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cal-kestis · 3 years

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If I Could Never Give You Peace

(Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Gif by @pedropcl [original gifset]

Summary: Two years after resigning from the DEA, Javi finds himself in Los Angeles, haunted by glares of gunshots and blood-stained hands. He’d succumbed to the idea that he’d never have peace — doesn’t deserve it after everything he did in Colombia. Then, she moves in next door and maybe, he thinks, things could be different. “I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.” Word Count: 4,357 A/N: A Reader-insert one-shot with a nameless female reader. No “Y/N” or "you," but the reader can be anyone. Inspired heavily by Taylor Swift’s “Peace.” How many TS references can you find? Lol. Tags: Fluff, Angst (with a happy ending), Mentions of death (but no one dies, I promise), Alcohol, Cigarettes

[Read on AO3]

The rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me... All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret... Would it be enough, if I could never give you peace? — Taylor Swift, Peace —

When Javier Peña handed in his DEA badge and gun two years ago, he knew he couldn’t stay in Texas. Not forever.

Texas held too many familiar faces, old friends calling him a hero when he felt like a villain. It held too many ties to an old version of himself he’d rather not remember… muddied images of him with a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise. No, he couldn’t stay. Not even for his father.

So, Javier Peña and the unwelcomed overcast of his nightmares found a one-bedroom apartment in sunny Los Angeles.

In time, he realized he needed the city: constant motion, endless traffic, and hoards of busy people who would never remember his face. He could blend in. He could be alone.

He could have a clean slate.

But each night, glares of gunshots flashed behind his eyelids and invisible bloodstains marred his calloused palms as if to remind him:

He could never have peace.

Then, she moved in next door.

The first time he saw her, he only caught a glimpse. She and her boyfriend, he assumed, held towering stacks of brown boxes in front of their faces — sweating as they lugged the dusty weight into the empty space.

For a moment, he considered offering some neighborly help but decided against it — When have you ever cared about being a good neighbor, Javi? — closing himself in his quiet apartment with a glass of whiskey.

The second time he saw her, she came knocking on his door the next night.

“Hi, neighbor,” she smiled brilliantly. And for a split second, he swore he felt something foreign flutter in his stomach, but dismissed it as the after-effects of spoiled dinner. “I just moved in next door and wanted to introduce myself.”

He could not take his eyes off her. His gaze stayed glued to a small bead of sweat trailing a slow path down from her hairline, where she’d pulled it back with a makeshift scarf-headband. The droplet slipped down her cheekbone, over a smudge of dust that had settled in from her moving boxes. It drifted down the curve of her jaw, dipping into the slope of her neck until finally hiding away below her tank top. And by some miracle, she only needed to repeat her name for him once before he came out of the trance.

“Sorry.” He gulped, removing the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Javier.”

He extended his hand and she met him halfway. Soft. So soft.

“Good to meet you, Javier.” She smiled again. Flutter. “I’m sure you’re busy. Just wanted to say hi. I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, she swiftly turned on her heel to walk the few steps back to her door, bare feet strutting off, flaunting her daisy dukes, and — God help him, he’s a man and she’s beautiful — he stared.

The nail in the coffin?

When she opened her door and gave him one last smile over her shoulder, she winked.

No, he could never have peace.

—

After that, he hardly ever sees her.

Part of him feels relieved, unduly wary of the strange flutter he’d feel just thinking of her name. The other part, the traitorously curious part, dreams of catching another glimpse of her glistening skin or a quarter note of her honeyed voice. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he finds himself often wondering if her boyfriend gets to enjoy her sun rays and melodies. Lucky bastard.

He blames his roaming thoughts on the fact that it’s… been a while.

This is what you wanted, he’d remind himself when he’d wake to an empty bed — a stark contrast to his time in Colombia. This is the way things should be.

Just when he starts to believe those words, he finds her crumpled on the floor in front of her apartment — the contents of her purse strewn across the hardwood beside her, palms pressed firmly against her eyes. One tiny sniffle and a tremble of her shoulders, and he melts into a puddle beneath her muddy sneakers.

“Hey,” he whispers tentatively, voice raspy with cigarette smoke.

She jolts at the sound, immediately wiping her face with her sleeves and plastering on a saccharine smile.

“Javier,” she tries to say, but her voice breaks on the vowels. “Sorry, I was just— rough day. And to top it off, I think I left my keys inside. I tried Jerry but no luck.”

“Jerry’s a shit landlord,” he sighs, earning a nod from her. He takes out an old, faded receipt from his pocket and kneels in front of her, finding a pen amongst her spilled belongings. “Try this number. He’s usually fast. Can get you back in your apartment tonight.”

He hands her the scribbled receipt and she takes it with a real smile, albeit small. “Thank you, Javier.”

He nods, a tiny dimple forming in one tanned cheek, before getting up to unlock his apartment. The door clicks but he stands there for a moment longer, listening to her waning sniffles as she throws her things back into her bag. His eyes screw shut tightly, a silent war waging behind his forehead, his fingertips feebly trying to rub it away.

He sighs long and heavy when he realizes which part of him has won.

“Would you... like to come inside my place while you wait?” He mutters, mainly to the floorboards. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

“Okay.” Her smile is warm like the sun, despite the cloud of tears still glazed over her eyes. “But you don’t strike me as a cream and sugar kind of guy.”

“No,” he admits with an amused smirk. “But I’ve got some old whiskey, older milk, and a phone you can use, toll-free.”

“Thanks, Javier,” she sniffles. “Coffee sounds nice. But hold the booze and tainted milk.”

And that’s how she ends up in his apartment, sitting at his small dining table, slowly sipping from his coffee mug, using his landline to call the locksmith.

Maybe it’s the caffeine or the three (stolen) pink packets of sugar she found in her purse (“It’s not stealing. Diners offer dozens of them in cute little boxes, I mean practically gift-wrapped, and I modestly accepted three.”), but coffee gets her talking the way alcohol coaxes even the darkest secrets from iron-barred lips. She just broke up with her boyfriend. Or he broke up with her — found some younger, hotter-than-her aspiring actress in Hollywood and left her in the dust of the boxes she’d just unpacked.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “You’ve been so nice. Really, Neighbor of the Year,” she laughs, but he thinks it sounds off. He wants to hear the real thing. “And here I am, taking up your space, drinking your coffee, and dumping all my problems on the table. Tell me if I’m talking too much, Javier. I tend to—”

“Javi,” he says, furrowing his brows as if mildly stunned by the two syllables he just spoke. She looks confused. “You can... call me Javi, for short. And I don’t mind listening.”

“Javi,” she tests the name on her tongue, smiles. His stomach flutters. “A good name for a good guy.”

The argument dies on his tongue the minute he thinks it, even though she’s horribly, terribly wrong.

Sometimes you gotta do bad things to catch bad people.

If she knew...

“I should be out of your hair in 20 minutes anyway,” she says, breaking him out of his dark reverie. “Locksmith’s on his way.”

When she finally gets back into her own apartment, Javi jostles her doorknob, double-checks the lock, and knocks on wood for good measure.

“Find your keys?”

“Got ‘em!” She chirps, jingling her lost keys. “I’m gonna have to memorize that number.”

“I’m next door, too, if you ever need anything.”

“Me too. I can lend you some sugar for your sad-man, bitter coffee,” she jokes. “Thanks again, Javi.”

He sends her a tight-lipped smile and a short nod, a familiar weight settling in his chest as he turns back to his lonely apartment.

“Would you like to come in for dinner?” She asks, quiet and suddenly timid. “I’m no chef, but I’ve never made a spaghetti I couldn’t tolerate.”

He opens his mouth to refuse but she beats him to the punch. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me out. Please?”

And it’s the way she asks that gets him. The way “please” seems to fall from her lips like an unanswered prayer. He wonders, maybe she’s just as lonely as him.

So, he walks into her apartment, she smiles, and his stomach flips.

—

Months pass by with this new routine. He joins her for dinner at least once a week, if their schedules allow. If not at the local diner where she infamously loots sugar, it’s usually at her place. For one thing, although it’s usually pasta, she tends to have more appetizing (read: edible) groceries stocked up than him. But if he’s being honest, something about her apartment just feels more like… a home.

Framed smiles of her and her loved ones line the walls. With each visit, he finds himself studying a new one, imagining the story behind each snapshot. (He noticed after their first dinner, she’d thrown out the photos of her ex, replacing them with Polaroids of the city.) Piles of pillows stack up neatly on her couch, vibrant hues and patterns decorating the space. He adores the soft waves of music always floating around her space. She plays a different record each time, but somehow, each one compliments the sweet tones of her voice perfectly.

Her place feels brighter than his too, and he’s not sure if it’s the east-facing windows or if it’s just her.

Soon, he doesn’t need to decode the photos on the walls anymore. She tells him more than she’s told anyone before — about her hometown, her family, what she studied in college, her travels, her favorite books, her irrational fears, her dreams.

He tells her considerably less, especially when it comes to his time in Colombia.

For now, she doesn’t mind. She likes the way he watches her when she talks — brown eyes soft and warm, brows pinched together as he takes in each word, the ghost of a grin tugging at one corner of his lips when she gestures dramatically.

He realizes, one night after dinner, he comes home smiling now. And he thinks the nightmares have started dwindling, ever since that first dinner.

Maybe, he lets himself imagine. Things could be different.

—

He calls for you over and over, shouting until his throat burns and the echo of his frantic voice pounds in his ears.

“Where are you?” He screams.

The narrow hallway is dark, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He crushes his body into the hard wall, arms sliding roughly against cold brick as he tries to keep himself concealed. The gun in his hand feels icy and impossibly heavy, and his arms tremble as they lift the weapon higher, rounding the corner.

“Llegas tarde, Peña,” a deep, gravelly voice sneers. “You’re too late.”

“Tómame!” Javier yells. “Tómame en su lugar.”

“You would die for her?” The voice chuckles. “Llegas tarde.”

The voice’s shadow moves, revealing a smaller shadow crumpled on the floor — lifeless.

“Javier! Javier!” A distant voice chants, accusing him. Boom! Blaming him. Boom!

“Javier!” Boom!

The pounding sound wakes him up with a jolt, and his sweat-slicked chest rapidly rises and falls as he reaches for the gun inside his bedside table.

Slowly, Javier creeps to the front door where the loud pounding started. But when he peers into the peephole, he only finds her — looking as tired and distressed as he feels. A wave of relief floods through his overheated body.

She’s wrapped up in a blanket, a worried look wrinkling her forehead.

He puts his gun down in a drawer and lets her in.

“What time is it?” He asks.

“Almost 4 in the morning.”

“What’s wrong?” He demands, suddenly worried about why she’d be waking him this early.

“You tell me,” she says, frown lines still etched by her eyes — mirroring his own tired marks. “I heard you yelling. I was worried, Javi.”

“It was...” he starts, squinting as the images flash in his mind again. “Just a dream.”

It only takes one glance into his eyes for her to reach out to him, pulling him in by his neck until he nuzzles into hers.

He breathes her in, holds her like he’s not sure she’s real, like she might be gone tomorrow. “It was just a dream,” he echoes, but he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince.

“It was just a dream,” she repeats after him.

She pulls him by his hand toward his couch, sitting down before patting the space beside her. And just this once, he allows himself to let his head rest in her lap, lets her drape her fuzzy blanket over him, lets her soft fingers draw slow circles in his hair, lets her lull him to sleep with mumbled whispers he can’t quite make out, and lets her ward off the lurking darkness like a nightlight.

He’s asleep before he can hear the quiet secret that spills from her lips.

“I hope this doesn’t scare you,” she whispers, her fingers still tracing shapes over his head. “But I care about you, Javi, a lot. I think I could fall in love with you someday...” She exhales, a quiet, shaky sound. “I think I’ve already started.”

She comes over to his apartment more frequently after that. Whether to bring him dinner or just sit on his couch in comfortable silence, she doesn’t like to leave him alone.

And maybe, she’d rather not be alone either.

—

He doesn’t remember how she convinced him, but here he is... sitting at a crowded bar drinking water, watching his tipsy neighbor bouncing alone on the small dance floor.

Every so often, some cocky drunk comes up to put his hands on her waist and tries to dance with her, but she plasters on a faux smile and shakes her head at them, muttering something while nodding in Javier’s direction. Each time, they sulk away and he chuckles.

Finally, she bounces over to him, tugging at the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Dance with me, Javi. Please,” she draws out the word, an octave higher than normal.

And despite himself, he follows her voice like a sailor enthralled by a siren’s song.

She puts her arms around his neck, swaying her body against his. And then she shouts over the music, “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

And the heart on his sleeve falls straight to the floor, clanging loudly in his ears like metal.

‘Friends’ is more than you deserve, he reminds himself.

But then she continues, resting her head against his chest, her index finger coming up to tap a tantalizingly slow beat over his collarbone. “Good friends,” she sighs, lifting her gaze until her chin digs into his heart, her lips just inches from his. “Really… good… friends.”

She’s kissing him before he can even process the feeling. And despite his better judgment, he lets her. She’s everything warm and soft and good, with just a hint of alcohol — and he’s what you get when you turn those words upside down, jumble the letters, and crumple the paper into a jagged ball. But he craves the way her curves somehow fit perfectly against his cold, shattered edges. And he knows he shouldn’t.

So, when he feels her tongue trace along the seam of his mouth, he gently pulls away, hands rubbing soothing circles on her shoulders.

“You’ve had too much to drink, cariño,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay,” she whispers, smiling with half-lidded eyes, drawing her finger across his mustache then below his ever-pouting lip.

She’s passed out in his car by the time they’re back home. When he unlocks her apartment door for her, she stays latched onto his arm as he turns to leave.

“Stay,” she whispers.

“I—”

“Please?” She asks, in that way he knows he can’t fight. “I don’t want to be alone.”

And just like that, the door closes behind him and he stays.

He finds her an oversized shirt to change into, helps her wipe the smudged mascara off her face, and holds her until the sun rises.

When she wakes, the space beside her is empty but warm and indented, the shape of his body lingering in the sheets. A full glass of water, ibuprofen, and the phantom taste of Javi’s lips are the only other traces of her really… good... friend.

—

He’s not avoiding her… per se. But it’s a long, lonely week later when he sees her again, on an uncharacteristically rainy Sunday outside their apartment building.

“I just got home,” she blurts after standing there dumbfounded for a good minute. She nods to the soaked brown paper bags in her arms. “Groceries. Uh, obviously. Were you...?”

“Forgot my umbrella,” he answers.

“Same,” she chuckles awkwardly, droplets hanging on her lashes and the ends of her hair, only partially covered by her hood. “Obviously.”

“Here, let me help you.” He takes the bags from her, keeping the door open with his foot as he waits for her to head inside.

“Thanks, Javi-er.”

He follows her upstairs silently, his wet, squeaking shoes punctuating each slow and heavy step.

“I can—”

“Let me just—”

They fumble and dance around each other in her doorway as he sets her bags in her apartment. And, as if to torture herself, she decides to stand under her door frame when he leaves to grab his umbrella, waiting the longest minute of her life for him with a forced smile.

He waves his umbrella at her after locking his door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

He nods and walks back down the stairs.

“Javier, wait.”

He pauses, his back still facing her, drenched shoes balanced on two different steps.

“Can we talk?” She hates the way her voice sounds when she asks, tinny and trembling. Clearing her throat, she clarifies, “About what happened... at the bar?”

He sighs, screwing his eyes shut tight and rubbing his forehead.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says, low and barely audible as the rain starts picking up outside. And he walks away.

She’s stunned still, watching as his figure shrinks with each step he takes away from her. He’s already out of the building by the time frustration fuels her feet to follow him into the rain.

“Like hell there’s nothing to talk about,” she yells over the downpour, hair quickly sticking flat to her face. “Javi, we kissed!”

“You were drunk,” he says, just loud enough for her to hear, still walking.

“I wasn’t drunk,” she argues to his back, remembering with perfect clarity exactly how his lips felt on hers. “Just a bit braver. Javi, stop! Look at me. Please.”

And like clockwork, he turns slowly but doesn’t move any closer.

So, she closes the distance to stand beside him under his umbrella, taking in his features without the obscurity of rain.

“What are you running from?” She wonders, reaching for his fidgeting hand. “I would never hurt you. I—”

The line between his brows looks deeper than usual, as if they’d been stuck in that pinched position for weeks. Shadows lay in rings beneath his eyes, accompanied by smaller lines that carry untold stories she hopes he’ll entrust her with someday. His mouth is parted just slightly, as if to say something he knows could change everything.

And it does.

“I have to go.”

Her hands are empty and wet when he leaves. And the rain buries his parting words into the pavement.

I don’t want to hurt you.

—

She doesn’t hear from him for two weeks. Doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him.

The rain sticks around longer than usual for Los Angeles, making her apartment feel cold and gloomy. But maybe, it’s just missing him as much as she is.

Then, while she’s folding her laundry one night, she hears his door rattle and practically bolts to her own. He’s there. Keys in hand, rolling luggage in the other, hair tousled like he’s been pulling at it with his fingers. He looks at her when she opens her door, just for a beat too long, before hiding away in his apartment.

She sighs, closing her door in defeat.

But just as she starts getting ready for bed, she hears two knocks at her door, heart beating rapidly as she slowly makes her way to open it.

“Hi, neighbor,” he greets her softly, and the sound of his voice after so long without it nearly brings her to tears.

“Where did you go?” She asks. But she really means, Why did you leave?

“Texas,” he says. “I... needed to see my dad.” But he really means, I was scared.

“Oh.”

“Can I...” he mutters. “Can I come in please?”

She hesitates for only a second before stepping aside and he looks around like he hasn’t seen the inside of her apartment hundreds of times already.

He stops near her bedroom, where a new picture hangs proudly: a goofy, blurry photo of him stashing three pink packets of sugar in his shirt pocket.

“It’s the only photo you’ve let me take of you,” she says quietly, standing next to him with a wistful smile on her face. “I miss our diner dates.” But she really means, I miss you.

He doesn’t respond, just silently walks to her couch and sits, fingers rubbing circles into his forehead.

Minutes roll by slowly as she watches him from the other side of the room, battling with some invisible hand covering his mouth, holding on until the end to keep the words locked up.

“I’m not a good man,” he whispers, so softly she almost doesn’t hear it. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of... back in Colombia. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to tell you. I think a part of me is still there, fighting some unwinnable war. Hell, even before Colombia, I—”

Muddied images of a beautiful woman, an abandoned altar, and a shattered promise flash in his mind.

“Fuck. I can’t shake it,” he says, looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes, waving the invisible iron shackles on his wrists to show her. “Any of it. The nightmares...” He recalls her shadowy body and a dark, menacing voice. “They’ve followed me for years. I—” he looks at her, eyes darting across her face. “I could never give you peace.”

His head hangs low and a wayward curl brushes against his forehead. Despite how much space he takes up on her couch, he looks so small, defeated — the weight of his past crushing him into this tiny, torn, crumpled-up piece of paper covered in red-inked, scratched-out sentences.

“Javi,” she whispers, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. So, she crosses the room and kneels in front of him, her palms reaching for his cheeks and lifting his gaze to hers. “Javi, who said anything about peace?”

The wrinkles deepen between his brows as he studies her, tries to understand what she means in the cloudy orbs of her eyes.

“The past is the past. We’ve all done things we can’t speak of. And sometimes at night, we live it all again. God knows I’m far from perfect. But I know you’re a good man, Javi. I see you,” she tells him, stroking the curves of his cheekbones with her thumbs.

“I’m not—”

“Do you trust me?” She interrupts his argument. He stares at her, blinks, before nodding once.

“Then trust what I’m saying. You’re not perfect. But you’re good.”

His eyes close as soon as she sees water beginning to pool behind his lashes.

“I’m not asking for peace. As long as I get to be with you, it would be enough.”

And then his lips are crashing into hers, pulling her into his lap until he’s covered in her. The sound he makes when they touch is devastatingly beautiful, like she’s a balm soothing his freshest wounds and healing his oldest scars. It feels like his entire body has exhaled — lungs deflated, bones liquified, mind released from a decades-old straitjacket. If not for gravity, he could float from the way his stomach is fluttering. His shoulders lower and he sighs as if he’d been holding his breath for his entire life until this moment.

He’s drowning in her, submerged to the top of his head. But he can finally breathe.

“I’m sorry I ran,” he whispers into her skin. “I’m sorry I left, cariño,” he kisses just below her ear. “My dad said I was the biggest asshole on the planet for leaving. I’m sorry, baby. So sorry,” he licks the seam of her lips.

“Mi alma, you have no idea,” he sighs when she parts her lips for him. “How much I love you.”

And she captures the words on her tongue, kissing him with a ferocity that says, Yes, I do.

“Want to know a secret?” She gasps when his lips trail down her neck. Her voice is barely a whisper, as feather-light as her fingertip skating across his shoulder.

He hums, a soft, lazy smile stretching his lips wide, so wide.

“I don’t think it’s possible,” she says, staring into his deep brown eyes. “That I’ll ever love anyone more than I love you, Javi.”

Her finger stops, retracted to shield herself after such a heavy confession. His eyes blink slowly, head lifting off the couch cushion.

He doesn’t say a word. He only stares at her, the softest smile on his face — his edges blurring into gentle curves in front of her very eyes.

“You’re it for me,” she finalizes.

And then they’re crashing into each other again and again and again.

End Notes: Look, it’s been almost 10 years since I sat in a Spanish class and watching Narcos only restored 3% of my limited vocabulary. Here’s what I got from Google Translate: “Llegas tarde.” = You’re too late. “Tómame!/ Tómame en su lugar.” = Take me!/ Take me instead. “Cariño” = Darling, honey “Mi alma” = My soul P.S. Please let me know if I missed any tags/triggers!

#javier peña #narcos #pedro pascal #javier pena #javier peña x reader #you know i've fallen deep when i start writing #your honor she's simping #mine*

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allandoflimbo · 4 years

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Ashens (Part 1)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2,214

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Author’s note: for clarification purposes...the blurb, in the beginning, takes place in the Present. The "Prologue" is just back story on Bucky. You can skip to Chapter 1 if you'd like (just simply scroll past where it reads “Prologue”). Reading the Prologue is not essential, but might be helpful to better understand Bucky's emotions at the beginning of the story. Optional.

This book is split into 3 Parts: "The Society", "The Capitol", and "The Agreement".

