my pleads, love?” He looked back at his sleeping daughter, “You always know what to say, baby girl.” Hongbin allowed sleep to consume in and it was the first peaceful night he had since Hyemin’s death.

Hakyeon and Jaehwan || Wonshik and Sanghyuk

Credit to gif owners

Written & revamped by Squirrelly831

♕ REQUEST

☮ VIXX MASTERLIST

∞ ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

#vixx #vixx reactions #vixx scenarios #kpop #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #taekwoon #taekwoon scenarios #taekwoon reactions #hongbin #hongbin reactions #hongbin scenario #kpop angst #vixx angst

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brosura · 7 years

Text

memento mori (the curious case of the baker on baker st.) pt. 4/4

Word Count: 4629 Rating: T probably Pairings: Prompto Argentum x Ignis Scientia Warnings: minor character death, major character death (VERY temporary), alcohol consumption, survivor’s guilt, mentions of child abuse/neglect

“Ignis Scientia, young baker and private investigator’s assistant, has a peculiar gift. With a touch, he can bring the dead back to life.”

AKA the promnis pushing da*sies au no one asked for

in the final chapter, four rowdy boys and a good dog do a stake-out

big thanks to @danielkesslers for the quick read n check!

[start with part I here] [read part II here] [read part III here] [fic on ao3]

“This isn’t our old neighborhood,” Ignis observes, as they all pull up to the Hammerhead garage in Gladio’s little electric car.

The facts are these.

The Hammerhead garage, owned by a certain Cid Sophiar, is housed in the remnants of an old small aircraft hangar. For years, local elitists in the community have insisted that the giant hammerhead shark - a grand old thing Cid had built on top of the garage as soon as he’d come across enough scrap metal - be removed to avoid lowering property values. And for years, Cid Sophiar has told them, in no uncertain terms, to “shove off, ya nasty city rats.”

At any rate, it’s become something of an establishment for car people and mechanics alike, and it’s garnered the reputation as the place in town to go for a tune-up or an upgrade. That’s what had drawn a young Prompto in after he’d taken his father’s car into the shop for him. What had prompted him to take his first and last job as an apprentice to the head mechanic in the shop.

“Y-yeah,” Prompto stutters. Basil is sitting in his lap, a pre-emptive measure since they’ll be keeping each other company while Ignis, Gladio and Noctis talk to Prompto’s old co-workers. “I sort of listed my boss in my emergency contacts? I don’t know, I didn’t really want my parents to know where I was going, and I was worried the company would send them mail, so I put my workplace as my permanent address.”

“Makes sense,” Noctis says. He’s been a remarkably calming presence in all this, and an excellent sport to sit through a murder investigation that he had no reason to be invested in. Ignis owes him as many tarts as he wants.

“Um,” Prompto starts, bouncing a leg nervously as they all move to exit the vehicle. Basil’s tongue flops erratically out of her mouth. “Could you guys like, send a signal or something? If they’re ok?”

“I’ll leave my phone with you,” Noctis says, already removing it from his pocket. “Ignis’ll text you with an update.”

Prompto gives him a grateful nod and a nervous little smile as he takes the phone, then they’re heading out of the car and pushing open the front doors to the garage.

“So,” Noctis draws out the syllable in the buzzing silence of the lobby. “What happens if the murderer is like… there.”

“Let me worry about that,” Gladio says, rolling his shoulders. “Just try not to get in the way.”

“Of what?” Ignis snorts. “Your ego?”

“Nice try, Ignis.” He sends him a cocksure grin. “You don’t see the take-down so I don’t blame you, but I’ve wrestled my fair share of perps. Guy coming from behind? Plastic bag? Not a lot of confidence there. I’m sure I could beat him hand to hand.”

“Oh man,” Noctis deadpans. “Ignis, let’s get out of the way. It’s his ego.”

“Very funny,” Gladio says with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, what’s the joke?” comes a high-pitched and smooth voice in a southern drawl as a young woman steps behind the counter with a friendly smile.

Ignis instantly recognizes her as the young woman from the funeral. Only this time, instead of her Sunday Best, she’s wearing a set of coveralls that are zipped down to the waist, fastened there with a knot tied with her sleeves. And she’s covered in grease, even the t-shirt underneath the coveralls and her baseball cap weren’t spared. Even so, she’s very pretty, so Ignis isn’t surprised when Noctis balks and shrinks subtly behind him. He never was good at meeting new people, much less new attractive people.