Soundtrack | Trailer | Moodboards | Full Masterpage

In a moment of weakness, you can’t help but try to find your building on the horizon made up of glass.

You try to find the room that had been yours for the last six months; the home where he had belittled you countless times.

But also where he’d touched your skin so softly, leaving a trail of fire and heat.

The bedroom where you had given your heart to him in your bed, and where you thought he had given you his.

Prologue

It was 1938 in Brooklyn, and he was just twenty-one years old when his father had died. Consequently, he became an orphan.

Months before, his sister had been taken away from him while he was training at the same camp his father had trained at - Camp Lehigh. The day his father died was also the same day he had met her.

Her name was Daisy.

It was a magical fairytale. He was just outside the Cotton Club when she emerged from inside the Dusenberg J. She had light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

She had a pearl and diamond bracelet on her left hand, and her other hand was wrapped up in a prestigious white glove.

Her gown had been sparkling and silver, hugging her body at just perfect places. It showed off her curves gracefully and it was obvious that she was the woman Bucky had been waiting for his entire life.

And so they danced that night to The Way You Look Tonight after she had sipped a dirty Martini.

His hand settled for the small of her back and, as they danced, he took her breath away just like she had his.

Later that night, they ended up in Dumbo in his cheap apartment where they ended up sharing their first kiss.

Ella Fitzgerald’s voice was playing on his record player in the background as he laid her onto his bed.

That was also the same night she realized he was a soldier, and that he would soon be leaving her behind.

They fell in love too fast, too strongly. They had only known each other for a few weeks when he proposed to her. He wished he had known it would be the last time he would see her.

He wouldn’t know what he lost until seventy-six years later.

Year: 2021

You needed to escape The Capitol.

The tears are heavy in your throat and it burns from the screaming and crying that you had done earlier in your room. Your right-hand closes and tightens again.

You didn’t think it would get this bad. Not your love for him, nor his boundless hate towards you.

Every dagger, in the form of a word he threw your way, pained you. It hurt the same way it did when you first met him, when you first told him you loved him, and when you first fucked.

He had continued to stare at you with those cold eyes and with that expression that he always saved for you. You filled his eyes with hate and disgust.

How could you have hoped for a change?

He showed you nothing but antipathy, yet you couldn’t pull away. You allowed yourself to believe your self-doubt, thinking he was getting better, and that he was changing. And you were falling for pity; he had been through so much, he just needed to heal, you told yourself.

You had continued to let him hurt you with his words and you let him have his way with your heart and body. It was the only way you could feel him.

Call it desperation or call it love. It wasn’t an obsession, nor a strange case of Stockholm Syndrome. You weren’t his captivate nor his trainee. You were never tied up, and neither was he. He didn’t hold you at gunpoint.

He was on the good side.

He was your partner.

You weren’t forced into what you had done with each other. He would never hold it against you. You went into it willingly. You and him both knew what you were capable of and that you could have stopped it. He would rather feed you to the wolves, knowing you’d do your very best to free yourself without his help. What happened wasn’t a delusion. It was something else.

And you had allowed it to go on for way too long. You fell in too deep, and you think he knows.

You needed to escape The Capitol.

Keeping your head down as you walk through the howling of the city life, under the monorail and through the heavy puddles, you hear the undeniable whispering. You had to be fast.

There’s a Coroner out of your peripheral. He wore his traditional black garment, boarded by a gold essence that only the Elite could afford. His hair was immaculate, but his eyes filled with uncertain rage. For half of a second, you think your eyes meet. You’re unsure, looking away as fast as you can.

The scarf on your flesh is soaking from the drizzling rain and now you grow even more nervous. If the Leviathans or Snipers were to even spot a fraction of the tattoo on your neck, you knew you were screwed. You would be dead on the spot and given no opportunity for forgiveness or freedom.

They didn’t believe in jail here. There would be no trial or interrogation; only death. The people of The Capitol watched you as you pushed through the heavy crowds of the subway, under the overpass, and into the dense fog. You knew they were wondering if you were one of the traitors they warned the society members of.

You cursed to yourself as more strands of your hair begged to fall out of your hood, your left fingers aching and trembling as you tried to tuck it back inside. You pull the black hood over your head and wrap your silver scarf around your lower face and neck. It had served as a protective barrier in your life before the mission. It hid your identity well.

The scarf smelled of dust mites and humidity from being packed away in your closet for the last six months. You didn’t need to wear a scarf inside The Capitol. Your thin, gray top reached your upper thighs. Your black pants were soaked against the hot skin of your thighs and it was irritating as you walked.

You shivered, knowing that the shirt would serve you no use of protection outside of The Wall, where you soon would be again. It would not protect you against the winds, the virus, or the ongoing civil war. You would not survive.

Your long, dark gray, cotton overcoat you had harbored for the last few months in our metal getaway box, felt heavy against your aching shoulders. You hadn’t used it since you had to fend for yourself for survival. Dirt and grime of the outer perimeters of this place badly ripped and tainted the seams on the bottom. After months of combat fighting, stress, and other physical activities, your sore muscles were catching up with you. You had allowed yourself to reach this point.

Because of your self-loathing, not because of your enemies or because of Hydra, or because of the people that had killed your family, having caved and hollowed you, but because you loved him.

And now all you could do was give up and run.

You passed the start of the iron gates, started your Stark Tracker, and you ran and ran.

You took every secret pathway that you and Bucky had learned and dissected over the last six months; the ones you trailed together.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the border of The Wall. They made the perimeter up of deep mud and it was thick around your beat-up combat boots, making it harder to walk.

You look down at your feet, glad they were still tied on. You feel a twinge in your heart. You had stolen them a little over a year ago off a poor girl on the side of an abandoned and looted grocery store. She had not made it. As you approached her body, it was apparent that she had been dead for days, but your feet had been unprotected for much longer. These boots have protected you, guided you.

The howling of the voices and the sound of the city were distant as you crawled towards the concrete barrier of the outside. It was massive, and it sent a shiver down your back. You slowed down your pace so the sound of the squelching mud became almost silent. There was nothing but the sound of the rain hitting the mud and the terrifying silence that you all knew that stood behind the wall. A distant howl, if you were quiet enough, maybe also a scream.

It was a wall that had protected you, protected you and Bucky, and that had given you hope for something different from what you had previously experienced. For those six months, because of this wall, there was no fathom or hunger. It kept you alive, and you felt alive.

There was no physical pain. It was just the two of you.

The tears burn heavy in your throat as you look back to the beautiful, yet pure evil, city that you were supposed to overthrow and destroy.

Hydra’s Society.

Eligible only for the elite, the rich, privileged, and those who harbored evil and selfish acts in their hearts. Not all the society members were amoral people, which was something you had learned early on. It was a horrible thing, what Hydra had done. What they had conquered. What they had stolen from your parents. Yet, it was beautiful.

The city comprised of tall glass towers and mesmerizing skyscrapers. A few were still under new renovations, but most were mesmerizing to the eye. Neon lights of the many signs caught the fog in the air, and you watched from afar as the hologram in the sky showed your faces, warning the people of your presence in their territory. It had a blue glow, illuminating even in the dense fog and rain.

You could hear the eery echo of the sound system and the soft hum of Neptune in the sky above, peaking through the heavy clouds. You know they are alerting their people again.

His face is there in the sky along with yours. Your eyes linger on his picture as it turns. He’s gorgeous and capable of sending way too many emotions throughout your body. You were once a forceful girl with a tough skin, and a strong heart. Stubborn and rebellious. But now, you are a disgrace to even yourself.

You close your eyes tightly together as you fist your hand again, pressing your back farther into the massive concrete sheath behind you. It’s cold and you feel it through the fabric of your coat. It was at least three hundred feet up into the sky, powerful enough that not even a nuke could breakthrough. You had doubted it for years, but now, feeling it behind you, you knew it wasn’t just a rumor.

Your mom and dad knew what they were doing.

The heavy rain pellets felt like hard stones on your heated flesh. Your hand sizzled with that feeling: attack, revenge, avenge, love; heal. But you couldn’t, not anymore. After stooping you so low, and after so many months of pure hatred and hostility, his words worked, and you allowed yourself to believe them.

You had to leave The Capitol.

Your eyes dart up towards the guarded gates at the top of the wall. You see several of The Officers and Minesweepers, already on heavy patrol for the fugitives, the cowardly, the traitors; the hunt for you both. You are afraid.

You knew your Stark Tracker could only keep you shielded for ninety seconds, which is why you had waited so long to even activate it. The stupors and generals could catch you at any moment if it were to fade, but that’s the least of your worries as you pull your hood higher above your head, tightening it with the scarf.

You couldn’t risk being seen if the tracker were to expire too soon. Your black boots splash in the mud that cave into the wall.

With tears still running down your cheeks, you turn around one more time to watch the power that Hydra had become. Towering in beauty and made up of skyscrapers that touched the clouds.

Part of you feels guilty as you remember his touch.

He was so broken.

You try not to think about how far he had come; you both had come, because you can’t let emotions cloud your judgment of what he really is. Not anymore.

He’s heartless. He’s... your chest grows tight.

No, no.

You had become so angry that you couldn't control your emotions any longer. It had almost cost you your cover. But you no longer cared about the mission.

This was all Bucky’s mission now to complete. Without you.

Just like he always wanted.

So you ran.

I don’t believe that anybody, feels the way I do, about you now.

Part 2

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes AU #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes dystopian #bucky x reader series #Ashens #Alandoflimbo #allandoflimbo #ashens part 1

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amethystroselilith · 3 years

Text

Seelies and Treasures

I was inspired by the Seelies in the current event, thus another Chilumi fluff

SUMMARY: An AU where Childe's free-spirited adventurer with a Seelie companion who wanted to find him the greatest treasure.

Can also be read in ao3: here

He watches as his fellow Seelies got adopted, no matter how much he glows in his bottle, he’ll always be overshadowed by the Rosé and Curcuma Seelies.

Another day has passed as the owner closed her stall, the old owner looking at the leftover Seelie on the shelves, with a sigh.

“Don’t lose hope, little one,” she said as she picked up the bottle, “I’m sure you’ll find a great home soon.” she smiled.

The Seelie had heard that a thousand times and each of those times have only been lead to disappointment.

Curcuma Seelies are always in demand as it brings good fortune, making them the top choice for adventurers who seeks treasures. These golden Seelie are pretty rare to find in stock in stores.

Rosé Seelies are known to bring love to whoever the Seelie had fancied, they are not typically the easiest to keep since the owner would have to prove the Rosé Seelie they’re worthy for their blessings, some of these powder-pink Seelies will even abandon its owner in favour of someone else. However, gaining the Rosé Seelie’s favour will lead them to a life full of warmth and love.

And there’s the Dayflower Seelies, the least popular choice. These sea-blue Seelies aren’t really popular for leading people to a chest full of mora or bringing romance in someone’s life, they are known for just tagging along to keep you company in adventures.

They used to be popular before, but as time pass, people would prefer Seelies that guarantee to get them what they want as soon as possible. All Seelies are great companion, the Curcuma and Rosé ones just have a little advantage over the Dayflowers.

The old lady placed the Seelie bottle back in its shelf, ready to retire for the night until a voice came.

“Ah, I guess I came to late.” the visitor sighed in disappointed.

The old lady chuckled at the young man, “Unfortunately. The Curcuma and Rosé Seelies are sold out.”

A blue glow came from the shelves, making it stand out from the darkness.

“Oh, looks like there’s still one!” the man’s face brightened up, causing the glow to grow intense in its own excitement.

“Ah, yes, we still have a Dayflower Seelie left, the last one actually.” the old woman said.

“Can I adopt it?” he asked.

“Oh, but you do know what Dayflower Seelies are, dear?” the old woman asked, though she would like to finally give the lonely Seelie a home, she doesn’t want it to be abandoned when someone learned that they’re not the most efficient treasure finders nor they guaranteed a happy love life.

“I’m fully aware, miss, they sound like the best adventure companions to me!” he grinned, “I don’t need an easy way to get a treasure, sounds like a dull adventure, nor am I really looking for a lover at the moment.” he blushed at the last part.

“My sonny, with that dashing looks, you wouldn’t need a Rosé Seelie to find you love.” the owner chuckled before picking up the bottle, smiling warmly at the glowing Seelie inside,

“Your time has finally come to shine, little one.”

After finishing the exchange to become a Seelie owner, the young man made his way, going in a quiet area before releasing the Dayflower Seelie from its bottle.

The happy Seelie excitedly jumped around his new owner, looking at him in different angles, curiously studying him.

“I’m glad to see you’re excited as I am, comrade!” the man chuckled before the Seelie settled in front of him, “I’m Childe.” he smiled.

~~~

“Ahaha! Did you see that Little Comrade?!” Childe excitedly asked the Seelie after the last Ruin Guard fell down, “Whoo, that was a great warm-up.” he sighed happily after having a thrilling battle against 4 Ruin Guards at once, his bow dematerialising to wherever Childe stores it.

Little Comrade did a happy spin before he and his owner walked to the chest.

“Whoa! A Luxurious Chest! Haven’t seen these in a long while! You did amazing Little Comrade!” Childe said excitedly, petting the Seelie before opening the chest and collecting the loot.

It’s 2 years since the Dayflower Seelie had found his home. Childe is the best owner the Seelie could ever ask for. They went to various adventures, slew a lot of enemies, and loot a lot of treasure. The free-spirited adventurer lived for thrilling battles, always aiming to be stronger as their adventure progress, so it’s no problem when the Seelie will sense a treasure locked around challenges.

Childe gets annoyed with puzzle challenges though, and it usually takes them so long to get the loot, and treasure is still a treasure. Even common chests are still valuable as it gives some mora, artifacts, and some materials to make him stronger.

“Well, now that I’ve warmed up, let’s get to work on commissions, yeah?” Childe smiled at the Seelie before they used a warped point to teleport to Liyue Harbor.

The ginger-haired man continues talking with the Seelie listens, “Do you ever wonder how these teleport points work, Little Comrade? Cause like…”

The Seelie never meant to doze out on Childe, and this is one of the times his thankful he can’t talk or else he’ll get easily caught when Childe asks something for his opinion. While Little Comrade would always listen to Childe, something is just bothering him.

Childe is really kind to him, he never shouted at him when he accidentally leads them in circles when the treasure was just a few steps away from them in the start, never got annoyed with him when he only received cabbages from beating up an unusual hilichurl, or when they got surrounded by dozens of treasure hoarders in exploring ruins.

Little Comrade wants to do something in exchange for all those times, the little Seelie had been trying so hard to find Luxurious chests, but unfortunately, he doesn’t attract the same luck as a Curcuma Seelie does. It doesn’t stop him from trying though, he sensed a Luxurious Chest earlier, and just like how he’s been patient in that shop a long time ago, he’s determined to never lose hope.

They have arrived at the Adventurers’ Guild, Katheryn giving Childe a list of commissions before informing him of a letter.

“You know, you’ll get more benefits if you actually joined the guild.” Katheryn of Liyue reminded.

Childe shrugged, “I like adventuring freely, plus Little Comrade is doing great in giving us a comfortable life with what I currently earn from these commissions.”

Little Comrade nodded, he also knows of Childe’s tendencies to go… a bit overboard in defeating an enemy. It happened one time when a group of treasure hoarders threatened to go after his family. Childe had taken care of the entire group, the Seelie is not sure what happened to them when they left them barely alive, but he knows they’ll never bother them again.

The whole scene can be traumatic and will cause most to immediately fly away from Childe, but the Dayflower Seelie had pledged loyalty to this man and would accept his flaws as much as the great qualities.

Katheryn just sighed, “I knew you’ll say that.”

“Then what’s the point of asking?” Childe chuckled.

The woman just shrugged, “Would still be worth it if you actually agree. There’s also a pair of travellers that just arrived in Liyue a few days ago. They’ve also been taking commissions but hasn’t officially joined yet.”

“New travellers, huh?” Childe hummed, “What are they like?” his curiosity grew, will there be finally worthy opponents in this place?

“Well, they’re great at what they do, that’s for sure. The only people that’s been taking the dangerous ones aside from you.” Katheryn hummed as she checked her logs.

Childe’s eyes widened, “Huh, looks like we have some rivals, Little Comrade.” he smirked at Seelie.

Childe always loves challenges and Little Comrade will make sure his partner will win.

~~~

Childe and Little Comrade were having lunch in a ruin, “Ah, that’s a really good meal, huh, Little Comrade?” Childe stretched before leaning on a large rock, “I guess we can finally read our family’s letter.” he remembered the letter Katheryn passed him before he left.

The sea-blue companion hovered on Childe’s shoulder, he doesn’t really know how to read, he just likes to sit on Childe’s shoulder when he reads.

It was the usual contents, them scolding Childe when he told a story that sounds dangerous, them telling stories from their end, and the usual ending…

“Still waiting for the day you’ll bring the brightest treasure in your life.” Childe ended with confusion.

“We already brought loots from a luxurious chest last time, and it’s still not enough?” Childe sighed before closing the letter.

Little Comrade lowered his ears, disappointment once again in himself for failing his partner.

“Don’t be sad, buddy, even I’m confused with what type of chest is better than luxurious.” Childe cooed as he gathered the Seelie in his hand to pet it.

The Seelie perked up, showing a new determined glow.

Childe chuckled, “That’s the spirit, Little Comrade!” he said forming a fist with a hand.

Little Comrade bumped it before doing a backflip, the best he can do for their secret fist bump.

“Well, that treasure isn’t going to find itself, so let’s get walking, Little Comrade,” Childe said as he extinguishes the fire he used for cooking.

They were about to walk out of the ruin until a noise was heard, Childe immediately summoned his bow, eyeing his surroundings careful.

A loud noise was heard and the ceiling trembled.

The pair silently followed the noise, Childe climbing up through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Carefully peeking from the wall, his eyes squinted in curiosity.

There was a blonde girl climbing what seemed to be a geo construct, Childe watched as the girl summoned another geo construct on another pillar, the girl jumped again, gliding to the other rock, unfortunately, her stamina didn’t seem to be enough.

“Ojou-chan, hold still!” Childe had run, Little Comrade following.

There’s a giant hole on where she’s falling, Childe jumped over it, catching the girl before they rolled around on the floor.

“Lumine, are you okay?” a new voice arrived.

They turned to the newcomer, whose face burned red in anger, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he shouted.

It was too late for Childe to realise how they look like. The blonde girl was under him looking at him with wide eyes and a red face, her arms trapped under his weight while one of his is on her waist while the other beside her head. In a no context view, he looks like he was about to force himself on her.

“W-Wait-”

It was too late for Childe to explain as an anemo force threw him on the other side of the room.

~~~

“I’m really sorry for my twin’s action.” the blonde apologised with a bow, a Rosé Seelie beside her doing the same.

“You can’t really blame me for that,” her twin mumbled as he carried Childe’s weight out of the ruin, a Curcuma Seelie hovering beside him watching curiously at the Dayflower Seelie frantically checking on Childe.

“Ah, it’s really fine, ojou-chan. And don’t worry, I would’ve acted the same if I saw my sisters in the same position.” Childe smiled weakly, an arm hugging his torso to ease some pain, “And I’m fine Little Comrade, you can stop fussing now.” he chuckled at the blue Seelie who had been worriedly hovering around its owner ever since he was thrown to the wall.

“So, Lumine and Aether,” he learned their names, “what are you guys doing here? I don’t see a lot of people venturing in these areas.”

“Commission.” the twins answered in unison.

“We’re supposed to find someone’s belongings here,” Aether explained, “We already have it, but we like to explore the ruins, there’s usually a lot of treasures, I just wish my dear little sister wouldn’t be so careless.” he sighed as he looked at his twin.

Lumine blushed in embarrassment, “It was a time challenge.” she defended avoiding any eye contacts.

“You could’ve waited for me.” Aether rolled his eyes.

Childe watched in amusement as they began to bicker, his eyes staying far too long on Lumine.

Their eyes met one another, causing them to flinch and look away.

Lumine’s Rosé Seelie pushing her face to turn to him again.

“Hey!” Lumine’s face burned red as she quickly turned away again, glaring at her Seelie who just twirls around happily.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Aether who clenched his jaw in annoyance, not wanting to think about it, the male twin looked at the Dayflower Seelie, “A Dayflower, huh? It’s rare to find it with an owner. You saved it?” he asked.

“No, I adopted him about 2 years ago, been the best adventuring buddy, right, Little Comrade?” Childe grinned before initiating a fist bump, to which Little Comrade followed.

“That’s cute.” Lumine smiled.

Usually, Childe just smiles when people are impressed with his Seelie, but somehow the blonde was giving him a weird feeling in his stomach. He chalked it up as some injury from his hit earlier though.

“I just saved mine earlier and we’ve never got this much mora in a single day,” Aether said, smiling at the Curcuma Seelie, who jumped excitedly at the praise.

“Lumi’s was found a few days ago. We finished clearing a hilichurl camp when this one just started following her.” Aether explained.

The Rosé Seelie twirled as if to introduced itself before nuzzling on Lumine’s neck, “She’s been a delight so far,” Lumine giggled and Childe never thought giggles could sound so beautiful.

Aether rolled his eyes, “And we all know what Rosé Seelie means… Whoever bastard dare come close to my sister better have a ton of Curcuma Seelies because there’s no way in hell I’m giving her away that easily.”

Little Comrade who had been observing Childe and Lumine glowed a determine glow.

Challenge Accepted.

~~~

“How are you feeling?” Lumine looked at Childe with worry.

Childe looked like he was really in pain when they arrived in Liyue Harbor, the twins had immediately brought him somewhere to patch him up. Only to discover that something with a bit of cursed energy had stabbed him. Luckily for him, it was only a small sharp rock and it’s not a complicated process extracting the toxins from his body. It took them until night, but Childe is safe.

The bandaged man just smiled from the bed, “Eh, I’ll live, are you worried, ojou-chan?” he teased.

“I just feel bad, it’s my fault in the first place,” she mumbled before awkwardly taking a seat on the sofa placed in the room.

It’s not like she isn’t comfortable with Childe, it’s just there’s something in him that also makes her feel suddenly self-conscious. She chalked it up as her guilt though.

“You shouldn’t be, but you should be careful when adventuring.” Childe just chuckled before reaching for the food that was set in front of him, an arm was bandaged, making it useless until it was fully healed, so Childe had to use one hand for a while.