But Gladio has no such qualms. He’s leaning over the counter like he’s an old friend, all charm. “Nothing worth repeating, ma’am.”

“Aw, shucks. Ain’t no need for all that fancy business. You can call me Cindy, darlin’.” She gives them a wink. Ignis can feel Noct’s panic rising behind him. “What can I do for you boys today? Something with your car need fixin’?”

“No car trouble today, Cindy.” Gladio says with an amicable smile. “My name’s Gladio, and I’m actually a private investigator. These two are my, ah, assistants. We’re currently looking into the death of a Prompto Argentum.” The name scarcely leaves Gladio’s mouth before Cindy’s entire face falls. “Take it you knew him?”

“Yeah,” Cindy says, taking off her cap to run a hand through her hair. “Yeah, I knew him.”

“Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” Gladio asks, gentle. He waits for Cindy to nod before continuing. “He listed this garage as his last workplace, and we were hoping to speak to his boss. That you?”

“Not exactly.” Cindy bites her lip, looking thoughtful. It occurs to Ignis that Prompto might have picked up the habit from her. “Look boys, why don’t you come to the back with me? I reckon whatever I can’t answer, Paw Paw’ll be able to. He runs the place.”

She gestures for them to follow her behind a closed door, then winces as if remembering something. “Just- Just let me do the talking first, alright?”

“Is he mean?” Noctis whispers, looking nervous. “Ask Prompto if he’s mean.”

Cindy ok. Ignis texts, dutifully. Is boss mean?

Very mean. Prompto responds. Then there’s a picture of Basil. For support.

“Yeah, I knew Prompto.” Cid says with that southern drawl, sipping lazily at a cup of coffee that they’d all seen him pour whiskey into. If he wasn’t sure before, Ignis knows now that it’s Cid and Cindy that gave Prompto the habit of switching to the accent. “One of my older staff, quick with his hands. For a smart kid, he sure was a real idiot.”

“Paw Paw,” Cindy hisses. She gives them an apologetic look. “Paw Paw took him on as an apprentice when he was just a little thing. Couldn’t have been more than seventeen. He didn’t talk about it much, but we knew his parents didn’t pay him much mind, so we tried to make him feel like he was family here.” She sighs. “He was a real sweet thing. Didn’t deserve to go the way he did.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Gladio says with a cold detachment that might have seemed professional if Ignis didn’t know that it was merely a product of the ‘real sweet thing’ in question currently sitting in his car with a very small dog. He leans forward, fingers steepled over his own mug, filled with only coffee. “We’ll try to get out of your hair as soon as possible, but could you answer a few of our questions?”

“Shoot.” Cid gives them a half-hearted wave and takes another long sip from the mug.

“Right, could you tell us if you noticed anything strange about Prompto before the trip? Like, was he behaving strangely or was someone asking questions about him?”

“Can’t say I did,” Cindy answers. “He’d been jittery to be sure, but he seemed more excited than anything. Wanted to know what it was like to travel and all that, but Paw Paw and I don’t leave the garage much ourselves.”

“And he didn’t have a stalker or nothin’, if that’s what you’re asking,” Cid grumbles. “Real shy boy, stayed out of the spotlight. Took years for him to warm to me and Cindy. Woulda noticed if someone came round askin’ for him. Hell, half this garage woulda noticed.”

“Alright,” Gladio says after a pause. He’s making a show of jotting down notes, but from Ignis’ perspective, he can tell they’re just chicken scratches. “How about after the trip? Anything strange happen around the garage recently? Anyone acting strangely?”

Cindy purses her lips. “Hm, couldn’t say. Why do you ask?”

“We’re just pursuing the possibility that the murderer might have been personally connected to him.”

“Well, you can quit pursuin’,” Cid says with finality. “I know my people, none of them would do anything as sinister as you’re implying, city slicker.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Gladio smirks. “Last question, and we’ll be on our way. I understand he’d listed you as his place of residence, and the cruise ship might have sent you his personal effects.”

“Yeah,” Cindy sighs. “Yeah, we got ‘em.”

Gladio leans forward, grin almost predatory. “Mind if we take a look?”

“Well,” Noctis chuckles. “Those are definitely tonberries.”

“That they are,” Ignis says, turning the tacky plastic tonberry around in his hand. They’re heavy, but he’s not sure if it’s real or the imagined weight of knowing Prompto lost his life for these little things.

“So, what do we do now?” Noctis asks, fiddling with his own tonberry.