Little Comrade perked up, he looked at Childe, Lumine, and the Rosé Seelie, who seemed to have the same thing in mind.

The Seelie looked at each other for a minute before Little Comrade started taking Childe’s hand, “Hey, hey, calm down, buddy.” he said as his Seelie took over his palm, nuzzling in it needily as if seeking for comfort.

Childe had seen him act like this before, it was once where Childe was gravely in danger from a fight with a Cryo Abyss Mage and a Ruin Hunter during a rainy day. The Seelie was panicking at losing his partner, it refused to leave Childe’s side for a long while after that, even ignoring a few treasures when it sees in a shady area.

“Looks like he was really worried for you.” Lumine observed, “I’m really sorry the trouble, little one.” she sighed until she felt her own Seelie nudging her, “Huh?” she looked at it with confusion.

Using all its might, the Rosé Seelie pushed Lumine off the sofa and near the bed.

“W-what…?” Lumine watched the Seelie then nudge her hand to a spoon on Childe’s plate.

Childe’s and Lumine’s face burned but for some reason, Lumine had grabbed hold of the spoon and letting the Seelie guide her hand gently to Childe’s mouth.

The Snezhnayan isn’t usually like this, he’s always staying unfazed even when he had walked into two treasure hoarders getting it on in one of the ruins a couple of runs ago.

But this time feels so different, he’s lost at what he should do, and maybe, just maybe there’s something in him that seemed to love the attention he’s getting from the blonde girl.

Lumine is also not one for being easily flustered, after travelling worlds with her brother for so long, there’s just so little that will leave her speechless, but this is a new thing. She would never admit it to anyone, but Lumine had always been curious what a relationship would be like. She used to be in love with the thought of being in love, but after no luck for so many years, she just gave up and accepted that maybe love was just not something she’s blessed with outside of her familial relationship with her twin.

The twins have learned of the Seelies in Teyvat, so when Rosé Seelie started following her, Lumine can’t help but have those feelings started blossoming in her chest again, she’s used to disappointment though, so she tries to keep the feelings down, convincing herself not to expect anything out of it.

But why can’t she do that right now?

Childe opened his mouth, accepting the food and smiling at Lumine after swallowing, “Thanks, ojou-chan.”

They don’t know how, but it’s as if the Rosé Seelie had shot them with cupid arrows, making them fall easily comfortable with each other.

They started talking and sharing stories, completely getting lost in getting to know each other.

Childe didn’t notice Little Comrade freeing his hand.

Lumine didn’t notice her Rosé Seelie had stopped guiding her hand.

Both didn’t notice a fuming brother peeking through the door.

~~~

Little Comrade watches as Childe excitedly scribbled words on a paper, it’s almost that time where they will go back to see their family. Childe had been busy buying gifts for his family for the past few days.

“Hey, you.” a pair of arms, gently wrapped themselves around Childe’s neck, “It’s getting late.” she hummed before brushing his hair up with her hand and kissing the side of his forehead.

Childe released a content sighed, leaning back to his lover’s arms, “I’m almost done, though I’ll have to drop this to Katheryn after.” he explained, shuffling a bit to pull Lumine on his lap.

Lumine chuckled making herself comfortable in his arms, before seeing the letter, “What are you writing about?” she teased as she poked Childe’s cheek.

“Hm, just talking about how wonderful my ojou-chan is.” he grinned widely when Lumine blushed.

“Very funny.” Lumine rolled her eyes with a huff.

“No, really, look, we can read it together,” Childe says as he held the paper up for them to read.

Lumine’s heart leapt in joy, she can’t help but bathe in that happy feeling as her lover shares something personal to her. As their relationship progress, Lumine started to feel comfortable with her feelings, letting them blossom without the fear of disappointment as her Ajax continues to prove himself as the best man for Lumine. Well, best man next to her twin, of course. No one will ever replace Aether in her heart.

Aether who had tried so hard to drive Childe away by sabotaging every move he tried on Lumine. She still remembered that night a few months ago where she had been feeding Childe. Aether straight away took her place as his nurse and had tried to choke him with a spoon as if it wasn’t enough that he’s the reason Childe’s there in the first place.

“...instead of her falling on the ground, she fell for me instead…” Lumine read before giving Childe a look, “Really, Ajax?”

“Little Comrade agreed it sounded cool.” he defended, “Right, buddy?”

Little Comrade agreed before nuzzling himself against Lumine’s chest.

“Hey, hey, buddy, that’s my woman.” Childe playfully scolded, poking the Seelie gently.

“To be fair, I wouldn’t be your woman if it weren’t for him and Primrose.” Lumine teased.

She had finally named her Rosé Seelie. She and Childe thought about it together actually. Originally, Lumine wanted to call her “Love” corny, but simple. Childe protested that if Lumine’s going to call someone “Love”, it’ll only be him.

Upon hearing her name, Primrose appeared and sat on Childe’s head, “There you are, little one, are you excited to go to Snezhnaya?”

Primrose did a happy twirl.

“Well, finish up your letter, yeah? I’m going to call Aether to see if he’s ready for Snezhnaya.” Lumine said before kissing Childe’s lips softly before looking for her phone with Primrose following.

Childe hummed happily before finishing his letter.

After sealing the letter in, he shouted to Lumine he’ll be out.

As he and his Little Comrade walked the quiet streets of Liyue, he turned to the Seelie.

“Thank you for bringing me the brightest treasure I could ever ask for, Little Comrade.”

#chilumi #genshin impact

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pyraffin-drgo · 4 years

Text

All Heavy interactions in Poker Night at the Inventory.

For you to interpret however you wish.

Video Version

(They have [bootleg movies] in your country?) "I like movies, yes." (Yeah, like what? [Lists movies]?) "No. My favorite are The Dirty Dozen and the first twenty minutes of Rocky four."

(We can talk Tetris?) "Hmmph. Tetris is baby game." (Tetris Attack keeps it hood!) "Why does everybody think I love this Tetris? It is just stacking!"

"[To Strongbad] Tiny Heavy." (What is it?) "Do you get the nightmares?" (I get the jibblie nightmares. [Describes silly nightmare, shivers].) "I am talking about the visions of endless suffering. Dead doctors everywhere. Spy can not be found. (No, but that sounds like the Jibblies.) "I do not like these 'jibblies.'"

"Strong and bad. How is boxing career?" (These. Are. My. HANDS!) "I was boxer, once. In school. We have to either box or learn to herd goats." Silence, looking concerned. "I am not good with goats..." (Too much information, man.) "At first, I do not like punching other boys... But then I learn to love it." Punches his palm menacingly.

(Find any rare drops lately?) "I do not understand." (When you get a kill, you get a present?) "When I get kill, I get honor of team." Smile drops. "Sometimes... I also get nightmares. A man does not go home to his wife and children." (So, no loot?) "Oh! You mean hat! Yes, I love hats! Sometimes, I get these. They are the best."

(Hey, Heavy. You know any hot Russian spies?) "I hate spies." (But you gotta have the inside line on some deadly minxes.) "You want hot spy?" (Am I not wrestle man?) "I have friend who gets you a hot spy. (Get em on the two-way, man!) "His name is Pyro." (Tycho, to Strongbad: The spy is hot because it is on fire.) (Oh...)

"[To Tycho] What do you do with life?" (Me?) "Yes. What is possible with tiny, frail body?" (I occupy myself with simulations... of various kinds.) "What is these?" (Struggles to explain.) (Strongbad: He lives in his parent's basement.)

(So, is there a Mrs. Weapons Guy?) "No. Sasha is my only love." (Sasha kills people, I presume?) "No." (Oh?) "WE kill people."

"[To Strongbad] Maybe you and I box?" (I can't risk my beautiful face, it's the franchise.) "We spar. For fun." (I don't think so.)

"Strong and bad. You wrestle? With mask?" (No, I'm a wrestle man, not those hack wrestle-LERS.) "Not like Iron Sheik?" (No, Iron Stake is a LER.) Heavy nods. "Hmm. This is too bad."

(So how long you been with those Team Fortress fellas?) "I do not understand." (The game's been on Steam for like 3 years. I imagine there was some audition process?) "Ohhh! Yes, I understand! I kill many men VERY quickly." (Excuse me?) "I kill record number of soldiers, and I am commissioned to join RED team."

(Mr. Weapons. I am in the market for a new firearm. [Specifications].) "Hmm, for you I do not recommend minigun then. You know, there is this fast baby man that annoys me greatly with shotgun." (Oh! Oh! What are the available options? I'll spring for leather!) "Da, this is good for you. I suggest Force-A-Nature." (I'll tell them [shop owner] Heavy Weapons Guy sent me.) "It is no need. I know guy."

"I will make hat from you, little bunny." No reply from anyone. A reference for the player to the Max hat in TF2.

"You look familiar, bunny." (How closely do you follow the Manhattan Crime Blotter?) Also a reference to the hat, Tycho then takes over conversation.

(If I need someone snuffed out, what's your going rate?) "Five hundred thousand U.S. dollars." (Steep.) "Cash." (You can do it discreetly?) "Sasha... not so discreet." (That's fine.)

(How did you guys hear of the inventory?) "My engineering friend brought me one night."

(This reminds me of the time Artie Flopshark rigged an entire poker tournament to pay off his loan shark.) "I know of this. This is respectable profession in motherland." Conversation is stolen by Tycho.

(This reminds me of [story]!) "I am reminded of time Engineer kill my entire team." (Damn Heavy, that's... heavy. Sorry to hear that.) "I search entire base for him. He tries to kill me with turret and mini turret, but I crush his toys like they are made of paper." (Sounds like crappy toys.) "Then I find him. Hiding by teleporter. I take his gun away from him. He tries to hit me with wrench! Hahohoh! So I take wrench away from him. I take his wrench and shove it down his throat, all the way down to the handle." (Christ!) Heavy laughs. "Then I rip off all his fingers one by one!" He talks while laughing. "Lets see you build toys now!" He breaks out in laughter. "There's blood- everywhere! And- he's crying!" More laughter. "I think he cries out for mother, but- but-" Crumples over laughing. "The wrench is stuck in his throat! And it sounds like-" Makes choking motions and noises then laughs. "Is this not the funniest thing??" (Horrified looks) (Head shakes slowly.) (That's some bleeped up bleep, man!)

(How about you, Heavy weapons? I'm guessing you're a vodka guy?) "Peach Bellini. But bubbles can give me headache."

(Mr. Weapons, how do you like your line of work?) "It is good. There are many benefits." (Oh! Like a free pass to snuff out bad guys or a waffle bar?) "Both. And full dental."

(I wonder if this dump is haunted.) (I hope so! Roughing up who can't die is fun!) "...I do not like ghosts..." (It's okay, Mr. Weapons. I have [extensive experience]. I can handle a few ghosts.) "...You will take care of ghosts for me?" (You bet cha!) Heavy nods at him. "I like you, tiny rabbit."

[Story including a union] "I am union. RED local six fifteen." (You guys unionized?) "Eh. It was necessity for group medical."

"Tycho. This sweater, is special equipment?" (No, standard issue.) "You have no class specific head gear?" (Got a motorcycle helmet that protects from 100% of UV rays.) "This sounds beneficial."

(Why do you keep calling me 'Tiny Heavy'?) "You are Heavy. Tiny. No? You are RED team. You have killing gloves of boxing. You earn these for being great killer! You should try out for RED team." (Hmm. Guess I could join your team of ruthless killers and lame hat wearers and watch you get grenaded by 8 year olds.) "You will take many bullets before dying I think."

(Hey, Heavy. I just finished [Russian fantasy book]. Ever read it?) "No." (Oh. What's your favorite book?) "I prefer war." (Ah, War and Peace. Tasteful.) "No. Just war." (Art of War?) "Nyet." Silence. "I like 'Tsar Hunger' by Leonid Andreyev. You know this?" (...No.) "Is classic."

"You have hands like young girl." (I keep them shits moist.) "...So you are more of sneaky, stabbing type?" (In an extreme circumstance, I guess.) Heavy looks at him suspiciously. "I keep my eyes on you." (No, no no- I wasn't implying that-) Heavy looking at him angierly. (Shit.)

(Ever listen to music while you work?) "Yes! I just buy new walkman." (What gets you in the killing mood? Icelandic death metal?) "I just get Huey Lewis tape. Keeps spirits up on battle field."

"[To Tycho] You have woman?" (Not with me) "She is pretty?" (Yeah, cute, glasses, red hair.) "She has the red hair??" (No, Heavy! She is not on the other team! Don't have to kill her!) "No. But I love the red hair!" (Well, you can't have her, either.) Re-used image of Heavy looking at him angrily. (Well, maybe we can work something out.)

(Hey, Heavyman. You think you can 'take care' of the King of Town for me?) "I can assassinate king, yes. It is expensive, though." (By take care of I meant sneak in and shave off half his mustache.) "I am not best at sneaking." (Confront him in a dark alley then?) "This is better. That way blood wash away in rain."

(You have any interest in moonlighting?) "WHAT? I am not moonlighter!" (Just a little work on the side with Sam and me beating up goons!) "Oh. I can not do this." (C'mon it's fun and free!) "No, I am sure it is." (Then what's the problem?) "I have non compete." (Ah, yeah. Lawyers.)

(All these aces reminds me of [weird dream]. You have any weird dreams, Mr. Weapons?) "I sometimes dream that I am killed. There is blood everywhere. (Tycho gives him a weird look) But then I wake up and I realize this is ridiculous! Nobody can kill Heavy weapons guy! (Riiiight...)

"[To his chips] This is good Solider. This one is good Doktor. You are demolition man."

"Saaaandvich, sandvich, I love you sandvich!" (Would you like someone to order you some food?)

"Blue man." (Tycho.) "Tycho. What college do you go to? You are educated, no?" (Actually, no.) "No?" (I studied at Gygax Polyhedral if you catch my drift.) "I do not. This is good school?" (Uh. The best.) "I went to Soviet College of Mines, Farms, and Science. I have PhD in Russian literature." (Do you.. use that in your work?) "More than you think."

"Tiny Heavy, who is your favorite to kill in war?" (Those discount three-pack green helmets.) "To kill spy is glorious thing! How about you, Max? You are killing type." (My favorite enemy? Like asking me to choose between my children!) Heavy laughs. "You crack me up, little bunny!"

(Hey, Hefty Bag, you ever play video games?) "Just one." (Oh yeah?) "It is called-" (Tycho: WoW?) "Nyet. That is not popular. It is called 'Where's an Egg'." (Strongbad: I love Where's an Egg!) "Where's an Egg is as big as Tetris in homeland."

(Concerning your firearm, whay caliber we talking?) "Big." (What, we talking 300 Weatherby Mag here?) "Bigger." (50 cal, whereabouts?) "Bigger than 50 caliber. They are hand made custom tool cartridges with classified diameter." (Why's that?) "So enemy canmot use ammunition. But Sasha can chew through theirs." (Diabolical!) "I think so." Nods.

(Alright, big pretend killer man. Tell me the most awesome story you have with plenty of senseless violence!) Heavy thinks. "When I was boy, I was at camp, being trained in many ways of combat." (Assassination camp for kids! This is gonna be good!) "There was sparrow sitting on fence. Snow falls quietly around me. Without notice, another boy jumps from behind tree and kills sparrow with throwing knife. The boy runs away." (And then??) "I pick up sparrow, and hear his last breath before digging him tiny grave..." (Tycho crying) (Max silent) (That's not even a little bit funny, man.) Heavy shakes his head solemnly. "No..." Sits back. "It's not."

(So, what do you do for fun?) "Clean Sasha. Use Sasha... Clean Sasha again." (Proper maintience is crucial.) "I also collect old coins." (A fellow numismatist!) "Which I melt down to make custom bullets." (Of course.)

"I am hungry for sandvich." (Then order a sandvich, man.) "Oh, I can not have sandvich! I become unstoppable killing machine!" (Yeah, maybe order a water.) "Is best."

"You wear blue sweater." (All the time.) "What are you?" (Haven't we went over this?) "You are not Scout. Maybe very tricky blue Spy? Maybe... new class?" (I can use a keyboard to sabotage your entire team, steal your intelligence, and have your sister delivered to my doorstep in one afternoon. Yes, I'm a new class.) Heavy, shocked, "This is true??"

(Hey, Heavyman, what's your living situ-aysh?) "I live in RED barraks. Is nice. There is foos table." (How about taking a room in the house of Strong?) "There is vacancy?" (First you'll have to dump the current person in your room.) "This is enemy?" (He won't put up much of a fight.)

Hope you enjoyed, spent most of the day copying all these down. The non-Heavy lines are paraphrased for shortness. Heavy's are full, how they are in game.

#long post #tf2 #team fortress 2 #heavy #tf2 heavy #heavy weapons guy #poker night #poker night at the inventory #neat

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jungle321jungle · 3 years

Text

Ten of Swords- Level Four: Resurrection and Friendly Fire

The world of Swords of Power and Conquest was one Virgil dove head first into, giving his soul and life to the game. He would play whenever he could, and had even decided he wanted to go into game design. At times he had even dreamt of how wonderful it would be to be inside that world for even a moment- until that world became his reality.

The familiar world he had come to love was now a foreign prison, one with no way out.

A Log Horizon AU. If you don’t know what that is, this is a Show Better Than SAO AU. If you still don’t know, the sides get trapped in a video game.

Taglist: @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar @why-do-you-care

Ao3 - Masterlist

Level Four: Resurrection and Friendly Fire

Virgil came to with a large and almost painful gasp.

He sat up quickly, hands grasping at his own body in a mix of dying fear and disbelief. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. Anything to calm his quick beating heart. When he had he opened his eyes and looked around the familiar scene of the in-game hospital. At the foot of his bed stood an NPC woman in a nurse’s uniform who gave him a smile, “I hope you are feeling better sir, the doctors worked very hard to fix you up and their pay has already been deducted from your account. Before you leave, would you like to purchase some health potions?”

Virgil blinked a few times before shaking his head. “No- no I’m fine.” With that said he stood to his feet and took another deep breath.

The others.

Shit. Shit. Shit . They were all still fighting. He couldn’t afford to stay here. He hurried for the hospital’s exit as he focused in on Dee in hopes of sending a message. It seemed to take too long but then he got the sound of connection.

“Dee?”

“Oh thank God!” Dee’s voice shouted from the other side. “I- Logan I don't care about your hypotheses or what you did or didn’t confirm! I hadn't seen anyone di- can you just- damnit Logan! Can you please just focus on the fucking monster!?”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled out a teleport crystal, “Don’t kill it till I get there. I think I figured something out before I died.”

They weren’t doing well when Virgil returned.

HP was low across the board. Roman was in the red with Logan, Patton and Dee in the yellow- no and now Dee had joined Roman. And to make things worse, given Patton was fighting instead of healing he must be out of mana. “Drink some potions idiots!” Virgil shouted as he approached.

“See we would do that if we weren’t being attacked every five seconds!” Roman screeched back dodging a hit.

“It took you long enough!” Dee shouted, keeping his crossbow trained on the monster waiting for his shot. But he kicked over the reverted sword as his feet. “You’re a scrap picker dumbass, you should know not to die with the good stuff in your hands!”

Virgil gave a slight laugh as he picked up the sword and watched it return to a dadao. “Won’t happen again.”

“What did you figure out?” Logan asked, coming over, downing a potion as he did.

“Combinations and lags,” Virgil answered. “Well it’s more a theory. I need to try again first. Roman, let's do that again!”

“Don’t die this time!” Patton called.

“I’ll take his place,” Logan decided, moving forward.

Virgil gave a nod and rushed toward the fight. Patton was doing well enough with his short sword, he seemed to be pretty nimble and able to dodge well. Good traits for a healer. Roman’s HP meanwhile was getting lower.

“Where’s Remus?” Virgil called as they approached.

“He died a minute ago!” Roman called back as he fell back and Logan rushed in to take his spot. “So we're doing this again?”

“We need to position ourselves at its back while they keep the front occupied. I won’t die in one hit that way.”

“Just do it quickly please!” Patton called.

Virgil took a deep breath and then he and Roman were running. Roman planted himself facing the opposite direction of the yino and Virgil ran past him. Then when he was far enough away he readied himself.

The yino still had 35% left.

But if this worked that wouldn’t matter. They could kill hit. He could kill it. All he had to do was-

He was running. Sprinting. And then it was a combo sprint. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face as the world became a blur, and then he was jumping before he jumped. It didn’t make sense in theory- but the timing worked. And he was using Roman’s shield as a springboard launching towards the monster. Virgil forced his body to twist as he brought his sword round. And then he swung a moment early and brought his sword down through the monster’s neck.

With no way to slow his momentum Virgil crashed to the ground and rolled on the other side. It hurt- but compared to earlier and the joy he was feeling in that moment it didn’t matter. He hurriedly pulled himself to his feet and turned just in time to watch the yino topple. The beast collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. And then moments later it burst into ash and was gone. Leaving only the loot behind.

Virgil was still standing staring in shock and disbelief when a body crashed into his, sending him back down to the ground. But Patton laughed as they fell, and Virgil couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Holy shit that worked!” Roman cheered from elsewhere.

“How did you do that?” Logan’s voice demanded.

Virgil pulled himself to his feet before he gave Patton a hand up which he took. “Any combination needs to be inputted before it’s acted on. There’s a lag. I don’t know how to explain moving before you move but it- it works.”

Logan looked more annoyed than pleased at the information, but instead his focus shifted to what they had earned. “Well you killed it Anthony, I suppose you get the first pick of the items and then the rest is distributed evenly?”

When no one argued Virgil stepped forward to look at the items. A few monster parts, two swords- one with pretty decent stats- gold, and other miscellaneous items. After a pause Virgil took the sword he had been holding and placed it in his inventory before selecting one from the ground. Dee was right, he was being stupid to use his highest level item right then, especially if he didn’t trust the group he was with. He had been lucky Dee was the one who picked it up and not someone else.

“This is what I want,” he announced. “How should we split the rest?”

~~~~

“Why did you wait till I died to be all cool?” Remus complained. “I was having fun Tony! Not to mention your death was way cooler than mine!”

Virgil gave an awkward laugh into his glass of water, “Next time uh, you can have the more painful death.”

“That’s all I ask!”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink Re,” Patton decided, patting Remus on the back.

“I’m- I'm fine!”

“Who knew both of those partying twins were lightweights,” Logan commented, nudging the sleeping Roman with his foot. Virgil chose not to comment on how he was pretty sure that if Logan stood from his spot that the Classy Tactician would immediately trip over his long cloak and fall down the hill they were sitting on top of.

“I think we’ve all had enough,” Patton amended taking Remus’ mug.

“You and Virgil didn’t drink any!” Remus challenged, but he laid down anyway.

“Because we’re gonna be on watch. Also I’m too young to drink.”

“It’s a game, who cares?”

“How old are all of you?” Logan asked curiously. “If you’re too young to drink you’re a lot younger than I thought.”

“I’m nineteen,” Patton answered easily. “You?”

Logan’s eyebrows knit in confusion as he replied slowly, “I’m... twenty seven.”

“Oh cool! What about the rest of you?”

“I’m twenty one and Tony is twenty,” Dee answered before Virgil could.

“I’m twenty four... Also I’m twelve minutes older than Roman,” Remus answered but he looked back to Patton and squished Patton’s cheeks between his hands. “More importantly, you’re a fetus!”

Patton gave a slight laugh, “You definitely need to stop drinking. Actually why don’t we all stop and get some sleep like Roman, hm?”

“I am perfectly fine,” Logan disagreed. He moved like he was gonna stand from his spot but he quickly returned to a seated position. “But I am also responsible and will not have another drink.”

“Yeah I’m sure that’s the reason,” Dee laughed.

“It is. The real question however, is why you carry this much alcohol around with you?”

“Tavern’s supply is limited. By taking a large amount of my stock, MannaM is forced to go get more for me.”

“You’re forcing your employee to do more work since you don’t want to do it?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Logan gave a sigh and he laid back, “You're insufferable.”

“Thank you.”

Virgil rolled his eyes before redirecting his attention to Patton who was smiling satisfied as Remus made himself comfortable to sleep. “I’ll take the first.”

Patton didn’t argue as he too made himself comfortable on the ground, “Okay.”

“You sleep too Sam.”

Dee gave him a dismissive wave, “I don’t sleep when I drink. I’ve learned that the hard way.”

“Maybe it’s different in the game?”

“Doubt it.”

They lapsed into silence leaving Virgil to listen to the sound of the warm night. He could hear bugs, feel breezes, and more than that, he felt relaxed. For the first time since entering this game he actually wasn’t terrified or stressed. Because if there was one thing he knew, it was how to play.

~~~~

The days which followed were more than helpful. Prior to this training to play had been difficult, frustrating, and fruitless, and yet now Virgil knew what to do. With each day that passed he has gained more experience and was getting better- hell at this rate of improvement he could up a level soon. And one by one his party members had done the same.

“Yes!” Dee shouted, pumping a fist in the air. “It worked!”

Virgil couldn’t help but give a slight smile at his business partner’s enthusiasm. “Congrats, you’ve officially learned how to fight.”

Beside Dee, Logan gave a dejected sigh, “I still don’t understand how you all are doing it.”

“Think about it like your keyboard and mouse,” Virgil suggested. “You have to hit every key in the right sequence at the right time for your character to move and for a skill to work. But you need to have the motions in your mind before you do the action. Your mind works faster than your body. So in this version of the game, you need to be doing both at once. You need to be moving and anticipating before it actually works. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Logan deadpanned. “That’s simply how anything works, the concept is not specific to this game.”

“How about thinking about a recipe?” Patton suggested. “In the midst of baking, you gotta make sure you’re still focused on the instructions at the same time as you’re mixing the batter.”

“Once again an unhelpful nonspecific example.”

Patton gave a slight frown in response but before he could reply Logan turned on his heel, his cape flowing behind him as he moved toward the group of weak monsters.

“It’s like dancing!” Roman called after him. “The more you think about the steps, the worse you do!”

“I’ll figure it out on my own,” Logan replied. He drew his sword and moved into a ready stance and Virgil could only sigh in response. It had been a week since the yino fight, and Logan was the only one who couldn’t link skills together. His normal fighting ability could get him through weak monsters like this, but if they really wanted to go after the swords and fight other players and boss monsters... Logan would become no more than dead weight.

Virgil watched him for a while as the others moved off to train on their own, but Virgil couldn’t take his eyes off the scowl on Logan’s face. But after watching him try and fail repeatedly, Virgil forced himself to move closer. “You okay?” Virgil asked as he cautiously approached Logan. The man was hunched over a pile of monster drops and was poking through it with disinterest, but he stood at the question.

“I’m fine,” he replied shortly.

“I-”

“You should be training yourself Tony. Boss battles are far different from scrappicking.”

Virgil clenched his jaw, “I know that. I plan to save my mana for when we move and get near higher level monsters. I need more experience fighting in a party.”

“I’m going further in the woods,” Logan declared. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

~~~~

“You can’t force people not to be stubborn, love,” Dee advised. “And we’ve known for years now that Tact is stubborn as hell.”

Virgil gave a sigh of agreement, that much he knew. Logan was undoubtedly one of the most stubborn players he had ever met, but it had done him well as the Tactician. His stern and stubborn attitude kept his emotions out of his work, and his loyalty then went to the highest bidder as opposed to his friends. Virgil gave a shudder as he silently remembered the way he and Logan had first crossed swords on a battlefield. It had been almost two years ago now, Dee had asked him to infiltrate a major guild. Virgil had and when war time came he found their opponents had hired Logan. Initially he had been excited to see the familiar face, he thought maybe they could exchange information. But then Logan instead told his companions every weakness Virgil had and how to quickly defeat him.

“Friends don’t pay, work does,” Logan had told him afterwards.

Dee had given a hearty laugh, “And this is why we’re friends!”

Virgil meanwhile, had only sulked.

“There’s gotta be something I can help Logan with,” Virgil told Dee quietly. “I feel restless not doing anything and-”

“And running the numbers I am more likely to hold you back more than anything,” Logan finished loudly. Virgil’s mouth dropped open to quickly defend himself but Logan didn’t even look surprised or offended. “I understand the line of thinking. I had the same thought.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it kiddo!” Patton tried.

“I am older than you, Patton.”

“You all are! But you’re all still my kiddos.”

“He’s just the natural mom friend,” Remus shrugged. “Hey dad, when will dinner be done?”

Patton gave a beaming smile, “Whenever Virgil cooks it. But... Logan I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“It’s not my night to cook,” Virgil said in confusion.

“Well it’s Dee’s so yes it is.”

Virgil gave a curse as he stood (gaining a stern look from Patton) but watched as Patton turned his attention back to Logan. “You can ask for help okay? I know I haven’t been playing for near as long as you, but if there’s something I can do let me know okay?”

Logan didn’t bother with a response.

“Don’t baby him,” Dee said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s-” his next words were cut off as he paused and closed his eyes as if listening. “You sure?” He asked finally. “Alright I’ll be back soon enough.”

“Everything good?” Roman asked.

Dee gave a sharp nod, “Got some new intel that we need to cash in sooner than later. I won’t give details until we get there because I’d like to make sure there aren’t any leaks, no offense. But with that said, I was going to say, Patton you can’t sugar coat this.” He turned to Logan. “Tact you got two days to figure it out and then we are heading to the tavern to move on the mission with or without you. Your choice.”

“Dee!” Patton said quickly. “You can’t just-”

“There’s nothing we can say or do that will make him stop over thinking things, Patts. And now that we know how to play and we’ve got information to move on we need to get moving. It’s not exactly like this game will be easy to beat.”

“Feel free to leave now,” Logan stated. “I don’t exactly need you all to stare and watch me fail. I am very well aware that I am a disappointment.”

“Two days,” Virgil said before anyone else could speak. “That’s an ultimatum for all of us. So let’s get some rest and work more in the morning.”

Two days. Virgil could only hope that was enough.

~~~~

Logan had insisted on spending the day alone. And this time Virgil let him be. Well actually he had intended to go talk to him later, but it seemed Logan’s contained anger had only increased with time so he hadn’t gone and spoken to the older player.

“We leave tomorrow before dinner,” Dee was saying as they all relaxed around the fire. “When we get back we can talk business over food."

No one argued, all agreed. But all eyes were still on Logan, but it seemed staying away from him all day had brought Virgil to a conclusion on what he would have to do.

“Fight me.”

Logan’s annoyed expression didn’t change. “I thought we discussed not fifteen minutes ago at breakfast that I wished to train alone?”

“We did,” Virgil nodded slowly moving to stand further from Logan. “But I need to improve my fighting against other people rather than dealing finishing blows. And you have analyzed me more times than I can count. So, I think we can both benefit. Rather than telling you to stop overthinking I’m telling you to do what you do best.” Virgil drew his sword from his back and got into a ready stance. “Long as you swear not to get too mad if I wipe the floor with you.”

Logan gave scoff, “Fine. I suppose I can let out some frustration on you. Once you’re unable to continue I’ll proceed with my day.”

“I don’t think this a good idea!” Interrupted Patton's voice. “Can't you just-”

Virgil didn’t turn to look, but he did hear as Remus gave a loud cheer which drowned the last of Patton’s words. And he couldn’t exactly stop the smile which was on his face as Logan readied himself. This would be fun.

~~~~

Level Three - Level Four - Level Five

#oh look i posted something so im not dead after all!#the boys are gonna fight #videogame au #the bois get swords i dont make the rules #anxceit #anxceit will come #so will logince and intrulogical #logince #intrulogical #virgil sanders #Janus Sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders

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lassluna · 4 years

Text

Swan’s Hourglass (3/?)

Emma Swan had a mission. Find a place to start New Hyrule, her kingdom apparently. It was her mission as Princess or Savior or whatever. It’s going terribly if she’s honest. No one ever gave her Princess or Savior lessons growing up. She really has no idea how to be a Savior. She doesn’t even really want to in the first place.

But when the Demon Ship kidnaps her son and she gets stranded on a strange island with only an old woman and peppy fairy for help, Emma will have to do what she has to do to rescue her son, even if that means putting a certain self-proclaimed pirate captain in his place.

AN: Thank you everyone so much for the wonderful support! I appreciate it so much! Thank you @spartanguard for beta reading this, and @eastwesthomeisbest for your WONDERFUL art as well as @cssns for putting everything together!

FFN AO3

Chapter 2: Hook

The next room inside is longer but far less creepy than the one prior; there was this light purple light emulating from the ground that felt strangely comforting.

“What is this place?” Tink says, amazed as they proceed. Emma doesn’t know. It doesn’t feel evil per se. “And who’s that?”

Emma blinks, looking over to the other end of the room to see a large cage with a man, sitting on the ground.

“Hello?” Tink calls, bounds over towards him. Emma curses her recklessness as Tink rushes ahead and out of the purple light. The moment Emma follows, she feels it in her soul. It feels like she was punched in the gut. “Emma?” Tink asks, looking completely unaffected. Emma shakes her head and grins.

“I’m fine,” she assures her, following slower. The feeling doesn’t go away.

“Better get back to safety, sweetheart,” the figure says from his slumped position. “This place’ll kill you,” he assures her.

“Are you alright, mister?” Tink asks, leaning towards the bars, seemingly unfazed. The man chuckles; leaning further from the bars. “How did you get stuck in there?” she asks.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her in a cool voice. “But it’s best you leave before going any further,” he insists. “It’s far too dangerous in here.” Emma rolls her eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned that if we leave you’ll most likely die in there?” she asks.

“I’ll find my way out,” he assures. “A better question: what are the pair of you doing in here?”

“We’re looking for Captain Hook,” Tink supplies; Emma glares at her sharply, but it does nothing to dissuade her. “Have you seen him?”

The man chuckles. “He’s already long gone from here,” he assures them. “If you want to catch him before he sets sail, you better leave now.” Emma frowns. He’s lying.

“Do you know him?” Tink asks. He nods.

“We came in here together; he ran off with the loot, leaving me here.” Another lie.

Emma looks around, seeing passageways before her. It seems to her that this guy just wants them out.

“We need to find the Demon Ship,” Emma says slowly. It seems to catch his attention as she gets closer to the bars. “Do you know anything about it?”

He too responds slowly, meeting her eyes carefully. She hadn’t noticed how blue they were.

“I don’t know a thing about it,” he confirms. A third lie.

“I don’t believe you,” she says, turning the corner into one of the purple passage ways.

“What are you doing?” he demands, but she pays him no attention, noticing a small indent in the wall.

Anywhere with traps has something of value.

She presses against the indent and a wall on the opposite side lifts as if by magic. It causes Tink to jolt in surprise. The man’s eyes were wide.

“There’s a chest!” Tink exclaims walking over and opening a large ornate box. “There’s a map!”

The man moves quickly, hands wrapped around the bars craning his neck to see Tink. “You found it,” he breathes in amazement.

“What…is it?” Tink asks, shaking it. Emma can see the dust falling off of it, but it doesn’t have her attention. The man does.

“Let me out!” he exclaims. “I know what it is. I-I can help you,” he insists. More lies, everything that comes out of his mouth are lies. Emma knows better than to associate herself with a liar.

“I thought only Captain Hook could help us?” Emma calls back sarcastically. “I thought he already got all the ‘loot’?” He turns back at her in surprise seemingly a bit dumbfounded by her words, yet he recovers quickly.

“It appears he may have missed something. Perhaps I can be of service on your quest to find the Demon Ship?” he asks with a helpful smile.

“Not interested.”

“But—“

“He’s lying to us, Tink. I don’t need a liar helping me.”

He looks shocked by Emma’s claim. “I’m not lying to you.” She shakes her head in disagreement.

“Then who exactly are you?” she asks sarcastically, then nodding at the hook curled around the bar. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed the hand or lack thereof,” she points out. “Anyway, everyone said that Captain Hook was a good for nothing pirate, so why should we bother trusting you after you lied to me three times?”

“I’m the only one who’s ever survived the Demon Ship! You need me. If you want to find the treasure, you must let me help you,” he insists.

Emma shakes her head. “You’re not the only one,” she says softly then turns to Tink. “Let’s go.”

She plans to leave him here, truly she does. She could just take this treasure and trade it to whoever can take her to the Demon Ship first. Someone should be brave enough with a little extra incentive.

She doesn’t need this egotistical pirate who is just lying to her. She doesn’t need any more liars who don’t believe in her.

“Wait!” he shouts. She doesn’t. She has no reason to. Helping him would just get in the way of rescuing Henry. “You need me alive!” he adds with conviction.

It makes her stop and turn towards him. She turns to see his eyes burning into hers, the swagger and couldn’t-care-less attitude is gone.

“You came in here looking for Captain Hook, right? Well, that’s me, and if you think anyone else can get you a shot at the Demon Ship, you’d be wrong,” he adds.

This time, he’s telling the truth. But she’s not sure; she’s not sure she can trust him. So despite the dangers, she gets close, real close right up against the bars of the trap.

“And why should I believe you?” she asks. “Give me one good reason to help you.”

He smirks at her. “Because I want the same thing you want, revenge, after all.” He pauses and shifts his wrist, letting the hook catch the light and draw her attention.

“I don’t want revenge,” she insists.

“Oh, don’t you? No one ever goes to seek the Demon Ship unless they’re stupid, which you are certainly not, or it took something from them.” Emma grinds her teeth, not wanting to give anything away to the man. “And if someone takes something from you, you long to take it back and then make them pay for what they stole,” he sneers.

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’m not interested in revenge,” she insists.

“Call it what you will, but I can see it in your eyes,” he counters. “And I’m your only chance at getting it.” Emma looks him over briefly. She didn’t want to dwell on his words; she didn’t have the mental energy for it. She could feel this place sapping at her strength.

“And what exactly are you getting revenge for?” she asks. “Stealing some of your treasure?” she says with an eye roll. He doesn’t respond until her eyes return to his.

“How do you think I lost my hand?”

He says it with a smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, all Emma sees is anger.

“Do you believe him?” says the small voice of Tink; quite frankly, Emma had forgotten all about her. “He already lied to us; do you think he’s doing it again?” She also didn’t realize what she was signing up for when she agreed to the ‘us’ thing. She’s not sure.

She watches him. This ‘Captain Hook’ hasn’t moved; he’s just staring her down, waiting for her to make her decision.

“I bet people only lie to you once, Swan,” he says after a beat, smirk returning, and the tenseness between them easing a bit.

“Swan?” she counters with a raised brow.

“Your shield, it has a swan on it,” he points out. “It’s pretty fitting if you ask me,” he says with a grin. “Swans are ferocious, much like yourself.”

Somehow that makes her smile. “Damn right I am,” she agrees, going over to a switch she sees on the opposite wall and hits it with her sword. The bars locking Hook away disappear. “Now come on; this place is giving me the creeps.”

They don’t really speak on the way back to the dock. Emma is busy studying her super-secret treasure, but it looks like an ordinary map to her and Tink is busy watching the pirate.

And the pirate? Well, Emma can sense his eyes on her the entire way.

“See something you like, love?” he says as they return. Emma looks back and is thankful that his words are not directed at her. It makes Tink recoil sharply.

“First of all, not your love,” Tink responds.

“Nor could you be darling.” He replies with ease. “Too bloody noisy.” He glances back at Emma. “I much prefer a spit fire, not a firecracker.” Emma just rolls her eyes. But his comment seems to have just infuriated Tink more.

“And secondly,.” sShe says more forcefully,. “I don’t trust you. Come on, Emma, are you really sure he can take you to the Demon Ship?” she asks, glaring at the pirate. Emma can sense she’s been holding onto these thoughts the entire way here.

Emma shrugs. It seems like her best course of action.

“I mean he’s rude and arrogant and he lies,” Tink lists. “Plus, how do you even know he knows anything about the Demon ship?” she asks.

Emma glances his way, raising a brow. “That’s a good question,” she notes, looking back at him.

Hook glares at Tink. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot?” he comments. “And that high pitched voice...”

“See what I mean? Just plain rude,” Tink responds, crossing her arms.

“Also, I’ve been hunting that bloody ship for a little over 2 years,” he tells them. “But it’s pretty difficult when it never leaves any survivors; the most I ever have to go on is the general area where ships were scheduled to be when they never made it to their destination.”

Emma hesitates.

“But I survived,” she says.

“That you did, love; maybe it’s fate,” he says with a wink. He’s staring at her again, and she can feel the weight of those blue eyes again. She looks away.

“And if there are no leads, how exactly are we supposed to find this ship?” she questions.

He smirks. “And that’s where this comes in,” Hook says, pointing at the map in her hands. She looks down at it and back to him. “May I?”

She hands over the treasure. “What does an old map have to do with anything?”

Hook holds the map carefully, eyes darting over it, face poised in concentration.

“A majority of the ships that disappeared had something in common; they had relics of the Ocean Queen,” he explains. “So I have a theory that either the Demon Ship is obsessed with the Ocean Queen, or there is a connection between the two.”

“But I thought the Ocean Queen was just a fable?” Emma asks. That’s what Wendy had said, but then again she said the same thing about The Demon Ship...

“Oh I assure you, The Ocean Queen is very much real.” Hook says solemnly. “She’s just been asleep for as long as anyone can remember. The temple is supposed to keep the most valuable and powerful of her treasures safe; perfect bait if you ask me,” Hook insists. “And this seems to say that there’s an even better treasure here,” he says, pointing to an insignia on one of the islands. It seemed to glow purple briefly.

“Wait, hold on, you’re going to bait the Demon Ship?” Tink asks. “That’s suicide!” she exclaims.

“That’s what you said about the Ocean Temple,” Emma reminds her.

“I know, but this is more suicide,” she insists. “You really can’t think this is a good idea, Emma.” She doesn’t, not really, but it’s the best plan she’s heard and if it gets her a chance at saving Henry, she is on board.

“Perhaps if you had a weapon to fight the Demon Ship, your plan would have a chance at working,” a voice says. Emma turns around and sees none other than Granny standing before them at the edge of the dock.

“Granny!” Tink exclaims running over to her. “Please help me talk Emma out of this; it’s a horrible plan.”

Granny nods. “I agree, unless you have a way to fight the Demon Ship.” Emma narrows her gaze, not understanding.

“The Demon Ship is not natural, it has dark powerful magic,” Granny continues. “Now, if you had magic of your own to fight it with...”

Magic? Emma shudders at the thought. She doesn’t want to think about magic; she’s done her best these last 10 years to not think at all about magic.

“And how exactly do you know this, Granny,” Hook asks suspiciously. “When I came to visit you, you said that the Demon Ship was nothing but a couple of pirates.” The old woman shrugs.

“Perhaps I was waiting to see how driven you are on your quest Captain,” she says casually. It makes Hook bristle next to her. “Besides, this is about a child,” she throws a pointed glance towards Emma. “And the only way you’re going to fight magic is with a bit of your own.”

Magic always comes with a price.

“And where exactly are we going to get magic?” Hook asks. “It doesn’t exactly grow on trees.”

But Emma knows; she looks at the map in Hook’s grasp, sees how carefully it’s drawn with a crest and everything.

“This treasure isn’t just treasure, isn’t it?” Emma asks. “It’s magic.”

Granny nods. “There used to be stories of a seer that lived in Ember Isle before the Ocean Queen fell. If anyone knows about the secret treasure hidden in Ember Isle, it would be her.”

It seemed like a better plan. “How long before we can leave, Hook?” Emma asks in confirmation.

He throws another suspicious glance at Granny before turning to her with confidence. “Within the hour, Swan.” And he disappears into the ship.

“I guess this is it,” Emma says to the younger blonde.

Her eyes go wide. “You’re leaving the island,” Tink realizes. It looks to her that she didn’t even fathom not going with her. “I-Are you sure you can trust Hook?” Tink asks one last time. “I’d hate to think of what trouble he could cause you.” Emma just grins.

“I can take care of myself,” she assures her. “Good luck with your missing memories,” she says. Tink gives a sad smile.

“Thanks,” she says half-heartedly. “You’ll come see me, right? After you rescue Henry, before you leave the region?” she asks.

Emma nods. “Of course, Tink. I owe you so much for helping me.” She doesn’t know what would have happened had she woken up alone on the beach with no idea how to find Henry. Emma would have lost her mind.

“Tink, why don’t you join her?” Granny says gently.

“Join her?” Tink repeats. “I couldn’t leave you, Granny; who would take care of the Cucckoos?” Granny waves her off.

“Tink, you’ve spent months here and are no closer to recovering your memories,” she reminds her. “I think it’s time for you to see the world, find your missing past. Who knows— perhaps they’ll find you.” Emma swears she sees tears in the blonde’s eyes as she hugs the older woman. “Just promise me Tink, that you’ll be brave. Promise me you’ll have courage no matter where you go.”