“We leave them,” Gladio says.

“Excuse me?” Ignis finds he can’t sound affronted enough. “Are you suggesting we continue to put Prompto’s friends, his family by the sounds of it, at risk?”

“They’re at risk whether or not we take the things,” Gladio growls, crossing his arms. “The guy probably went through Dino’s papers and came to the same conclusion as us. The fact that Cid and Cindy haven’t noticed anything says he just hasn’t acted yet. We take them and he gets here and can’t find them? Doesn’t look good for Cid and Cindy.”

Cid and Cindy who, they’d since learned, lived in a small attachment off the side of the garage. Loathe as he is to admit it, Gladio does have a point.

“So what?” Noctis asks for the both of them. “We just let him take them?”

“We leave them,” Gladio explains, poking a tonberry at them in a way that might have looked dramatic and inspired if it weren’t for the fact that it was a tonberry. “And then we wait.”

The facts are these.

Ignis Scientia - twenty-two years, six months, three weeks and five days old, veteran baker, practiced private investigator’s assistant and novice stake-out participant - wishes he’d charged his cell phone.

There’s only so much tenseness stretched between the silences he can take, after all. And with Noctis and Gladio on the other side of the garage - Noctis had split up the groups with a sly look to Ignis - there’s no one else to direct his attention towards.

Well, there’s Basil. But Basil - at a scant 5.5 pounds - is too light to disturb the eggshells they’re currently treading on, and she walks between Ignis and Prompto’s laps in Gladio’s car unaffected.

“So,” Prompto finally says. “Wanna, er, wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“The ‘it’s not an unfamiliar feeling’ thing,” Prompto explains. He switches into an exaggeration of Ignis’ accent for part of it, and Ignis finds himself equal parts charmed and offended. “Wanna talk about it?”

It’s not something Ignis was prepared to talk about, he’d been able to put off the memory of his mother and Prompto’s father for this far. But, he can’t lie to Prompto, not anymore. Still, he’s afraid to use the details. “I made a mistake when I was younger, when I first learned about my powers. I lost people who were very dear to me and I knew it was all my fault. I thought I was a monster, that I didn’t deserve anyone’s kindness. If Noctis hadn’t been a nosy little boy so intent on befriending me, I’m not certain where I’d be today, to be honest.”

Prompto lets out a hum, curling up in the seat to hug Basil, who has settled in his lap.

“You’re not,” he says after some time. His fingers curl and uncurl in Basil’s fur, who pants obligingly. “You’re not some monster. You know that, right?”

“Some days more than others,” Ignis admits with a rueful smile.

Prompto frowns. “I mean, I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I know I kind of yelled at you.”

“You were right to. Even it was a lie of omission, I still lied to you and I kept making excuses to lie to you. You deserved to know the complete circumstances of your, er, revival.”

“Yeah, yeah I mean you’re right about that, but I didn’t have to say all that shit about not wanting to talk to you.” Prompto turns to give him a bashful little smile. “To be honest, I was really overwhelmed and I just didn’t want you to see me cry. That would have been really uncool.”

“I understand the desire for privacy, but rest assured I think crying’s a perfectly natural response. Had our positions been reversed, I would have cried at the outset,” Ignis reassures.

“Well, yeah maybe, but you’ve got that perfectly chiseled face and all that,” Prompto says. Ignis waits for him to stutter and blush, but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps going. “Hell, you probably look great when you cry! All dramatic and noble. Totally unfair, because I just get all red and splotchy. It’s very unattractive.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I want to see you cry anytime soon.” Ignis laughs. “But I think you’re perfectly attractive, no matter the situation.”

Prompto scrunches his nose. “There’s a word for that. Starts with an N.”

“Are you suggesting I’m a necrophile?”

“Yeah, that. And I mean, you are flirting with a dead guy,” Prompto says, but he’s smiling as he says it.

And it’s that warm, longing smile Ignis didn’t think he’d see again, one that pulls at Ignis’ own lips until he’s smiling in return. Suddenly they’re both children again, back in that tree at sunset. Only this time, Prompto is looking at him with the same wonder that must have been written on Ignis’ face that day. Ignis wishes this was some fantasy land, he wishes he could lean in the way he wants, give Prompto a kiss the way he wants.

But once again, Ignis’ wish wasn’t granted. This wasn’t a fantasy land. It was a stake-out.

And they’d just missed their murderer.

The facts were these.

The man that breaks into Hammerhead in the dead of night has made a substantial name for himself by having no one know his name. He’s mysterious, dresses in all black, takes cash only, and was promised a very hefty sum from one Izunia, A. for retrieving a pair of plastic tonberries. Extreme sentimental value, he’d been told.

This has resulted in more murders than he’d initially planned, but he’s not one to complain. The plastic bags that rest in his back pocket are the closest thing he has to a signature, and it’s unfair that he’s so rarely appreciated for his work.

It seems there’s no need for his special methods today, though, because he makes it through the garage undetected. After a moment of searching, he finds the tonberries in a suitcase next to the familiar camera of the boy he’d murdered on the cruise ship. Secretly, he’s glad it seems intact. It would have been a shame to break such a nice camera.

He’s just congratulating himself on a job well done after no end of inconveniences when a flashlight draws his attention.

“Put the tonberries down,” a gruff voice whispers.

He does not put the tonberries down.

No, he throws the closest article of clothing he can find from the suitcase at the shine of the flashlight and runs. He can hear a muffled curse as the gruff-voiced man makes chase, but neither of them make it very far before he’s colliding with two more people.

“-mpto!” comes an alarmed cry, but he pays it no mind as he catches the smaller one around the throat. For now, at the very least, the body in front of him will shield him if his pursuers have guns and value their friends.

“Don’t move!” he growls, fumbling in his pocket for his knife, but as he fumbles, he finds himself crinkling the plastic bag on accident.

“Oh, fuck no,” his hostage growls. “Not again.”

Then he’s being flipped, dropped ignobly on the ground for someone as professional as him. This won’t do, naturally, so he grabs his hostage-turned-assailant’s hand and kicks at his midsection, flipping him in turn onto the ground and pinning him there by his throat.

In the dim light of the garage, he just makes out the face of the man, only to find it eerily, eerily familiar.

“Didn’t I kill you?” he asks, incredulous.

But that’s all he gets to ask because the lights flicker on to reveal the scene. There’s him, the nameless man on an errand from a mysterious Izunia, A. halfway through strangling what should have been a dead man on the ground. And then there’s three men frozen in place and scattered about the room, each looking on with some kind of horror at the man in the doorway.

And then there’s the man in the doorway.

“Oughtta read the sign, boys,” Cid Sophiar says, cocking his gun. “We’re closed.”

And that is how Cid Sophiar, age sixty-two, shoots Prompto’s would-be second time killer dead in the Hammerhead Garage.

“You sure your friend is ok?” Cid grumbles, pouring more whiskey into his whiskey. “Looked to be in a real bad situation when I walked in.”

They’re all sat in the office that Gladio had questioned Cid and Cindy in, trying to ignore the dead body in the other room, evidence that their stake-out had been... too active.

Distantly, they can hear Basil barking from the car that Ignis and Prompto had fled from in haste when they’d seen Gladio’s shaky flashlight signal from the opposite side of the garage before they’d walked directly into a short-lived hostage situation.

By some miracle, Prompto had the sense to look away when Cid had turned the lights on, and Noctis had the foresight to grab one of the shirts from Prompto’s suitcase and throw it over his face when their culprit rolled, lifeless, off his body.

“He’s fine, sir,” Ignis says, as Prompto - t-shirt wrapped around his head- frantically gestures with his hands a message that he must hope comes off as ‘Yeah, really fine!’ “He’s, ah, he’s just very shy to be seen by other people. This whole experience was very...trying, as you can imagine.”

“I can imagine just fine,” Cid says with a laugh, seeming more charmed than anything by Prompto’s strange behavior. “That big old boy was lookin’ right at you, wasn’t he? Taught him not to trespass in a mechanic’s garage, though, I sure did.”

“That you did,” Gladio chuckles.

“You really think that’s the little asshole that killed Prompto?”

“I strongly believe it, sir,” Gladio says. “I’ll be sure to inform the police so you can collect the reward.”

“Reward was shootin’ that bastard dead,” Cid grumbles. “Well, I reckon I’m not gonna complain about some extra gil, either.”

Noctis, as if sensing Prompto’s anxiety, asks, “Your granddaughter ok?”