Tink nods vigorously. “I promise,” she says and gives Granny another hug.

Then after a moment, she turns towards Emma. “You do want me along right? I mean we’ve gotten this far together, I just thought—“ she says, trailing off in a bit of a panic.

“I’d hate to endanger you in this mess,” Emma says, moving towards the ship and onto it. “But if you want to come, you’re welcome to.” Tink’s expression brightens as she races after her.

“I promised to have courage, right? I promise, Emma, I’ll help you rescue your son in any way I can,” she insists. Her eyes go wide admiring every inch of the ship and Emma has to admit, it is a beautiful ship.

“Swan, we’re almost ready to depart; are you—“ He stops, looking between them both. “Bloody hell,” he curses.

“Is there something wrong?” Emma asks.

“I thought we were free of the insufferable girl,” he says, eyeing Tink. She crosses her arms stubbornly.

“Nope!”

#Captain Swan #CSSNS 2020 #Swan's Hourglass #cs au ff #Legend of Zelda AU

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Old Friend, New Family (5)

Requested by Anon | Prompt:

Hey I was wondering if you’d take a prompt where the reader is an ex-padawan who’s master died pretty early on in order 66, and was instead saved by a clone that removed his inhibitor chip. Then maybe they get separated, and years later when the reader is a crew member on the Mantis, they come across the clone again? How would the crew, especially Cal and Cere, react to meeting a friendly ex-soldier clone who’s close with the reader? Could you make it full of angst then fluff? Love your writing!

Tags: Defected! Clone Trooper, Jedi Survivor! Reader, Order 66 Survivor

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

The leader casually greeted the man where that familiar voice belonged to.

When the owner of the voice stepped out of the shadows to join you in the veranda, he’s clad in the same armaments and outfit as the others, even though he’s fully armored, you know that face anywhere.

The pack went into the bay and started collecting the supplies, meanwhile, you’re frozen on where you stood, staring at the man who never came back home to you.

“Strig…” you uttered.

The man turned to the call of his name, your stomach sank when he did. It is him.

His calm demeanor shifted in the blink of an eye—his casual smile melted, his eyebrows furrowed, and then his lips parted only to release soundless words. He removed his helmet, as if that was going to help him take a better look at you.

Nothing much has changed in him except for the growth of his faded haircut has grayed out, it appears he decided to keep the goatee and lost the stubble that followed his jaw, and his head tattoo is still visible but the ink’s opacity has thinned out. Nicks and scars etched his face over time, slightly pink flesh disturbed the tan skin—they were the words to an explanation that you yearned to hear directly from him.

Nevertheless, you can recognize that face anywhere.

The two of approached one another, unable to speak even though there so many things that you wanted to tell to him all this time. Strig examined you from head to toe. In his eyes, only your height has changed.

“Look how big you’ve gotten…” he cracked.

The sound of his voice made your heart skip a beat again. You cannot determine what emotion is churning in your heart right now.

Is it anger?

Is it joy?

Are you going to hug him?

Or punch him in the stomach?

Frankly, you have no idea what to do next.

“Well, go on…” Strig was nearing to a sob. “Say something.”

“You’re alive…” you barely moved your mouth.

Strig somewhat understood your words; he hung his head low, sighing as his shifted back and forth, avoiding your gaze. He wanted to explain everything to you, but now isn’t exactly the best time.

You didn’t say anything more. You simply threw yourself into his arms and the tears could no longer be contained the moment you felt Strig’s arms wrap around you.

The clone felt like a great burden has been taken out of his chest. Seeing you alive was perhaps the best thing that has ever happened to him since. His thumb ran across your cheeks, wiping away the tears rolling down from your eyes.

“Hey, don’t let them see the tough girl cry,” Strig cooed.

You sniffled and wiped the tears still stained your face, “I have so much to tell you…”

“Do you know each other?” Adrina politely cuts in when Strig was about to speak to you.

“Hey there, Adrina, I see you’ve met [y/n],”

“Yeah, she just got here. She’s helping out in retrieving the supplies, Saw’s orders,”

“Did you now?” Strig chuckled, an upward curl played along the corner of his mouth.

Adrina asked for help in collecting the containers filled with the medical supplies they badly need for the people back at the landing pad. The queue acted almost mechanical, passing one container to the next until it reaches the person waiting by the railings—Strig’s faction at the bay have improvised a pulley, knowing that another group will come to fetch the supplies.

When you were down to the last box, Strig tapped your shoulder before you prepared yourself to rappel down the supply containment bay.

“Hey, kid,”

“Yeah?”

“See you at the landing pad later?”

“Sure,” you beamed a smile. “You owe an explanation after all!”

You slipped down the rappel cord before Strig could respond to that.

Before following Adrina and the pack, you looked back once more and saw him leaning against the railing, you both waved goodbye for now to each other and went back to your duties.

“How did you come to know Strig?” Adrina began.

“He’s the one who saved my life,” you smiled privately. “When no one else could.”

Adrina narrates that she has known Strig only for a short time and knows only little. In turn, you tell your side of the story about him. However, you were cautious enough to not disclose the part that he is a clone, although, you’re already under the presumption that maybe Strig himself has told everyone in the faction.

Luckily, the young partisan didn’t go into much detail.

“You two seem very close, even after being so far apart for so long,”

“Yeah, you could say that,”

Eventually, the pack had trouble in crossing the path blocked by the wrecked AT-AT.

“Oh no, how do we get across with all this baggage?” one of the partisans exclaimed.

You set down the container you were holding and studied the walker closely. The legs would be too heavy for you to carry—even if you used the Force—and you surveyed your surroundings to see if there’s anything you can work with.

“I have an idea!” you chirped.

You scaled the body of the walker and sat on the flat surface there, high enough for you to see both sides of the path, and then you focused on the box that you put down on the ground; you extend your arm, focusing your concentration on the object until it started to rattle by itself—startling the partisans—until the box is now floating right in front of them, your action received murmurs and gasps as a reaction but it was typical. Motioning your hand to the side, the box vault over the AT-AT’s leg-and-shoulder joint.

“Everyone, vault over the AT-AT first and I’ll lift the boxes to you. Sound good?”

The group liked your idea, without a moment’s hesitation, they crawled over the gigantic metal quadruped, afterwards, you do the exact same thing that you demonstrated seconds ago. Eventually, everybody got the loot back in their hands and marched towards the landing pad, some of them came sprinting towards the area.

Your box was the last one to transfer over, when you gingerly put it down on the other side, you buckled your knees and slid down the iron giant. Adrina took a few paces ahead but still waited for you.

“That was great thinking back there, [y/n]!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, just became creative is all,”

“Being a Jedi sure must be cool!”

“Oh, uh,” you stammered. “I suppose so. It had its ups and downs.”

Oh sweetie, if only you knew what really went down for ALL of us back then. Your subconscious couldn’t help but ring that in your head, instead, you pretended that that was the exact thing you told Adrina.

Upon arriving to the landing pad, it seems that Cal surely has taken his time with Saw Gerrera and the other partisans. Continuing with your current task, you and Adrina stash the containers filled with medical supplies. Mirienna helped in receiving the supplies along with the other medics.

“Is this everything from the bay?” asked the woman.

“Yes, I just a radio call from the other squadron, they’re sweeping the other supply bay as we speak,” Adrina reported.

“Good, all the wounded should pull through for tonight,”

“What about the Wookiees? Will there be enough for them too?” you add.

“The second supply run should have enough to cover the Wookiees once they’ve been liberated by Saw,” Mirienna replied.

“I can stay here and help some more,” you offered.

“That’d be splendid, [y/n], thank you,” Mirienna replied with her warm tone.

Eventually, Strig—along with his faction—regrouped at the landing bay, dispersing as soon as each soldier went to different points of interest. You rejoined Strig by the lower platform of the hangar. He threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the wrecked AT-AT.

“Did you do that?”

“Frankly, I wish it was me,”

“Who then?”

Strig saw the way your eye shift to your right. It was your mannerism.

“I know that look, Spinner,” his eyebrow flicked upward. “Eyes to the right mean you’re not telling me something… for now.”

Even three years later, he still memorized every little habit—good or bad—that you had. After all, he still had the mind of a clone—with most of the learning programs intact in his brain. The mention of his personal nickname for you made your ears prick and caused a little smirk.

“You still remember the nickname?”

“How could I forget? You were always the one sending your starfighter spinning through aerial assaults it makes me dizzy just by looking at ya!”

“Master Karos always scolded me whenever I do—even if I survived!” you beamed back.

The two of you share a hearty laugh rooted by inside jokes and fond memories, albeit brief. Your joint attention turned to the bustle happening around the landing pad—medics sprint from one side to the other, able-bodied soldiers carry their comrades and lay them down on the makeshift cots.

“Work never ends here,”

“Just like the old times, huh?”

“Yeah, except that one part,”

“We don’t talk about that one part,”

“Right.” Strig purred, ending the banter.

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whitecatindisguise · 4 years

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The Sundrop Alchemist (18)

We’re getting close to the end, guys. Just few more chapters. I’m happy and sad at the same time, because I really like writing this story.

Anyway, onwards with this chapter.

Summary: The truth about Varian’s family is finally revealed. Hugo must save his newly-earned brother before it’ll be too late.

AO3 link is here.

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Chapter 18: Truth Revealed

Varian didn’t remember the way back to the tower. He felt like in a daze, blindly following Mother, her hand gripping his wrist a little too hard, the fact he was completely oblivious to. His mind was spinning, reliving the events from the past week.

Meeting Hugo, leaving the tower, the Snuggly Duckling, running from the guards and almost drowning in the cave, wandering through Old Corona, the lanterns, Donella and everything that transpired in her base, escaping with Hugo… and finally those two red-haired brothers and a mad dash through the forest in an attempt to escape. If it wasn’t for Mother… Varian shivered at the thought of what could have happened if they caught him.

He felt a gentle thug on his hair and blinked, emerging from his thoughts. They were back at the tower, the boy didn’t even register how they got inside. He was sat at the chair, Mother unbraiding his hair. It felt familiar, something they did several times throughout the years. Yet, Varian had this feeling inside, something telling him this wasn’t right, that something was off.

The last of his braids came off and Mother hummed in approval, before standing up and brushing off her dress.

“Now, let’s start on the dinner, shall we?” She said, making her way towards the kitchen. “I am starving. Don’t you, Flower?”

Varian stared at Mother’s back, still not exactly out of his daze. There was something he was forgetting, a thug at the back of his mind. Something important, he knew. But he couldn’t quite place what it was about.

“You’re awfully quiet, Flower.” Mother spoke up again, her back turned to him.

“Just… I think I’m forgetting something.” He replied, biting on the inside of his cheek.

“How about helping me with the dinner?” She suggested in a tone not quite the one he remembered. “You don’t really expect me to prepare it all by myself?”

“I don’t think that’s it…” Varian muttered under his breath and the woman huffed in annoyance.

“Varian, how many times should I tell you to speak clearly?” She shot him an angered glare. “You know I hate it when you mumble.”

“I’m sorry…” The word “mother” somehow didn’t sound right and he wondered why.

“I’m sorry, who, Flower?” The woman prompted and Varian suddenly felt strangely annoyed.

“I’m not in the mood right.” He shot back through his teeth. “But I guess being kidnapped, tortured and held hostage for a week doesn’t really give me a right to feel tired, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know what got into you, Flower.” Mother raised one brow and he could see she was getting annoyed too. “Is this the way to speak to your Mother?”

“Maybe I don’t want to speak to you?!” Varian replied, feeling more angry with every second. “Did it ever occur to you?! Or you are so self-absorbed you don’t even care what I feel?!”

“That’s it!!” The woman shouted, face scrunched in anger, its colours almost the same as her dress. “Go to your room, now!!”

“YOU’RE NOT MY MOTHER!!” The blonde cried out, and suddenly, the tower was silent.

They stared at each other, and Varian could swear, the woman stumbled a little at his wording. But, as fast as it happened, her posture was back to its usual regal-like, as if nothing happened at all. She chuckled and smiled at him. For some reason, Varian felt she was nervous and the smile was fake.

“What are you talking about, Flower?” She asked and Varian suddenly remembered.

He remembered the bookstore in Old Corona, the drawing in the history books, all the facts pointing to a single conclusion…

“I am the lost son.” He whispered, eyes widening in shock.

It all made sense now. How he looked so similar to the small boy on the drawing, the lanterns that were sent out on the day of the lost son’s birthday, HIS birthday, the age, the same as the boy’s…

“Varian, I hate it when you-” The woman said and he cut her off almost immediately, brows furrowing in anger.

“I am the lost son of Old Corona’s village leader, aren’t I?” He repeated, this time louder, his gaze staring into the woman in anger. “You stole me from my real parents! You lied to me! You- you kept me in this tower so you could have my powers for yourself!” He threw his hands apart, trembling with anger. “The people you warned me about, the ones who would use my powers for their own benefit. You are just like them!”

Mother- no, not Mother, his kidnapper, stared at him in shock. It seemed she was weighing her options, now that the cards were on the table. Suddenly, her whole posture changed.

She pushed her shoulders back, making herself bigger than normal. Her mouth turned into a malicious smile, eyes glaring at him with such power, he instinctively took a step back.

“Oh.. you think you are so smart, aren’t you?” She sneered, taking a step in his direction, making him move back. “That you figured it out and now you’ll just go back to your parents-” She spat out the word as if it burned her tongue.”-and live happily ever after. With this little friend of yours, what was his name? Henry? Huey? Oh… that’s right…” Her gaze turned malicious and Varian felt a shiver go up his spine. “Hugo…”

“What did you do?!” He cried, trying to not sound terrified. She laughed and he felt another shiver tremble his frame.

“I wouldn’t worry about him. He’s left on a well-deserved holidays. His own room, who cares if the doors are locked and the window has bars?” She replied nonchalantly. “He won’t leave it for at least few years, knowing his crime record.”

“You sent him to jail?!” Varian shouted and the woman sent him a death glare.

“Be thankful I didn’t kill him on the spot.” She sneered and in two large strolls she had him pinned to the wall. “Now, be a good boy and sit still. Mother needs to pack.”

~~~~~~

Hugo’s head lowered and he stared at the cracked floor. How stupid of him to forget about The Stabbingtons. He heard a lot about the two brothers over his years as a thief. He knew they were ruthless and didn’t forgive traitors. Still, he was too confident and proud to think he could trick them, escape with the loot and not face any consequences.

He should be thanking whatever god was up there they only decided to knock him out and give him up to the guards. They could have easily killed him, especially right then, when he was tired from all the running and had no weapons on him. But his fate wasn’t what troubled him, if he was to be honest.

The Stabbingtons knew about Varian. Somehow, they learned of his existence and, what was even worse, about his powers. Sure, the kid was resourceful and could easily knock a head or two with his frying pan, but The Stabbingtons weren’t regular thugs. Varian wouldn’t stand a chance against the two. His blood froze at the thought of the boy on the brothers’ mercy. And he couldn’t do anything from behind those bars.

Suddenly, he heard shouts at the end of the corridor. They were barely audible at the beginning, but soon he was able to distinguish words and, what was even more surprising, the familiarity of the voices. Shocked, he approached the bars to his own cell and looked towards the source of the shouting.

To his surprise, the guards were leading the same two people he was just thinking about. The Stabbingtons were shouting threats and insults at the guards, while trying to somehow escape. All to no avail, and they were quickly shoved inside another cell, directly opposite Hugo’s.

“What are you doing here?” The bespectacled teen questioned, confused by the whole ordeal. It was hard to imagine Varian beat the brothers up and left them for the guards to find.

The brothers were silent, so he decided on a different approach, taking up his usual nonchalant tone.

“What? Did the kid give you a hard time?” He smirked and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Hah, the kid was scared like a baby of the monster under its bed.” Burnsie replied with a huff of annoyance. “It was the damn lady.”

“Lady? What lady?” Hugo questioned, genuinely interested now. “You mean his mother?”

“Mother? What a joke!” Patchy barked a deep laugh. “Gothel would never have a kid of her own. She hates kids like dogs hate cats.”

“She tricked us. First she told us about the kid and his powers, and when we almost got him, she knocked us unconscious and led the guards to us.” Burnsie explained. “She probably wants the powers all to herself. Wrecked witch.”

Hugo felt the gears turning in his brain. If Mother and Gothel were the same person (and, at this point, it was safe to assume they were) then Varian was in deep, deep trouble. Especially, if he really is the lost son. During the time in Donella’s base Hugo not once heard the kid mumble about it, and it seemed very probable at this point. If Varian somehow let it slip to Gothel, then who knew what the witch would do. Hugo wasn’t stupid, he heard about Gothel several times. And none of the things he knew were good.

A sudden chitter made all three of the prisoners jump in surprise. Hugo looked down and his eyes widened at the sight of the familiar raccoon.

“Ruddiger?” He called and the animal chittered in response, coming closer and pushing something inside his cell. He picked it up and noticed it was the key to his cell. The clever raccoon must have stolen it from the guards. But if Ruddiger was here, then that must have meant- “Goggles is in trouble, isn’t he?”

Ruddiger chittered anxiously and pointed at the key and at the door. Hugo wasted not another minute to open the cell and follow the raccoon.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?!” He heard guards calling after him. Crap, he’d have to lose them before he can go after Varian.

Suddenly he heard a loud war cry and the guards were pinned to the wall by one of the pub thugs, Atilla, if he remembered correctly. He stared in shock at the scene, when he was suddenly grabbed by the shirt. With a hook.

“Hook Hand?” He questioned, eyes widening. “How did you guys know-?”

“The raccoon led us here. He was pretty persuasive.” The man explained and set the teen roughly on one side of the plank, the other facing up, leaning against the barrel. Ruddiger scrambled up his shoulders and gripped him tightly with his claws. “Now, head down, arms in, knees apart.” Hook Hand instructed. Hugo, baffled, followed the instructions and then he heard another cry and looked up.

Vladimir was flying through the air, having just jumped down from the second floor, and fell right on the other side of the plank. With a terrified yell, Hugo was shot up and over the prison wall, landing safely on the other side, in the haystack.

“What was THAT?!” He cried, shaking his head to get rid of the dizziness.

“Come on, McCoy! Before they open the gates!” Another thug, Toll, called out. Hugo saw he was holding the reins of a horse and he immediately understood the intentions. He jumped up the horse’s back and grabbed the reins, shooting a quick thank you to the man.

“Come on, Ruddiger. Let’s save our princess.” He smirked and urged the horse to run.

#varian #hugo #gothel #the stabbingtons #pub thugs #the sundrop alchemist #the story is almost finished #I am gonna cry #kitty mom writes

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siribear · 4 years

Text

turns out: she doesn’t know if she can do this. two steps outside of sanctuary hills (the old neighborhood sign dilapidated, covered in vines) and everything seems so.. vast. codsworth has obviously acclimatized himself to the change in - she swallows - centuries, perhaps she should have asked him to join her.

instead, claire takes another step, then another, eventually reaching the bridge out of the neighborhood. the wood creaks underfoot, but she makes it, hand ghosting over the railing like she used to when she and nate used to walk the area. the first sight that greets her: another corpse, not yet decomposed, head bashed in by a tire iron. another scavenger, likely, body already looted for anything valuable save for a leather jacket and jeans.

half an hour later, she reaches the gas station. a wrecked and hollowed out car sits just outside it. claire figures two hundred years in the future, they don’t use cars. she pays the building a wide berth just in case whoever killed the scavenger outside is still inside.

she’s stopped by a sudden bark. a dog runs up to her, and she isn’t sure if she can shoot a dog, but is saved when the dog stops before her, wagging his tail.

‘friendly, huh? thank goodness.’ claire drops to a knee. ‘where’s your owner, buddy?’

the dog barks again, turning to look down the road. claire laughs softly to herself, thankful, at least, for the company.

‘let’s go find your owner then.’

the dog leads the way, down the road, into concord. again, she’s hit with a wave of knowing but not knowing as her memories of the place overlap with what she’s seeing. the only things keeping her going are the short, excited barks from the dog in front of her.

the dog turns a corner ahead. claire follows, only to see him with his ears flat against his head, teeth bared, growling at a group in the distance. she ducks behind a nearby car, scoping out the area.

on the ground: a group in mismatched and patched together armor, shooting up at the balcony of the old museum of freedom. on that balcony: a lone man firing what looks like lasers at his assailants below.

‘which side do we support, boy?’ she asks. in response, a deeper growl, and the dog moves further ahead. he jumps one of the people below, teeth digging into their shoulder, pulling them down to the ground. ‘okay,’ she sighs and readies her pistol. ‘let’s do this.’

one shot pierces the assailant’s neck, ending the scuffle. the dog charges forward, this time yanking another’s leg out from under them and tearing into the limb. they take out the rest of the attackers in the same manner - the dog distracts, claire shoots. between the two of them and the man on the balcony, the gang lies dead in the street.

‘hey, you!’ he calls down to her when the others are dead. ‘there are more raiders in the building. i’ve got civilians in here. please, help us,’ he pleads.

if she helps them, maybe they’ll help her. ‘we’ve got you!’ she calls back up to him. even from the ground, she sees his shoulders sag with relief.

‘thank you,’ he half sighs. ‘take that laser musket, there.’ he leans over the railing and points at a body near the door. ‘please, hurry.’ and he returns inside.

‘here we go,’ claire says to herself. briefly, she allows a hand to comb through the dog’s fur as he waits next to her.

shooting paper targets or cans in their backyard is different from shooting actual people. even the giant bugs in the vault were easier. claire shoots two raiders on the upper floor of the museum. the bodies tumble from the walkways, down to the bottom floor. through a locked gate, she sees the floor collapsed in, leading straight to the basement.

the pair make their way through the museum, and another raider dies to the dog. he bleeds out on the floor, throat torn to shreds. they move on.

on the other side of the gate, she carefully follows the newly made ramp into the basement. below, the generator still hums, powered by an old fusion core. curious, she accesses the computer. it isn’t difficult to hack into - a few guessed passwords and she’s in. with the security door open, she removes the fusion core, watching the generator power down. if nothing else, codsworth can use it when she gets back -

‘open the door!’ a rough voice shouts. ‘or we will!’ a dull thud. then another. a swear -

claire hurries through the rest of the museum, making her way up familiar stairwells and hallways. at the top, she and the dog take a pair of raiders by surprise.

‘it’s me,’ she says when they lie dead at her feet. ‘i took care of the raiders.’

the door opens slowly. the dog pushes past her into the room to rest at the feet of an old woman sitting on a couch. the man from before grins at the sight of her. beside him, another man in workman’s overalls smiles at her as well. then, at the fusion core in her hand.

‘well, i’ll be damned, preston. that’s the FC we need.’

the man with the laser musket, preston, nods. ‘first of all, thank you. i didn’t think we’d make it.’ he lowers his weapon, butt against the floor, and leans it against his hip. ‘i’m afraid there’s more we have to ask of you.’

claire tilts her head to the side. ‘how can i help?’

again, his face brightens. ‘there are more raiders on the way. the others were just the group that caught up to us first.’

‘shit,’ she whispers.

the other man laughs. ‘yeah. but there’s a suit of power armor and a crashed vertibird on the roof with a minigun still attached. use that power core on the power armor, tear the minigun off, and you are good-to-go.’

‘hold on.’ she holds up a hand. ‘who are you people? why are raiders even after you?’

‘have you heard of the quincy massacre?’ preston’s dull tone answers her.

‘the - what?’

‘wow.’ a sigh. ‘i thought everyone knew about that. the minutemen were betrayed at quincy. most of them were killed, but we’re the survivors. sturges,’ he looks to the man next to him, who waves. ‘jun and marcy long.’ he gestures to a couple on the other side of the room - the man curled in on himself on the floor, the woman pacing. ‘and mama murphy.’ the old woman on the couch. ‘and i’m preston garvey, commonwealth minuteman.’

‘minuteman,’ she repeats. then, quieter, ‘now i’m going backwards in time.’

‘i’m surprised you haven’t heard of us. everyone knows about what happened at quincy.’

she shrugs. ‘i’m.. new to the area. it’s a long story.’ she smiles. ‘so about that power armor.’

preston nods and quickly leads the way.

dogmeat will keep you safe, mama murphy had said. and the dog - dogmeat - happily followed them out.

‘dogmeat.’ claire shakes her head. she had a little dog when she was younger. her parents named him rex. but dogmeat - ‘okay. dogmeat,’ she says, louder. dogmeat perks up at his name. ‘ready for this?’ he barks, tail wagging.

claire steps into the power armor, movements jerky and awkward. two steps, each one rumbling underfoot, then she rips the minigun off its stand. it should be heavy, but the mechanized limbs of the armor hold it easily.

a bullet pings off one of her legs. a raider steps out from behind the radiator on the opposite roof. the minigun spins up, the raider falls with a spray of red, the minigun spins down.

the battle is wholly one sided, after that.

claire jumps down, armor frame absorbing the shock of falling as well as the resulting gunfire from jumping into the fray. any raiders that attempt to flank her are charred by preston, and any that take her head on are turned into a red mist.

when it’s over, all she can hear is her echoed breathing.

and the loud bang, bang, bang of a metal hatch being broken open. ‘preston?’ she calls up behind her. all she gets is an answering, ‘oh no.’

the thing barreling toward her makes no sense. large roaches she could recognize, but this thing. this creature towers over her by at least a foot and is larger than even her power armor.

she fires, and watches as the thing soaks up the bullets and lasers fired into it. she’s slow to backpedal, and the creature still doesn’t slow. before she knows it, she’s looking at the sky, heads up display reading the integrity of the chest piece has taken a hit. then, the thing is over her, clawing at the chest armor further, trying to tear it apart.

claire lifts her arms, fits the minigun under the creature’s jaw, and fires. she doesn’t stop until the head is gone. a beat. the body falls to her side with a heavy thud.

she exhales a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and tosses the empty minigun to the side. carefully, she picks herself up. when she looks up, preston is gone.

he and the others are gathered in the lobby of the museum when she finally enters. she exits the power armor, unsteady on her feet, and approaches.

‘that really was... something else.’ he pulls a pouch out of one of his pockets. ‘here, this is for you.’

she takes it. ‘i didn’t really do it for the - ’ upon opening it, she tries to hide her confusion, ‘bottle caps.’

‘sorry, i’m used to others only helping if there’s something in it for them.’ he shrugs, but doesn’t move to take it back. ‘thanks to you, we survived. mama murphy knows a safe place to the north, called sanctuary. you’re welcome to join us.’

sanctuary. what are the odds?

‘i know who you are.’ mama murphy takes her by surprise.

‘i’m sorry?’

‘you’re looking for someone, kid. and i know how to find them.’

claire shakes her head, confused. ‘what’re you saying?’

‘go to diamond city. you’ll find your answers there.’ her eyes, though cloudy, seem to clear.

‘diamond city? i don’t... understand,’ claire says, trying to steady her voice.

‘sorry, kid. the sight isn’t always clear. find me some jet and i can help you further.’

preston saves her from asking what jet is, but by his reaction, she can only imagine it’s some kind of drug. diamond city. diamond city? the only city she knows is boston.

‘thank you anyway,’ claire says softly. mama murphy nods, knowing.

though preston had offered for her to come with them, she hangs back in concord for only a bit longer. taking advantage of the backpack attached to the power armor, she scavenges the dead - a short rifle, another pistol, and ammo for each. she also pockets the leather armor from one of the raiders in the museum.

finally alone, claire exits the armor and vomits on the floor.

she hauls the power armor back up to sanctuary hills. an alert beeps in her ear the moment she crosses into the neighborhood proper: power core charge 5%. figuring it’s close enough, she exits the power armor for the last time. her legs buckle underneath her, but a pair of arms hold her up.

‘not used to walkin’ in power armor, huh?’ sturges removes the backpack before she can. ‘takes some gettin’ used to, is all. mighty fine shootin’ back there though. can’t believe you took down a deathclaw by yourself.’

a deathclaw. apt. claire doesn’t even want to imagine those claws actually tearing at her flesh. without the power armor, she’d be dead.

‘preston definitely helped.’ she takes the backpack when her legs finally stop shaking. ‘so, you guys are going to settle here, then?’

‘yup.’ he gives her a cheery grin. ‘or try to, anyway. preston’s off setting up a perimeter. there’s not much here, yet, but at least we have a roof over our heads.’

she catches sight of preston in the distance, examining the area around the neighborhood.

‘look, i know you’ve done a lot for us. but i gotta ask another favor of you.’

claire shifts the pack on her shoulder and grins. ‘shoot.’

‘the rest of us are workin’ on gettin’ some of this rubble out of the way, but we’re gonna need the bare necessities if we’re gonna settle down here. beds, food, water, and the like.’

‘i’m sure i can find some mattresses in these old houses.’ she bites back a sigh. ‘we can tap into the well system running from the river - ’ she knows one of her neighbors had a well pump in their back yard. ‘ - sustainable food, though...’

‘well, one thing at a time.’ he claps her on her shoulder. ‘we appreciate it. thanks, uh - ’

‘don’t worry about it.’ she skips over his fishing for a name. it feels to strange, still. unreal. ‘i’ll get myself set up and get to it. thank you, sturges.’

if he catches on to her diversion, he doesn’t let it show. they part ways: sturges to a nearby house and claire to her home.

#siri drabbles #oc: alice ward #i'm just having fun in my own little world #series: we will all go together when we go

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tingfeiart · 4 years

Text

Unloved Tragedy - Chapter 4 - “Not Really, Not Ever”

Chapter 4 of Unloved Tragedy, a Peter Pan x Treasure Planet Fanfiction

Word Count: 2,353

Table of Contents

The excruciating pain of his broken heart wouldn't subside as Peter rested his hard head into his rough hands. He wanted so desperately to run away, no, fly away from this nightmare, because that was all he knew he how to cope with these uncomfortable feelings. But the burden was too heavy to lift him off the ground, forcing him to nurture the misery as it grew.

There really was nothing he could do, but to face the nightmare. But how could he? What good would it do? He already lost - lost his Wendy. And there was no way he could get her back. She had outgrown him.

After using his arm to wipe away the stream of tears flowing down his cheeks, he summoned the will to get up from his seat on the chimney. Carefully, he descended to Wendy's window, which was now dark, which meant Wendy was asleep. He gently pushed the window, and to his astonishment, it wasn't barred. He applied more force to the window, enough that he could just slip right in.

Gently, his feet landed on the ground, albeit clumsily. He didn't want to wake Wendy and the man who shared the bed with her. Startling them would only worsen the distress that was getting stronger within him. Lightly, he tip-toed to their bed. The couple was already in a deep sleep as indicated by their heavy breathing.

Wendy slept on the side closest to the window. The light from the moon diffracted through the window and shined on her face with perfect alignment. Beholding her beauty in the moonlight only made Peter's heart beat faster, causing him to pause and take a snapshot of this image.

He then knelt down so he could stare at her at eye level. The peaceful look on her face as she slept warmed Peter's heart. She truly became more beautiful with time. He ventured a hand to stroke her forehead, but stopped himself, knowing he might wake her.

The only way he could confront his heartbreak was to speak to Wendy. But how could he do that without waking her?

Suddenly, he remembered the last conversation they had, all those years ago.

"You'll come visit me, will you?" Wendy had asked, as Peter was about to depart on the Jolly Roger back to Neverland.

"Of course, Wendy!"

"Shall I leave the window open for you?" she had proposed.

"Sure, Wendy. I'll let you know when I'm coming. Just look out for me... in your dreams."

That's it! He had the ability to talk to Wendy through her dreams.

Gently grabbing her hand that hung over her bed, Peter shut his eyes tightly, and struggled to focus all his energy onto Wendy. His powers were getting weaker, just as his flight was hindered. His heart felt heavier, for it was preparing to protect itself from what he was about to learn.

Peter could only see pitch white, until he stared down at his body. He was the only one in this pitch white room. Or was it really a room?

"Wendy, it's me," he called.

The image of an adult Wendy materialized in front of him, looking confused, until she met eyes with Peter. They gradually grew wider as her mouth dropped. "Peter, is that you?"

Peter gave a weak nod. "Mm-hmm."

"Where am I?" She too had noticed they were in a pitch-white wonderland. They were the only two things to materialize in this dream so far.

"I've entered your dreams, Wendy. I want to talk to you."

Wendy gave a lighthearted gasp. "Oh, Peter! It's been so long. I thought you had forgotten all about me." She walked closer to him with her arms held out, preparing to give Peter a hug. To Peter's dismay, she was now much taller than him.

Peter joined her in an embrace, rather weakly. He still couldn't fully process the fact that Wendy was now this grown woman, and he could barely remember how she was as a child. He sorely wished he could remember her face as a child, as the image brought him back to a less confusing time.

"How long has it been, Wendy, since you came with me to Neverland?"

Wendy broke from the embrace and stared down into Peter's face. "6 years," she answered. "I'm 20 now."

It didn't feel like 6 years to Peter, but then, he never kept track of time. 6 years felt like never to him - an awfully long time.

"Do you remember Neverland, Wendy?" he asked.

"Of course, Peter! How could I forget?" Wendy smiled gleefully down at him. "I could never forget one of the greatest adventures I've ever had!"

Peter wasn't sure how to respond to that. He didn't want to admit that he had forgotten her, and if it had not been for the strange dream with Hook, he wouldn't be here today.

"Why did it take you so long to come see me?" Wendy asked.

Peter shrugged his shoulders and said, "I... I dunno. You know, I never really kept track of time. I guess I just wanted to come once I started to miss ya!"

Wendy's smile initially dropped to a frown at this, but then it seemed she forced herself to smile again. "I understand, Peter. You have the boys to take care of. I know you must be awfully busy. But, I'm very pleased, in fact, flattered, to see you thought of me and wanted to visit! For old time's sake, yes?"

Peter was able to break into a small smile at this. "Uh yeah, sure! I wanted to see how you're doing and stuff." He scratched his head as it hung low. He still wasn't sure how to evoke his true burdens, which was why he was making up things to keep the conversation flowing.

He gave her body another stare down, before deciding to dismiss it. He shouldn't have done this. He didn't want to look at her anymore. "You changed," he said coolly, while turning his entire body away from her.

"Not really," Wendy insisted, before proceeding to turn his chin to face her. "Not ever." She offered him a warm, motherly smile. "I'm still the same."

"Well then..." Peter's tone started to elevate. "Why are you with that man? I saw him in your bed!" he shouted. "Who is he?"

Wendy heaved a deep sigh and cast her gaze downward, before slowly looking back at Peter. "He's my husband."

There was a hint of cheer in her voice as she said "husband". It made Peter's stomach churn with jealous.

"Your... husband? You mean... you're married to him?"

Wendy held out her finger closest to her pinky on her left hand. "You see this ring?" A diamond glistened in the light. "It's an engagement ring. Jim gave it to me the day he proposed to me."

Peter inched closer to get a better look at her ring. The glistening was so strong, he had to rub his eyes to appreciate its beauty. It was truly more remarkable than the treasure he and Hook squabbled over. This thought instantly made Peter more jealous. So this Jim guy was able to find treasure much more valuable than what he could find?! "Where's this diamond from, Wendy?" Peter asked.

Wendy's smile lit up. "Treasure Planet. Isn’t it lovely? It's one of the Loot of the Thousand Worlds. Jim got it from there, and he carved out one of the diamonds to make it into a ring for me."

Peter snorted at this idea. What an incredibly cheesy idea to buy a girl a diamond. Then, without asking, he yanked the ring off of her finger. He had no good reason for doing it - he just wanted to. Perhaps, he just wanted to get under her skin. "Why'd you marry him, Wendy?"

Wendy, astonished by what he had done, lunged forward to take the ring back. "Peter, give me my ring back!" she roared. She tried to pin down Peter's shoulder but he immediately turned around, cupping the ring in between his palms.

"Answer me, Wendy!" he demanded.

"You wouldn't understand!" Wendy shouted back crossing her arms together.. "And since when did you ever care about whom I choose to marry? You think you could just show up after 6 years, and ask me why I've decided to marry?" She placed her hands firmly on her hips. "If you give me the ring back and sit down like a good boy, I'll tell you." She held out her palm.

But Peter wouldn't have it. Just because she was older than him now, didn't mean she could command him. And Peter did the only thing he knew what to do, and that was to get threaten her. "If you don't tell me... I'll feed this ring to the crocodile!"

Wendy gasped. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, I would!" Peter cackled.

She sighed again, stepping away. Her voice lowered. "Because I love him, Peter. Dearly. And he loves me. I couldn't stop myself from growing up, and finding the one whose love I don't deserve."

Peter scoffed. What a stupid answer. He demanded to know more. "But what about me? I thought you loved me when you gave me the thimble. You said it would belong to me - always!" he cried. "Is Jim more worthy of your thimble than I am?"

To Peter's dismay, Wendy refused to relent. "You're far too tragic to understand!"

"Tragic?!" The anger in Peter's face softened, and he nearly dropped her precious ring. Those were the same words Hook said. "Why do you say I'm tragic?"

Frustrated, Wendy shook her head. "Because you're stuck, Peter! You're stuck in your own world, fighting this war with yourself, refusing to grow up."

Peter sneered at this. "Fighting a war? How can it be a war if I'm winning?!"

Wendy huffed. "All children grow up, Peter. And so I did. I want to love, have children, do more than play pretend! You wouldn't understand, because none of it becomes clear until you've grown up!"

Her words ate Peter inside. How dare she try to undermine all that he stood for, by calling him tragic? How dare she say he couldn't understand! Well, he could, if he wanted to, but he didn't! "Well, you're the real tragedy! Because one day, you'll have to die, and I get to live on forever."

Wendy supported her forehead with her pretty hand, groaning. "You are afraid, Peter. You're afraid to go forward, that's why you're a tragedy. So why torture me, asking me to explain?"

"You don't need to explain anything!" Peter shouted, giving up all his effort to get Wendy to tell him what he was dying to know. "There's nothing marvelous about that Jim guy. I bet you he can't fly, or take you on fun adventures, or give you what I was able to give you. None of it!"

Peter tried with all his might to hold them back, but the tears began to stream down the immortal boy's face. He turned away his face again, embarrassed that Wendy would see him at his weakest. But to his dismay, Wendy immediately knelt before him and cupped his face in her hands. She then locked him in an embrace, the way a mother embraces her child.

"I can't fly anymore, Wendy," Peter choked between his tears. "After seeing you give the thimble to Jim, I can't bring myself to."

Wendy broke away from the embrace to pat Peter on the head. She then dug into her pocket and took out a white handkerchief. "I'm... I'm sorry I said those things, Peter. I was so angry," she apologized. "But I want to help you, Peter. I want to help you fly again." She took the handkerchief and started to wipe away the tears.

"You don't know how!" Peter put up a fight by pushing away her gentle hands. "You're a traitor, Wendy! You lied to me when you said the thimble would always belong to me. You just said that because you wanted me to defeat Hook, so I could take you back to London! You didn't mean a word of it!"

But Wendy did what Peter did not expect her to do. She leaned forward and planted a thimble on his forehead. He felt his face grow warm as her soft lips pressed against his rough skin. Slowly, he could feel the burning rage in him begin to subside.

"Peter, because of you, I was able to find my love for Jim."

"Wh - what do you mean?" Peter sniffled. Didn't she just call him tragic? How could she love someone so tragic when her words were so hurtful?

"His spirit, Peter, reminded me so much of yours. When we met, and began to see each other often, I kept thinking of you. It was like falling in love with you again."