“Oh, Cindy’s just fine.” Ignis can see Prompto visibly relax next to him. “Out on the town with her girl. Reckon she’ll get a surprise out of watchin’ the cops draggin’ a body out of the ol’ garage, though.” Cid turns to Prompto, but Prompto can’t tense because, again, he can’t see it. “You oughtta head out then, I reckon. Can’t imagine it’s much better gettin’ gawked at by a bunch of boys in blue.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Noctis says, getting up. He pulls Prompto up by the hand and starts to lead him out of the room, pausing only to give Ignis a look of comfort. “We’ll meet you guys at home.”

And they’re gone just like that. The three remaining men in the room sit in companionable silence until the police arrive, broken only when Gladio curses.

“When did that little brat steal my keys?”

The facts are these.

Noct’s apartment is a spacious penthouse loft on the top floor of one of the only high-rises of the small town they live in. It includes such features as a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows and a small balcony with several struggling houseplants that offers a perfect view of the city. As such, it’s the perfect place to get a breath of fresh air after a particularly long talk with the police, and the perfect place for a dramatic conversation.

“So,” Prompto says, sliding down to sit next to where Ignis is leaning against the railing of Noct’s balcony. He slips two bare feet between the bars of the balcony to kick them over the expanse. Basil waddles to his side to shove her face between the bars. “Bummer about the reward, huh?”

“Well, Cid seems to have some ideas on how to spend the money.” Ideas, of course, that he’d been sure to outline to Gladio and Ignis in the thirty minutes it had taken for the police to show up.

“I’m glad,” Prompto smiles. “He’s a grumpy old guy, but he’s nice. He deserves some cash.”

“I’m inclined to agree, but I’m also not above wishing to see some of that reward money.”

“Same,” Prompto laughs. Then he tenses, ever so slightly as he continues. “I was kind of hoping to pay for that funeral director’s, well, funeral.”

“Ah,” is all Ignis can think to say.

There’s a pause where the only things that they can hear are the quiet sounds of the restless town beneath and Basil’s quiet pants.

Then Prompto laughs. “Think they give employee discounts for funerals?”

Ignis gives him a fond smile that Prompto returns, then he’s looking out over the city again, fingers coming to tangle in Basil’s fur.

“Y’know, to be honest, when I found out that guy died for me, I felt really guilty,” he admits in a soft voice. “But it wasn’t because I thought I should trade my life back for his or anything. It was- Well, I just scared myself because I was so relieved. It felt so selfish, but he was like, sixty or something, and I remember thinking ‘at least it wasn’t a kid,’ like somehow that made it better. And I was happy to be alive or whatever, but it was just… so much at once and everything was so fucked up. It’s fucked up, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s ‘fucked up’ to be happy to be alive,” Ignis answers. “I think that’s just how it is.”

“Yeah,” Prompto breathes. “Yeah, maybe. Either way, I was hoping I could get rid of the guilt by paying for this dude’s funeral, but I guess that’s out of the cards.” He looks to Ignis with a hopeful expression. “Was he really that much of a dirtbag?”

“Dirtiest of the bags,” Ignis says. “Absolute scum.”

“Wow, what happened to ‘don’t speak ill of the dead?’” Prompto laughs.

“Well, I’m sure the rules can be suspended for a man who regularly stole from the dead.”

“Oh, wow, he really was a scumbag.” Prompto blinks. “I thought you guys were just trying to comfort me.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Ignis says, casually.

But Prompto turns to him with a knowing look in his eye. “Really?”

“What are you trying to imply?”

“Nothing,” Prompto laughs. “Nothing, I just. I figured it out, you know. What you were talking about in the car. My dad, that was you, right?”

“Er,” Ignis chokes.

“No, it’s alright, it’s alright,” Prompto reassures. “I’m not mad about it, I don’t blame you. I just wanted to tell you that.” Prompto pulls his feet from off the edge and puts Basil in his lap, curling up into a little ball around her. “My dad, well, he was kind of an asshole, when I think about it. Yelled a lot, drank a lot. Never hit me, but I wasn’t really around for him to try. Y’know, the reason why it seemed like I was outside all the time was because I pretty much was. I’d spend as much time out of the house as possible just to avoid him. So, you can quit beating yourself up about that.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I was a kid and it was scary being alone, but I think my life would have been a lot worse if I stayed in that place.”

“Prompto,” Ignis chuckles something that’s at once solemn and fond, caught between his sadness at the pain in Prompto’s life and the joy at seeing him finally wanting something for himself. “You died.”

“Yeah, but I got to solve my own murder!” he says with a grin, honest and bright. “I mean, how cool is that?”