"But... how is Jim like me? He can't fly, and he can't go to Neverland like me!" A part of Peter still refused to listen, but the other part was also very eager to know how he had any role in this.

Finally, Wendy broke into another smile, and even let out a soft giggle. "Oh Peter, that's not what I meant."

"Then, what did you mean?" He wiped away the last of his tears with the handkerchief. While they had reddened due to the amount of strain he placed on his tear ducts, they widened with curiosity. Peter let out a deep breath, telling himself to calm down and listen. "I wanna know."

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myfairgunslinger · 4 years

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Title: Red Dead Revenge: Kiss of Death [Part 3]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OC x John Marston

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Cursing

Summary: After Arthur saves a woman's life he takes her back to the Vanderlinde Gang where she can get the help she needs while he runs a couple errands.

A/N: Hey guys I’m back with another chapter, a little shorter than the others. Don’t got too much to say other than hope you’re all doing okay! And enjoy!

Chapter 3: While You Were Sleeping

Two Days Ago

John had been sitting around the campfire with Javier, chatting as the other man strummed his guitar. Ever since he came back everyone here has been either giving him dirty looks or not really speaking to him, especially Arthur. It felt like he down right hated him with every bump with his shoulder that was made when walking by, calling him names or throwing insults in every direction to John. It wasn't long until John heard Arthur riding back in and calling out for help from Mrs. Grimshaw.

He got up to see what was happening and saw the man holding a woman in his arms, his heart had stopped when he saw her paled face that had mud on the side. Arthur set the woman down on the cot, lifting her bloodied shirt up to look at her gunshot. There was bunched up rags that were soaked, showing Arthur tried to stop the bleeding. Strauss was there next to him getting ready to clean up the sticky mess.

John's heart was beating fast as they worked on her. This couldn't be the same girl he knew in Blackwater, not his Maeve. She looked like she had been to hell and that Arthur pulled her out of the deepest of pits. John had to know. He stepped into the tent, eyes not leaving the girl, "Who is she?"

Arthur glared at him, "Why do you wanna know, Marston?" his tone was harsh. Mrs. Grimshaw pushed herself past John holding a rag and bucket of water. John backed away still staring at her then noticed there was a familiar bay colored horse next to Arthur's silverdapple fox trotter. He stayed around the tent until Arthur had came out, "Arthur-"

"What do you want?" the larger man said irritated by his presence, John held up a hand showing he wanted peace between the two along with some answers, "Where did you find the girl?"

"Met her in Blackwater, alright?" John's eyes were frozen, his voice uttering, "Blackwater."

Arthur stared at the man, "Bath maid, sweet girl. Don't know why she was gettin' shot at the way she was. Anyway, couldn't leave her," he took out a cigarette to light it up, eyeing John to figure out what was going on in his head, "You look as if you know her," he called out John.

"I--I don't. Never seen her. Just wonderin' why you brought a shot stranger to us and if we should worry," John managed to say. Arthur observed his brother inhaling the cigarette, he knew when he was lying. "Don't worry yourself, you can always run away again," Arthur spat before going over to Dutch's tent to let him know about the woman he brought to camp.

"Do you know who it was that wanted to kill her? Can't have anyone following her trail and starting trouble with us," Dutch said to Arthur. He had shook his head, "Didn't really get a good look when I shot 'em. Probably some small time gang lookin' to do a house robbery. Could ask her when she wakes up," Arthur mused as Dutch was busy loading his pipe with tobacco while coming up with an idea, "Wonder what it was they were lookin' for. Now you said there was no one else that came out of the house?"

Arthur shook his head and watched Dutch scratch his chin, "What are you thinkin'?"

"I'm thinking," he lit a match, "You go back there and collect, Miss..."

"Milley," Arthur helped with a name.

"Go collect some of Miss Milley's items. She's gonna need clothes and we can use the provisions--."

"And whatever money is layin' about, right? Just go raid the shot girl's house," Arthur said sarcastically. It didn't feel right to him. Dutch puffed on his pipe, "Arthur, what good is Miss Milley's stuff if it's not with Miss Milley?" He had a point, "All I'm asking is for you to go back there, get some of her stuff because I doubt she'll wanna go back, and maybe she'll be grateful enough to give us some of her things. You said she was sweet."

Arthur scoffed a laugh, "I guess. Alright, I'll stop over there when I get done with that stage coach robbery Bill and Mac are workin' on." He had walked back over to Susan who was cleaning the mud off Maeve.

"How she doin'?" He asked as Strauss washed his hands off in a bowl of water, "She will pull through. Just needs rest," the man said. Arthur looked over Maeve's rested face, admiring her pleasant features. He cleared his throat to say to Susan, "Make sure, she don't leave."

"That was never gonna happen," she looked up at him. Arthur gave a soft nod then headed towards Boadicea to mount her.

Over the next day while Maeve was unconscious, John took care of Liability. He would brush her off, feed her when he fed Old Boy. The mare would press her snout to the side of John's head, knocking off his hat which gave him a chuckle, "Always teasin' me... no doubt you're her horse."

Abigail walked by with a basket of laundry, "What are you doin' with that horse?" she stopped in her tracks watching John pet Liability. He looked over at the woman, "Someone's gotta take care of it."

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, "You're such a sucker to horses," she then started to walk off back to camp. John didn't know how he was going to tell Abigail about Maeve. Ever since he got back, he didn't discuss what he did while he was away for that year, especially not to Abigail. While he thought about wanting to make things right with his 'wife', every time he tried Abigail would say something nasty or he'd do something stupid in her eyes. Then there was confused little Jack who didn't understand why the man he believed to be his father was acting so distant. The whole reason John left his family was he couldn't cope with fatherhood with the doubtful thoughts that Jack wasn't even his son lingering in his mind.

He was as Maeve said. Lost.

Maeve. John thought of her plenty after leaving her in Blackwater. A small smile came to his lips thinking of all the conversations they had, staring at the stars all night with whatever alcohol they had, staying awake until the sun came up to reflect off Flat Iron Lake. While he never talked much about his life, John felt free when he was around Maeve. He could be whoever he wanted with her. Now that was all just a summer memory. John peaked into the tent she was in still seeing her unconscious. He didn't feel that freedom now when he looked at her. He felt scared, scared that Maeve was gonna die in her sleep or worse, wake up and see him.

_____________________________________________________________

Riding up to the yellow house farthest from the town of Blackwater, Arthur observed the area. There was a wind mill off to the side and a small boat leaning against the front wall of the house. He got off Boadicea, walked up the dirt path to see that no one has come by since that night. Crows were picking at the dead bodies of Joe and Gus starting at their faces. As Arthur walked up the porch steps, the black birds flapped their feathers to fly away going Caw!

"Pipe down!" Arthur spat at the crows while walking into the house. First he saw a bollard hat with blood on it, he was shortly met with the rotting body of Darren staring up at him, at least what was left of his head, "Yeeesh."

He looted his body to find revolver ammo and a pair of gold earrings, "Hello there..." Arthur looked around to see pools of blood on the floor that had drag marks leading to the back door. His eyes landed on a busted painting then followed to where it used to be, hung up on a wall to cover a now open and empty safe. His first theory was that someone had came along and stole whatever expensive items these Bollards were trying to rob. Second theory was there was more of them that had went a head with said expenses. Which begged another question, how long until someone noticed these gangsters were dead?

Arthur started to look at some of the photos that were in the living room. He picked one up, it was a formal family portrait with Everett on the right, Cecilia on the left and sitting between them was a younger Maeve. He put it in his satchel while recalling Maeve, mentioning her folks the night she left the saloon. Arthur followed the blood trail to the back door, opening it up and letting out a disgusted noise. He saw the corpses of the people in the photo, Maeve's folks, laying side by side.

The man frowned seeing their death blows, all he kept thinking of was how that poor girl at the camp now had to watch her world fall apart. Next to their corpses there was a hole that starting to be dug and a shovel that looked like it was thrown down. Arthur picked up the shovel and started to dig.

____________________________________________________________

As the sun started to set Arthur had patted the shovel on top of the dirt pile, he was done burying Mr. and Mrs. Milley. He managed to get some sticks and made crosses out of them to mark the graves. It wasn't much but he wouldn't feel right leaving them out for crows to eat.

He went back inside to, for lack of a better word, raid the kitchen. It wasn't fully stocked, but there were canned goods, most of the canned fruits were strawberries. Arthur took whatever her could carry then went upstairs to go find some clothes for Maeve. When he reached the top of the stairs he walked into the first room which was the larger of the two. He figured it's where her parents slept but it was a complete mess. The bed sheets were torn and tossed around on the floor. There was blood that stained the hard wood he stood on.

Arthur was feeling uncomfortable being in the room, feeling something horrible happened here, so he stepped back into the hall to go down to the last room. When entering he saw her room had some drawers pulled out and her wardrobe doors opened up, but other than that the room wasn't too messed up.

He went to the wardrobe and picked up a bag that was next to it then took out the first few things he saw which were shirts, pants, a few skirts, stuffing them in. Arthur found a hair brush that was on a night stand with a framed photo. He picked up the brush to collect it then inspected the picture.

It was of Maeve at the Tenth Annual Bird Shooting Contest. She had on that bright smile that he liked while holding a rifle. As he kept looking at the photo he noticed something on the side that was cut off, someone that was there. Part of a face of a man that was on his list of people he couldn't stand right now, "That's where you were," Arthur said to himself. He took out the photo from its frame and put it in his bag.

Just as he was about done here, he glanced out the window to see there were three men with Bollard hats on dismounting their horses. They were coming in from the back of the house where Arthur buried the Milleys. "Great," he got down next to the bed to stay hidden from their view, he then saw something shinny under the bed frame. He reached under to take out a box of rifle ammo that had some money bills stuffed in the box. When he reached under again, Arthur smirked at what he felt, he pulled out a bolt action rifle, "You have excellent taste Miss Milley."

Downstairs the men came in seeing the mess, "Boy, they sure had fun--Oh God! That's Darren!"

"Found Joe!" another one said at the front porch then saw the other dead body in the yard, "And I'm pretty sure that's Gus...can't tell cause his face is gone."

"Shit!" the third man said, it was Bob. He was glad he left when he did, "Twins are gonna be pissed."

"Maybe they shouldn't have left Darren in charge of killing off this family, cause from the looks of it someone got the upper hand," one of them said. Bob assumed it was Everett, watching his wife die along with whatever Darren did to his daughter must have broke him which was surprising considering how much of a coward Bob thought he was.

"Let's get back to Saint Denis," Bob started to go to his horse. The man that he was talking to started to follow, "What? You don't think Everett Milley is lookin' for us do ya?"

"No, but I don't think we should be 'round these parts," truth was if Everett was a broken man who knows what he was capable of. Getting revenge would be on Bob's list of things to do if he was in his shoes, "Joshua!" Bob called out for the last man, "Let's go!"

Joshua went into the house so he could go through the back door to meet up with the others. As he went by the stairs, a rifle went off from the top of the stairs, shooting Joshua in the chest. His body fell down as he coughed, looking up at Arthur as the barrel of the rifle was placed right between his eyes.

BLAM!

The other two men outside panicked, but Bob stayed on his horse while the other man ran back to the house, "To hell with this!" Bob whipped the reigns on his horse, getting out of there. Arthur rushed outside to shoot the man in the backyard, he aimed for the neck then pulled the trigger right when the man drew out his gun. As he fell, Arthur saw Bob on his horse hauling ass out of the area.

"Damn it!" he cursed himself going back to his horse. As he trotted down the rode he saw a couple of gold diggers walking along the side, "Howdy Mister!" One of them called out.

"Oh hey there partner, how you been since that wolf attack?" Arthur asked him.

The gold digger patted his own arm cheerfully, "Doin' great! Say, did you ever go through with that 'tip' I gave you about the stableman?"

Arthur shook his head, "Nah, some other bastards beat me to it. Y'all stay safe now," he then pulled at the horse reigns to get going back to camp.

_____________________________________________________________

Now

It was late in the night as Maeve looked up to watch the stars, searching for all the constellations she remembers learning about in school. Mrs. Grimshaw attempted to feed her stew, but the girl didn't want any

"You have to eat something. I can see your bones."

"No, thank you!" Maeve rejected to go sit outside of camp. Susan walked by John who was watching them. She said to him, "Will you try talking some sense in her? She hasn't had any food since being here."

"What makes you think she'd listen to me?" John asked her. She placed a hand on his shoulder, "Think I haven't noticed you two looking at each other?" his breath was still as Susan says, "Now's your chance to get friendly with the new girl."

"Uh...what about Abigail?" Susan rolled her eyes, "Oh John, I'm not asking you to sleep with her, just make sure she eats or there will be hell to pay!" She walked off to go check on the others. John watched the back of Maeve's head before sighing out, She already hates me. He took a gander at what Pearson had to offer on the food wagon and he smirked when seeing a particular canned fruit. He plucked it off the wagon then went over go stand behind her.

John cleared his throat and she turned her head slightly, keeping her face forward while knowing who was there, "What?"

"Can I join you?"

"No!" Maeve said not even glancing at him. John sat next to her anyway and she let out an irritated grunt, "What is your problem?" she asked him.

John shook his head, "I don't got one."

"Ya kinda do? One minute you don't know me, the next you're beggin' me to help lie for you, then you're over here sitting with me. Just--" her voice broke as it fell to silence, "What do you want from me?" She stared at him with those big brown eyes.

There were a lot of answers to that question for John, but the one thing on his mind? Forgiveness, for putting her though his cold shoulder to even hiding some important information about himself when they met. But that's not why he's here. He held out the can to her, "I want you eat something."

Maeve's eyes blinked to look at what was in his hand before blinking once more to look at him, "Come on, Mae. They're your favorite--," She snatched the can from him to open it up. As the lid peeled back the scent of strawberries invaded her nostrils. That was her favorite part of eating canned strawberries, that and the sweet syrup it made at the bottom. She plucked a berry out with her fingers, popping it in her mouth.

Out of the corner of her eyes she could John staring at her with a smirk. Damn him for knowing my greatest weakness. After popping a few more in her mouth John reached over to try and pluck one out. She slapped his hand away, "Back off, Marston!"

He had a chuckle stuck in his throat, "You know you can share those."

"Cold day in hell before I share these with you," Maeve told him before turning her attention back up to the sky. John joined her in observing them, it already was feeling like old times for him, "What you lookin' at?"

"Cepheus, he's that collection of stars," she extended out her arm to point at the bundle of stars that formed a constellation. John found it, nodding softly, "Who's he?"

The girl shrugged, "Some king that had a pretty daughter and a mouthy wife. They get their entire kingdom cursed with floods and a big monster will destroy everything unless, the king feeds this monster his daughter."

John stared at those stars wondering how anyone could come up with that, "That's sounds scary."

Maeve shrugged, "Yeah but then there's this hero that comes in. Perseus."

"Really? What's he do?" John wasn't looking at the stars anymore, he was getting lost in her. The way the night sky reflected off her dark orbs, the pale moon light washing over her skin.

"Ya know, hero stuff," she smirked, "Kill the monster, rescue the girl, save the day. All that happy shit."

John chuckled, "Where's his constellation at?" Maeve winced her eyes trying to find it, but her eyes were getting heavy, "Somewhere up there. I was looking for him, but my eyes are getting sore from squintin' so much." She put her head down, her mind clearly on other things. John could see that as guilt started to rise within him. Word had gotten to him about what happened to her, if he didn't feel like a horse's ass then, he did now, "Maeve?"

"What?"

"I...I'm glad you're here," Maeve chuckled as if it was a joke, "I doubt that."

"No, I really mean it, Maeve. I'm just sorry it was under these circumstances," her eyes were on him, biting her bottom as to not say something so rash at this time. Her eyes welled up as tears over flowed her lids, "I really wanted you to be that person I can go to when I had a problem or needed to talk about all this," she sniffled , "Like we used to."

John shut his eyes, "Maeve...Abigail and I, we're going through things. I want to try and get on her good side but if she sees me around you, she'll get the wrong idea. She can be pretty jealous and make anyone feel small."

"Sounds like a real keeper," Maeve's voice was laced in sarcasm, even with glossy eyes, "Go on and make fun, but I do want to try with her...but that also means you and I can't go back to the way we were."

She went to stand up, "John, I get you wanna do all that with Abigail...but I didn't want anything more than being a friend with you,” her hand raised up expressing how disappointed she was when it dropped to her side, “ I just wanted someone to help me with this." Maeve then started to walk off, "Mae," he turned back to see her, "Go to your wife, John."

The sad girl had passed by Abigail on the way back into camp, "Hey," the mother greeted and Maeve stared at her, "I didn't get a chance to introduce myself," her hand raised up to have a hand shake, "I'm Abigail."

"Um..." she struggled on how to react, "I'm Maeve," she reached out to shake the hand. John was on his way back when he saw them both talking, his heart started to pound. Abigail saw him while noticing Maeve's reddened eyes, "I see you met John, tell me what smart thing did he have to say?"

Maeve inhaled a breath, her head turning over to see the man she loved greatly at one time. She could tell all of the truth and ruin so much. But what would that do for her? "He was makin' sure I had something to eat. He's nice that way," she felt hallow as Abigail smirked, "John, nice? You clearly don't know him like I do."

Her eyes looked at the woman, "You're absolutely right about that," she made a nervous chuckle that quickly died as she stared at the mother. While she couldn't help feel pangs of jealousy towards the woman, it was in no way her fault. Abigail wasn't the one that lied to her. Still it wasn't a good idea for them to be friends, much less talk in risk of Maeve saying something she might regret, "Excuse me...I'm tired." Abigail gave a soft nod indicating she understood.

As Maeve went back to her bedroll she saw a light in the distance, getting closer through the darkness. Could it be who she really wanted to talk to? The light was coming closer when the sky began to drizzle a bit of rain. She recognized the frame of the man on the horse as a small smile formed upon her lips, "Arthur."

#arthur morgan/oc #john marston/oc #arthur morgan #john marston #red dead redemption 2.#rdr2

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crue-sixx · 5 years

Text

Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend

Title: Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend

Summary: The reader is a jewel thief who had to steal to survive but she can't quite kick the habit.

Note: Based on @crue-sixx head canons for Jewel Thief and Home Again.

Warnings: Swearing, theft, sexual references, implied assault in jail

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It was only the necessary items at first-food clothes, medicine when needed that you’d steal. You have to survive somehow after your mother kicked you out at age 12 for being too rebellious and not following the teachings of the Bible. She had called you a harlot and every other name she could think of that was synonymous with “promiscuous”. You didn’t even cry or get mad when she tossed you out with nothing but the clothes on your back, you even felt relieved that you wouldn’t have to put up with her anymore. You had hitchhiked from Chicago to wherever the wind took you, stealing some books to keep yourself educated to some extent.

The problem was that you were good at it-so good you’d never get caught, not even once. It was in your 19th year on this earth that you wanted to raise the stakes a bit. You were tired of living in shelters and bridges, and you wanted a place to call base of operations where you could plan out heists and lay your head at night. It didn’t have to be fancy you just needed a roof, a floor and four walls plus some shitty furniture. You had stolen yourself a book on tools you’d need for bigger jobs and you were pleasantly surprised when you found that you could find all of them at any hardware store. Of course you’d have to hit different stores for each item you needed so you wouldn’t be seen as suspicious.

You collected your tools of the trade and went to scope out a jewelry store. You glanced up towards the ceiling and saw some security cameras-nothing too fancy or sophisticated but you’d still need to black them out with spray paint when you snuck in later that night. You saw a lot of hot items, but you needed to pick and choose wisely. You cruised by the rings and necklaces, appearing not to be particularly impressed by any of them. But in reality you were looking for ones you could easily steal, and declined service when a salesperson asked if you needed any help. “No, just looking” you smiled at them “Window shopping”. They understood and thanked you for walking in, wishing you to have a good day and please come back.

That night you wore all black biking gear, including a helmet that masked your face-more of your stolen merchandise. Your lock picking tool worked like a charm, as did your glass cutting tool. The mini-plunger lifted the glass up to give you easier access to your treasures. Your mouth watered as you felt the rings in your hands. You shook off the feeling because you knew you had to get out in a few minutes, bagging over half the store and absconding to a shady pawn shop you knew of, but never went in-the rumors were that the owner never asked any questions as to how you came in possession of the items you were trying to pawn, and other rumors said that this guy wasn’t a snitch. That he worked with rich bitches all the time, who bought his wares at three times the price he bought at.

You walked in, the bell on the door giving a ring. “You Elias?” you asked the sweaty, dirty pig behind the counter.

“Who’s askin?” he grunted.

“Sunshine Rainbow” you answered, the name you gave everyone who asked. It wasn’t your real name of course, you only told that to those you trusted and you trusted nobody.

“What you got for me, sweetheart?” he smiled, the teeth all sorts of colors other than white. You let ‘sweetheart’ slide as you dumped your haul onto the counter. The man’s eyes widened as he inspected each one “These are brand spankin’ new!”

“Yep” you said, belching and wiping your nose “Fresh out of the mine” he looked like he wanted to ask questions, but decided against it. He did have a reputation to uphold after all, and he wouldn’t let anyone tarnish his ‘good’ name on the underground.

“What do you want for it all?”

“Everything you have in your till, and everything in your vault if you have it” you said, not breaking eye contact with him. He contemplated the ups and downs for the whole situation and thought it would be worth it.

“I have a more reputable business during the daytime. I can sell this stuff for three times what I’m paying you” he took out all the bills in the till-only about $300 tops, but when he came back, he had two full bags of big bills. Internally you were freaking out-you felt like you’d won the lottery! On the outside you were cool as a cucumber and seemed unimpressed.

“I suppose it’ll do for now” you picked up the bags and left. He didn’t offer you a deal to sell your goods only to him, and even if he did you knew not to take such a deal. ‘Cause he’d rat you out sooner or later to the cops or even feds. So you took your winnings and boarded a bus to L.A. and got off across the way from the Whisky-A-Go-Go, the music going on inside shaking the building. It sounded loud, rude and aggressive-just the way you liked it! So you splurged on yourself this one time and bought a ticket to see the show.

You were at the bar sipping a drink when a blonde woman plopped next to you and looked over. A whistle came from her mouth but her voice was manly. “Hot damn that’s a pretty ring you got on that pretty finger of yours girl!”

You looked over to see that the blonde woman was indeed a rather feminine man, but still a man none the less. You hadn’t realized that you were wearing a piece of your loot, a deep blue sapphire in a pure silver band. You were kicking yourself for such a slip up, but you had to play it cool “Thanks, I got it for myself when my boyfriend dumped me.”

“Aw shit honey I’m sorry” his face wrinkled in sympathy “Well if you need some place to forget all about him, my bed’s always open” he winked at you, and you took him up on his offer. It had been a while since you had gotten some good dick and needed to relax a bit. He grinned widely and took one of your bags “What do you have in here, bricks?!” he joked with you.

“Isn’t a gentlemen not supposed to question a lady about her personal affects?” you joked back.

He laughed so hard he snorted “I ain’t no gentlemen” and lead you to the apartment he shared with his friends, who just so happened to the band that was playing that night. They all seemed pretty cool, even the grumpy old man was kind of nice to you.

“Hey!” the drummer excitedly asked “What’s your name! You’re smokin’ hot!” he was bouncing around like a kid in a candy store.

“Sunshine Rainbow” you said, to which the rest of them raised an eyebrow “my parents were hippies” you explained, then they understood “Call me Sunny” you giggled.

“Alright Sunny” the drummer said “I”m Tommy, blondie over there is Vince, the grumpy old dude is Mick and this dude right here” he put his arm around the other man’s shoulder “is Nikki. My brother from another mother!” you all laughed, this little unit was like a family of sorts.

“So what brings you all the way to L.A. from Chicago?” Nikki asked.

“Just lookin’ for a place to live out on my own” you said “havin’ a hippie family is great an’ all but I want to strike out on my own” you raised your beer and they all clinked bottles with you in agreement.

“I think one of the apartments in the building just opened up for rent” Mick said in his low, monotone voice “You can talk to the landlord tomorrow, though he’s a bit of an asshole” he warned.

“That sounds great! I’ll do that!” you thanked him profusely. This shithole was the perfect place to lay low.

Vince buried his face in your neck and groaned “If I remember right, we were supposed to have a little fun by ourselves, right?”

“Then take me to your lair and have your way with me, Rockstar” you let him lead you to his room, unbeknownst to you he had motioned with his hand and mouthed the words ‘look in the bags’ to his friends.