They both laugh at that, then Prompto’s looking at him with that thoughtful, longing expression. After a moment, he hums and uncurls himself to stand up in front of Ignis.

“Hey Iggy?” he asks, reaching into his back pocket to produce a plastic take-out bag. Have a nice day! it says in cheerful letters. “Mind doing me a favor and putting this bag over your head?”

“Plan on killing me?” Ignis jokes, but he’s taken the bag and is pulling it over his head regardless. “I suppose that’s karmic justice, in a roundabout sort of way.”

He doesn’t quite hear Prompto’s response over the crinkle of the bag, then suddenly the plastic is being stretched over his face and for a moment Ignis thinks, ‘ah, he really is trying to kill me.’ But then warm hands come to cup around his cheeks and there’s a gentle press against his lips and Ignis can’t think anything at all.

It’s a chaste kiss, necessitated by the plastic bag, and only a moment, but it’s more than Ignis could have imagined. Prompto, it seems, was the imaginative one between the two of them. It’s not his first kiss, not even his second, but it’s the first time he’s kissed someone and imagined a future instead of only the worst case scenarios. It’s the first time he didn’t wish anything was different.

But it’s not long, and he’s left standing dumbstruck in the aftermath as Prompto tugs off the bag and fumbles with it in his hands, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“I was kissing this big smiley face, so that was a little weird,” he laughs, a little nervous and a little breathless, as he stretches the bag out in his hands. He slips a hand inside. “And you used tongue! Look at you, Iggy!”

“I, er, I was caught up in the moment.” Ignis stutters out a laugh of his own.

“Careful,” Prompto teases. “Last time you were caught up in the moment, you killed a guy.”

“Hey!” Noctis cuts in abruptly, slapping a hand against the sliding glass door, making the both of them jump. “If you two are done flirting, I’ve got something to show you.”

“How’d you manage to steal those?” Gladio says, incredulous.

Those being the tonberry statues that Noctis had, apparently, lifted while leading Prompto out of the garage.

“We all have our vices,” he says, in lieu of a real answer. They’ll have to have a talk later, but that can wait because Noctis turns to Prompto, who’s turning one of them over in his hand and says, “Wanna do the honors?”

Prompto grins and raises the thing above his head. “This is for getting me murdered!”

The cheap plastic comes away with a crack to reveal the telltale glimmer of pure gold, the trait that’s likely responsible for the unexpected heaviness of the statues and the fact that someone had been willing to kill for them. This means nothing to Basil, who approaches the statue to lick at it.

“’They’ll make you very, very rich,’” Prompto breathes, remembering Dino’s words.

“Very, very quick,” Gladio finishes, testing the weight of one of the statues in his hand.

“Speak for yourselves,” Noctis shrugs. “I’m already rich.”

The facts are these.

Ignis Scientia - twenty two years, eleven months, three weeks and five days old, full-time baker, part-time private investigator’s assistant and host/co-star of a recently developing series of instructional cooking videos titled Baking with Basil - is about to have the best birthday of his life.

The reason for this being the man curled up on Noct’s couch. Prompto Argentum - recently re-raised freelance photographer, roommate (of Noct’s) and boyfriend (of Ignis) - isn’t doing anything in particular. He’s just existing, just breathing, and to reiterate, he’s Ignis’ boyfriend. And it’s the most wondrous thing Ignis could have hoped for. There’s nothing better he could have imagined in twenty-two years, eleven months, three weeks and five days.

“What are you staring at?” Prompto says, pushing his glasses farther up his face.

“Nothing,” Ignis gives him a fond smile. “I just like to look at you.”

“That’s gross,” Prompto says, scrunching up his nose. But he’s grinning. “Noctis, hold my boyfriend’s hand.”

Noctis, who’s been mercifully accommodating of Prompto and Ignis’ peculiar circumstances, merely makes a noise of understanding and flops out a hand for Ignis to hold.

“So, wanna take a trip for your birthday?” Prompto says with a smile.

“I’m not averse to the idea,” Ignis says, but that’s entirely an understatement. He’d go anywhere with Prompto, at this point. “What did you have in mind?”

Prompto’s grin turns mischievous. “Definitely not a cruise ship.”

THATS IT! (or is it?)

i may revisit this AU in the future! but for now, i have to work on my WIP for the big bang and some other stuff!

hope you enjoyed!

#ffxv #promnis #prompto x ignis #ignis x prompto #my fic #tbh i can't believe i got this all done to publish on consecutive days y'all must b like who dis

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