While you were in there rockin’ each other’s worlds, Nikki and Tommy went to inspect your bags. Mick protested with “Hey now, that’s not cool! What she has in there is her business!”

“Oh lighten up Mick” Nikki scoffed “She might have some drugs in here or something!”

Tommy laughed and said “Or we can just swipe a pair of her pant-” he stopped cold when he unzipped one bag. He went slack jawed and closed the bag, unsure of what he just saw.

“What is it T-Bone?” Nikki asked “It’s not a dead body is it?” he was half joking, but hoping that you didn’t bring that mess into their apartment.

Tommy slowly unzipped the bag and showed him, whispering “she’s fuckin’ loaded!” there was an unknown amount of large bills. Even Mick was curious now and staring at the cash, unzipping the other one to show even more money.

“What the fuck?” Nikki asked, all three of them looking at Vince’s room where loud, animalistic noises were coming from.

The next morning, you came out of Vince’s room wearing one of his shirts, the other three at the table awkwardly eating breakfast. “There’s more on the counter if you wanna eat...” Mick offered.

“Thanks” you said cheerfully, then winced in pain “if he normally that rough?”

They couldn’t help but snicker and Nikki answered “Sometimes, but from the sounds of his snoring it seems like you gave him a run for his MONEY” he put unusual emphasis on ‘money’.

Tommy caught on and added “Yeah, with moves like that you could make BANK! I haven’t heard Vinny curse like that in a while! You must fuck good!”

“What the hell are you two babbling about?” you asked, totally confused.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ” Mick said, tired of beating around the bush “Where the fuck did you get all that money?!”

You stopped eating and put the fork down. Why did you make such a rookie mistake to leave your loot out in plain sight? You should have gone to a cheap motel first and left them there! You had no other choice than to say “Ask no more questions and I’ll give you one bag” they all stared at you in disbelief, but they had bills to pay and drugs to snort so they agreed to the offer. As if none of that just happened you said happily “So when does the landlord come in today?”

It took them a while to answer but Mick eventually said “At 10am...”

You smiled and said “Thank you for your cooperation” and gave them all kisses on the cheek, picking up one of the bags and leaving the other as promised. They didn’t know whether to be flattered or frightened. So when you left and Vince heard the door close, he came out of his room, having overheard everything.

“What the fuck was that about?” he asked, sticking his thumb in your direction.

“Those bags were full of cash...” Nikki said, shaking “she gave us one and asked us not to question her about it anymore...”

“You’re shittin’ me” Vince shook his head in disbelief and went to inspect the lone bag himself. When he opened it, he too was in disbelief “Well I’ll be damned...” was all he could before he got his bearings “all this cash belongs to us now?”

“That’s what she said” Tommy nodded. “How do you think she got it?”

“Looks like she knocked over the National Mint!” Vince suggested.

“Or maybe she killed her parents to collect the insurance money!” Nikki added.

“She could be a hit man for the mob!” Tommy was now freaking out “It’s probably blood money!”

“Who cares how she got it?” Mick asked “I got child support to pay, our rent and all our other bills. This should be enough to hold us over a few months” he narrowed his eyes at all of them “if you three don’t snort it all away...”

They did have reservations taking the money, but they really needed it-$400,000 total and they split it equally. Mick hid his share so well that sometimes even he forgot where it was, but he’d always find it in time when the child support came due. You were now fully moved in, paid up for three months rent and the landlord gave you the eye but said nothing, as it wasn’t his business and he got paid. You did have almost daily contact with them, and they seem to have eased up on the anxiousness and eventually acted like they completely forgot. It wasn’t like you were going to kill them if they went snooping around but you’d have a lot of explaining to do. They were like mold-they grew on you. You eventually learned all of their birthdays, and surprised each one of them with a very expensive piece of male oriented jewelry when their day came.

They all seemed taken aback by such fine things, but they wore them anyways to be nice. You were now working at a bookshop, making minimum wage. You couldn’t work for those wages and still keep even that shitty apartment so you had to do a few jobs a month to stay afloat. Sure you’d saved enough to practically buy the building if you wanted, but that would draw unwanted attention to yourself. And you never stole from your neighbors: It was like shitting where you ate. It was disgusting and you didn’t do it just because it was a rule of thumb. Shit, you even stole more than you needed to help the other tenants. It seemed like you were becoming a modern-day Robin Hood.

It was on your last job that you’d been caught-by Tommy no less. You had just gotten the loot and ran away, only to bump into him. You fell backward and your treasure had fallen out of the bag. The rest of the guys came up to see the commotion and you scooped up your lot and put it back in the bag, looking sheepishly and ashamed. “Is THIS what you’ve been doing?!” Tommy asked loudly.

“Keep your damn voice down! You’ll trigger the-” then a loud blaring alarm screeched in the area, scaring you all running back to the apartment complex.

When you all were safely inside, Nikki pushed you against the wall and said “Sunny. Explanation. Now.”

You sighed and said “I’m a jewel thief. I’ve stolen things most of my life to survive” you didn’t feel bad about stealing from the rich. They had that shit insured so if it did get stolen they’d still get their money.

“That don’t make it right” he said “You need to stop stealing shit, or it’ll get you in big trouble one day!” he was now almost shaking with rage.

Vince put a hand on his shoulder and said “Hey Nikki calm down...you’re scarin’ her...” Nikki took a moment to look at you and Vince was right-you were scared that they might hurt you. He released his grip, almost crying at the red marks he’d left that would turn into bruises.

“Take a deep breath Sunny and tell us everything” Mick said in a concerned fatherly tone. So you did-about your mom throwing you out at 12, you having to live in shelters or under bridges and that you stole small stuff to stay alive. Then it became for the adrenaline rush when you had a consistent roof over your head. You had recently gotten more hours and a promotion at the bookstore so you were making a little more than you needed to make rent and buy some things you needed.

“Are you gonna turn me in?” you asked, giving your best innocent doe eyes.

“No” Nikki said “As long as you stop stealing and act like a normal person” he extended his arm for a handshake.

“As long as you guys stop doing as much coke” you added as you smirked.

“Hey” Vince said in a stern tone “Us doing drugs is merely for recreation. We can stop anytime we want to” both Nikki and Tommy agreed, all three of them a little offended by the comment.

“If that’s the case then so can I” she took Nikki’s hand “Then we got a deal.” Mick just sighed, knowing how this song and dance goes all too well.

All of you had your little slip ups-your second nature kicking in when you walked past an open-air market, a small trinket would end up missing from a vendor. Whichever man was with you looked at you in comic disbelief when you denied taking said trinket, then chuckling to himself as you produced what it was that you stole and put it back on the vender’s table. Overtime you had weaned yourself off your habit; Tommy, Nikki and Vince making an effort to slow down on their drug use.

Then, the mother of all jewels came to town and you just had to look at it. The Tiffany Diamond would be on display at the Metropolitan Museum for a few days only. You just wanted to see it for yourself and you made Vince come with you. When you two saw the brilliant yellow diamond, you had to make it yours. Vince saw the look in your eyes and dragged you away with “Oh no Missy. I know that look!” he had to be a little more forceful to get you away from the thing you desired “You’ve been doing so good! I’m so fuckin’ proud of you babe!”

“Alright, alright” you assured him “I was just lookin’” you pulled him in for a kiss, the two of you had been fucking for a few months, the sex was like a replacement behavior for the stealing. You weren’t exactly a couple-you really didn’t care who Vince gave his cock to and he didn’t care who you let fuck you. But it was always the best with him, he knew what the fuck he was doing while other dudes just wanted their satisfaction met and you out the door. “I think I need and appointment with Dr. Feelgood. Is he in?”

“He’s always in baby!” he pulled you to the nearest alley to administer the latest dosage of dick.

Later, after dark had come and they were partying at their place, you put on your thief gear and assured yourself “One last time, then I’m done for good!” When you got to the museum, you were quiet as a mouse, slipping in and out of the rooms like a shadow. You saw the yellow diamond in it’s case and the light hitting it just right. The rush you felt made your mouth water and palms sweat, you had cut the glass and had taken it out of the holder. Then, an alarm sounded.

You were such a fucking idiot. The display was pressure sensitive, the moment you lifted it up from the holder you triggered the alarm. You were surrounded in less than ten seconds and cuffed and being led to the office where the owner of the diamond was called and asked if he wanted to press charges. He did and you were taken to holding for a day, then your half-hour trial where you plead guilty on the promise of a reduced sentence in exchange for information about all the stolen jewelry you sold and who you sold it to in L.A. You were given four months in a minimum security federal prison. You deserved this, they told you to stop but didn’t listen.

After your four months were up, the prison transport dropped you off in front of the apartment. You didn’t want to even look at another piece of jewelry, if it meant going back to that hell hole. You had witnessed and been subjected to unspeakable horrors while you were in there. Nobody visited you, but you didn’t blame them-they probably didn’t know. You didn’t make your one phone call. You were too ashamed to admit you did the one thing you promised you wouldn’t do. You just wanted to go home, but first you wanted to see your friends. You had fresh and healing scars on your body, the most recent from an attempted stabbing to your heart, thankfully it only grazed the skin.

You knocked on the window and Nikki looked over to see who it was. You waved sleepily, while his whole face lit up and said “Hey shitheads! Sunny’s back!” you heard running footsteps and Tommy slung open the window to let you in.

“Where you been?!” he hugged you tightly to him “We’ve been so worried about you!”

Vince had come out of his room, another girl coming out behind him. He saw you and tried to hug you too but you stopped him “Go shower blondie!” you ordered.

“What?” he said sarcastically “I can’t hug my favorite fuck buddy?”

“Not while you’re covered in some other bitch’s sex juices! Shower! Now!” you tossed a towel in his direction.

“Fine” he said laughing “not like you’re any cleaner!” he went and showered, came back in five minutes.

You were all sitting at the table when Nikki asked “So where were you these past few months? We had to threaten the landlord to not rent out your unit!”

You looked at them all long and tired before you spoke “Federal Prison” the jovial mood dropped completely.

Vince took a while to put the timeline together and scolded “Sunny you didn’t...”

“I tried” you admitted “and failed. Horribly” you took a swig of beer.

“Why the fuck didn’t you call us?!” Tommy got up “We would have visited you!”

“I was too ashamed of myself” you half expected Mick to chime in with ‘as you should be’, but he didn’t say anything. You really didn’t care if they kept up their end of the deal, you didn’t expect them to. And from the multiple bloody tissues around the apartment you were right.

They had all noticed your new scars on your face, arms and hands but knew better than to mention them. “Fuck...” was all Nikki could say.

You were tired and just wanted your bed. Vince tagged along and followed you there “Vince, I just got out of jail. I’m tired. I don’t want to fuck” he took your hand and interlaced the fingers.

“I don’t wanna fuck either” he bought your hand to his lips “I just wanna hold you” the look in his eyes was sincere.

“Alright” you relented. When you both got under the covers, he stroked your hair like a lover would.

“What happened in-”

“Please don’t ask about it” you cut him off. Maybe you’d tell him one day, but not anytime soon.

“Okay, Sunny” he said, taking in your scent.

“Y/N” you corrected him.

“What?” he looked at you in confusion.

“Y/N. Sunshine Rainbow is a name I give to people who I don’t trust” you laid your head on his chest.

He wasn’t even mad, given your history that you’d told them. He even understood to an extent. He ran his finger over the scars on your arm. “When you get better” he said “I’m gonna kiss every single mark on you and make it better.”

You looked up at him and said “You better make the next session last longer then. There’s more scars on me than you can see” he started to tear up at that.

“I promise baby. I’ll take my time and make sure all of you gets my attention” you didn’t last after that, cuddling into him like a needy child. You were sound asleep in his arms. “Sweet dreams, Y/N” kissing your forehead and falling asleep himself.

#imagine #fanfiction #motley crue #submission #motley crue imagine #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue x reader

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n00bwriternumber367-blog · 4 years

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Ragtag gang of adventures 1

short story, second part will come out sometime this week, pardon the bad quality, it is my first story. Enjoy!

The wind howled through the streets of Whimborne, Ward Alexander walked towards the large wooden billboard that crowned the main plaza. From his bag, he produced a scroll of paper, which he stuck on the billboard with the help of some nails. "Soon" he said, his breath forming a small cloud in front of him. Ward's family had been struck with bad luck after his mother passed, his father had gotten sick and they had sunk every last penny into getting him better, all for nothing, for he had died almost twenty years ago. He was determined to make his fortune back, but the trading business hadn't exactly gotten him anywhere, he had started looking for other ways of gaining wealth. He used what money he had earned with his trades to buy swordsmanship manuals and now sported a double-bladed weapon with a buckler by his side; he was not the best, but he could hold his own. The plan was simple, he would hang the sign, and hope for some adventurers to join him, then he would follow in the steps of many and embark into the grand unknown to return with loads of riches and loot. Or so he hoped. He awoke the next day with high hopes, almost forgetting to lock his inn room as he left for the bar. Joe's bar was just one block south of the inn, a simple place, but well known both in and outside the town, he hoped at least a couple people showed up. He set up in the table next to the entrance, laying out all the contacts he was allowed as well as a bottle of ink and a jar of water. It was around midday when the first person showed up, a farmer, judging by his clothes and hay hat, he walked straight towards his table and exclaimed. "I wish to join your adventuring company" he spoke like someone who had been on the farm since before they were born, yet he seemed in good shape. "Got any weapon skills?" Ward asked. "I held my farm against ten goblins the other day, my scythe is a sharp as a sword" He replied, prideful. "Okay, any other abilities? Armor? Magic?" "I own a stable, I don't exactly need anything other than strong arms" "A stable you say?" Ward said, "do you think we could ever borrow some horses if they are needed?" "No problem, as long as I receive some extra compensation" the man answered very seriously. "All right then" said the old man, "sign here and welcome aboard, come back here in the morning" The man signed and left the bar, he now had one adventurer, only one more and he would be able to sign up for a permit. An hour passed, then another, just as he was losing hope, another figure stepped inside, covered in a cloak. It floated towards his table, Ward just now noticing that the figure was of short stature. "I desire to join thee" the figure said in an obviously forced low voice. "Who are you" He asked. "I am Idam, I've been cursed and trapped within this human body" the voice replied, still forcing the tone. "Show me your face" said Ward, his skepticism growing by the second. The figure reluctantly raised their hood, revealing a boy, around 16 by the look, he had brown hair and matching eyes, his face was covered in zits. He was unable to contain a laugh as his suspicions were confirmed. "Beat it, kid" he told the boy "go back to your parents" This enraged the kid, who punched the table before shouting "I'm serious you senile idiot!" "Yeah sure" He replied "you're a dragon, mind giving any proof?" The boy looked even more annoyed, two fine lines of smoke emanated from his nose; he opened his mouth and pointed at his tongue. "See! Tis silver!" He said, exasperated. "That can just be paint" Ward said, making the kid even angrier "let's see here's a deal, go convince..." he looked around the bar and spotted a pair of figures walking outside "those two over there to join me, then I'll believe you" "Fvck thee" the kid answered before running outside again. "A dragon, that's a good one" he thought. He got up and walked to the bar, nothing like a good beer to wash away faliure, more people will come tomorrow, probably. After getting his tankard full he turned around to a shocking image, three people stood in front of his recruiting table, Idam, with a smug look on his face, a large, gray-haired man wearing ragged clothes and another cloaked figure. "No way" he thought as he walked towards them. "I am Helgir, and this is Cassia" the large man said, gesturing to the cloaked figure "we'd like to join your party" The man had a lot of facial hair, the same gray color as his mane. "You got any skills?" He asked. "I can fight" the man said in a hoarse voice. "With a weapon or...?" The man responded by baring his teeth, two large razor-sharp canines peeked behind his lips, a werewolf. "Oh, you're a-" he started, before being interrupted by the cloaked figure. "Lycanthrope, yes, and I'm his drug dealer-er personal caretaker" the voice was female, and the breath reeked of alcohol. "So you would both like to join me because?..." He asked. "The kid said- hic, that there was gold involved?" The woman answered. "Yes, there is" he answered "but not right now, we'll have to complete a tour first" "It's no problem" interrupted the werewolf. Ward, grabbed two more papers from his pile and dipped the quill in the ink, this had gone much faster than he had expected. "Ey! ye said I could join if I convinced these two" said Idam. Ward sighed, "I guess I did" He added grabbing another contract.

#writing #begginerwriter #fantasy writing

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Ninety-Seven: With a Shovel ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hanabi, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina, gore, vulgarity ] [ Verse: When Dead Walk ] [ AO3 Link ]

Shit shit SHIT!

Vaulting over a fence, he lands on his feet, regathering momentum quickly. So much for quiet and unnoticed! How was he supposed to know the place was boobbytrapped?! Bag still slung over his shoulders, it bounces heavily against his back with every thud of his feet against the ground. At least he got a decent haul before all the ruckus. Should keep them fed for a short while.

Behind him, he can hear the rippling-outward cries of the undead. When one notices you, its noise and shift in attention seem to spread like another disease, infecting any others within range and calling them to the same action: to try and feed on whoever’s unlucky enough to get noticed.

And right now, it’s him.

Struggling to keep his breath even, Sasuke’s arms pump as he cuts through old yards, overgrown and filled with weeds. Even the weather is dreary today: overcast and muggy. Just the kind of atmosphere he wants to be running for his life through. Remnants of old lives, probably lost, are scattered throughout: lawn furniture, kids’ toys, empty dog houses, swimming pools filled with sickly green water and bloated dead bodies.

Ah, so that’s where that smell’s coming from.

At least the damn things are slow and unsteady...but he doesn’t want to get caught in a corner. He’s stuck to the outskirts, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t zombies this far out that can cut him off.

But this time, it’s not a deadhead he has to worry about.

Just as he skirts by a house, a figure comes barreling out of the back door, knocking into him and throwing them both to the ground in a heap. Sense scrambled for a moment, Sasuke panics - was that a dead one?! But...no, it was running. He’s never seen one run before, they’re too slow and off-kilter. Then...another survivor? Shit, what if they have a weapon?

“Behind you!”

Rolling to his side, his eyes go wide as his unexpected companion leaps over him, curling slightly as he expects them to hit him. But instead, he hears a dull thud. Flailing to his other side (and trying to wriggle back), he watches as the other human decapitates a walker.

...with a shovel.

Wide-eyed and panting, he watches them catch their breath, then look over their shoulder to him. It...looks like a woman? A little hard to tell, what with the dirty countenance and baggy clothing.

...she’s not gonna use that on him now, is she?

“Get up!” she commands, keeping hold of her tool and offering an arm.

Not about to refuse, Sasuke takes her grip, struggling to his feet with his pack weighing him down. Together, they keep running the way he was headed, crossing a few more yards before reaching the true outside of the suburb.

It’s then they look to each other warily.

“...are you alone?” she asks, glancing back toward the houses.

“...here and now? Yeah,” is his sarcastic reply.

“You know what I mean.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I left my sister stashed. We have a car that runs. We can take you back…” She nods to his back. “...spare some of your loot and we’ll call it even.”

“Don’t I already owe you?”

“Maybe, but I’m not - I’m not about to leave you here. So, is there anyone else?”

Considering her carefully, the ruckus of the undead drawing nearer, he admits, “...not here. My brother’s back at our camp.”

“We’ll take you there.”

“So long as you put that shovel down, sure.”

In spite of herself, the woman gives a hint of a smile. “Unless your heart stops beating, I don’t have any intention of hurting you. The living need to stick together, r-right?”

“Yeah...if only more people thought that way. You lead the way.”

In a thicket of bushes and trees a ways from the development, they uncover a vehicle covered with severed branches. Within is a teenager who jumps at the sight of them. “Hinata, who the hell is that?”

“A new friend,” Hinata, as she appears to be called, replies. “He’s fine. We’re going to take him home, and trade some supplies.”

Eyeing her nearly-empty pack, the girl mutters, “Trade? We don’t have anything to trade.”

“That’s what the ride is for, Hanabi.”

Expression guarded, she remains in the rear seat as Sasuke takes the passenger door, Hinata driving. “Where are we headed?”

“North a ways. Abandoned farmhouse. It’s back in some trees, easy to miss.”

Nodding, Hinata revs the engine, backing from their hiding place and heading up the road.

Behind them, the swarm continues to shuffle toward the sound as it fades into the distance.

The subsequent silence is filled by the humming of the motor, Sasuke keeping his eyes flickering between the road and his companions. While he doubts either are much of a threat, he’s not about to let his guard down, either.

“So you were hitting up the same spot, huh?” Hanabi asks, leaning up between the seats.

“Hanabi, please put your seatbelt on,” Hinata offers wearily.

“Why? It’s not like we’re gonna get pulled over.”

“That’s not the most important aspect of wearing a seatbelt.”

The teen rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

Watching the exchange, Sasuke sees the elder sister wilt a hair.

“That place is the nearest one we’ve found to hit up,” Sasuke offers, deciding to humor her attempt at conversation. “We’ve been here a few weeks now.”

“We?”

“Me and my elder brother.”

“Cool, another sibling duo.”

His lips quirk in amusement. “We lived in the city west of here, headed out this way when things got bad. Been hopping as we need to ever since. Had a car, but it tanked a while before we got here.”

“Hey, we came from the west, too! Anybody else with you guys?”

“No, just us. We’ve run into a few people, but...it never ended well.”

“Yeah, us either…” Hanabi admits. “Least nobody’s tried to kill us, yet. They just all got themselves killed.”

“Hanabi,” Hinata murmurs in scolding.

“What? They did!”

“Please don’t speak ill of the dead.”

“We had one group try to finish us off, but they didn’t have a car. Running from them’s what got it so banged up until it quit running,” Sasuke offers.

“Have you killed anybody still ali-?”

“Hanabi!”

“What? It’s an honest question!”

“...just one,” Sasuke murmurs.

The car goes quiet.

“...some asshole snuck up on us. Was grappling with my brother. Ran him through with a makeshift spear I’d made. All his hollering brought on the dead...we left him there and made a run for it.”

“...oh man…”

“Sometimes you have no choice. It was him or my brother.”

“...guess you’re right. I’d kill anybody that came after my sister!” She whisks out a pocket knife, pointing it at him with pursed lips.

Sasuke just scoffs humorously. “Trust me, I don’t plan on it. She saved my ass.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. With a shovel. It was badass.”

Hanabi looks wide-eyed to her sister, who seems almost bashful.

Spirits a bit lightened, Sasuke points to a dirt road. “Up there, a few miles in.”

By now the sky is darkening, and he considers the time of day. If these two have far to go, they’ll be drawing zombies like moths to a flame with any headlights. Maybe…

As twilight settles in, they pull up to an old two story farmhouse, a silo and barn nearby.

“Whoa, neat place! Are there any animals?”

“Just a few chickens. Come on, we’ll talk inside.”

From the front door emerges Itachi, watching warily. “...Sasuke?”

“They’re friendly,” he replies, waving a hand. “But if this one pulls out a shovel, start running.”

Hinata gives a weary sigh, suppressing a smile as Hanabi laughs.

“...well all right then,” Itachi agrees, a brow perked.

“She saved my life. They’re here to take a few things to call it even. But I think at this rate, they’d better stay ‘til daylight.”

Hinata frowns. “But -?”

“If you try to make it home in the dark, you might crash...and headlamps will make you way too obvious. We’ve got plenty of room, and we can figure out what I owe you after some sleep.”

“Oh c’mon, ‘nata! This house is awesome!” Hanabi begs, tugging her sleeve.

“Where are you holding up?” Itachi asks politely.

“Firefighter station. It’s a bit out of the way, but pretty secure.”

“The beds are super uncomfy,” Hanabi offers, earning a light laugh from Itachi.

“Well, we’ve not qualms with you remaining for a night. As Sasuke says, leaving now will be trouble either way, a risk you don’t need to take. Besides...it’s been quite some time since we’ve had friendly company.”

“Yeah, us too,” Hinata admits. “If you really don’t mind…?”

“Nah, you’re fine,” Sasuke assures her. “We’ll cook something, then call it a night...hash things out in the morning?”

“Sure.”

Supper is mostly canned foods, the four of them huddled in the kitchen around an old hurricane lamp. Hanabi is soon dozing, Hinata escorting her upstairs.

“This room has two beds - we stick downstairs, so you’ve got it all to yourselves.”

“Thank you...and Sasuke?”

At the threshold of the stairs, he turns back.

“...glad I ran into you.”

He snorts. “Yeah. Literally.”

Giving her own smile in return, Hinata bids him goodnight, shutting the door as he retreats back down the flight.

“Are they settled?”

“Seem to be.”

“I think it best we turn in as well. You look tired.”

“Yeah, well...running for your life’ll do that to you.”

.oOo.

...I think this is my first zombies piece? At least for this challenge, haha - I write it on occasion for RP, but this is my first real fic for it. I should do more! And yes, it's Hinata wielding the weapon this time around - cuz our girly needs her chances to be the badass she is! I think Sasuke was impressed ;3 And heck yes to sibling duos and alliances. Anyway, that's it for tonight! A bit early for once, lol - thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #hyūga hanabi #uchiha itachi #gore //#vulgarity //#when dead walk [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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